sex and the single dad

After she deep throated the cheesecake, however, I began to question that decision.

March 10, 2010

The date started off innocent enough.  She didn’t have a car, so I picked her up and took her to dinner.  We talked but something didn’t feel quite right.  She wasn’t psycho or anything—it was just that absolutely nothing was clicking.  I had already determined that I wasn’t going to go out with her again, but moments after dessert arrived she took a piece of cheesecake and bit-by-bit put it into her mouth.

She slowly moved the fork deeper and deeper, then closed her lips and removed it even slower than she inserted it.  When the fork came out it was wiped completely clean, as if it had just come out of the dishwasher.  She smiled and asked if we could go to my place after dinner.

I grinned and said “absolutely!”  Now, I’m not normally the kind of guy who’s into one-night stands.  I like sex as much as the next guy (even more than some dudes I know) but I never got into picking up women, nailing them, then forgetting about them.  I have my faults, but when it comes to the one-night stand department, I’m a pretty decent person.

When we got to the car this chick was all over me.  It was only about a 10-minute drive from the restaurant to my place, bat at every red light she was across my Xterra and had her tongue in my ear while she was grabbing my junk—which, by the way, she did pretty much the whole way home.

Once back at my place I tossed my keys on the kitchen counter, picked her up (she was short and light) and set her down on the dining room table.  We started making out and I pulled her shirt off and she reciprocated.

Long story short—I nailed her on the dining room table.  And in my bedroom.  And on the bathroom counter.  It was good.  I mean, crazy good.  I think we might have christened my desk, but after three times I was too exhausted.

Now I found myself in a quandary—a dilemma if you will.  As I was eating dinner I decided to not go out with her again.  After she deep throated the cheesecake, however, I began to question that decision.  Maybe I could put up with the weird for a while if the sex was gonna be this crazy good.

After recovering from my intense cardio workout I took her back home.  Once again, she spent every red light ear-f’ing me.  I didn’t hate it, but after three orgasms it wasn’t doing a whole lot for me.

We decided to go out again a couple nights later, but this time there was no pretense—she came to my place for dinner and shortly afterwards the sex commenced.  I mentioned my desire to do her on my desk and after that was done we began touring the rest of the house.  We steered clear of Drama Queen’s room because that would be too weird for me.  The kitchen counter was “used” that night and I learned that if I go out to the back patio and kneel down, the brick planter is just the right height.

I still wasn’t completely digging the whole “talking and trying to make this into something more than a booty call”, but the reality is that the sex was so good that I was willing to put forth the effort.

The next week I was scheduled to go to Las Vegas for two nights/three days to write a magazine article for a newly built but now re-named hotel/casino.  I was to pretty much have the run of the place.  The room was taken care of and lunches and dinners were comped for me in the various restaurants. I had show tickets and spa treatments booked at the hotel spa.  I had a regular room to stay in but was given a tour of the 5,000 sq. ft. suites they give the big dogs.  I was pretty much treated like a high-roller.  It was sweet.

I decided to ask this chick to go with me.  I hated doing these things by myself; lunches and dinners alone in a nice restaurant takes a lot of the fun out of things.  Plus, there was lots of time to get crazy with her.  She said yes.  In my defense it was as much the former as it was the latter.

We arrived at the hotel, were greeted by the head of Casino Marketing, Gordon.  Basically it was the task of Gordon and his team to lure the big gamblers to the casino and keep them happy while they were in town.  Now it was his job to keep us happy so that I would write a nice story about them.    He did a great job!

The first night we had a gourmet dinner—including drinks and were even offered high end cigars.  My date politely declined and told the restaurant manager that the thing she liked to smoke didn’t need to be lit.  Classy.

After dinner it was off to a show then back up to the room.  The sex was crazy good that first night.  The second night it was just crazy.

At some point during the second day she managed to get in touch with Gordon and arranged for some champagne and chocolate covered strawberries to be delivered to the room and waiting for us when we got back in the evening.

I was surprised to find them there and asked if she wanted champagne.  She said that she did but asked if I could please wait to open it.  She went into the bathroom for a moment and came out completely naked.

Now would be a good time to mention that she wasn’t hot, but neither was she fugly.  She was closer to fugly than she was hot, but as I mentioned earlier, the sex was pretty off the hook and that makes up for some of the looks.

She came out and promptly ripped all my gear off.  Now the two of us were standing naked in a hotel room and I was beginning to show my, uh, appreciation, for that nakedness.  She grabbed the champagne bottle, headed to the bathroom and asked me to follow her.

I (of course) did and she hopped up on the counter.  Once there she matter of factly explained that she was going to rip the cork off and as soon as she did that she was going to insert it in herself and that I should feel free to do whatever I wanted to do at that point.

“Whatever I wanted to do”?  This chick was getting ready to douche with a bottle of Korbel and I was supposed to “do whatever I wanted to do”.   I’m guessing that I was supposed to drink it, but that seemed a bit awkward—my head would have bumped against the bathroom counter.  I guess I should have been relieved that she wasn’t trying to take the bottle in the back door.

The rest of the night was a bit weird between us and to say that the 4 ½ hour drive home was awkward would be an understatement.  I dropped her off and went home to contemplate my options.

I decided to just let things go and see what happened.  I never called her and she never called me.  A year later I was at an Anaheim Angels baseball game with a friend.  She came bounding up to me and hopped into my arms.  She asked how I was and I said, “good.  You?”  She was doing OK and I introduced her to my friend.

He looked at me and asked how I knew her.  I paused for a second and said, “Vegas.  Champagne bottle.”  He got a big smile on his face, turned to her and said, “It’s very nice to meet you.  What are you doing after the game???”

J.R.