Personal decadence and its physical consequences

He had narrowly escaped an all-day business seminar at which he had felt immediately, irremediably out of place. He wished he had slept instead. She had dragged him there of course.
After a brief chat with M. Choi (whom he could hardly remember), he was feeling somewhat relieved that this nuisance of a man was moving to DC the following week. Sitting next to him: J. Yung. He had seen her before. She looked familiar. And certainly very hot as well (perhaps that's why she looked familiar). She reminded him of Hsu Chi. Must have been her lips.
He thought about the night before:
“Yesterday, dinner with R. and S. L. at an upper west side restaurant. OK food. Was recovering from Thursday night, as I still am, today.” (banality of the notation, he thought right away)
Thursday had been quite a decadent night, now that he was thinking about it. He had half expected this to happen when K. called, out of the blue. He was always pleasantly surprised at the odd regularity of their “relationship”. They seemed to maintain a continuous erotic distance.
Not on that night though. That night was sensibly different. He had spent a good amount of time with his hand down her pants. Then got into a weird (but enviable) “ryo te hana” situation (with H.), to use an exaggerated expression. He was surprised he still knew some Japanese. He had downed a few shots with her. Couldn’t quite remember her name. Came back home around 5 AM. Drunk and sick. Predictably. Predictable.
It was good to see Daisuke though. The name of the manager escaped him. Too bad. He was a nice guy as well.
Been having a major pain in the neck, quite literally, since then. Physical aftermath of this minor moral fall.