Tom’s phone woke him, but the call ended before he answered it. They’ll call back if it’s important. He rolled over. Brilliant night out, but I’ve got a fucking shitty hangover.
A few minutes later, he swung his legs out of bed and sat up cautiously. Looking around, he saw screwed-up clothes and empty beer cans scattered across the floor. “Good job I didn’t bring her back,” he muttered. “Working from home’s really done my head in.”
Snatches of the night before ran through his mind – drinking, dancing and chatting with Debbie. A cute blonde in a short, tight dress, she’d pressed herself against his hard-on as he groped her backside. They’d found a dark corner and she’d happily let his hands explore inside her panties. He was pretty sure she’d come, as she’d agreed to a date and they’d exchanged phone numbers. He felt confident they’d end up in bed together soon.
Call her later, he told himself. Life’s getting back to normal at last. Get my first jab, keep the boss happy.
His phone rang again. Maybe it’s Debbie. He answered it.
“NHS Track and Trace here,” a woman said. “You must self-isolate for ten days.”
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