Trading Up

October 22, 2010

It’s not everyday that a man has the balls to write his number on your menu and tell you to call him. So when the handsome guy at the table over did, I was immediately intrigued. 

Fast-forward one week, the handsome guy from the restaurant had invited me for drinks. True to my workaholic form, I only had Tuesday at 11:30 PM available. He seemed surprised or perhaps discouraged by my rigid schedule but agreed to meet me anyhow. 

Let’s call him The Trader.

Leaning against the black granite bar of my go-to spot, The Summit Bar, I gave my date the once-over. Tall, with dirty blond hair, his suit was cut slim enough to indicate he had a sense of style and his shoes were inoffensive (I don’t ask for much, just don’t offend me with your clothing). 

We made our way to the back couches and without my alcohol-induced haze I couldn’t help but notice how young he looked. Bored with the typical ‘first date’ niceties I began to grill him with questions; sometimes a girl just needs to have a little fun.

Through an intense round of questioning, The Trader let slip that he'd had half the summer off. I looked at him quizzically, demanding to know just how exactly someone in New York City had more than a month of vacation time?

He looked slightly embarrassed before coming clean; he had just graduated from college. I almost died, it was too much. He was practically a child. Not that I am much older, but still... The last person I slept with is double his age. DOUBLE!

Not to be ageist, but really. Torn on whether or not he’d seen the horror flash across my face, I decided to stay and humor him.

Poor kid has no idea what he just got himself into.

Bad Behavior

@Raffaele.Marinetti Raffaele Marinetti

 May 24, 2010

Everyone has those moments, they wake up and think, “what the hell happened last night?” I am all for wild nights and crazy times but as a general rule I always remember what goes down, until now.

I lay in The Friend’s bed and tried not to move; my head was pounding, rays of sunlight streamed in through the large window beside the bed and directly into my eyes. The Friend, up for a while it seemed was texting away on his blackberry naked next to me. “Water, need water,” I moaned and we both started laughing. 

I could barely remember the cab ride into the city, yet some how I was having flashbacks to us fucking; me on top, riding him until I came. That was pretty much all I had and nothing else. I crossed the room and slid into my dress. My ass was killing me; I rubbed it with my hand only to feel a bump on one of my firm cheeks. I headed into the bathroom and pulled up my dress to see what the fuck was going on. Horror.

I walked into the middle of the hallway, turned around with my ass out and said, “What the fuck did you do to me last night?”

His face turned a remarkable shade of white; he just stared. I couldn’t help but laugh then confessed that I couldn’t remember a single thing from the night before. My ass was a lovely shade of black and blue right along side the left cheek about 3 inches in diameter. I had never seen anything quite like it. The Friend just shook his head, “How did that happen?”

It was completely genius; neither of us could remember a damn thing. I don’t recall him grabbing me or spanking me THAT hard. Trust me a bruise like this one would imagine being hard to forget.

I kissed him goodbye and could feel him getting hard again. His lips were soft and his hands firm around my waist. I could tell that if I didn’t leave now I never would. It was hard to keep from laughing as I rode the elevator down next to the suits heading off to work. The doors swung open and it hit me. Fuck.

It is going to take a master explanation to try to justify this one to my other lovers… I’d say wish me luck, but I am pure skill. 

Circle of Friends

@ice.bust

May 3, 2010

Loyalty, a concept that is beyond lost. What used to be the foundation of any good relationship is now better suited to describe how one’s dog behaves. The night Ralph Lauren Guy came to New York, his friend alluded to just how un-loyal he was willing to be; I couldn’t wait to find out.

The sun poured down onto my shoulders, I could feel my tan deepening. It was just past 5PM on Monday and I polished off my third drink of the day as I strolled through SOHO en route to my weekly dinner date.

A few months back I had been enjoying my usual glass of Chablis at Balthazar when I made friends with this amazing 70-year-old man. A retired ad exec he is now pursuing his true calling as an author; dinning at Balthazar on Monday’s for inspiration. Since we met it has become a weekly tradition that I join.  

My phone buzzed on the bar and my friend laughed. He was always teasing me how I couldn’t go more than 2 seconds without getting some action on my mobile. It was Ralph Lauren Guy’s friend, lets call him The Friend. He was heading for dinner and wanted me to join. I laughed, why would I head to Brooklyn in this heat. He insisted, said he would have a car outside Balthazar in 10 to collect me. How could I refuse?

I touched up my lipstick as the car approached the famed Brooklyn steakhouse. I was barely in the door and The Friend had placed a glass of wine in my hand and an arm around my waist. We stood amongst his other beautiful friends laughing and drinking until we were ready to dine.

Throughout dinner he had his hand on my leg, his grip firm. I could tell he was aching to get me home and have his way with me. I sat with his hand pressed into my skin but could not help eying his friend across the table.

He was there with a date and it was clear that he would be going home with her, just as I would be going home with The Friend. Throughout dinner we expertly played our roles as objects-of-desire to our respective dates, but we both kept eyes locked on each other.

Post dinner drinks at the bar had us all rather smashed and I walked towards the bathroom in pursuit of The Friend’s friend. We stood inches away from each other; the electricity between us was insane. I wanted him to push me against the wall, kiss me hard, slide his hands over my breasts and lick my neck. I wanted to feel how turned on I had him. 

Instead we stood there, barely speaking; it was clear what we both wanted. The Friend approached, asked if I was ready to leave; I smiled and nodded. As we headed for the door I slipped The Friend’s friend my number, gently sliding the piece of paper into his pocket as I kissed his cheek goodbye.

I couldn’t wait to see what The Friend had in store for me and I hoped that I wouldn’t have to wait to get to his place to find out.