Spin Room, Spin!

Being locked in was not an immediate concern. It was not as if my brain said 'what? Locked in a bedroom with a beautiful but drunk woman? I must escape before things become problematic!' My thoughts were more along the lines of 'I noticed that? How did I notice that? The room is all spinny. Whee!' as I lay on the foot of the bed.

Sarah Jean rolled into me, deliberately I think. I took it as an attempt to upgrade our 'arm around her' back to the 'side hug' that I'd been enjoying while we were standing. “Hi.”

“Hullo yourself,” I slurred just enough to notice. “How you doin'?”

“I doin' great,” she informed. I felt her smile rather than saw it. She has a very potent smile which makes it glow and you can feel its warmth. “Patrick. You know what?”

“Chickenbutt?” I checked.

She giggled and swatted at me with her slightly free hand. “No. We're in a bedroom.” This was true, an excellent observation to be able to make while in her condition. “We're lying on a bed.” This also was an accurate statement and I congratulated her for making it. “You know what we should do?”

“Take a nap?” I was beginning to tire of the spinnyness of the room. A nap should fix that problem.

She giggled again.”No,” she said, managing to give a two letter word three syllables. She also started tickling me. Quickly her drunken mind recalled the location of my particularly ticklish spots and I was fighting to stop her. The combination of spinny room and tickle was not a very pleasant experience. Suddenly she caught a sensitive area, I jumped severely, and we were separated.

Clarity snapped back into place. I became coherent so quickly that it hurt. When your thought process snap from snail's pace back up to normal, I suppose that will happen. Thoughts and concerns flooded into my brain, only to disappear back into the fog as Sarah Jean climbed atop me. As she giggled, she made contact with me and the world became easier to deal with once again.

“There you are silly,” she slurred. Curled up atop me, she leaned in and kissed me.

When she pulled back, her expression looked significantly changed, much more green than before. As the feeling of nausea began to roll over me as well, she staggered away from me, heading for the attached bathroom.

At least this time I was better prepared for the pain of separation. I fought my way to my feet to follow her, aware that the gentlemanly thing to do under the circumstances would be to assist Sarah Jean with her long hair. Holding my head, I muttered “Nice to know that kissing me makes you sick.”