the display came to life, telling her she had no time to waste!

As if prompted by her wild waving the phone finally seemed to connect, or finish calculating. But the result she saw was terrible. The site was far across town, and according to her phone she needed to use four buses just to get there.

"God, we so need a car," she groaned. "Three hours to get there! I'll barely be on time if I leave right now!"

Turning, Rachel dashed back inside, truly **** for clothes now and wishing she'd endured the freezing shower water better. She still smelled like sex and she was certain her insides were caked with crusted sperm, but she had ****. The only problem was she had no clothes.

"Dammit," Rachel cursed, and froze as her eyes fell upon the one piece of clothing she did have.

Grimacing with revulsion Rachel approached the small green ball of cloth that had been her clothes last night. As she pried it open bits of white flaked off and the stiff folds came undone.

"Oh God," she moaned, but moved to the kitchen sink, tossing it in before fishing out a kettle she'd seen in one of the boxes. She filled it with water then paced as she waited for it to boil.

With the water taking forever to heat she rushed back out to the living room to look for her shoes. She'd seen a pair of stilettos somewhere, she was sure of it. Several minutes later she found the first one, and then a minute later the second.

Triumphant, Rachel returned to the kitchen, only to find that the kettle didn't seem able to reach boiling.

"Dammit," she muttered, and settled for pouring the not quite hot water in a bowl, followed by vigorously squeezing the dress, rubbing the cloth together to try and remove the stains, having no clue that she was actually setting them and smearing them.

After another glance at her cell she knew she had no more time. She had to leave. The only problem was that the dress was soaking wet.

"Balcony!" she gasped, rushing naked onto the balcony for the third time, this time waving the little green dress like a flag. A gust of wind tore the light fabric from her fingers, tossing it across the balcony and to her neighbor's balcony. At least it wasn't the old goat's, she thought, relieved that the dress had stopped.

The only problem was how to get it. She could go out into the hall and knock, or she could try to get across to the balcony. Or maybe she could attract her neighbor's attention from out here.