This is Part 2 in The Dating Adventures of Jack. This story can be read alone. But feel free to check out Part 1 if you want some background: https://steemit.com/introduceyourself/@jack1/hi-steemit-i-m-jack-i-went-from-dateless-sexless-law-school-grad-to-friday-night-champion-i-m-gonna-introduce-myself-and-tell
JUST A FEW PRELIMINARY NOTES BEFORE YOU HIT THE STORY
My Identity
These are real events that took place in my life and the women involved are real women who are out there right now living real lives. I'm going to be describing things they did that they probably don't want their families, friends, co-workers, and current significant others to know about. People who knew either me or any of these women when I was dating them could probably pretty easily figure out who is who if I were to reveal EXACTLY who I am on Steemit. So, I'm not going to tell you my full name or post a big headshot which will make me super easily identifiable. If anyone really wants to confirm my identity or ask me any questions about any of this in private, I'll be happy to do a google video hangout or something and tell you who I am exactly. I just don't want EVERYTHING about my identity to be out in the open for the sake of the women involved in these stories. A bunch of them are married now, and it wouldn't be fair to them.
R-Rated
These stories are going to be NSFW in terms of what I'm writing about. I would say they are going to be more R-Rated than NC-17. I'm not going to be giving you labored detailed descriptions of genitals in motion or anything like that. But, there is going to be sex involved. It's not something I would hand to my mother, but I wouldn't care at all if acquaintances came over and saw it on my coffee table. There won't be any NSFW photos or anything like that....but there is sex going on in these stories. Also, I was moderately to heavily intoxicated for a lot of these events. So, bail now if any of that is something you can't handle.
OKAY, LET'S GO:
vs.
After establishing the blue print for converting my professional status as an attorney into meeting girls from the interwebz, I did what any red blooded American male would do. I set about to use that blue print as many times as possible. Soon, I found a social media profile of a girl in her mid-twenties from Guadalajara, Mexico. She looked almost exactly like Eva Mendes. I often describe girls to my friends as "a poor mans [fill in the blank]." But I swear to god, this girl looked exactly like Eva Mendes. Extremely sexy.
I used all the same social media messaging techniques on this girl that I used on the girl I took to my law firm's Christmas party. Except this was a much sweeter girl and not an attention whore like the last one. She wasn't trying to build up an army of clit riders on social media who would shower her with compliments every time she posted a picture. In fact, she had very few photos at all on her profile. It appeared she was actually a good girl. This seemed completely improbable to me based on her sexiness. But, then again, she grew up in Mexico and the high level of traditionalism in many families there could result in this unique combination of sexiness and non-whoriness.
So, I had to tone down all my comments to her. If I sent her a comment backhandedly implying that she had gained weight (e.g. "Wow the dress in this photo looks tighter on you than all your other dresses.") she would take it to heart and it would hurt her feelings. I had to be much more subtle with her. With her, I would focus more on how awesome I am and fill her with stories intended to show her how much more wonderful her life would be if she was dating me. These stories were all true recountings of fun things I had done on a given weekend, but they were also the best possible retelling of the actual events. After some number of weeks of this, I could tell she was primed to meet me.
So, I continued my social media conversation with her for another couple of weeks. Most guys would take their shot at this point. But, I knew that making her believe I was not anxious to meet her was key. In fact, I did not even have her number at this point. After we were a couple weeks past the point when it was painfully obvious we should meet, I finally sent her a message carefully crafted to capture her phone number. I had stolen the template for this message from some anonymous poster on a random internet forum and modified it slightly to fit my aim of texting her instead of actually talking to her. It was simple and bizarrely effective.
Me: "Hey you should give me your number. I promise I will only send you creepy and inappropriate text messages 9x per day."
Her: "jajajaja [spanish for laughing i guess] okay......only if you promise only 9 creepy ones. 801-xxx-xxxx."
In the coming days, I sent her a few messages each day to maintain the level of contact. Then I began my final approach to the date:
Me: "You know we should really hang out some time, but I'm pretty worried this is a man trap and you are some hairy middle aged fat guy who is going to make me into his basement sex slave and then axe murder me."
Her: "jajajajaja.....are u scairdy cat? are you scare to meet me?"
Me: "I would have to tell all my friends where we are meeting and bring a couple bottles of mace to spray you and escape if you try to put any handcuffs on me."
Her: "okay, well we will see who is faster. you on your macing or me on the handcuffings."
Me: "Okay, you have talked me into it. We will meet sometime."
This conversation was deliberately orchestrated to do three things: 1) make her feel like she has to convince me to go on a date with her (see ancient/mythical Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu on people being attracted to that which retreats from them), 2) make her think I am going to ask her out and then dash her hopes, and 3) bring up some kinky sex topics (i.e. bondage) to put her in the right frame of mind for any subsequent date. A few days later on a Wednesday I decided it was time to go in for the kill.
Me: "Hey are you doing anything fun on Saturday night?"
Her: "No plans yet."
Me: "Okay I finally got my delivery from the mace company, so let's go have dinner at the Outback Steakhouse in Layton. Meet me there at 7."
Her: "okay! :)"
I know what you are thinking. Outback is a terrible place to go on a first date with a sexy girl. I now agree strongly with that, but I was new at all this getting the sexy chicks stuff and didn't know any better. On the bright side, that particular restaurant was easy for me to access and close to her house.
At the time, I thought that the restaurant being close to her house was a good thing. Later, I would realize that it was the opposite of good and not conducive to my goals. A few words on that topic are in order here. My driving to the date was a big mistake. It meant I could not drink before I met her and I wouldn't have that extra level of relaxation to take the edge off the first date nerves. It also meant it was way easier for her to retreat to her own home after the date instead of going with me back to my place. A short time later, I would learn that it is best to make the girl come meet you at your place before the date. This allows you to drink before the date. You either have her drive or make her walk with you to the restaurant, bar, or wherever you are headed. This gives you a huge advantage over your date in the nervousness department. The less nervous you are, the more smoothly you can execute your plan. It also gets the girl at your door at the beginning of the date. Most guys go on a date hoping they can get the girl to let him come up when he drops her off at the end of the night. This is a flawed strategy.
Women are creatures that seek safety. You, a man on a first date with her, represent a possible future increase in safety as a protector of her if things work out. But you also represent a clear and present danger since you could hook up with her and then leave her alone and sad. Her own home and bedroom represent a safety nest to which she will quickly and unhesitatingly retreat if she feels she has accomplished her goals on the date. Her goal on the date is generally very different from yours.
Her goal is to determine if you are a good possible future protector, and if so, to do what is necessary to secure a second date and the continuation of the blossoming relationship.
If you have a great date with a woman and are at her doorstep at the end of the date, she knows you will want to go out with her again. She now has two choices, invite you into her house (bring the danger into her safety nest) or return by herself into the safety of her little nest and savor the thought of your next date and possible future with matching Mercedes, a house, and tiny cute dogs to keep you company. Women generally believe they aren't supposed to hook up with you on the first date and that it lessens the chances you will take them seriously as a potential life long mate they should protect. So if they believe you are into them and will take them out again, it's an easy choice for them to leave you at their doorstep and go up into their safe bedroom where they can throw on their pajamas and dream about you taking them out again. Granted, sometimes they will let you come up on the first date, but it's all too easy for them to return to their safety nest and savor the idea of the next date.
So what is the proficient dater to do to avoid this situation where the girl has many incentives to leave you on her doorstep? Never be on her doorstep. Instead, tell her (don't ask her...just tell her) to come over to your place at a certain time and you will take her to a cool restaurant, bar, or wherever you want to take her. In addition to allowing your drinking prior to the date, this will also allow you to take her on a tour of your place. You just take her around and show her every room in your pad. It doesn't matter if you live in a tiny apartment. The purpose of this tour is not to show off your material wealth. It is to get her comfortable with being there so that she is more likely to return there at the end of the date. That's really the goal, right? Make her take off her shoes at the door so that she has to walk barefoot or in her socks or stalking or whatever on the tour. This is how you want her at the end of the date, in your apartment taking things off, so you might as well get her in the habit early.
But, at that point I knew none of the above and was just stoked that so far the dating blueprint was working again. I had picked up a second beautiful girl from the internet and set up a date. My internet dating blueprint really was a strategy I could use over and over again.
So, at the appointed time I met her at Outback in Layton in all its pseudo-Aussie glory, ordered the coconut shrimp appetizer, and it was on. She looked awesome. Just like her photos. As expected she looked like Eva Mendes through the grill, had smallish but perky looking tits, and had the same small waist but nice slightly thickish ass to match Eva. She had a super sexy accent. Heavy, but very cute. Things were going well, I was making good small-talk despite the lack of alcohol (I would have to drive home at some point and didn't want the DUI risk on the heavily patrolled freeway). Then she got a serious look on her face.
Her: "Okay, there is something I have to tell you. It might make you not want to date me, and that's okay. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I'm going to tell you now."
Me: "Okay..."
I was extremely afraid of what was coming. My mind flashed to the worst possible things here: she was a tranny, she was moving, she had met somebody recently and was about to friendzone me, she is a drug addict, she is a prostitute, she just wanted to be friends, etc. Instead she told me something not as bad.
Her: "I was married, just got divorced, and have a five year old daughter."
I was immediately relieved. Obviously she was worried about telling me this because she thinks I am looking for a serious relationship and the kid would disqualify her. Perfect. I told her the kid and divorce were no problem. She was relieved too. She suddenly got very comfortable and the rest of dinner went great. At the time, I didn't know enough about dating to get her back down to Salt Lake, so I walked her to her car and she went home. But, I knew we would go out again, so I was happy with the outcome. It hadn't been the sexfest that concluded my first internet date at the firm holiday party, but I was satisfied that I would be able to do additional work towards that goal with this girl.
We met several more times in the coming weeks. She was taking English classes. So, we would go on picnics where I would help her with her English homework and she was supposed to be teaching me Spanish. I spent all this time trying to kiss her. She was very conservative on this front. I guessed her ex-husband was possibly the only man she had ever been with. I managed to kiss her a few times. She was very awkward about it. It was attractive. Soon she revealed that her true love in life was dancing at clubs. This struck me as odd for such a shy conservative girl, but eventually I agreed to go with her and her girlfriends to Skybar, a smallish but popular faux-luxurious (I mean that in the worst way) dance club on top of the Red Lion Hotel in downtown Salt Lake.
I met her and her two friends, both also latinas, at Skybar on a Saturday night. Of her two friends, one was cute but carrying 20 lbs too many, and the other was a good looking Argentinian girl with no extra lbs and lots of cleavage. She was much more outgoing than my date and obviously in charge of the trio. The Argentinian girl wasted no time in getting us all out on the dance floor. It was top 40ish hip-hop music. The Argentinian girl was out to prove she was still the Alpha female of the group even though she didn't have a date. She made a point of helping me with my dancing by constantly putting her hands on my hips. My date didn't seem to care. For these girls, the dance floor was definitely a place where normal social rules didn't apply.
I am a naturally unskilled dancer and it was even more apparent than normal around these girls. Dancing was their big thing and they were good at it. My date and the Argentinian girl immediately turned me into the middle of a sandwich with the Argentinian in front and my date in back. I had never had two beautiful women rubbing themselves on me simultaneously before in my life. This was amazing. But, was my date insane? Did she really want her friends ass, tight and curvaceous from constant weekends on the dancefloor, rubbing against my cock? Was this a gift for taking her on all the little picnics? Did she just not care? The normal rules did not apply here. Every dude in the club was looking at this awkward white guy dancing with these two hot latin chicks, and I was completely down with this situation. But I would need a lot more alcohol to keep up with these two. I headed for the bar. It turned out that one of the bar backs was a guy I knew from the gym. I threw down a few shots and went to work on a long island ice tea. Many women equate dancing skills with bedroom prowess, and I would need all of this booze once I got back out on the dance floor to convince my date that I was not such a terrible dancer that I could not possibly be good in bed.
While sipping the long island, my date and her two girls were doing their thing on the dance floor and seemed to be having an excellent time. They loved dancing. I would need to entertain myself over by the bar for another 5 minutes so that I could finish the long island and put my liquid fortification to work on the dance floor. My ears tuned in to a conversation to my right. Some dude was telling a woman how he was a professional poker player. I looked over to see a mob of about five fairly nerdy looking guys and Mr. Professional poker guy surrounding a short dark headed girl.
Hmmm....interesting. I positioned myself so I could see this girl. When I could finally see her, I validated what I had suspected from the nerdery escapees surrounding her...she was hot. She looked South Asian and had one of those diamond stud piercings in her upper lip in the Cindy Crawford mole position. I had mixed feelings on those piercings in general, but this girl was like a Bollywood dream in American. Her body looked awesome and she had those impossibly round delicious looking breasts that they seem to somehow grow naturally in India and Pakistan. I wondered how they would look outside of her shirt. But, I quickly banished this thought from my mind since that is exactly what every member of the nerdery gang was doing at that exact moment.
*This is Priyanka Chopra, not the actual girl in the story.
I needed to focus on my date anyway. I broke my radar lock on those beautiful, natural South Asian fun bags and turned my gaze back towards the dance floor. I couldn't believe what I saw. My date was grinding her succulent little ass all over some huge dude's crotch. What the fuck was this? I was only off the dance floor for 10 minutes. I guess the lack of societal rules on the dance floor was a double edged sword. I had lived by that sword for a few minutes of glory with two ultra hot riggling latin bodies pressing against every crevasse of me and now I was being slain by it. How could this be? I had followed the blueprint carefully and put in so much work. I was supposed to have hot sweaty post-dancing sex with that girl tonight. That obviously wasn't going to happen now. How could I after she treated me to this visual trainwreck? I was pissed off. What should I do? I should leave! Fuck this girl. Fuck all the picnics and little kisses. Fuck her and her friends. I'll leave and show those bitches. But, then I realized that would make me a tool. If I leave I go home totally defeated and alone and they just continue dancing. She will call tomorrow and try to convince me I am just being too sensitive. She will say it is just dancing...and I shouldn't have been bothered by it. She will probably even try to imply it's just a cultural difference and I'm too American for her or some similar bullshit.
No! I won't leave and fade away quietly tonight only to be humiliated by a phone call like that tomorrow. No matter how pissed I am, I definitely don't want that. I need to strike back at her and show her that two can play at her game. She needs to see that I am just as capable at garnering attention from the oppposite sex. The problem was how. I'm not a hot little latin chick. So, the opposite sex isn't going to push up on me just because I turn my ass and glance at them. I might have to shoot for negative attention from another woman. But as long as my date saw it, that would be better than nothing. Also, it might give me a good excuse to leave the club with my dignity intact.
The South Asian girl and the nerdery pack would be perfect. I would join their conversation, verbally marginalize the nerdery, and then talk to the South Asian girl. It would be a blitzkrieg. I would do it all quickly. The nerdery will be pissed at me and my date will notice. I will feel guilty about the nerdery being collateral damage. But, their sacrifice will do more good for me than it will harm to them. My date will assume I hit on the South Asian girl. This will piss her off. She will call me out on it. I will feign being offended that she would question me on it, then I will leave. Perfect revenge. Was it vindictive? Yes. Did she deserve it? Yes! She was at that moment rubbing her ass on another dude's crotch. She definitely deserved it.
I moved into the nerdery plus South Asian super hottie group. I approached Mr. Professional Poker player first. He was obviously the alpha male of the nerdery group or had moved in on this group, become its captain, and taken over the girls attention. I could marginalize the nerdery hydra by attacking this one head.
Me: "oh, you play poker? did you go to the huge texas holdem' tourney last weekend in Wendover?" [I was making this up, there was no tournament.]
Supposed Poker Pro: "oh....uh....I didn't know there was one, but I was busy playing on the web, I won $11,000 at...." [This was an obvious lie in return.]
I quickly cut him off.
Me: "Dude, you like poker and you didn't go to that tournament? The pot was $27,000! I have a bunch of buddies who suck at poker and they all went out for it. They said that every good player in the state was out there? Wait did you say you play on the web? That's with the fake money right?"
The dude's face went slightly red. He knew what I was doing, but hopefully he didn't know what to do about it. I quickly turned to the South Asian melon farmer. She had taken a step back from the group to avoid what might happen next between me and the poker guy. She was partially blocked from the nerdery by a column in the club. I stepped around the column next to her and away from the nerdery. It worked out perfectly. We were isolated from the rest of the group.
Me: "Uh....how do you know these guys? [I feigned a look of astonished confusion]
South Asian chick: "Oh, they're just computer game developers, and I'm their manager. I'm from L.A. My name's ____________."
I didn't miss her use of the word "just." She was telling me that she wasn't with them. That she was different. This was unexpected by me. I thought she would immediately try to get back to the safety of the clit riding nerdery when I moved next to her.
I looked up and saw that my date and her two friends were all watching me. The song had ended on the dance floor and the dude previously grinding on my date's ass was now off to the side. I thought, well since I've got her attention I might as well go for it. I was still pissed at my date and really wanted to let her know that I was going after this South Asian chick.
Me: "Are you having fun?"
South Asian chick: "Uhh what do you mean?"
Me: "Are you having fun with the video game guys?"
Her: "Not really. Why?"
I put my hand on her arm. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that my date saw this from out on the dance floor. Her eyes got a little wide and the skinny Argentinian chick was instantly whispering in her ear.
Me: "Let's get out of here?"
Her: "Uh....what?"
Me: "Yeah, let's get out of here? Come with me. I'm more fun than them."
I knew she would tell me no way, brush my hand off her arm, and walk off. Maybe she would even be offended. Maybe she would even slap me or something. Could I be lucky enough for this to happen right now as my date looked on. I wanted her to know without a question in my mind that I hit on this girl. She took a quarter step back. She looked a little shocked. She looked over at the nerdery and the poker pro (all of whom were watching and listening). She looked back right square in my eyes. I thought, perfect, that is the look of a woman trying to show she is in control of the situation. She is going to show that she is offended, brush my arm off, and retreat to the warmth of the nerdery pack.
Her: "Okay, where to?"
What? I was not prepared for that. After a full second of mental scrambling, I looked out at my date. She was still watching intently. Things had just taken a turn for the incredible.
Me: "Uh....ummmmmm.....to my house. I have a hot tub with a beautiful view of the valley and all the lights. It's only like 7 minutes away. I'll drive us."
This was a quadruple lie. It was my parent's house. It had a partial view of the valley. It was more like 20 minutes. We would take a cab.
Her: "Okay."
She took me by the arm and we walked out of the club. My date's jaw dropped. It felt awesome. Now she knew how I felt. I saw the Argentinian chick panic. The music was back on, so I couldn't hear her. But, she was trying to get through the crowd to me and she was mouthing the words "NO, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE! SHE DIDN'T MEAN IT."
I smiled back at her. The dance floor was too thick with patrons. She would never get to us before we got to the elevators. I focused on the glow of the elevators across the room. This night was about to get epic.
The South Asian chick and I got to the elevators and headed to the lobby of the hotel on which Sky Bar sits. She asked where my car was parked. I told her we were taking a cab. I could tell that my earlier deception about driving registered with her, but she didn't seem to care enough to call me out on it. We were arm in arm and she pushed those beautiful ample titties into my ribs. What the fuck was going on? A few minutes ago, I was in the jaws of the shark of defeat and now I had these beautiful exotic tits pushing up against me. I had only talked to her for about 90 seconds and she had left the club with me. She wasn't a hooker, that was obvious. My timing must have been perfect for some reason. Just broke up with her boyfriend or something.
We hopped in a cab. She didn't call me out on the lie about having a car at the club. She commented on how beautiful the mountains looked in the dark and told me she would miss them when she went home next week. I got it. She was on a work trip. She was just enjoying herself on a trip out of town. The theme of the night was definitely that normal rules didn't apply.
Maybe normal rules didn't apply, but what did apply was the situation we were careening towards in the smokey interior of that cab. My parents were asleep in the main floor of their house and the hot tub was in the backyard. This girl thought it was my house. I quickly made up a story about how I had some older upstairs roommates. I told her I was an attorney (true) and showed her my bar card. But I explained that I rented out the upstairs to this couple to cover some of the mortgage (lie). Also, I liked them and the house was too big for me to live in alone (lie).
She either didn't care I was lying to her or didn't see through this transparent lie since the first part was proven true by the bar card. I told her my upstairs tenants were asleep and we should go through the side gate so as not to wake them. We arrived at my parents' house and headed for the side gate. She suddenly looked worried. I thought, "oh god, she figured it out. She's going to demand to be taken back to her hotel room. Fuck.....I'm screwed."
Her: "uh...i just realized I don't have a swimming suit."
This girl kept surprising me. I liked that. So, I thought I would do like I did before and just go for it again. I knew I should just take her into the basement and chill with her there to be on the safer route to getting those melons free of her top. But I wanted to get her in that hot tub even more now that the swimming suit problem was evident.
Me: "Don't worry, it's my house and the tenants won't wake up...they are old...they sleep like bears hibernating."
I though for sure she would say no to the hot tub at this point, but she seemed to be nodding like she was still cool with it.
We went through the gate and got to the hot tub. I wondered how much coaxing it would take to get her in the hot tub without the swimming suit. I threw the top off the hot tub. She took her top off too. She was wearing a lacy bra. I pulled my shirt off to match her. I had a particular method for removing my shirt that I had learned from an old sex advice column in GQ. You reach behind your head and pull it off by the back of the shirt. This is how guys do it in soap operas. It exposes the backs of your triceps and your chest and torso and focuses the girls attention there for a second. Apparently girls think it's way sexier than the pulling it off by the belly method that guys normally use. We were both now topless except her bra. I looked at her and faked a troubled look on my brow.
Me: "You can't wear your skirt in there. It will get all wet and we won't have anything to get you home in."
Her: "Okay, I guess I could just go in my panties."
I was forcing myself to not smile like an idiot right now. I had to pretend like this was business as usual. In truth, I had never even heard a girl use that combination of words. She pulled off her skirt and sat on the edge of the tub. She didn't want to get her bra wet, so she was just dangling her legs in the water. I told her I had to run inside the house and get some towels. I went inside changed into some Quiksilver surf trunks and came back out with towels. I got in the hot tub and floated over next to her and rose up between her legs. I ran the back of my hand across her cheek and through her hair. I kissed her. She smiled. I kissed her again and knew it was time to free those noble prisoners. While kissing her I unsnapped her bra, took it off her and gently laid it next to her skirt and top on the deck. There they were. So round. So big. So soft. I moved down her neck and put one of them in my mouth. She slipped into the tub and I slipped back in with her. I worked on both of those beautiful mammaries with my mouth for a few minutes and then slipped my hand down into her panties. She liked it. I began touching her under the water. Soon her panties were over on the edge of the hot tub. She wanted to go inside to my room. I knew my bedroom in the basement of my parent's house would give it all away. I told her we would wake up my upstairs tenants and said we should go to her hotel. This was a total contradiction of my earlier story. But, she agreed. I liked that she was willingly making herself complicit in these convenient fictions.
I told her I was still too drunk to drive and talked her into driving one of my parents' cars back to her hotel. I would explain it to them tomorrow. That didn't matter right then. She was staying at the Hotel Monaco downtown. We arrived to her room at about 3:30am. At this point we were both tired, but it was obvious that wasn't going to stop us. We had sex with my emergency club condom I had hidden in my sock (I'm told the heat and rubbing of a wallet in your back pocket degrades and damages latex stored there). We finished and laid there. This was the first time I had ever picked up a girl from the bar and had sex with her. I was so proud of myself. How many dozens of times had I gone to bars with friends looking for women, drank many drinks, and gone home alone? Every single one of those times, this had been what I was hoping for. I had to try very hard not to smile like an idiot and give it away. I was smiling on the inside.
She told me she was Bangladeshi, her youth was composed entirely of competitive gymnastics training, and she was bisexual. Her traditional parents' didn't understand. She had horrible fights with her dad over even minimal disclosure of her lifestyle. I told her I understood. She wanted to fuck again. Awesome...except, I didn't have any more condoms.
She told me that the little welcome package the hotel had laid out for her upon arrival had included a condom but that she opened it to use in a prank on some member of the nerdery. That sounds weird, but this hotel hosts a lot of big music acts when they come into town. I knew this meant the front desk would have more. It was about 4AM but desperate times called for desperate measures. I picked up the phone.
Front Desk: "Hello, front desk, how may I help you?"
Me: "Hiiiiiiii......sorry to call so late but I'm up in Room 307 and we need to get a hold of a........uh........gentlemen's special purpose item?"
I prayed he wouldn't make me explain what the fuck I was talking about. Shouldn't he just know. He must get this call a lot.
Front Desk: "Uh.....like a razor or a shoe polishing kit or something?"
Me: "No.....no.....you know.....uh....the really special item that is sometimes called for late at night?"
Front Desk: "Uh............?"
Me: "You know when you've got your lady and you lay her down and it's time to......uh....you know....give her the business?"
The South Asian chick was dying of laughter at this point. She was trying to contain herself but her half laughing whispers of "just tell him you need a condom" became loud enough to be heard over the phone.
Front Desk: "Ohhhhhhhhh.....a condom.....uh I don't think we have access to those here."
Me: "Yeah, you guys put them in the welcome basket things."
The Front Desk guy agreed to look in the back storage area to see what he could find. Eventually he called back to let me know he had found several "gentlemen's special operations items" for me. It was obvious that everyone on the hotel staff was going to hear about this tomorrow. I ran down to the lobby grabbed the condoms, and slipped the guy a $20 to cover my embarrassment. When I returned, the South Asian chick was asleep. I rubbed her arm to wake her up. She tried to pretend like she wasn't too tired to have sex again and started grabbing me through my pants. This was my kind of girl.
We hung out together all day the next day, a Sunday. We got along great, probably only because we both knew it was temporary but maybe because we were compatible. I basically lived with her at the hotel that week since it was only a few blocks from my workplace. It was a good week.
When she got back to L.A., she called me every night. She was talking about moving to Salt Lake. I talked a lot about taking things slow. I started returning her calls a lot less quickly. She decided she wanted to take a vacation day and come back for a three day weekend. I was stoked on this idea, and booked a room at the Cliff Lodge at the Snowbird Resort for a weekend a few weeks away. I didn't tell her about it. It would be a surprise. She booked her flight. The morning she was supposed to arrive, she never showed up. I called her in L.A. She didn't answer. A few days later I got a call from her. She was crying. She explained that she had gotten too drunk at a work party the night before she was supposed to arrive and missed her flight. She didn't pick up the phone that day because she was embarrassed about fucking up our weekend. I wondered if it was really because I had balked at her moving to Salt Lake idea. She said she wondered if she had a drinking problem. I didn't tell her about having to eat the cost of the room at the Cliff Lodge. We never spoke again.
A few months later I noticed on social media that she changed her status from bisexual to lesbian and that she was dating some chick. I thought, "good for her."