Let’s start with a recent event, shall we?
Right after Carmen booted my ass, Pedro and I went out to commiserate with a few light beverages and a pleasant snack at a titty bar downtown. I’m sorry ladies, I realize this is crass but tits and beer go together like Sonny and Cher or Donny and Marie, there’s nothing I can do about this equation, it just is.
Anyway, while there I got friendly with an attractive little piece named Bonnie. She’s a waitress there, not a pole dancer or anything, not that I’m at all perturbed by ladies who like to dance around poles (or on them especially, wink!) but Bonnie was a knock out herself and definitely worthy of being on the stage instead of skirting it with a tray.
Odd thing though, things didn’t start out perfectly because I mentioned that very subject to her (“Sweetie, you’re so hot you could be stripping and doing coke in the dressing room backstage!”) but I soon smoothed things over. Bonnie’s a grad student making some extra cash and that extra cash doesn’t come from removing clothing, thank you very much.
So anyway, she got off around midnight (work that is, get your minds out of that gutter – that stuff comes later!) and we had a few cocktails and Pedro slunk off home all pissed off because I preferred some lady time to a great, big, unshaved, glowering Mexican.
Bonnie was the one who suggested going back to her place, I was sure she was a good girl type who’d slip me her phone number shyly, then we’d go on seventeen dinner dates to tourist trap type places with overpriced, watered-down cocktails, then she’d let me touch her boob through her blouse in the front seat of her Civic, but seems she’s more game than that.
She lives in a nice area in a tiny apartment with a huge bed, all great ingredients for a good night of flesh bumping. The nice area is important because if I had a cent for every freaking junkie who’s busted through the wrong door while I’m peri coitus, spraying vomit all over everything, looking for some hooker he insists lives there, I’d have nearly a dollar by now.
And the big bed – well, that’s just a bonus for my sly moves.
So cutting to the chase, Bonnie and I start getting heavy and ended up in a highly unclothed state on that bed and there’s no way to put this delicately, but, she was riding me like a 13 year old schoolgirl at a fucking pony show, when something really bizarre and sort of mind meltingly surreal happened. I closed my eyes for a moment of ecstasy and when I opened them I was being pumped hard by Vin Diesel!
Turns out Bonnie wears a wig! Who knew? It looked pretty real to me. What am I saying, like I even noticed her hair with that rack. Anyway, her wig got caught somehow and went flying across the room like Chewbacca with a hand grenade up his ass and old Bonnie was bald as a bowling ball.
“It’s alopecia!” she said anxiously, looking a little red-faced.
She saw my horrified expression and burst into tears.
It was a little misunderstanding though – I don’t give a shit if she’s bare-assed bald, it’s just that when she said she had alopecia…I mean, fuck, I thought that was a breed of hedgehog so I was understandably aghast.
And a little fucking confused.
After that it sort of turned me on if you want the honest truth. It’s sort of like you’re having dirty, nasty alien sex if you close your eyes and concentrate.
OK that wasn’t a great story, sure, but hey. It’s sure memorable.