Thank god they’d forgotten to close the curtains.

If they’d had any thought to spare for such things, say an investment in modesty or age-appropriate behavior, as they flung off their conference attire and tore into each other like rhesus monkeys finally given a real live roommate rather than a chunk of wood covered with faux fur, well then the whole morning would have had a very different tone.

As it was, the full brightness of the early morning L.A. sunshine bouncing off of the unfamiliar bald head on the hotel pillow next to her woke Bennett up in plenty of time to get out of there before the walk of shame, or even worse - post-coital conversation - became necessary.

She did have to sacrifice a new pair of panties because she couldn’t find them. They were Victoria Secret and she had spent way too much on them, which is the only reason she spared them a thought at all.  Well, that and they matched her bra. Which she did find slung over the lampshade on his side of the bed. She can’t remember his name. She studies his face for a moment, but in the daylight she notices things she missed the night before, like the fact that he is quite a bit paler than she realized and his eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead and the hair that should be on the top of his head is instead carpeting his shoulders.

She wrinkles her lip as she shrugs into the lacy bra. There had been quite a few bottles of wine at the bar downstairs before she’d followed him up here. She thinks it might be Steven or something. She doesn’t have a single memory of him from the conference, couldn’t tell you what his fucking niche was – she is still a little bitter about niches – hers being assigned like every fucking thing else – but if memory serves the sex wasn’t too bad.

She remembers a brief flash of disappointment when they finally aired their parts that his was on the smallish side, but it was too late at that point. And in fact, as Bennett has found to be the case more than not, it’s the guys with the small peckers who have the most imagination and generosity. It’s like they know they’ve got to work a little harder at the whole thing rather than just banging away until the job is done. She peeks under the sheets to check for her panties and her memory is confirmed in flaccid detail. She hopes he finds the underwear after she’s gone and they make him feel good about himself. Bennett feels momentarily proud of herself for her sexual philanthropy.

Maybe his name was Mike? That rings a distant bell. It’s entirely possible that she just plucked Steven out of her ass without a shred of reason to do so – but that’s true of Mike too. She really has no shred of a memory in that regard.

Steven/Mike lets out a giant snort and flops over toward her side of the bed just as she’s stepping into her skirt. His manicured hand pats the sheets where she used to be, and even though his eyes stay closed, Bennett thinks she may have detected a flutter. She quickly rams a pillow up against his questing fingers and he latches onto it, pulling it close and smiling with the half of his mouth that isn’t drooling into his own pillow.

Bennett finds her shirt and misbuttons it as she slings on her purse and scoops up her heels with one finger. A quick glance around the room and a quick dig in her purse to make sure she has her phone and she’s out the door.

Crisis averted.