sleeping with the friend
“I’m sleeping with you tonight.”
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“A statement. Jeff just left with lucky hoe number two, leaving me stranded with no car and no place to sleep.”
“Of course, you know you are always welcome. But you know how I like to sleep, in the middle. Can you handle that?”
“It’s never bothered me before.”
“Good. Another shot?”
“Another shot.”
This conversation, with a very close, dear friend took place around 2:00 AM in a bar downtown. Actually, it was bar number two. Now, I know the three of us, Friend 1, Friend 2, and I walked from bar one to bar two. Where at bar two, Friend 2 (Jeff), leaves with a young, attractive, yet easy girl. Who, Friend 1 and I all night long refer to as, “Hoe number two.” However, I don’t remember our exact transportation back to bar one, where my car was parked. We were a good six blocks from bar one. I just remember being back there, taking more shots of tequila. I don’t remember what time we left, how much we had to drink, or who drove home. The last coherent conversation I remember is the one stated above. I remember friend 1 and I flirting like teenagers all night, like we always do. Taking shot after shot of tequila, trying to prove to each other who could, hands down drink more (I believe I won, I’m almost positive). Then, somehow, someway, just like in the movies we were suddenly at my front door with me struggling with my keys. How we got home is still a mystery to me. A miracle, I tell you. The Gods must have been in our favor because not only did we both get home safe, but so did my car.
After focusing and giving myself a little pep talk, I manage to open the door. Once inside I kick my shoes off, throw my keys in the mail basket, and I lead our drunken butts upstairs. At this point we are both stumbling over our feet and our words. He goes straight to the bathroom; I make a b-line for my room. I don’t bother to turn on the light. I take off my jacket, my shirt, my jeans, toss them in the floor and I throw on a t-shirt. I take my hair down and I literally fall into bed. I lay there for what seems like hours, begging the room to stop spinning. Bargaining with myself, “I promise never to drink again, just please, PLEASE don’t get sick.” I’m almost asleep when I hear and feel him slide into bed. I say good night and roll over.
(Now, I feel I need to remind you that we are friends, good friends. This is not our first time sharing a bed. No, this is just one of many. We know the routine: climb in, say good night and roll over. That’s us. That's our friendship. Yes, we flirt like mad, but that’s it, just flirting and teasing.)
Now, the room has stopped spinning and my body is finally starting to relax and I calm down. When out of no where he rolls over, pushes up next to me, and slides his hand on to my hip. I can feel his warm breath against my neck. In my head I think, “Ok, he’s a snuggler. I’m not. But if he wants to cuddle, ok but I’m going to be comfortable.” So, I back up into him and reposition myself; close, but comfortable. Finally, we are both situated and I start to fall back asleep. Then, I feel his strong, soft hand start to head south. He slowly slides his hand over my hip. Then, with out any invitation or warning, his hand glides straight over my hip, across my stomach and down my panties. WHAT? The only thing my drunken mind can register is, “Wait, what is going on here? This feels wrong, but REALLY GOOD. I’m confused.” I was half in shock, half excited, and half drunk. I know, I know, I have one-half too many, but that’s how I felt. Of course, “REALLY GOOD” won out, 10 to 1. In my self-pleasing mind, pleasure always triumphs. It had been a long time and it felt good, so I jumped at the opportunity, or rather it jumped at me.
I slowly reach down, wrap my hand around his and guide him inside me. I slowly turn and face him and our eyes meet. There is so much intensity in his eyes, that I hold our gaze, just starring at him. He whispers, “Are you sure you want to do this?” I shake my head, and then ask, “Are YOU sure you want to do this?” Then with that beautiful big smile, he shakes his head, yes.
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“A statement. Jeff just left with lucky hoe number two, leaving me stranded with no car and no place to sleep.”
“Of course, you know you are always welcome. But you know how I like to sleep, in the middle. Can you handle that?”
“It’s never bothered me before.”
“Good. Another shot?”
“Another shot.”
This conversation, with a very close, dear friend took place around 2:00 AM in a bar downtown. Actually, it was bar number two. Now, I know the three of us, Friend 1, Friend 2, and I walked from bar one to bar two. Where at bar two, Friend 2 (Jeff), leaves with a young, attractive, yet easy girl. Who, Friend 1 and I all night long refer to as, “Hoe number two.” However, I don’t remember our exact transportation back to bar one, where my car was parked. We were a good six blocks from bar one. I just remember being back there, taking more shots of tequila. I don’t remember what time we left, how much we had to drink, or who drove home. The last coherent conversation I remember is the one stated above. I remember friend 1 and I flirting like teenagers all night, like we always do. Taking shot after shot of tequila, trying to prove to each other who could, hands down drink more (I believe I won, I’m almost positive). Then, somehow, someway, just like in the movies we were suddenly at my front door with me struggling with my keys. How we got home is still a mystery to me. A miracle, I tell you. The Gods must have been in our favor because not only did we both get home safe, but so did my car.
After focusing and giving myself a little pep talk, I manage to open the door. Once inside I kick my shoes off, throw my keys in the mail basket, and I lead our drunken butts upstairs. At this point we are both stumbling over our feet and our words. He goes straight to the bathroom; I make a b-line for my room. I don’t bother to turn on the light. I take off my jacket, my shirt, my jeans, toss them in the floor and I throw on a t-shirt. I take my hair down and I literally fall into bed. I lay there for what seems like hours, begging the room to stop spinning. Bargaining with myself, “I promise never to drink again, just please, PLEASE don’t get sick.” I’m almost asleep when I hear and feel him slide into bed. I say good night and roll over.
(Now, I feel I need to remind you that we are friends, good friends. This is not our first time sharing a bed. No, this is just one of many. We know the routine: climb in, say good night and roll over. That’s us. That's our friendship. Yes, we flirt like mad, but that’s it, just flirting and teasing.)
Now, the room has stopped spinning and my body is finally starting to relax and I calm down. When out of no where he rolls over, pushes up next to me, and slides his hand on to my hip. I can feel his warm breath against my neck. In my head I think, “Ok, he’s a snuggler. I’m not. But if he wants to cuddle, ok but I’m going to be comfortable.” So, I back up into him and reposition myself; close, but comfortable. Finally, we are both situated and I start to fall back asleep. Then, I feel his strong, soft hand start to head south. He slowly slides his hand over my hip. Then, with out any invitation or warning, his hand glides straight over my hip, across my stomach and down my panties. WHAT? The only thing my drunken mind can register is, “Wait, what is going on here? This feels wrong, but REALLY GOOD. I’m confused.” I was half in shock, half excited, and half drunk. I know, I know, I have one-half too many, but that’s how I felt. Of course, “REALLY GOOD” won out, 10 to 1. In my self-pleasing mind, pleasure always triumphs. It had been a long time and it felt good, so I jumped at the opportunity, or rather it jumped at me.
I slowly reach down, wrap my hand around his and guide him inside me. I slowly turn and face him and our eyes meet. There is so much intensity in his eyes, that I hold our gaze, just starring at him. He whispers, “Are you sure you want to do this?” I shake my head, and then ask, “Are YOU sure you want to do this?” Then with that beautiful big smile, he shakes his head, yes.
