Here’s my snippet inspired by Sundays picture of the champagne
Orson sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, Vodka, neat, and drank it down in one gulp.
“Steady there fella.” The bar man laughed. “Another?”
“Yeah, keep em coming, no, give me the bottle, room 320.”
The bar man nodded and placed the bottle on the bar.
Orson poured another drink and helped himself to ice from a chrome lidded ice bucket. The tongs were so cold they almost stuck to his fingers.
It was some time before he noticed that he’d hit the almost full bottle hard. His head was beginning to swim and aware that his legs seemed to belong to someone else.
“Vodka and coke please?”
Orson turned in the direction of the voice. A woman stood next to him. She smiled and he was struck by the greenness of her eyes, which matched her dress perfectly. He pushed the bottle in her direction.
“Bad day?” She asked.
Orson looked down at his left hand and twisted the gold wedding band that was beginning to cut into his finger.
The next thing Orson knew was waking in his hotel room, flat on his back on the bed, naked. He tried to lift his head from the pillow and groaned. The pain was intense.Trying to look around the room from his horizontal position he could see nothing out of place until he noticed the bottle of champagne, turned upside down in its bucket. The 2 glasses lay on their sides on a small side table. Swinging his legs to the side of the bed he sat up slowly. He felt sick and dizzy. The pain in his temples throbbed with an intensity he’d never experienced before. He looked round for his clothes but couldn’t see them.
“Shit, my wallet!”
He staggered to the wardrobe and looked at the safe. It was open and empty. It was only then that he noticed all his clothes, even his shoes, were missing.”
The telephone rang.
“Good morning Mr James, this is Reception. Just to let you know your wife has just arrived. She’s asking if she should come up, or meet you down here for breakfast……Mr James? Shall I send her up?”
Any ideas as to how he’s gunna get out of that?