Free The Naked Drinking Club by Rhona Cameron

muscular man slept on his side away from me. It wasn’t Mac. I strained to see his face, which caused the dog to growl and the man to stir. I didn’t know him at first.
    On the floor was a crumpled-up Durex. I tried to make out whether it was full or not but couldn’t see. I lay back down again, defeated by the dog and nausea. I needed a drink of water so badly; the Australian heat added a tricky new element to the morning after.
    I had to give in; it was too hot and dry. I thought hard about where I could be. I remembered dancing naked in a bar and later being in the room I had slept in, and a barman asking me what Branston pickle was. I thought I had fucked the man next to me in a toilet, that I had sat on top of him and someone had come in, a woman with a moustache, but I couldn’t be sure. I remembered being in a cab with Mac before that, then I could hear Blondie’s ‘Atomic’ but the gaps were really big this time, bigger than usual.
    I went back to sleep for a while, and when I awoke I was less drunk, and the barman had gone. I sat up in bed, my numbed head, resting on both hands which were killing me from showing Mac my pool-table balancing. I put on my clothes and left.
    The street was all lively and bright and full of more couples than usual. Then I remembered it was Saturday, and we were going out selling early just after lunch. I stood at a bus stop, trying to focus on the route information on the sign. I put my hands in the back pockets of my denim skirt to find some soft folded paper. I took it out and examined it. It was three pages from the Sydney phone book, all of the name Duffy. I had two of them on the first page scored out, which made me worry that perhaps I’d called them the night before.
    Back at William Street, things were fairly quiet. Only the Danish were up and about. I still felt slightly drunk when I walked in. I didn’t care whether Anaya saw me like this or not. In fact, I was rather hoping I would bump into her. Maybe I would ask her to come for a drink with me or something. I wouldn’t care what I said to her. I looked at the Danish eating breakfast cereal and laughed.
    ‘Hey, Kerry.’ Karin laughed back, not really understanding that I was laughing at them.
    ‘Heeeeyyy,’ I said, looking in the fridge. I bent down, putting my hands on my knees, staring in at our divided food sections. The Danish had a joint section full of fromage frais, yogurts, ham and cheese. Jim’s was mostly ham, cheese, eggs, and jam and some salad. Mine was completely empty. ‘I dunno …’ I mumbled.
    ‘Is that you just back, Kerry?’ asked Andrea who was tying her hair back with a band, sitting beside Karin on the sofa.
    ‘Yep. ‘Fraid so.’ I shut the fridge, took a glass from the draining board and filled it with water, turning round and leaning against the sink, gulping it down.
    ‘So, party, party, yeah?’ said Karin.
    ‘Party, party,’ I said in a sing-songy voice.
    ‘Did you go off with that guy in the bar?’ Karin asked, between enthusiastic mouthfuls of cereal eating.
    I poured another glass of water. ‘Mac?’
    ‘Do you know him?’ asked Karin.
    ‘Kind of.’ I thought about telling them everything but what would be the point? They’d only say ‘cool’ or something annoying like that.
    ‘Yep, we went to a club in King’s Cross, and I just crashed with someone there.’ I pushed the patio doors open with my foot, and lit up a cigarette from a packet lying on the kitchen worktop.
    ‘Cool,’ she said.
    ‘Whose are these? Do you know?’ I asked, already lighting one up.
    ‘I think they’re Anaya’s,’ said Andrea.
    ‘Cool,’ I said, sniggering. They began speaking to each other in Danish. I sat on the step, with my back against the doorframe, half looking outside, and half looking at the Danish, sucking on the cigarette, which I regretted within seconds.
    Andrea began licking stamps and putting them on postcards. That’s when it was time for me to leave. I stamped