In February 2009 I went to Sacramento to visit Anne. We met up with her boyfriend, James, and a bunch of his friends at this cool pub.
Earlier that day James told Anne that his friend, who is quite the ladies man, was going to be in town and to tell me to watch out. Anne told him, “I think Jen can handle it.” So now, of course, it’s on. Did I mention that at the time I had not had sex in six months? I was dying. I thought my vagina was literally going to shrivel up and close like an unused piercing. So, bring it, Ladies Man. Bring it.
Talk a little, drink a little, flirt a little...we’re totally gonna do it, let’s get outta here. While Anne and I were driving back to James’ house, he called and asked if we needed anything from the store.
I said, “Just condoms.”
Anne reported back, “Condoms, lots of condoms.” And then we giggled like mischievous junior high school kids at the prospect of me having hot scandalous sex.
Besides Anne, James, Ladies Man and me, there were three other guys. We all hung out a bit but it didn’t take long for the three other guys to realize that people were going to be having sex. So they went for pizza. Anne and James started looking through the music selection and Ladies Man sat next to me on the couch. We made small talk and he kept asking when they were going to go upstairs and suggesting we take their room and I kept telling him to be patient. I mean they were basically choosing our sex soundtrack, that’s not something to be rushed. Or maybe it should have been rushed because they chose Eminem. And then they scurried up to the bedroom.
This is the part where we were almost kissing…almost kissing…aaaaand we’re kissing! Hot, full body tingles, weak in the knees kissing.
We took a quick break to turn out the lights and met back behind the couch for more kissing when I asked him in my most sexy half whisper, “Do you have something?”
And he said back in a sexy half whisper, “Yes.”
So I said, “Do you have several? Cause we’re gonna need several.”
Again, he said yes. I like a man who plans ahead. So we were kissing and began having what could tie for the best sex I’d ever had. And then he got what is popularly known as “Whiskey Dick”. (In Ireland they call it “Drink Droop”.) So we took a potty break and started back up and there was a knock at the door. The other three guys were back from pizza. We quickly threw on some clothes and Ladies Man went outside to talk with his friends.
When he came back in he suggested we go to Maggie’s place because that was where he was staying while he was in town. Maggie had been at the pub with us, but had left early. So I called Anne upstairs and told her I was going with Ladies Man to Maggie’s place to have more sex.
This is the part where we boned down a few more times in a tiny apartment on an air mattress. Thank you yoga. Thank you very much.
In the morning we got another lay in before Maggie woke up. At least, I don’t think she was awake yet. But before we got our morning session in, I woke up feeling bad stomach pains. The morning after drinking it, beer does bad things to me; I get what I call “the booze poos”. Sexy, right? So, I woke up feeling awful, I needed to fart and poop and the bathroom was about 15 feet away from where we were sleeping so that was not going to happen. I considered going outside to fart, but I thought he might still be able to hear. I considered turning on the shower to drown out the farts, but what excuse could I give for turning on the shower? And then it hit me: ceiling fan. Brilliant. I turned on the ceiling fan and tried to squeeze out the toots without making too much noise just in case the ceiling fan wasn’t loud enough. I wasn’t a hundred percent, but I felt much better. A little later he went in the bathroom and turned on the ceiling fan and closed the door. I couldn’t hear the ceiling fan, but I could hear him peeing as if he was standing right next to me. So the ceiling fan didn’t drown out any sounds. Excellent. Well, I guess if he did hear anything he wasn’t too grossed out to bang me.
And morning sex technically means next day sex, which technically means not a one-night stand. I mean, do the math.
So Anne and James became my two favorite people for having a friend to get me out of my six-month slump. Or as Anne’s brother-in-law put it, “I hear some guy took the dust offaya last night.” I think that’s my favorite quote ever.