I felt like shit. The bottle of Scotch eventually over-ruled the fine Cuban cigars. I do remember that as soon as I was half in the bag, I grabbed my secretary, Emma, and headed for Louie's Joint down at Fisherman's Wharf. We both got destroyed. Jacque, the bartender, called us a cab, and the last thing I remember was sliding Emma's black-laced panties down her nut-brown thighs. I thought to myself, "Are you fucking kidding me? I couldn't remember a thing after the black-laced panties! I did it again? I mean, did I actually make love to Emma and not remember a thing AGAIN?" So, I thought really hard, which was extremely painful in my attempt to recapture the events that possibly transpired last night. Nothing! Fuck me! I was totally disgusted with myself.
Reality was slowly but surely coming into focus. I knew I was lying in bed, but it wasn't my bed. Whose bed was it? It must be Emma's, I thought. I wasn't sure. My head was feeling like it was starting to detach itself from my body. Then I heard a woman's voice, and she was singing or was it the radio? It was difficult to move my head as it was throbbing so badly. I peered under the covers. Yep…I was butt naked. I raised my head slowly to minimize the ache and gazed about the room, searching for my clothes. All of a sudden Emma, wearing a white, long-sleeved, man's dress shirt waltzed into the room with a breakfast tray loaded with goodies.
"Wake up, sleepy-head, I cooked breakfast for you," Emma said with a slight shrill, or least it sounded like a shrill to me with my head pounding loudly with every heartbeat. "Uh, where're my clothes?" I asked, in a voice I hardly recognized. It sounded more like a croak. It was the voice of someone who drank way more than he should have. "Oh, I'm washing them," she said. "You barfed all over them and all over me," she continued. Oh, fuck! I thought, "Way to go, Sam!" I did pick-up on her cheery demeanor and thought, you must've been excellent last night, but "YOU CAN'T REMEMBER A FUCKING THING!!" Ouch! That hurt.
I slowly began to feel better. It had a lot to do with the fact that the three cups of coffee I had included generous shots of brandy. I smelled pretty good also. I took a shower, and Emma had washed my shirt and underwear and had sent my sport-coat and slacks to the dry cleaners just a few doors down from her apartment. The dry cleaners were good friends of hers and did a "rush job" for her. What a transformation from earlier that morning. I was also able to get in some extra-curricular activity, I might add. As soon as the brandy and coffee mix began its magic, so did my libido. I mean, a gorgeous broad like Emma walking around with just a man's dress shirt on – well, what can I say? And, this time, I remembered everything! I was lying there next to her after our romp and surprisingly began to feel emotions welling up inside me. Was I falling for this dame? Then I looked over to the nightstand to grab my pack of cigarettes and spotted the framed photograph of Emma and her old man.
Talk about a slap upside the head. I quickly made some flimsy excuse as to why I needed to leave hurriedly. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I thanked her for everything, which included a wink, and I immediately wondered why in the hell did I do that? She smiled and planted a wet one on me that included a little tongue action. I almost changed my mind about leaving. She called me a cab, and as I stood there on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building, my mind was a jumbled mess, but physically I felt so much better.