Helen... Ch. 17

Four weeks later the spring had arrived that new year. Helen had taken her STD test and she was clear. During those weeks waiting she had not had sexual intercourse which proved to Harry that atleast she cared. Jack constantly tried to contact her in many ways too, by phone and often driving down the street, stopping to ask her to return to him. Eventually it became far too much hassle and she threatened to call the police and file an injunction order against him. For Jack, that was enough.

She also had a positive effect on Harry. Although both short of money at times, she began to smarten him up by buying clothing that he badly needed. Soon his wardrobe selection grew into something with more variety rather than constantly washing the same old garb whenever he got the chance.

A luxurious apartment and hardly any money, they soon got used to living that way together. Helen invited lots of friends from university to her twentieth birthday party, celebrated by cans of beer, bottles of cheap wine and a massive joint order from a local Indian restaurant. It was no different from any other student party, only it looked and felt as if it was being held in "Daddies" rich apartment. The walls were sound and heat insulated and there was very little of complaining to do from the neighbours as the varied music from dance to rock played loudly. Of course, there was the odd matching of couples fucking their night into oblivion. That provided eye candy for Harry as he watched the exhibitous students making love on lust and alcohol. He turned to Helen; "Is that what happens at all student parties?" Unable to keep his eyes of a couple naked on the couch, him on top of her, raunching away as if they did not care, with the sound of orgasmic cries almost drowned out by the music.

"Some of them, yes." Helen replied laughing. "It's only fun. Lots of parties end up like mini orgies. Sometimes just the odd couple. Anyhow, enjoy it; you're getting a free show. If it was your birthday and I was drunk enough I'd probably treat you to a hand or blow job so everyone can watch."

"I see." Harry thought, but not seriously. "Does that mean I can lick you out at this party and give you a five finger shuffle?"

"No chance. I'm not an exhibitionist like some of these." She laughed, knowing that Harry was only joking.

The following day, the part over, Harry woke up beside Helen in the guest bedroom. She was still sleeping off the booze and he felt a pounding in his head, remnants of alcohol in his system and the noise of all the music with screams and laughter of the party guests. It was hard to remember exactly how it all ended, but the number of people as a figure remained in his memory. He looked up thinking of the number sixty four, realising that was how many guests he had counted. The next thing to hit his senses was the desperation to pee and a dash to the bathroom. His stride was quickly halted as soon as he entered. There was a girl kneeling at the toilet basin where she had fallen asleep after vomiting. Her head was hanging over the seat, and the basin full of the vomit she had disposed of. Atleast the floor was not targeted by anyone.

He checked her out, gently easing her against the wall. She was still alive and pitied the headache she would suffer once she eventually woke up. As he peed, he could hear the sound of snoring, getting louder by the second. It was not the girl, but a young man who lay sleeping in the bath tub, grasping a bottle of plonk against his chest. If that was the bathroom, he dreaded what he would find in the rest of the apartment.

The lounge was scattered with a few bodies, some half naked, the others totally, all sleeping off the party effect from hours earlier. Empty cans, broken glasses, squashed and intact plastic cups and empty bottles scattered amongst the bodies of the strangers. There were even used condoms amongst the debris that he dare not even think of touching. If only he could remember those final hours of the party, and what he did himself. One thing to be thankful for was he woke up next to the girl he loved.

He could smell the aroma of frying bacon coming from the kitchen. His curiosity made him cautiously go and find out. "I've done some of the cleaning up," the girl said, frying up breakfast for whomever. The only thing she wore was a kitchen apron. "I felt a bit hungry so I thought I'd make a bacon sandwich. Would you like one?" she asked. It was the last thing on his mind.