It makes for a decent story, but it was a really bad idea.  Things could have gotten pretty fucked and they didn't.  Part of me wants to think that pure intentions and a good heart go a long way toward karmic latitude.  Even then, I'm inclined to think that maybe I was just very, very fortunate.

Let me set the scene for you:

There was the furious crash and driving rhythm of electronic dance music and the smell of beer in the air.  Bodies bounced and voices rose and fell over the cacophony.  There was much laughing and some dancing.  Fifty or so fun-loving, rowdy but gentlemanly bikers were packed into a medium sized Irish pub.  Intermingled, and yet standing in stark contrast were the thirty or so breathtakingly beautiful, over styled young professional women, flirting ferociously with the swath of overly masculine men they hadn't quite dared to expect to find in their regular haunt.  And let's not forget a swath of local young men who looked like they were just making the transition from frat boy to yuppie, clearly intimidated by our presence and unsure how to proceed with their pick-up plans.  It was a strange brew.  I mean, EDM in an Irish Pub?

My motorcycle club had rolled into this high class burg for a big little party.  Clarendon is a classy neighborhood, right?  I think it's full of lobbyists and interns and people who want to be somebody in Washington, D.C. someday.  Regardless, we had done a little asking around about where the largest numbers of young, mindblowingly gorgeous, unattainable women could be found.  And somehow despite the diligent inquiry, we landed in this shittly little Irish pub.  Mostly because a few of us were drunk before we got there, and it was only two blocks from the motel.  We probably could have made it to a bar five blocks away, but we are smart even when we're drunk and the weakest among us couldn't have managed to crawl back the five blocks.  Like I said, classy.

Fortune smiles on the wicked sometimes however.  So it happened that this particular night a contingent of blonde beauties wandered into an Irish pub, looking for a fun group of bad biker boys to drink beer with.  Of course they didn’t know that when they got there, but it turns out they didn’t need much convincing either.  The night swam along and social gears were lubed and dances were danced and before long the beautiful, breathtaking, blonde aspiring lobbyists and interns forgot their political discretions for the night and got bad with the bad boys.  Just before last call, we invited them back to our motel for drinks.  I still can't believe there is such a cool retro motor lodge in Clarendon, but it's there and our club had the whole thing booked out solid.  We had canopies.  We had picnic tables.  We had free beer.  Of course they would come.  It was only two blocks.

When we got back to the motel, the parking lot party which had been winding down between midnight and 2am was suddenly enlivened.  Someone put a rockabilly Pandora station on their bike's stereo and someone else started passing around a bottle of Fireball.  The girls were out of their element and having the best time.  The Reverend Horton Heat crooned about his Big Red Rocket of Love.

Over the course of the next hour, some girls wandered off home.  A few others paired off with a guy and found something more interesting to do than dance in a parking lot.  But this one in particular was there to party.  She was tall and not self conscious about it, wearing high heels and rocking them.  Thin, lithe, golden skin, and golden hair, bold and big.  The most gorgeous green eyes that sparkled with trouble and brash charm.  All the girls who were still hanging were a little drunk.  But this girl was also loud.  Very confident of her social charm and ready to have a smashing good time, damn the torpedoes.  Her shrill nasal brays of laughter woke guys who were long since passed out in their rooms.  She stole the occasional glance at me, her eyes flashing with mischief.  She played the crowd with her conversation.  She laughed at herself with child-like abandon.  I was enthralled.

"Who wants to go back to my place and get in the hot tub?" she blurted.  Murmurs of ascent from five or six of my guys.  I sat back, relaxed and well on toward drunk, watching to see how this was going to play out.

"I live like two miles from here.  Y'all gonna ride your bikes?"  A few guys look at each other and discuss, knowing it's the worst idea, responsible drunks that they are.  A couple lose interest.  The conversation returns to the drunken absurd, the din of laughter and commotion begins to build again.  She's losing her audience.  Time for the gambit.

"Hey!!  I got an idea.  Which of you fuckers wants to come back to my house and eat mushrooms?"  She looked around, devious and hopeful smirk on her face.  Everyone stood silent.  I entered the fray.

"I'll go."

The smile spread across her face.  I felt like that smile confirmed that her hopes had rested on me all along and I felt a sudden swell of confidence.  I grabbed her by the wrist and whispered some direction in her ear and we went down the balcony stair, around the side of the motel and away from the others, her laughing her donkey laugh the whole way.  I pulled out my phone to call a cab but she stopped me, telling me how she already had an Uber on the way.  He had already pulled up in fact.  This girl was good.

I climbed in the back seat and she climbed in my lap and started kissing me.  I love Uber.  You don't even have to stop and tell them where you're headed, you can just get straight to business.  It was a short ride to somewhere, I wasn't paying much attention to anything I didn't have my hands on.  "This is the place," she said.  "Thanks!"

The driver nodded to her and then threw me a knowing smile before he took off to continue his night of spectacle.  I can't imagine what kind of things an Uber driver sees.  He probably has better stories than this one.

She led me up the walk and up the steps to the front door of her little house.  "We have to be kinda quiet," she said.  "My roomate is asleep in the basement."

We went inside and she showed me to the bar.  I found the ice and poured us each another drink, my usual whiskey ginger for both of us.  She had a bottle of Jameson so that's what went in them.  Classy girl.  I came back into the living room and found her sitting at the coffee table, portioning out several dried stems and a few extra caps.

"How many?" she asked me without looking up from her work.  I pondered.  This was a serious decision.  I realized my tenuous position and didn't want to go balls out tripping on a freak rampage, at least not in a strange place with a beautiful but admittedly strange girl.  Set and setting, man.  I had enough experience to make a good estimation.  She finally looked up at me and we locked eyes.  

"Three."

"Stems and caps?" she asked, clearly dubious about my threshold.  Still she had a faint smile on her lips.  I imagined she was imagining me in bed, and then got the feeling it wasn't in my imagination.  I smiled back.

"Yeah, three stems and three caps.  The whole specimen."  I paused and then, "Do you have any peanut butter?"

"YES!  That's how I eat them too.  Perfect!"

She went to fetch the peanut butter and I sat down and chopped up the little gems, being meticulous to get a fine consistency and not lose any matter.  She came back with a jar of Jif and a big spoon and a big smile.  Her whole face really was electrifying.

"How many do you want?" I asked, curious about her tolerance and experience.

"One cap," she said.  I took a minute to reflect.  She must want to just relax and have sex.  Maybe I should just have one or two?

"Done and done," I said.  "Just two for me then."  Her smile grew, then we ate.

While we were waiting for the effects to take hold, I remembered the hot tub.  "So how about it?" I asked.  She was immediately possessed by the idea.  She went off to her room for a few minutes and came back in a bikini with a couple towels in her hand.  I was still wearing my jeans, boots, and colors.

"I'm not wearing underwear so you're in luck," I told her.  She made a half-hearted playful insult, but mostly just grinned.  She took me by the hand and we went out the back way.  I found a lawn chair and sat down, proceeding to disrobe when I saw the hot tub in question.  It was definitely inflatable.  Now it was my turn to be dubious.  It didn't look like it had run in a month or better.  "Is it hot," I asked her?

"Umm, well.  It's warm."

We climbed in and it wasn't.  "This is a cold tub," I laughed.  She looked at me so sheepishly, I couldn't stop laughing.  Then she started laughing.

There we sat, chilling in the cold tub, enjoying the tepid water, nevermind that it was in the 60's outside.  Not quite shivering.  We had an excuse to put our bodies close together at least.  The kissing ramped up to a frantic gasping pace.  She arched her hips forward and lifted so I could remove her tiny bikini.  I could read it directly out of her eyes that the only reason she bothered to wear it in the first place was so I could take it off.  I was as hard as a coffin nail and starting to feel the world shimmering pleasantly.  I had my right hand in her hair and my left thumb inside her.  We stared into each other's eyes as we rocked back and forth together, me gasping and her cooing as we struggled for air between every kiss.  Despite the bite of the cold water, every sense was warmed by our embrace.  Every touch was satin and every taste was Dove chocolate and every smell was warm vanilla.  She closed her eyes and I pulled her closer.  I kissed her on the tip of her nose.  She moaned with pure sensual pleasure as I ran my fingernails down her spine and then clutched her ass cheek firmly in my hand.  I reached for myself with my left hand in preparation.  She was wetter than the ocean.  I didn't penetrate her so much as I glided inside.  Her eyes FLEW open and she gasped.

A short pause that lasted an eternity...

"Who are YOU?" she whispered.  I froze.

I'm the guy who's about to get the fuck out of here, I thought to myself.  The world bulged and swam, pulsing with alternating patterns of fear and death.  Good and evil.  Which was I?  What was happening?

"Are you serious," I asked her, pulling back and more than a little freaked.  Was this a literal or philosophical question?  I was not about to cross any moral lines.  And then she said it.

"WHO am I ? ? ?"

For the next hour or so I split my time between contemplating my place in existence, and getting dressed and getting us both dried off and trying to get her to climb in her bed and warm up.  She was shivering and waxing philosophical.  Not quite ranting.  My head was full of ideas but it was on straight and I was funtioning in this plane.  She was not.  All this, on ONE cap??  I wasn't so certain.  She was somewhat difficult to handle, but I managed with my elevated insight to navigate the nuances of her condition and help her as much as I could.  It was almost as if I could read exactly what needed to happen in each moment, just a single moment before it needed to happen, so we got by.

She went on and on about how we were in different vibes.  Boy howdy, weren't we though!  Through empathetic conversation, she revealed that she had also popped some benzos.  Different vibes indeed.  Eventually I got her settled.  Not calm, but at least settled.  As she lay in her bed snug and warm under three comforters, I looked around for my phone so I could call a cab and get back to the motel.  As fortune would have it, my phone was as dead as my libido.  Of course she didn't have an Android charger.

"Can I borrow your iPhone for a minute?" I asked.

"Don't leave me!" she blurted, spitting out the words in rapid fire.  "Please! I need you to go downstairs and wake up my boyfriend."

I'm the guy who should have already gotten the fuck out of here, I thought to myself.

"Let me text him, so I don't surprise him," I said.  This made sense to her.  It baffled me though.  How did I think to say that?  Like a higher intelligence planted the sentence in my head, to be delivered oh so casually, to save the situation.  She gave me her phone.  She struggled to communicate the unlock code without using colors and scents to describe it, but after a few minutes I understood the smell she meant, and I was in.

I got on her Uber app and requested a driver.  I reassured her that all would be well, but I wasn't about to try to wake up her boyfriend.  What the hell is wrong with me?  Who gets themselves into this kind of shit?  She said she'd be alright, so I gave her another kiss on the tip of the nose and quietly made my way out, boots in my hand.  I stood in her front yard, the twilight of dawn just beginning to light the sky.  The world was cool and the grass was cool on my bare feet.  Each breath felt serene and full of light.  Each breath brought more light to the sky and for a moment I was sure I was the sun.

When Uber guy showed up, he told me I didn't look like a *insert female name here* and I assured him that I was.  I thanked him profusely and tipped him cash for getting me out of there.  He said I didn't have to do that.  The ride was on her.  I tipped anyway.  I was feeling wonderous and grateful.  I saw the sun beginning to peek over the buildings when I pulled into the motel, and that's when I realized I wasn't the sun any more.  My friend was having a cigarette on the balcony and saw me come in.  She heard a snippet of my conversation with the driver as I sat in the front seat pulling on and lacing up my boots, and so she wouldn't relent without having goaded the tale out of me.  She and I laughed and laughed.

I was terribly thirsty and dry mouthed.  I wanted Coke for breakfast.  I went to the vending machine, popped in a buck fifty, and pressed Coca-Cola.  Out comes a Coke Zero bottle.  Typical.  I crack the bottle open and there's actually Lipton iced tea inside.  The world is weird.  I thought maybe it was a mild hallucination, but my friend tasted it too and she confirmed that I was ok, and that this was just a really bizarre night


 

 

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