Sleeper Number Two

Carrie’s alarm startled her. She blindly grabbed for the nearest hard object, which happened to be her shoe and flung it in the general direction of the offending noise.

It took her a few moments before she realized that her shoe had been lying next to her pillow and another few moments for her to try and remember why her shoe would be next to her pillow.

God. No more tequila shooters for me.

Carrie blinked and tried to wade through the hazy memories of the previous evening. She remembered the drinking. She remembered the flirting with the God of Tequila, AKA : Hot Bartender. She remembered her friend Jude calling a taxi. Beyond that, everything was a blur.

Ah well, a good time was had. Jude will fill in the blanks when I get to work.

She stretched, winced and decided a hot shower was in order. As she walked into the bathroom, a pulsing light began to flash behind her left ear. Her face went blank as she dropped her towel, headed for the closet and chose her weapons for the mission.

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