Alex & the Martini Bar.

(May contain TMI - read at your own risk!)

Work was done, fireworks had left thick clouds of residue, and my friends had all gone for the night. Cars sat in stalled lines and I smiled as I was happy that I'd decided to spend my evening checking out the nightlife instead of sitting in traffic.

I first grabbed a beer (I never did see that Bear Tent they were promoting on the website!) at the little Ecu@dorian restaurant we'd been eating at all day. I sat on the deck watching the ships get bossed around by the harbor patrol who was attempting to keep the parties under control. It was a beautiful night.

Next I headed up to another bar that I knew would have live music. I had talked to the owner during the day and he had expressed interest in hiring Toe and the guys so I thought showing up in the evening might show the guy I was "scouting" the joint for a performance. Anyway, as I turned and started walking up the street there were two cops about 1/2 a block away running full sprint toward me. Suddenly the sirens started too and I thought... I really don't want to head this way. LOL! So, I never got to the bar with the live music.

Instead I headed to the main street and saw a bar or two that looked interesting but one had a long line to get in and the other looked like it was too crowded. Then I remembered there was a martini bar nearby! When I got there I checked the menu and saw a French Comso. I threw my $10 on the counter and drank up! The music was pretty cool and the DJ kept things lively so I was enjoying the atmosphere. I was watching people dance and sipping my drink when some guy asked me to dance. I obliged.

While dancing he had the queer habit of pointing. And I, like a fool, kept looking to whatever the fuck it was he was pointing at. Which was, of course, nothing. Other than that he was an okay dancer. After another drink and as time was passing, more people packed into the bar and big dumb guys got 'drunker and stupider'. I just wanted to write it like that to convey the mentality of the people in the bar, are ya following me? So, we (Alex is his name by the way) are dancing and these three guys start flirting with me. I pay them little mind and they get more and more aggressive. It gets to the point that every time I am facing them they are making gestures of "why are you with that guy?" and "see how I spread these two fingers and make licky movements?" - I'm not sure if this was meant to impress me or prove they didn't have tongue warts. It definitely didn't turn me on though.

When these boneheads finally started getting physically closer to the point they were almost grabbing me, I decided I had to get out. I think I was more afraid for Alex than myself because they would have started shit with him and not me. Myself, I'd much rather deal with bikers than steroid-hyped jocks when it comes to confrontations. (Note to self: Next year - find the biker bar!)

Now, I have to admit that I am flattered by the attention. I am 39 years old and having guys that are 15 years my junior pay attention to me is a cool ego boost! I love when a guy gives me a compliment or shows me courtesy. I do not like when a guy compliments me and then follows me to a bar. STALKER!!! One guy did do that but he wasn't one of the problem guys. And I totally hate when guys group together like a bunch of bananas and then progress to the point of rudeness in their efforts.

So, we leave the bar and walk to Alex's car. It is pretty clear that we are going back to his place and I'm okay with that. This is part of the reason I went out this evening... to see what was out in the world. I get my travel case from my car and then we're off. Never did I think - hey this guy could be taking me to an alley to dismember my soon-to-be lifeless body. Vodka, you are NOT my friend!!

Things are getting a little fuzzier at this point because the alcohol is really kicking in and I'm beat from the day. I'm not smashed, but feeling good. It's about 2am. While using his bathroom I drop the roll of toilet paper into the toilet, which has luckily been flushed already, but the paper is kinda useless now. I don't even look at myself in the mirror while I'm in there... must be a forewarning.

We lie on his bed and start kissing and touching. He doesn't seem overly aggressive (I actually like an aggressive guy if it is someone I know and really trust) and things are cool. Little by little our clothes magically disappear and next thing I know he's licking my.... ass! Not the squishy cheeks... the business part of my ass!! What the hell? I start to think maybe he's looking for something in there because he's lingering there and I've begun to lose interest and I'm thinking about what I'm going to wear the next day and do I have anymore sunblock. Then he starts licking the bottoms of my feet. Okay, now, he's not hurting me or anything, but to me this is strange considering I don't know this guy. This is our first (and possibly last) time together, wouldn't you want to make a good impression?

We finally get past all the "I want to lick the most unclean places on your body" phase and have moved into the where's the protection phase. He has condoms. If he doesn't have one for his tongue too I'm not kissing him again. Ack!

Now that we are in the act of actually having sex he keeps trying to get in the back door. He's very persisteant. I'm very adamant. It is NOT going to happen. So, as I'm acquiring a bit of rug burn I have to admit I am enjoying some of this. I'm enjoying the more vanilla type of sex and not wanting to veer off into the land of Karma Sutra. Still, because of the alcohol, I know there is no way I'm going to climax where as his body is numbed and able to last longer. Again, I'm wondering if the leather sandals will go with my beige clam diggers or should I just wear blue jeans.

I finally start doing things to push him toward finishing and I see a light at the end of the tunnel. In an instant he changes position and immediately I begin to think the light is a train and it's going into the wrong tunnel!!! I just yelled out "stop it" and luckily he did otherwise I don't know what I would have done. It would have been an ugly scene.

Afterward I notice I have scratched his chest all up and he says, "Aw.. my little kitty cat scratched me." *rolls eyes* So, I tell him I want to go back to my car so I can get to my hotel and he asks me to stay. *sigh* I stay for about a half hour. I lay there thinking what a fucked up person I am and I wonder how I'm going to handle myself the next day. I admit I did tear up and cry a little. How can I do these things to myself?

I wake him up and tell him I can't sleep, he agrees to take me to my car. He asks me to be his girlfriend. I tell him no, I don't want a boyfriend. He asks if I will call him, I say maybe. I had, however, given him my cell phone number already which was a mistake. He called the next night at 11pm (I was in bed) then again at 2am (I was still in bed) and he's called another 2-3 times since then.

My worst fear was that he'd show up at the festival the next day without a shirt or wearing some sort of wife beater that would show the scratches and I'd have to bear the full force of my shame in front of all my friends, the friends I love as my own flesh and blood. Luckily, when he did show up he was covered. I talked to him but kept him at a distance and tried to not let the guys suspect anything.

I don't know. I'd prefer not bother with the guy again. I keep telling myself I'm an asshole but hey, the guy got what he wanted as did I so why should I feel bad?

When I get to my hotel I see that Toe has been calling me all night. Its nice to know someone was trying to check up on me and see that I was okay. This is why he's my best bud.

When I talked to him in the morning he asked about my night and did I 'do' the guy. I lied and said I didn't. I couldn't bear his disappointment. He knows how I am, but for me to pick up a guy at a bar and screw him that night... a total new low.

In my head I was blaming Raspberry Vodka for falling through on our friends-with-benefits arrangement, but I realized that even though he had caused our fun to end, he was in no way responsible for me acting this way. At least I own up to what I do.

Not proud, but honest.

This is the real me.

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