Ran to the bathroom, did the freak-out dance, clean up, collect myself, come out and she's passed out. I can still see her laying there, burned into my mind's eye, cuddled up in her own bloody vomit like a CSI nightmare.
I cleaned up her sheets, cleaned her up, started writing her a note saying what happened. While writing it she (out of the blue) darts up and says,
"Well I've had a lovely time but I should be going now" and then tries to walk away by walking into her linen closet.
I went over and took her hand and led her back to her couch like, "Now now you're never going to get into Narnia with no clothes on"
Then she passed out again on the couch. I flipped her over so she didn't choke in her sleep and I finished the note. To my recollection it went...
"Good morning, my name is Kiimosabi. We had some sex, with protection, no finish. You threw up some blood. You should probably get that looked at. Welp."
I heard through the grapevine later on that she was a ballet dancer with a bad bulimia habit.
I bet you never knew eating disorders could be so hot. I apologize for your work boner.