Monday, November 20, 2006
A Birthday Orgy (Pt.1)
So Dave and I end up going to the birthday orgy after all, after a bit of a debate first.
The party is given by the wife, B, of the guy whose birthday it is, E. Last time I saw him he had major amounts of hair on him. Now he was nearly bald, and gone was most of the moustache. He had a stubble too and looked like he just recently fell out of bed. A weird looking guy that I definitely do not want anything to do with, so this is why I was a bit uptight about attending. What to do about E.
How did he get this woman, B? She is not bad looking, probably the nicest looking woman there besides me. This is the runner woman I have heard about but not yet met. She is probably late 40s, good legs as you might expect, a rough sort of face but attractive, and short curly brown hair. She's heard about me too.
"You're the runner," she says to me initially, then I explain that actually I am more shaped by cycling. We fall into instant conversation on certain pro cyclists and their doping problems. These days, that can be a lengthy conversation. Throw a rock somewhere, anywhere, and you can knock a drugging cyclist out of a tree.
I look at her and I look at her husband E, and I shake my head. Maybe that's why they party. She may no longer be sexually attracted or involved with him, but they can party together. I like that. It has a very French feel to it; they're good at that.
The party is in a suite at a big chain hotel in San Francisco. A handful of people are already present when we arrive, most of them in some degree of nakedness already. The suite is booked from 8 til 2. Let's get crackin' I say.
Dave and I have had a couple of hits in the rental car before we walk in, so I suddenly get the munchies and head for the food. It looks alarmingly good to me. Little finger foods along with fruits and veggies, dips. Champagne that has to be diluted with juices to stretch it.
About thirty people are expected, and it seems most of them arrive at various points. This is an older crowd, an offshoot of the famous Black Sheets party crowd which recently closed down their parties. But not a very attractive crowd at all, as Dave and I realize nearly immediately. Now, I am not saying that because they are older; older has nothing to do with it. There are a lot of hot-looking older types, men and women, running around now; they're just not here at this party.
Our friend A is there. He gives his own private little massage and sex parties over near the Haight-Ashbury district. He is nearly the only other attractive person there male-wise. You can get a closer look at A here.
He seems to realize we are about the most attractive people there. He has seen us at several parties now, and he was involved in an afternoon's aborted play we had together. So he knows a bit about how we are sexually as a couple. He came over to us after we had said our hellos, gotten naked basically and then settled in on the pull-out bed in the living room of the suite.
Dave and I have been in this position before. Someone has to kick these cretins into action, it might as well be us. Our friend A wants to help us out.
TO BE CONTINUED
The party is given by the wife, B, of the guy whose birthday it is, E. Last time I saw him he had major amounts of hair on him. Now he was nearly bald, and gone was most of the moustache. He had a stubble too and looked like he just recently fell out of bed. A weird looking guy that I definitely do not want anything to do with, so this is why I was a bit uptight about attending. What to do about E.
How did he get this woman, B? She is not bad looking, probably the nicest looking woman there besides me. This is the runner woman I have heard about but not yet met. She is probably late 40s, good legs as you might expect, a rough sort of face but attractive, and short curly brown hair. She's heard about me too.
"You're the runner," she says to me initially, then I explain that actually I am more shaped by cycling. We fall into instant conversation on certain pro cyclists and their doping problems. These days, that can be a lengthy conversation. Throw a rock somewhere, anywhere, and you can knock a drugging cyclist out of a tree.
I look at her and I look at her husband E, and I shake my head. Maybe that's why they party. She may no longer be sexually attracted or involved with him, but they can party together. I like that. It has a very French feel to it; they're good at that.
The party is in a suite at a big chain hotel in San Francisco. A handful of people are already present when we arrive, most of them in some degree of nakedness already. The suite is booked from 8 til 2. Let's get crackin' I say.
Dave and I have had a couple of hits in the rental car before we walk in, so I suddenly get the munchies and head for the food. It looks alarmingly good to me. Little finger foods along with fruits and veggies, dips. Champagne that has to be diluted with juices to stretch it.
About thirty people are expected, and it seems most of them arrive at various points. This is an older crowd, an offshoot of the famous Black Sheets party crowd which recently closed down their parties. But not a very attractive crowd at all, as Dave and I realize nearly immediately. Now, I am not saying that because they are older; older has nothing to do with it. There are a lot of hot-looking older types, men and women, running around now; they're just not here at this party.
Our friend A is there. He gives his own private little massage and sex parties over near the Haight-Ashbury district. He is nearly the only other attractive person there male-wise. You can get a closer look at A here.
He seems to realize we are about the most attractive people there. He has seen us at several parties now, and he was involved in an afternoon's aborted play we had together. So he knows a bit about how we are sexually as a couple. He came over to us after we had said our hellos, gotten naked basically and then settled in on the pull-out bed in the living room of the suite.
Dave and I have been in this position before. Someone has to kick these cretins into action, it might as well be us. Our friend A wants to help us out.
TO BE CONTINUED
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