She was going to miss the toilet the most, she decided. Kneeling on the rug in socks, panties, and her jewelry she gripped the seat and finished ejecting what was left of the beer in her stomach. The porcelain was cool against her breasts and her folded arms were a comfortable pillow for her swimming head. The toilet was just the right height and width for her. Was it possible to take it with her at the end of the semester?
She woke up the next morning in a messy heap of blankets. Automatically, she used her toes to pull off her socks and buried her face deeper into the soft plump of her pillow. Her blankets felt deliciously soft and sensual against her bare skin. She rolled over and stared at the stapler next to her. What had happened last night?