One Night Stand

"Loosen up. Have a one night stand now and then." - Anonymous Amber pried her eyes open. Her eyelids felt like they were being weighed down with lead. Her body felt sore and battered and her head ached like a thousand devils. Last night had sucked all her energy right out of her and the terrible hangover was testimony enough. Finally, after much debate she squeezed an eye open and looked at the decorated cream coloured ceiling. She was lying in bed, naked, swathed in a soft sheet. She ran a finger over the fine sheet. Hundred count thread. Instantly her eyes flew open. This wasn't the type of place she was used to waking up at. Despite her body screaming at her to stay still, she propped herself up ignoring the pain and took in her surroundings. King size bed, mahogany furniture, the walls were pastel and covered with expensive wallpaper. On a bedside table stood an antique table lamp, an assortment of fruits and a neat stack of Ferroro Roscher chocolates. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and the floor was covered in a rich, plush carpet. I'm in a five star hotel, Amber thought. Who did I sleep with last night? Amber White. 22 year old struggling model with a string of failed auditions and a wild partying lifestyle to her credit. Her daily routine consisted of binging on food, cursing her diet, promising her landlord that she would pay her rent before the year ended, spending more than she could afford and hanging around Broadway and MidStreet hoping to be picked up by some casting director. Once a week, she would attend some audition being held anywhere and invariably fail. In the evenings, she would spend her time at the clubs, dancing wildly to the hottest beats and thus often end up going home with guys she had known for less than two hours. This was routine and Amber saw nothing wrong with it. Maybe she even hoped that one of those men might turn out to be a big shot. Having run away from home at 18 to become a model, Amber had spent the past two years doing small odd jobs here and there. Hers was the carefree life, the life lived in the moment. She seldom thought about tomorrow, let alone the future. As a struggling artiste, Amber was used to sleeping with men in return for favours. She had come to accept it as a part of her job. To win some, you've got to lose some. Simple. But what she wasn't used to, was waking up all swathed in a 1000 dollar bedsheet at a seven star hotel. Her crowd mainly consisted of menial directors or drug dealers who had the cash. Simply put, Amber was just one of the thousand girls who came to LA or Nashville every year, hoping to get lucky. And just like those thousands of others, Amber still believed she would strike gold some day. Who cared about the piling bill of debts? Not her. But right now, she was busy racking her brain trying to retrieve images of last night. They were fuzzy and smudged, like looking at the world through a veil. Maybe I should have drunk a bit less. I can't even remember who I slept with! All Amber could recall was that he was tall with a ripping hot body. She knew because she could still feel his taught muscles against her. The touch of his fingers - delicate and intricate, the feel of his lips - lush and passionate. She knew he had a crop of silky smooth hair because she had run her hand through it, intoxicated. He had been wild and ruthless yet tenacious and lustful. It was the best night Amber had had in a long time. And she still couldn't recall his face! With all his assets, how was I supposed to focus on his face anyway? Groaning, she slipped out of bed with the sheet around her body. Whoever he was, he was just the same as the others in the end. In the light of the morning, they all left. Escaping to their wives or girlfriends. Men. Amber shook her head in disgust. As she was about to cross the bedside table, she saw an iPhone 7 lying on it. That isn't mine. God bless if I could ever afford one, she stiffled a yawn and picked up the phone and switched it on. Then she saw the wallpaper and stopped short. It was a picture of André Felix Dufort and his wife.