I don't know where this ends, but I think I'll keep going

So that happened.

Randy woke at noon, head slightly pounding, body sore (but in a good way), exhausted yet extremely satisfied in a strange bed he did not remember climbing into. It happened to him more often than most guys believed when he bragged – unless he had pictures. From willing participants, of course, who had signed a consent form if he promised to send them copies. Alias turned towards him and smiled. Suddenly her face contorted into shock, and she leapt from the bed screaming. Randy had made his fair share of women scream in bed before, but usually it was during sex and not the next morning. Alias found the whistle around her neck and began to blow forceful tweets from it. They would have been more successful if she wasn't hyperventilating so badly. These weren't the authoritative, metallic shrieks as from the club last night when the fight almost broke out, but sounded more like tweeted panic. Wait. That wasn't a police whistle – it was a rape whistle! Did she not remember?

'How did you get in my room? And why are we naked?" demanded Alias.

Randy shrugged.

"It's a gift."

Alias screamed loud and long again.

"Hey I was only kidding. Really you don't remember?"

Alias's face contorted as she strained to remember.

"It was her, wasn't it! How could you?" she asked breathlessly. This sounded more like the woman at the Mercury, Bella. Maybe she had too much to drink at the Rat Trap and was experiencing some sort of walk of shame regret.

"You seemed like you were into it last night," replied Randy sheepishly.

"She's not asking you, dipshit! She's talking to me!" said a voice much more recognizably the woman who had dragged him home and tossed him on the bed as casually as she had thrown her mini-skirt into the corner. "I felt sorry for him! He almost got his ass kicked at the club. And besides, a little vanilla cream compliments my expresso vibe sometimes."

"But you didn't even consider my feelings! I really like him! I wanted our first night to be special, perfect - " pleaded the other voice. The Bella voice.

Alias yawned as she teased some gel out of her hair. "Geez Louise, Bella. It was just a roll in the hay – not your wedding night." She straightened and grinned mischievously.

"But that's what you wanted, isn't it? Make him wait. When are you going to realize we will be way past our expiration date if I allow you to pick the perfect moment! He'll need Viagra by the time you're ready to give it up!"

"I hate you! I hate you!" said the Bella voice as Alias began to beat herself on the chest. Randy grabbed her wrists afraid she would hurt herself and simultaneously concerned one of them would blame it on him if the rape accusations started flying again. Alias struggled and head butted him. Randy fell backwards. She stood facing him with clenched fists and gritted teeth breathing heavy as she slowly took longer breaths inhaling deeply, in and out, again and again, until her shoulders relaxed, her body went limp, and her head dropped. When her face rose from her chest, a much calmer and serene person faced him.

"Ladies, we can work this out," said the new voice. "Bella, we talked about this. Sex is perfectly natural. And DBX, it can have meaning beyond immediate gratification. You need to respect that some of us view sex as sacred – a sharing of souls, not just bodies. Now both of you, relax. We are seriously distressing this man."

Randy was struck speechless. Alias turned towards him and offered her hand which he cautiously shook it.

"Hello. I don't believe we've met. I'm Zendi," announced Alias. "I can explain everything."

Randy fell back on the bed. Even if he wasn't experiencing a significant hangover, he felt the sudden urge to lie back down for a moment.