Unleashed: The True Story of A Recovering Serial Monogamist
I Knew I Wore A Dress For A Reason!
Kay has persuaded me that I need to wear dresses more often. It is pretty warm outside and I do have nice legs, so it didn’t take much convincing. However, she has entirely too many dresses and I have too few, so we were forced (twist my arm) to go shopping. I won’t bore you with the details, but later that night, I got to wear one of those fabulous new dresses, and holy crap, the attention it got! Kay was right!
Our original plans were to find a sugar daddy. I had decided Kay deserved one just as much as I did, so we hit a more upscale bar in a neighboring city. But first things first – we were hungry, and no one gets between my food and me. At some point, a few super cute friends of mine meandered into the bar, so they got some hugs, some conversation, and an introduction to Kay, my cohort in crime. As they headed out, they invited us to meet them later at a club.
As it tends to do, my attention wandered and I noticed a foursome across the bar from us (it was pretty empty otherwise). They were older guys, ranging from 40-something to mid-50s, but the one on my left caught my eye. He was cute with a European face, but never smiled. I had my mark. I finished my soup and wandered over there; by that time, my short skirt, long legs, and high heels had already gotten his attention.
I opened with, “You look pretty European, and I was wondering if you had an accent.” Well, confident girls get away with awful opening lines like that, so it actually worked. He responded, and yes, he had an accent, but it was a strong Canadian one (!)… I told him I had been watching him and wanted to know why he didn’t ever smile. He had noticed me watching someone in his direction, but hadn’t actually thought I was looking at HIM (he apparently did not realize there was a brick wall behind him). He also hadn’t realized he hadn’t smiled all night. That soon changed.
We chatted more (partially because he was a good conversationalist; partially because I love Canadians and their accents; and partially because he was pretty darn cute). I noticed his buddy had a mullet and a big, flashy Stanley Cup ring on his pinky. My suspicions were aroused. That could only mean one thing. Intrigued, I asked about it. Ah ha! The European face with the Canadian accent now makes perfect sense… Hockey Guy and I ended up swapping digits before we both headed out, and he promised he’d call. The night was already exceeding expectations!
Kay and I ended up heading over to the exclusive club to meet my friends. We got drinks, hung out with the guys, danced up a storm, showed off our dresses and our legs — it was entirely too much fun. Kay and I conversed with different men, swapped, and talked more. Toward the end of the evening, I made my selection: Charlie Brown. He was tall, cute, and had that really short brush-cut that makes you want to run your hands, back and forth, over his scruffy hair.
Sitting in our shadowed corner booth, Charlie and I stopped talking and started making out. It heated up very quickly and his hands started to wander south. I didn’t stop him – I couldn’t… He whispered suggestions softly into my ear and we took off, practically running and laughing into the parking lot, where I was given the opportunity to cross off, not just one, but two requirements from my Bucket List (in one swell foop): (1) A one-night stand — my first ever; and (2) sex in a car.
I’ve never had sex in a car. I’ve given head in a car… while the guy was driving. I’ve been fingered and licked and gifted several ‘cookies’ in a car. But I’ve never had official sexual intercourse in a vehicle. It is an experience, but one I advise should be done in a Jeep (do a commercial for that!).
With regards to logistics: Charlie and I were in the back seat of one of the larger-model Jeeps. He had moved the front seats forward to give us more space (very thoughtful) and came back for me. The back seats are pretty deep, and he might’ve put the back of the seat down, though admittedly, I had other things on my mind and I don’t remember. All I know is that I was on the bottom, he was on the top, and dresses provide easy access for both parties’ enjoyment.
Delight and gratification ensued.
It was that hot, frenzied type of sex that follows those long, smoky looks and wandering hands; the immediate attraction that excites and boils your blood until you’re grateful for the cooler night weather and wind to cool you off and slow down your motor afterwards; when you look back at the windows after being physically satiated and they are fogged up by the temperature, intensity, and passion just shared that can only be produced by the basest of sheer animal attractions… I am getting wet just remembering it.
I felt very satisfied and very naughty pulling my dress back down when we were finished, but also very content with that little Cheshire grin on my face. Then again, feeling naughty is one of the best feelings ever.
Got a question for me? Wanna chat? Find me over on Twitter at @AmalieParis