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Posts Tagged ‘Four Seasons’

The texts started coming in while Cooper Fiennes and I were having a late lunch. Type Geek and I had plans that evening. Originally we were going to join his friends 40th birthday celebration after the charity function, however we decided that INSTEAD of charity function sounded much better. The drama of those charity people had been too much.The next text message mentions that if I’m late, text him and he’ll come out to me. I told him, I would be there early & extra hot.

A few minutes later  C.F. informs me that we are now going back to his place to shower and fuck. DAMN IT. The look of shock on his face when I declined, priceless. As much as I WANTED to be able to, NOT being able to felt really good. Leaving him wanting me was an awesome feeling. Sigh. Cooper Fiennes walked me to the train, kissed me frustratingly on the platform and we parted so I could make my date on time. I did send C.F. a breast/bra flash photo via text though after I arrived on my side of the station. He looked so pathetic across the way. Like a little boy who found out there was no Santa Claus. He flashed me his trademark smile as he saw it come through his phone just as his train arrived.

Okay, now the cards were stacked against me. My trains were running on delays with signal switching issues, then a bus that was pulling off just as I walked out of the station…aarrgh. Somehow I was able to get home, rinse off quickly in the shower, run a razor haphazardly over my legs and slip on my hot dress, sequined heels, and grab some overnight essentials in less than an hour. I also took the dog for a walk around the block.  Amazingly, I make it to the restaurant with 5 minutes to spare … when I get his text. HE is running late. Turns out that the only other person as chronically late as me…is Type Geek. I should know this by now. He has been late for several of our dates. I should no longer rush, unless there is a time sensitive reason.

I’m pacing outside the restaurant, awaiting his arrival, fretting about what meeting his friends means, and texting him suggestively. He says that there is no guarantee that i will get laid that night. WTF is that?! He does have to leave early the next morning for a Father’s day event across the state, but really? Fine, I decide to tease the hell out of him then. I went into the bathroom and exposed my panties to the cell phone camera, then while outside again, I flashed my breast for the camera. I’m getting laid damn it! I had a sure thing lined in C.F. and now, Type Geek, after already owing me a few morning sexcapades and a make up for the time he fell asleep and forgot to unlock his door, I’m being told that I MIGHT NOT get lucky? Are you serious?! I’m kicking that man’s ass.

He finally shows up to extreme accolades over my appearance. I DID tell him that I would be there early and look extra hot. After a short hello and peck, we walk into the restaurant together. Meeting the friends for the first time of someone you are dating is always a weird experience. Its a vulnerable position if they know you are fucking because you don’t know what said date has told them about you. Also, you don’t know if it means the other person is getting serious with you. With C.F. , his friends don’t know the details of our friendship. They just know that I am around sometimes. I assume that they have their suspicions but we don’t over share since his friends are his colleagues and his colleagues don’t know the extent of his split with his wife. Type Geek’s friends are diverse and older, his two closest and longest friends of the group are also very gay men, which now explains his total non-issue with my past. There were 8 of us total at dinner. I liked 4 of them very much. The other two were odd in their tone with me. They were surprised by my age, assuming I was ten years younger, and they spoke to me in a dismissive interrogative way. It’s an odd thing that women can do with other women if they feel challenged or uncomfortable. My comfort with the group and ability to integrate quickly unnerved them. We had spicy Tikka Masala and a seared Tandoori Lamb, plus copious cocktails. Type Geek isn’t known for being a heavy drinker, a few glasses of wine make him feel buzzy, so I was surprised to see him have 3 vodka martinis, a glass of pinot noir, and the espresso vodka shot we all took. This is going to be interesting as the night stretches on.

The restaurant turns into a nightclub after dinner and we stay. We remained in the banquette seats of our original table and watched the crowd change.  The music was awful, the crowd was worse. Then, a nightclub hostess tried to kick us off the banquette because, as she said, she had just sold the tables for bottle service. This is the point when the woman who arranged the dinner & paid the tab for all 8 of us commented, “excuse me, but I think I just bought this table for $1,000 so, we aren’t moving.” I then calculated in my head the costs of everyone and gasped. Yes, indeed, she did spend roughly $1,000 for this birthday event. Nice friend. No, we aren’t moving. Except, the music started to become too much, the crowd, too trashy, and we decided we wanted something “classier”.

Within ten minutes we had arrived at one of the most hardcore gay nightclubs in the city. The video screens all played “gay for pay” porn in HD and the club stank of adult video store movie booths, but, the music was better. Then T.G. had a beer, then a whiskey. The night really spirals down from there. I had asked if he had ever been cock curious and he said no, not really. There had been a fleeting consideration marked by quick dismissal back in high school. The guy? One of his friends here tonight. That friend gets told the story and then suddenly I turn to see them kissing. Ten minutes later everyone is on the dance floor except for T.G. and I. We are leaning against the bar and suddenly he looks at me strange and says, we should go, now. Officially wasted.

I left T.G. at the bar while I found the boys in the melee on the dance floor, they came over to say goodbye and grab their shirts which were in my purse. When the boys and I head back to T.G. he is sliding down into a seated position on the foot rest of the bar. They attend to him while I turn to talk to his other friend, the woman who paid the dinner bill. Next thing I knew, his head was in his hands and the boys were shaking their head and telling me he was sick. I didn’t see the vomit happen, but I knew then, I was NOT getting laid that night.

We got him out of the bar and into a cab. At his house I was able to get him undressed, teeth brushed, and convince him to get two aspirin and a glass of water into his body. I placed a bucket by his bed, just in case. Cool damp cloth on the back of his neck, head and bare back… and then I told him, wake me if you need me.

I awoke in the morning to find him with his face buried under the once damp cloth. Did he remember much? Not really. He was mortified, it wasn’t that bad I told him. Truthfully, it wasn’t. He was the most composed of any drunken vomiter I have ever witnessed. Hell, I’m not that composed. He didn’t remember kissing his friend, which I had a feeling he wasn’t going to remember. Sigh. I fed him more water, more aspirin and then by 1 was able to get him vertical, showered and feeling human with a cup of coffee in him. He was going to be 5 hours late for Father’s Day brunch. Woops. I then took off for brunch with Assoc.Prod/Musician guy since we haven’t hung in a while and I wanted all the dirt on his new girlfriend.

For the remainder of the day, I couldn’t get this out of my head:

I felt a rush like a rolling bolt of thunder
Spinnin’ my head around and taking my body under.
Oh, what a night!
(Do, do, do, do, do. Do, do, do, do, do, do.)

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