What's more terrifying than waking up, disoriented in a completely unfamiliar environment? - Realizing that you're not alone. The moment my eyes met with a pair of grey ones, a couple of inches away from me. I couldn't prevent the loud scream that escaped my lips.

I rolled off the bed in my spur of heart-stopping fear and onto a neat rugged floor with a heavy thud. I had a hand pressed up against white sheets, I'd discovered that I was stark naked underneath. The other hand rested atop my agape mouth as I gaped at the stranger before me.

"Who are you?" I managed to let out, then glanced down at the sheets. I noticed the bare, toned muscles of his upper half and peeped underneath the sheets to be clear. Yup, we were both bare. "Did we -"

"I suppose, it is what it looks like," the man ran a hand through his dirty blonde dishevelled hair and down his face. He sounded disinterested in having this conversation.

"Oh" I lowered my gaze to the floor

My heart sank and a painful knot formed in my throat. I felt ridiculous on the floor, the sheets clutched in my hand like expensive jewellery, so I ascended to my feet. I caught sight of my dress lying on the floor, by the foot of the bed and my nude underwear, a few inches away from the gown.

I made the mistake of locking eyes with the man seated up against the bed's headboard. He stalked my every action and I felt even more self-conscious. My face burned with embarrassment and my mouth went dry. I averted my eyes and moved to pick up my belongings in the calmest way possible.

I made a straight line for a door I presumed to be the bathroom. With the click of the door behind me, the calm façade slipped away and my initial panic returned. I released shaky breaths as I trudged over to the counter. My chest tightened with every step and my throat constricted with a burning feeling.

A lone tear slid down my eye as I took in my reflection in the mirror on the wall, above the counter. I placed my dress on the counter with shaky hands, not breaking contact with my reflection. I looked like I was in a brawl, my makeup smudged, and mascara made my eyes look like that of a raccoon. My wig rested a few inches away from my hairline and resembled a bird's nest.

How could I do this to myself?

I would've never guessed in a thousand attempts that this would be the way I lost my virginity. I had guarded it with the fervour of a warrior. As a believing Christian, my virginity was the one thing that I was so proud to have intact. Especially at the age of twenty-five.

Was I perfect? No. Was I tempted to throw caution to the wind and give in to my urges and societal pressures? Sometimes. Yet, no matter the pressure or temptation, I persevered. I held unto the fulfilment of giving it to someone I loved and married.

A sob escaped my lips as the soreness from my nether region sifted through me. The splitting headache was far worse but it didn't matter to me. I pressed my lips together to hinder any more sounds from escaping and inhaled then exhaled. I needed to calm myself and be out of this damned place. The sooner, the better.

The deep voice of that man came through the door and I was a bit startled. I relaxed when I realized he was only on the phone. As deep as his voice was, his words were inaudible and I wasn't particularly concerned with was he was saying.

I spent the next five minutes fixing up my appearance. I used some tissue paper to clean up the mess on my face. Then moved unto readjusting and taming the wig, the best I could. Once I looked somewhat presentable, I rinsed my mouth and cleaned up myself. I couldn't bother to take a proper bath. Then, I threw on my nude dress.

I braced myself for another round of awkwardness as I pushed open the door. I peeked into the room and to my greatest relief, it was empty. I stepped further into the room and glanced around for my purse which I found on the floor, next to the bedside table.

I looked through my purse and confirmed all my properties were intact. As I lifted my eyes from my purse, I noticed a wad of cash stacked with purpose underneath the base of the reading lamp.

What the hell? Hold on... Does he-- does he think I'm a pr--?

My body vibrated as I snatched my shoes lying next to the door and stormed out of the hotel room. I received weird stares from people in the hotel lobby and glancing down at my entire appearance, I could understand. The interior décor and ambience of the hotel were a clear sign that it was an exquisite and high-end one. It was clear I stuck out like a sore thumb.

I dashed out of the hotel and luckily flagged down a cab in minutes. Only when I settled in the back of the cab did I begin to marinate the whole situation. I tried hard to remember what had transpired last night, how I'd met him and how we arrived at a hotel.

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Last night, I'd gone to a small club with a few of my colleagues. To celebrate my first solo surgery as a 2nd-year resident doctor. If I had known the night would turn up like this, I would've declined the offer. I shared an apartment with my best friend, Whitney and we would have likely popped a bottle of champagne. Probably have ordered any food of our choice, watched a movie, and gone to bed.

The faint flashbacks of last night's adventure were not in any way flattering. I couldn't recognize myself and I wondered if someone altered my memories. Never would I have acted so unguarded and careless with a sane mind.

Alcohol na bastard.

I recollected meeting the man at the bar. I was grabbing drinks but I couldn't exactly remember the conversation we had. I got a sheer picture of us leaving the club, hand in hand. It was unbelievable, I wasn't sure I wanted to keep trying to recall any more details.

"We're here, ma'am" the cab driver announced, looking back at me through his rear mirror.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't realize the cab had arrived at my apartment building. I got down from the cab and paid the driver, mumbling out a 'thank you'.

I walked into the building and groaned, remembering the flight of stairs I had to climb. The building had an elevator but it was crappy. It made loud, clanking noises and without fail, jerked to a stop at the end of the ride, giving people foreplays of what death felt like.

Right now, it was faulty and my shitty landlord had refused to get it fixed. I didn't mind it because this was the only place Whitney and I could afford with our budget. We needed to have enough money to meet up with our student loan monthly payments.

I fished for my keys as I approached my apartment. With a few swift turns in the keyhole, I unlocked the door and dragged myself into my space. I didn't even have two seconds to myself before Whitney rushed into the living room from the kitchen.

"Hey. You didn't come back home last night, I was so worried," She crossed her arms over her torso, her forehead creased. "I was this close to calling the cops," she pinched the air with her thumb and her pointing finger. "Where were you? I called you like a million times".

Sighing, I plopped myself onto the couch. Then narrated everything that happened, the ones I could remember that is.

"Oh my God," she rushed over to my side and placed herself on the couch. "Mandy, are you okay? I mean that was your first time right, did he use protection?" she asked.

I covered my face with my palms and let my head fall onto my lap. I was exhausted mentally from this dreadful feeling.

"I don't know. I can't remember" I mumbled against my palm.

I couldn't believe how careless I was last night; I didn't know what got into me. I usually don't even drink as much as I did; I guess I was too excited. Her arms comforted me from behind and her chin rested against my head as she stroked my arm.

She understood why I was this disheartened. For one, I could be at risk of any sexually transmitted infections. Two, if I got pregnant, it will be a total disaster. We were barely afloat with our student loans hanging over our heads. I couldn't afford to take care of a child right now. Lastly, my parents would kill me, I had very strict Nigerian parents.

Most Nigerian parents don't take wedlock pregnancies too well. For societal, religious and moral reasons. My parents happened to fall into that category. In Nigeria, girls were taught to protect and cherish their virtue. And if you lost it, you lost value in society and were promiscuous.

"Calm down, I know you're petrified but it's not the end of the world. We can get through this" she pulled me up so I sat straight and faced her. "First thing tomorrow we'd go to the hospital and run some tests, to make sure you're clean"

I released a shaky breath and nodded.

"In the meantime, you'll need to take a plan B pill" she gave my knee a reassuring pat and rose from the sofa.

Oh yeah. For a good moment, I forgot that those pills existed. I'd never had to use them before so I wasn't surprised that it didn't come to mind immediately.

"Here" she held out a packet of tablets and a glass of room temperature water. As soon as I took the pill, she planted herself beside me and placed a comforting hand on my back.

After spending five or more minutes staring into space, I arose from the sofa with my purse in hand. "I'll just go and shower, take an Advil, and turn in for the night. I'm exhausted"

She looked up at me with worry and empathy. "Okay. Don't be too hard on yourself, calm down and take that rest"

"I'll try" I threw over my shoulder, before shutting my bedroom door behind me.

I dropped my purse on my dresser and walked toward my bathroom. I felt so dirty and uncomfortable in my own skin. I shrugged off my clothing and stepped right into the shower.

I heard my door creak open, mid-shower. "Uhm, I made you some chamomile tea to help you sleep. I'll leave it on your nightstand for you"

"Thanks" I replied as I continued to scrub my body

"No problem, go easy on yourself," she said before she left.

Sighing, I knew she was worried about me, one of the qualities I loved about her.

We met in our first year of med school, I was new in the US and had no idea how the system worked. I'd done my pre-med course back in Nigeria and was new to the scene. It turned out, she had a friend who had got in, the year before, so she had everything settled. We bumped into each other and I asked for help in locating certain areas on campus. She was a huge help to me and was completely down to earth. Later on, we met again in one of the classes and became close ever since.

She was 5'8 with tanned skin, long black silky and loose curly hair. She had high cheekbones that accentuated her beauty, drawing attention everywhere she went. I was 5'5, brown-skinned, with shoulder-length afro-coiled brown hair with plain facial features.

She had a nice proportionate figure and could pass for one of Victoria's Secret models. While I was more blessed in the back compartment than the front. We both had brown eyes; hers lighter than mine. She was actually mixed, her father being Ghanaian and her mother, White American.

Her family had lived in Ghana up until she was eight, and then they relocated to America. We bonded so well because we were both West Africans and could relate to a certain extent.

I stepped out of the shower and walked over to my closet. I grabbed my favourite grey oversized hoodie and sweatpants. They were comfy and relaxing which was what I needed right now, then I picked up the warm tea.

Exhausted, I sat on my bed and looked around the room. I felt so weird and different like I had lost a part of myself. I felt so detached and I wondered if every girl felt this way after their first time. Or maybe, it was because of the way I lost it. A meaningless one-night stand.

I downed the tea and placed the mug back on my nightstand. I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes, I hoped to feel better when I opened them again. A couple of minutes later, I drifted into a deep slumber.

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