Halloween this year was fun, despite it having been a pain in the ass trying to figure who to ask out. Everyone seemed to be tied up till late, and I bet the G-Spot was out hanging with his Goddess (although I might be mistaken on this count; due to multiple hickeys inflicted upon him by a particularly unstable individual, he could possibly be trying his darnest to avoid unnecessary suspicion), and Mr. B hadn’t contacted me since the ménage a trios. Eventually, I settled on an old friend I had not gone out with for awhile, although I did bump into him a couple of times not too long ago. I thought it would be a great opportunity to catch up, called him, and found out he was more then happy to make it for dinner at CHIJMES before hitting a private party I was most certainly welcomed to crash.
We used to attend some weekly literary event that I stopped going to eventually because I found other things to occupy my time with and he stopped because he’d gotten bored with it but had stayed on as long as I kept on coming. According to him. Was sure it was just unnecessary but perfectly welcomed flattery.
Everyone loved the slutty witch outfit I had, and it was a lot of fun being told off not to do dirty things with the banana. The wackiest get up was this dude (barely) dressed as Alexander the Great, he was wearing the breast plate, and thankfully, a leather skirt as well. Samwise Gamgee was also present. My heels were giving me blisters and Luce seemed to find it amusing carrying me about the car-park after we left the party to hit the clubca. There were a whole lot of people standing around staring, and I started making weird fainting noises, pretending that I had eaten a poisoned apple.
I was very pleased with myself last night; I had a cool outfit, Luce seemed to be enjoying himself and was content with doing whatever the hell I wanted, and I also had a good time listening to his theories on religion half drunk. He had apparently been studying theology and was once upon a time a wannabe Catholic-priest-something-or-other, and had thought religion should just go screw itself over half-way through and left. It was all very well for me, because I did something I’ve always wanted to do, last night. It’s extremely silly, but I had my fun and am content.
You see, what had happened was, while I had been at the club, Teddy came on the bar dressed as the King of sin, or the duke of hell, or, put more simply, Lucifer. I thought he looked cool, and by this time had started to like him, for reasons yet unknown to me. Maybe it was because he had so many ‘ho’s and was generally a nice guy who really knew how to have fun. I started dancing with him and lifted up leg up and touched my thigh on his tummy. Wonders of wonders, the damn stocking got caught in a button and I found myself in one of the most awkward situations ever. So we were both on the bar top, trying to untangle my stocking from his shirt.
We danced for a bit, but he got stolen by Catwoman. I have no idea what’s Her problem, but she kept on cutting in between us. Teddy carried me up, and some girl sprayed me with water. I hope they do it out of fun and not because of some silly bitch politicking. I am a customer after all, and just there to have fun!
It wasn’t till later while I was in the cab with Luce that I realized there was a huge gaping hole in the stocking. I doubt he was drunk, but we both definitely had had enough to drink, and he couldn’t stop trying to hit on me. I didn’t mind the whole stroking my leg bit, I love having my legs stroked after all, but I didn’t feel like kissing him and it started to get extremely embarrassing when he started coming on to me, literally (as in, trying to straddle me, in the fucking cab), I told him to please sit down and behave. He did, but picked up my right leg and placed it across his, and started stroking my ankle. My other foot was rested on the headrest of the passenger front-seat, and I suppose the cab driver could have seen my underwear, if he looked in the headboard mirror. Luce started stroking the insides of my thighs and fingering the torn edges of the stocking. It was very bad behaviour, and I knew the cab driver was peeking at us whenever he could, but I didn’t tell him to stop because it felt rather nice. He started fingering me over my panties and I shivered and found it all very exciting. It went about for an unnecessarily lengthy period of time until I came, in the cab, my pussy possibly in full view of the headboard mirror (I had been wearing a dress, and my skirt was hitched up all the way to my stomach). I made no noise, but my body gave a little lurch as I reached orgasm, and I leaned back against the seat, my hand cupping my mouth, trying to calm down a little.
I started laughing and Luce started laughing, and I told him what the weird thing was, and that was how I didn’t even think I was vaguely drunk. Not very sober, no, but for the most part, not drunk. The driver stopped at my place and demanded payment. Perhaps he had had his modesty outraged. I suppose we could have been sued for such bad behaviour; I had wanted to fuck him in the cab, just because I was horny, and there were points I considered going back to his place, but thought against it. I do try to observe restraint, and besides, I wasn’t particularly interested in sleeping with anyone new. The driver must have been surprised we weren’t getting off together.
If there was one thing I felt did not make the grade for the night was how Teddy simply refused to kiss me goodbye after I had told him I was leaving. I thought it was perhaps because he was seeing another bar-maid, or sleeping with one of them, and it simply would not do. Understandable. When I had first gotten to know him, I always had this peculiar theory that he slept with all the bar-maids. It’s not true of course. And he explained to me why he could never kiss me, late last morning. Despite him thinking that I was most certainly very sexy, and every bit the charmer.
All I can say is that it would be fun if I had the lord of the greasy poles to hell as my paramour. Simply put, he’s married. D’oh. Not like that really bothered anyone, and it most certainly never bothered me, although I would be extremely freaked out if a man actually told me he’d wish to leave his wife for my sake (one of those impossible, hypothetical situations, and it’s not even something I would like. For that matter, I would probably hit him on the head till he decides otherwise).
My internet connection has been pretty fucked lately.
xoxox
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