Flash-forward!

With a heavy heart, Eddie drained his glass and signaled to the bartender for another. As he watched his glass fill with merlot, he tried not to stare at the beautiful woman on the other end of the bar. He always got the roaming eye when he was drunk. To his surprise, though, she calmly walked over and put a hand on the stool next to his.

"This seat taken?" she asked. He shook his head and she sat down and ordered a dark and stormy. He found it even more difficult to keep his eyes from wandering. She was tall and graceful, squeezed into a blue dress that showed more than a little cleavage. She could have been a model.

"A friend of mine used to drink those," he commented as the bartender served up her drink. She sipped it daintily and smiled.

"Your friend has good taste," she remarked.

"Had," he corrected. Christ, what was wrong with him? The last thing he should be talking about is his exes. "I mean, I haven't seen her in a while. For all I know she quit drinking."

The stranger nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure that wherever she is, she's doing well." She introduced herself as Abby and offered her hand.

"Eddie," he said as he shook it. Looking down, he realized he was a mess. His suit was wrinkled and his loose tie had several stains on it. "So, uh, do you like this bar?"

She laughed. It was a light, sparkling laugh that once again reminded him of his ex. He really had to get her out of his head.

"I'm from out of town. I came here for the company," she replied coyly. She reached out and started drumming her fingers across the his knuckles. He stared at his hand in silence, wondering if he was dreaming.

Abby broke the awkward pause with another question. "So, Eddie, you look like you've had a long day."

"You don't know the half of it," he muttered. He knew that he should at least hold his tongue about the grisly scene that drove him to drink a bottle and a half of wine. Not a very sexy image.

"Aw, poor guy," she said without a hint of sarcasm or mockery. "What do you do?"

"I'm a surgeon," he said with a cough. "I, uh, had a bad day at work."

Abby seemed to intuit that he didn't want to discuss it, so she changed topics. "That sounds awful. In my experience, the best thing to get over something like that is a good distraction."

Eddie knew he was drunk and in dangerous territory. She was obviously hitting on him but he could easily overplay his hand and come off like a total creep if he was too enthusiastic. "I don't know why I thought drinking would help. It never does. What do you recommend?"

Her eyes lit up as though she'd been waiting for him to ask that. "Well," she said as she leaned in closer, "I'm staying in room 314. I'm in town for a conference, you know? Maybe we can find something to do up there."

Eddie drained his glass and asked for the check.

The door wasn't even fully closed when Abby shrugged off the straps of her dress. Eddie stared drunkenly at her tits, covered only by a lacy bra. He briefly wondered what kind of woman wears lingerie under her dress to a conference.

"You better take those off before you tear a hole in them," she said flirtatiously. Eddie realized with some chagrin that his erection was visible through his slacks. He awkwardly began to disrobe. When he bent over to take off his shoes, he almost fell over in his impaired state. Fortunately, Abby caught him. She laughed and helped him to the bed, where she finished the job for him.

Eddie stared up at the ceiling woozily. He really wished he hadn't gotten so drunk. Abby didn't seem to mind, but he was worried he wouldn't even remember this before tomorrow. He looked up and closed one eye to see the now fully naked woman approaching him. She was even more stunning without the dress and his cock twitched as she laid on top of him.

"I don't have any condoms..." he mumbled, but she already had one at the ready and slipped it onto his member in one fluid motion. A second later she slipped herself onto him and Eddie's breath caught in his throat from the sudden pleasure.

It had been a bit of a dry spell for him. More accurately, he hadn't had sex in three years. Every time he tried to pick up a woman he ended up self-sabotaging. Usually he would finish the night with a drunken voicemail to Matilda begging her to come back and wake up the morning hungover and regretful.

Tonight, though, this stranger had gotten right past his awkwardness. She rhythmically impaled herself on him, moaning and caressing his chest. Her hair dangled in his face, smelling like lilacs. No, that couldn't be right. That was how Matilda's hair always smelled. The sudden sense memory awoke something inside him and before he knew it he was pitifully orgasming into her.

For her part, Abby did a passable job faking an orgasm. She wasn't even red in the face, he realized with embarrassment. A rush of drunken self-loathing surged into Eddie's mind. He probably didn't even get her heart rate up. If she was disappointed, though, she gave no sign of it. She pulled away from him, his flaccid member sliding frictionlessly out of her, and took the condom into the bathroom.

Eddie felt his gorge rise slightly and **** it back down. This woman had tolerated a lot of mopey bullshit out of him this evening, but he wasn't going to puke all over her hotel room. He swallowed hard and concentrated on keeping his nausea at bay. He closed his eyes, so he didn't even know she was there until he felt a small prick on his arm.