A Bad Case of P.O.B.

That day I went down to the beach and drank the kinds of drinks you drink on the beach. Then I rented a jet-ski and raced around the bay and out to Land's End. Back on the beach, Carlos and the Insanity Pepper showed up. The Pepper said the maid gave him another room and that there was no problem with him pulling the sink out of the wall. We drank into the night, and grubbed at a little taco cart, before hitting the clubs. By midnight or so, I had a bad case of P.O.B. (Pussy On the Brain), but all the women were with their boyfriends and husbands, and I was too drunk to carry on a conversation anyway. The Insanity Pepper led me to a brothel called El Torito. It was a dark and sullen place just down a side street. Nobody danced. The girls just sat around little cocktail tables and didn't seem to give a crap about anything. It was lame and depressing, and still I picked out the prettiest girl and got a room. She wouldn't talk or smile. I couldn't get into the mood. I became disgusted with myself and walked out without doing anything, but I went to Mermaids, the strip club. I paid to go into the back room with a smoking hot honey, who worked her ass off (almost literally) trying to get me to blow through my pants, but I had a terrible case of whiskey dick, and nothing happened despite an effort on her part that was way above and beyond the call of duty. I went back to the hotel room full of shame and bewilderment.