The Booty Call's Lost n' Found

The biggest mistake is staying over. The next morning, the alarm goes off, you've gotten approximately 87 minutes of sleep, you look like a serious case of ass. And you have to get to work.
Then, he starts poking you. Poke. Poke. Poke.
Twenty two minutes later I'm hurriedly shoving my panties into my purse, buttoning up my meager leather coat to cover up last night's boob shirt, and stumbling around trying to find my stilettos. If I get home, take a 20-second shower, brush my teeth and apply my makeup in the car, I may make it to work 10 minutes late. If I'm lucky.
As I trip-skip-jog, trip-skip-jog to my car, I suddenly hear. "Ari-EL! ARIEL!" I stop suddenly. An old Asian lady and her old dog stop too. A businessman sipping his Starbucks latte looks at me and smirks. I turn around. He's yelling at me. From his friggin balcony, like some retarded version of Romeo and Juliet.
"WHAAAT?" I screech/whisper.
"You forgot some stuff." He replies. I look frantically through my purse. Keys, yup. Wallet, yup. Cell phone, yup. "No, I'm fine, I got everything, thanks." I screech whisper back and begin-again the morning after shuffle.
"Wait, Ari-EL!" Oh my God. I peer upwards. The Asian lady peers upwards. The dog takes a piss alarmingly close to my legs. On the balcony, he holds up my BRA. And dangles something small and shiny. "You forgot this," He shakes the bra for good measure, making sure they caught a glimpse of my DKNY White Satin Princess 34-D in San Jose. "And you forgot your earrings."
OH. MY. GOD. "Uh, thanks. I'll get them later." I turn and start moving as fast as I can.
"Well, I'm gonna be busy for the next few days, so I don't know when I'm gonna be around for you to pick them up..." As he continues to recite his schedule for the week to the entire neighborhood, I run as fast as I can to my car. Never again. Never again. I don't care that that bra cost me $60.00 and those earrings were a gift from my Aunt Susie. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the booty call.