Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jumping out of bed too quickly he bends double as the searing pain runs through his brain. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hangover. Never again. ...e throws on the clothes that he’d had the foresight to leave ready before he went out last night and grabs the bag that was all ready and packed too. Ten minutes. He slams the door shut behind him and runs down the stairs as fast as he can. Oh fuck. Feeling sick. Head pounding. Just as well he lives right by the station. It’s still going to be a. When he shut the balcony door, he could no longer hear it. Good riddance, he thought irritably, drawing the curtains shut. The only problem was that he was even more wide awake now than he had been when he left the room. Joséphine slept on undisturbed. Lorens was unsure what to do. He could hardly go to sleep as stimulated as he was and the thought of waking Joséphine for a little romp was now strangely unappealing. The image of slender young limbs, of gentle curves, of dusky skin, of a long,. More

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