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An American slut makes waves in Europe.

Heading back up to her room, Lydia sat on the edge of her freshly made bed and allowed the emptiness of the house to surround her. Looking out the window and seeing that twilight was falling on Baltimore, after such grand plans minutes earlier, Lydia didn't have a clue what to do with a whole night just to herself.

* * * * *

Hating the headaches that generally went with it, Lydia had pretty much given up drinking years earlier until the only hard alcohol she touched was during the occasional party or dinner outing.

It was clear then that tonight was a special occasion for Lydia when she found herself sitting in Jefferey's study, with the liquor cabinet open, searching for just the right 'pick me up'. She finally settled for a Vodka on the rocks.

"If you're gonna do it right," Lydia said as she toasted herself, feeling strangely giddy as the sounds of the ice cubes swirling around the chilled glass clinked and cracked together in the otherwise silent room.

Lydia contemplated calling up a few of her friends to pass the time or maybe going through the couple's extensive movie collection to find a film to lose herself in, but each time Lydia thought about getting up, she ended up pouring herself another stiff drink.

As the vaguely distant and unfamiliar feelings of a buzz descended upon Lydia's brain cells, the lonely woman jumped up from her chair and switched on the CD player, filling the house with the sounds of Mozart as she floated like a butterfly from room to room.

Lydia finally found herself back upstairs in her room, needing to take the inevitable bathroom break that always came when she drank. Sitting on the toilet, Lydia saw the letter from Kwame partially hidden under a towel on the sink beside her. Reaching for it, Lydia remembered the boy saying something about being enrolled at UMBC.

As the staggering blonde made her way back down the steps to mix drink number five, Lydia remembered the UMBC student directory she kept in the house for several fundraising activities she had helped the school with in the recent past.

"That's what I'll do," Lydia hummed. "That was such a sweet thing for that boy to do..the least I can do is thank him for his letter."

Once she found the phone book, Lydia thumbed through the directory until she came across the name of Kwame Noel, Freshman exchange student from Kenya.

"That's it," Lydia said between sips of her Smirnoff. "That's the same address..and there's his number. He is real!'s too late though..I'll call him tomorrow."

If Lydia had the presence of a mirror beside her at that moment, she would have seen the pale skin on her face and neck noticeably blushed from a combination of alcohol and shy appreciation. She would have also seen the way her nipples visibly protruded through her loose fitting tee-shirt, another unsightly effect of booze when she overindulged.

"Time to go to bed," Lydia said to herself as lethargy overtook her.

* * * * *

Sleep didn't come easily for Lydia Benson that night. Laying at the cusp of sleep several times, she just couldn't seem to get herself to fall over the edge and enjoy the pleasures of a good night's rest.

Lydia knew she had lied slightly to her husband about the extent of how busy she'd be for the next few days. While she did have a ton of little errands to attend to in the coming days, she didn't have anything so pressing that she couldn't have delayed it for an opportunity to join Jefferey in Cleveland.

Perhaps Lydia's failure to fall asleep could be traced to the fact that she didn't have anything pressing first thing in the morning to wake her from bed like she usually did. That, and the issues still burning between her thighs from what he had internally planned on doing with her husband, kept Lydia's body and mind from succumbing to sleep. Looking over at the green digital light of the alarm clock on the nightstand, Lydia saw that it said 11:13pm.

"Only 12 minutes since the last time you looked," Lydia bitterly reminded herself.

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