My First Orgy… Well, Kinda, Sorta (Part 1)
PRELUDE: I’ve always told bits and pieces of this story to a very select group of people but never in its entirety. There’s always some part of it that I keep concealed just due to the insanity of it all. Not sure if that will change this time around, especially in such a public forum, but here goes.
This is actually where the story ends…
I’m sitting in the airport waiting for my flight back home, still in disbelief about what almost happened last night. Staring at the floor in front of me, I find myself constantly shaking my head. How do I get myself into these situations? I have to tell someone, so I dig my phone out from my pocket and call my best friend.
“Yo.”
“What’s good, man? You back in town yet?”
“Nah, I’m still in Atlanta waiting to board my flight.”
“Oh, aiight. How was the trip?”
“It was cool, but, man, I gotta story to tell.”
“What happened?”
Looking around to make sure no one is in earshot, I whisper, “I think I was in an orgy.”
“WHAT?!?!”
“I said I think I was in an orgy.”
“What do you mean you think? Were you or weren’t you?”
“I guess so, but…”
“Only you, man, only you. So tell me what happened.”
“Okay, this is actually where the story starts…”
The where’s and when’s of this story are totally irrelevant, as some things have to be concealed to protect the guilty. But I was young in my writing career and out of town trailing this guy for a story. For sake of clarity, we’ll call “this guy” John. So after following John around most of the day for scenery for my piece, he asks if I want to tag along with him for a “meeting” with a pair of guys that just came into town. Apparently these gentlemen have a potential business deal for him and they’re going to meet up at the club. I’m in a strange town and have nothing else to do besides sit in my hotel room, so I willing agree. I will mention this is the South, and late night meetings there tend to take place in the same location: the strip club.
I of course didn’t know that at the time. So we pull up to the strip club, and in the back of my head, I’m like, “Damn, I don’t have strip club money on me.” This was before I even had an ATM card, so I had probably $100 on me tops, and that’s hardly enough for a proper time at the booty bar, especially when you need dough for food tomorrow.
Needless to say, I spent most of the night sippin’ on the free drinks John was buying for everyone and ogling a few Southern belles as they drop it low. The rest of the guys are doing what they do, and after about two hours we get the signal that it’s time to roll. Perfect for me because slow sippin’ free drinks and turning down strippers because your cash is low is not my idea of a good time. So the four of us pile into John’s car and pull off with me riding shotgun.
As where drivin’ down the freeway, I notice a blue car pulling up besides us on the passenger side. There’s two ladies inside and they appear to be trying to get our attention, I assume because they like the snow white Beemer we’re in. While not my steez at all, I am in the company of three alpha males and have a few Henny & Cokes in my system, so I proceed to follow the pack mentality.
Rolling down my window, I smile, “Hey, baby, what’s up?”
“Hey, sugar, you got condoms?”
Wh-wh-what?!?! Surely, I must have misheard her. “What did you say, love?”
“Do you have condoms?”
Feeling my side pocket for the sole prophylactic I had on me just in case of an out of town emergency, I responded, “Yeah, I have a condom.”
This is when John interjected my juvenile attempts at young semi-swag, “Just follow us.”
A few moments later we’re at a local gas station, and John is outside talking to the ladies while the three of us wait in the car. He hops back in and tosses me a box of condoms, “Hold these.” I have no idea what the hell is going on and where the hell this night is going, but, uh, I got nowhere else to go, so I guess I’ll soon find out.
With the girls tailing us, we end up at the hotel of the two guys in the backseat. I think the tall one’s name was Tony and the other one was Mark, but that’s not that important. I’m still totally clueless as to what exactly is going on, and I have no idea where I am, where I’m going or how to get back to my own hotel. Basically I was stuck.
We pull up to Tony and Mark’s hotel and head up to their room with the girls in tow. There’s a lot of conversation going on between John and the ladies. Next thing I know I see a wad of cash being handed over to the girls. Oh, shit! What the hell is going on here? Are these girls prostitutes? Wait, I think these are two of the strippers from the club. Oh, hell naw!!
NAKED FACT: I can not, will not and never will pay for pussy. Sorry, I just can’t do it. I can’t stoop to that level of desperation, especially when I’m fly enough to bag my own shorties. Besides, I for one need some sort of genuine connection with someone to be intimate. It’s not just a battle to the finish; I gotta have true and real passion to do the do.
Based on the above fact, this was not my scene at all. Especially when I realized, Wait a second, there’s four guys and only two girls. Oh, hell nah!
This is actually where the story should end…
INTERLUDE: You know what, I really don’t think I should be telling this story. It might just be too much to expose. I hardly know you people. But I don’t want to leave y’all hanging, so here’s what we’ll do. Let’s have a public poll. All those in favor of me finishing this story leave a comment asking me to do so. All those that don’t want to hear the end of this story leave a comment saying you don’t care. I’ll tally the votes by midnight tonight (July 28th) and based on the results post the rest of the story or just move on to another blog. The decision is up to y’all.
(part 2 will be posted next thursday the 1st)
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