Some Nights Are Better Than Others
April 9 W 10:30
What a night. Where do I start? It was one of those rare nights where y0u know the girls are going to go home and jack off to you for a change. I should have invited them to spend the night and blown off this godamned retreat. When we got to the Whiskey, I was a little high. We got a parking spot right in front of the door. I even had change for the meter. Thing eased her right in. There was a hot, hot, hot little number groovin' to the music at the front door. She didn't work there, but she said she had to frisk me when I walked in. She patted me down. I said, "Who's frisking you?" She raised her arms over her head, only one button on her blouse fastened. I pawed her a bit. Her stomach was flat and smooth and soft and hard. She danced a Salome around me to "Hotel California" on the jukebox at the Coach and Horses later. She was writhing all around me, grinding her ass against my crotch, her hair was in my mouth. I ran my hands up and down her sides and over that beautiful tummy.
The Gutierrez brothers' band was good. They looked and sounded good, but Rawler seemed a little nervous, like who could blame him for having things on his mind with a kid on the way and a new house to move into and pay for, etc. I had a Bud Light at the Whiskey and spoke to Joel and Duke and Pete and Stevo and An. Stevo pointed out a group of girls among whom was the vixen from the door and said he heard them say they wanted to dance with me. I took it with a grain of salt, but kept an eye on them. Then I decided to butt in and got the vixen's name: Anita. She was sexy and wild, but she reminded me of a white Shirelle. A girl that hot had to be trouble. Still after the show, we lingered out front together, and we told them we were going to the Coach and Horses, and I didn't expect to see them again, but they wandered in around my second drink or so. I put 'em through the inquisition, got names, ages, hometowns: Kelly, Amy, Amber were nineteen and twenty and lived in Orange County and worked at Starbucks. They said Anita was engaged to a guy from Def Leppard, but she was running around giving out hard-ons with her dancing. I waited. I acted smug for a few beers, handed out jesting denigrations. She went nuts with my inattention and came over and I did her right. Mike Welch bought me a beer. I asked if anyone knew Sanyo Manson, cuz a crowd there went to school with her. Jimmy Nivy said he knew her. I dropped to my knee and clutched my heart. I said, I loved her, and my best buddy was blowing it with her, but I didn't think I should get in the middle yet. They said, "Fuck your buddy! Go get her!" Lisa Bailey gave me her e-mail address. I said I'd send her long weird e-mails. She seemed pleased. She seemed attracted to me. I walked her out. I said good-bye to Amy, Amber, Kelly, and Anita, naming each one. Kelly said, "You're good. You are really good."
Some nights are better than others.
What a night. Where do I start? It was one of those rare nights where y0u know the girls are going to go home and jack off to you for a change. I should have invited them to spend the night and blown off this godamned retreat. When we got to the Whiskey, I was a little high. We got a parking spot right in front of the door. I even had change for the meter. Thing eased her right in. There was a hot, hot, hot little number groovin' to the music at the front door. She didn't work there, but she said she had to frisk me when I walked in. She patted me down. I said, "Who's frisking you?" She raised her arms over her head, only one button on her blouse fastened. I pawed her a bit. Her stomach was flat and smooth and soft and hard. She danced a Salome around me to "Hotel California" on the jukebox at the Coach and Horses later. She was writhing all around me, grinding her ass against my crotch, her hair was in my mouth. I ran my hands up and down her sides and over that beautiful tummy.
The Gutierrez brothers' band was good. They looked and sounded good, but Rawler seemed a little nervous, like who could blame him for having things on his mind with a kid on the way and a new house to move into and pay for, etc. I had a Bud Light at the Whiskey and spoke to Joel and Duke and Pete and Stevo and An. Stevo pointed out a group of girls among whom was the vixen from the door and said he heard them say they wanted to dance with me. I took it with a grain of salt, but kept an eye on them. Then I decided to butt in and got the vixen's name: Anita. She was sexy and wild, but she reminded me of a white Shirelle. A girl that hot had to be trouble. Still after the show, we lingered out front together, and we told them we were going to the Coach and Horses, and I didn't expect to see them again, but they wandered in around my second drink or so. I put 'em through the inquisition, got names, ages, hometowns: Kelly, Amy, Amber were nineteen and twenty and lived in Orange County and worked at Starbucks. They said Anita was engaged to a guy from Def Leppard, but she was running around giving out hard-ons with her dancing. I waited. I acted smug for a few beers, handed out jesting denigrations. She went nuts with my inattention and came over and I did her right. Mike Welch bought me a beer. I asked if anyone knew Sanyo Manson, cuz a crowd there went to school with her. Jimmy Nivy said he knew her. I dropped to my knee and clutched my heart. I said, I loved her, and my best buddy was blowing it with her, but I didn't think I should get in the middle yet. They said, "Fuck your buddy! Go get her!" Lisa Bailey gave me her e-mail address. I said I'd send her long weird e-mails. She seemed pleased. She seemed attracted to me. I walked her out. I said good-bye to Amy, Amber, Kelly, and Anita, naming each one. Kelly said, "You're good. You are really good."
Some nights are better than others.
posted by johnz at 12:42 PM
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