Amber cracked an eyelid and sunlight hit her optic nerve like a tetanus shot. Why was blind used to describe drunk but not hungover?
Squeezing her eyes tight, she tried to force some synapse activity into the achy sludge in her head and figure out where she was. That single brief glimpse had told her she was in the front seat of a car – not her own. A steady, nauseating vibration said she was going somewhere at speed. The upholstery she was slumped on smelt new. Her dress had ridden up her thighs, she was wearing stockings but not shoes, hairpins were sticking into the back of her head. Her mouth tasted of red wine and felt like she’d been licking gravel.
Okay, enough with the mystery. She covered her eyes with spread fingers and peered through the gaps at the driver, blinking a couple of times at the mane of long, straight golden hair, the one purple-clad arm she could see, the crocheted vest. A bittersweet warmth trickled down Amber’s spine. It looked like…Continue Reading