"And you will behave, won't you? Do nothing I wouldn't do?"
"Of course, Susan. I am your best friend, you know."
Susan sighed and got up. Instantly, the world went black before her eyes and she had to grip the back of her chair for support. Erica and John, Susan's love interest, watched her with concern as she tried to steady herself.
"Are you sure that you'll be all right?" he asked. "We could bring you home."
Susan considered this for a second, but then shook her head. "The night is too young to be wasted. And, anyway, it's just a cold!"
The other two shrugged, not willing to disagree, and watched her sway towards the exit.
"Well then," grinned John without humour, "time to get drunk!"
Two hours later, Erica tried to fit the right key into the lock of her apartment with her left hand, while her right hand was buried in John's hair. The fact that his body was pressed tightly against hers and his mouth was full of her tongue didn't facilitate matters. Gasping for breath she tore away from him, turned around, selected the right key and opened the door.
He stood rigid, close behind her, waiting. She hesitated only for the blink of an eye, then grabbed his hand and dragged him inside.
Encouraged, John closed the door and pulled her towards him, locking lips again. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, his hands found their way under her shirt, pushing it upwards. When they broke apart so he could pull it over her head, Erica said: "We really shouldn't do this."
"Susan said we should do what she would do. I'm sure she would do this, if she weren't ill." He winked, holding her hips to his, where his jeans started to be uncomfortably tight.
She considered this for a moment, then in one fluid movement took his shirt off.
Satisfied, John leaned towards her, brushing her lips with the tip of his tongue before moving on towards her ear and neck. Erica moaned and started moving backwards slowly, taking him with her. Shedding clothes like trees shed leaves in autumn they made their way through the corridor.
After what felt like days, or maybe years, they arrived and broke apart.
"Nice bedroom," said John.
Erica grinned. “Like the rest of the flat, it has condoms hidden in all strategically relevant places. Think you can find some?”
“The way you talk when you are drunk!” he exclaimed, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck to steady herself, giving his hands a chance to explore her naked body. John bit her neck playfully and asked: “In which room should I start searching?”
The next morning found them as entangled heap of sheets and naked limbs. Erica's phone was ringing; the sound of Susan's personal ring tone increased their hangover headaches.
They knew they had broken a solemn promise, and that she would never forgive.