FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A ray of sunlight peeks in through the curtains, rousing me from sleep. My body aches, and I have a killer headache. But it shouldn't be that bad. I open my eyes, expecting to see the beautiful girl I met last night at the bar, but instead all I see is empty space.

I sit bolt upright and look at the bed. The sheets are rumpled and pulled back, so clearly she actually slept here. I shake my head, but it's still pounding from my hangover. I look back, and see the stain from her fluids.

"Fuck, what happened?"

I slip out of bed, getting unsteadily to my feet. Beneath my pawpads I feel the dress I wore last night. I kick it aside and head into the bathroom.

My face is an absolute mess. Makeup all askew, terrible bed head. I look a little lower and ease through my chestfur, seeing fresh scratches across my breasts, and the light scabbing that tells me she played rough. In the light I look lower, seeing the matting around my crotch, especially around my penis. At least I can tell she didn't back down when she realized she was fucking a trans girl.

I know I should shower, but fuck that. I don't want to believe that she'd just leave me like this. We've been dating online for months, and she knew what she was getting into! I hoped to the gods that she didn't just ditch me after our first real night together.

Back in the room, I look around. There's a half-full bottle of rum on the TV stand, and two cups next to it, each with just a hint of the amber liquid in the bottom. One of the lamps is knocked over. I go deeper into the room, over to her side of the bed.

Condom wrappers decorate the floor. Three open ones, and two discarded condoms. Where'd the third go? I check the sheets. Nothing. A quick peek under the bed. All I find is a pair of lacy red panties. I pull them out and inhale their scent. I can still smell her on them, the delicious, lightly musky, lightly sweet scent of her vagina. I hug them tightly. This may well be the only token of our night that I'll be able to retain.

Phone. Where's my phone? I stand up and check the bedside tables. No sign of it. I check my purse, hanging in the closet by the door. There it is. Battery's dead.

"Goddammit," I mutter. I return to the bed and plug it in, and resume taking in the room while I wait for the battery to get enough juice to turn back on.

I notice the pad of paper on the desk in the corner. There's a pen lying next to it, and a note written on it. My heart skips a beat as I leap over and snatch it up. Her familiar handwriting greets me, though it's not her usual beautiful script. It's wonky and wavy.

"Oh flower of my heart, my little dove, The owner of my soul, my one true love."

I grin. My little poet. I set the pad down and lift the top sheet up and off. That's a keeper.

There's a knock on the door. I run up, excited, but right before I throw it open, I hear an unfamiliar male voice on the other side. "Room service."

I gasp and slide to a stop. Can't answer the door in the nude. Thankfully there's a bathrobe in the closet. I pull it on and open the door.

The gentleman is already gone, but there's a tray of food in front of it. Scrambled eggs, sausage, wheat toast, orange juice. My favorite breakfast. I pick it up and shut the door.

I don't remember ordering room service, but I have no complaints. A hot breakfast is just what I need to fight this hangover.

I curl up in bed with my breakfast. I take a few bites of egg, sip the OJ and take my morning pills. At this point my phone should be able to turn on. I bring it to life, holding it in one paw while I continue to work on my breakfast with the other.

No messages. I wonder if I should call her, or text, or something. Instead I set my phone down and quietly finish my breakfast.