He lay on his back on the floor, with his shirt thrown to one side, a crooked smile on his face and a bruise growing on his stomach. Damned if he wasn’t confused. She stormed off in a huff and didn’t even explain why. Her perfume left more slowly than she did and he savored it. Her warmth on his leg was just as gradually drifting into the ether. He chuckled at the irony that she left him not once, but several separate, consecutive times; not only by her presence but through her scent and warmth also. He could still taste her, but that was fading too. It kinda sucks being left so many times in the matter of a few minutes. He lifted his head and glanced at the bulge in his pants. Women always have the best timing.

            He let his head drop back to the floor and turned to look at his shirt. She ripped the damn thing trying to get it off. What the hell was that about? That was a nice shirt. Sitting up, he remembered why her motor control might not have been up to par when his head starting swimming and spots darkened his vision. Yup, still drunk.

            He replayed the series of events in his head. He pinched her ass, she slapped him playfully, whispered in his ear, he led her in here, threw her on the couch and she ripped his damn shirt. They rolled onto the floor, kissed, he took off her shirt, the dog licked his face, he slapped the dog, she laughed. They kissed more, she punched him in the gut, got up, put her shirt back on and left.

            He looked over at the mutt. She was smiling with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. It’s funny how big dogs don’t seem to care if you beat the hell out of them, just as long as you pet them later. He clicked at her and she came obediently. He scratched her behind the ear.

            “Why the hell did she hit me?” he asked the dog. The dog just licked his face.

            He laid himself back down on the floor. What the fuck was her name? Angela? Angie? Fuck… whatever. He stood up quickly and his inner ear disagreed with that action so he promptly sat back down. Hard. “Guess I’ll do a little more thinking,” he said, rubbing the knee he just fell on. He turned as a shadow fell over him.

            Angie… Angela… Angiela… whatever her name was looked down at him. She threw a small plastic square at him. It hit square in the middle of his forehead and fell into his lap. He looked down at an unopened condom. Oh shit, he forgot about that part. Slapped the dog, she laughed, more kissing, “you don’t have herpes or something do ya,” gut pain.

            He smiled up at her. She just shook her head, turned, and left. He turned and smiled at the dog. She smiled back and wagged her tail.

            “Big dogs, huh?” The mutt just kept smiling.