The sex drought is over! Down comes the rain!

Hello Lovers!

Isn’t it just a lovely evening? No I mean really, aren’t things just so fantabulous? The moon is up , the stars are out and yes, you guessed it… the drought has been broken! Ah Lovers it’s such a lovely feeling! Sadly the feeling only lasted the day as I was back in Club X not twenty four hours later ogling all the expensive vibrators. Three cheers for Sexpo and all the $20 sex toys you can lay your horny little hands on! Too bad it’s in November. That’s a long wait. But hey whilst we all wait for that magical day circled in everyone’s sex calender (or is it just me who has one of those?) Let me regale you all with my very suprising and super embarrassing sexcapade!

Like all good sexual forays, this one started at three pm with a coffee with the girls.

Saucy eh?

No, I didn’t think so either, which is why I was dressed in my usual cavalier I don’t care who sees me outfit. Cargo pants, sneakers and a non-descript grey top. Nothing that’s going to blow anyone’s top that’s for damn sure. As this coffee meet was just a few hours with the ladies I didn’t shave my legs, (it’s Winter people, unless it’s absolutely necessary I’ll let those bad boys grow out until Spring) put on just a whisper of deodorant with no perfume to speak of and of course paid no attention to my choice of underwear. What was going to happen at coffee?

Turns out a simple coffee (or hot chocolate in my case) can lead to quite the tryst.

After meeting up with the ladies for a chat and a goss, Kim had to go to work at a nearby bar. I had planned on heading home for another quiet night on Ebay searching for cheap lingerie but Homie my other girlfriend suggested we grab a quick beer first.

Here’s a side note people, never ever trust someone when they say a ‘quick beer’ especially if it’s on a Friday afternoon.

So five beers later as I was heading for the ladies yet again (seriously, breaking the seal early is the worst idea ever) I found myself unexpectedly having quite the fun Friday night. Homie and I had already broken social etiquette and engaged in tipsy texting, sending all my men who were constantly too ‘busy’ for sex ultimatums in no uncertain terms. I was a little worried about this as if they didn’t respond favorably to these texts I was shit out of luck with sex partners, but as I drained another beer I felt all my cares slip away, much like my bladder control. Homie was meeting her Lover for a movie later and not wanting to rain on her parade I was set on heading home when he arrived. Of course, as soon as Homie begged me to go with her I folded instantly. Who was I to stop the fun? Besides, apparently his cousin was going to the movies with them; maybe a double date was on the cards? We finished off another few beers before heading to the Casino where the cinemas were. Homie’s Lover was late so she suggested another beer in one of the fancy casino bars.

And that’s when the night got interesting.

As soon as we walked in and took a seat I spied a sexy bartender. I usually try to avoid hitting on bartenders when I’m less than sober after many a failed attempt and an extraordinarily crazy year of actually dating one, (details of that relationship later) but I figured what was the worst thing that could happen? So I approached, we spoke a little and then I wimped out and slunk back to my seat. Homie was outraged.

“What are things coming to when you of all people can’t talk to a guy? All we ever do is talk about sex and guys!”

I had to admit she had a point, but there is always something so intimidating about a guy in a suit, especially when you’re wearing cargo pants that have seen better days. Before I knew it, Homie had turned to the nearest guy and was asking his advice on how to seal the deal. It turned out this guy she was talking to was part of some juice, shake, diet revolution thing and was there for business drinks with some of his coworkers. Needless to say it was a sausage fest of epic proportions. Ten or fifteen dudes all working hard to spruke vita-cleanse or something. Thankfully they were off the clock so we didn’t have to hear the whole speel. What we did hear though was lots of advice on how to get my barman. After sponging up as much information as I could I leapt up and headed to the bar. I asked sexy barman what a good drink was and he told me his espresso martini’s were the best. Ooh, good start, I thought, he’s making me something personal. I was going to stay and chat whilst he made them but was swiftly rebuffed with a firm

“I’ll bring them to your table.”

Okay then maybe not so positive… I trotted back to the table and relayed the information back to our dating guru. By this time a few of the other boys he was with had joined the conversation and put in their two cents as well. Talk about information overload!

“Ask about his tie!”

“No ask him how old he is!”

“Pfft no way dude, ask him how long he’s worked here for!”

By the time said barman served us our drinks I was so spun around that I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Heya, so you single?”

Smooth I know. I could see all the guys out of the corner of my eye shaking their heads.


As it turned out though I saved myself a great deal of time asking him as the saucy bastard was engaged. Bugger, my dating pool just keeps getting smaller and smaller!

I resigned myself to the fact that all the great ones are either taken or gay and decided to drown my sorrows in my rather delicious espresso martini. That was when I started talking to Salvatore. At first I completely dismissed him as a prospect, he smoked (a big turn off for me) and there was nothing about him I was particularly attracted too apart from the fact that he was dressed very well. But the more we spoke, the more I got to like him for this personality. He was thirty two, loved his job and seemed like a really decent guy. So after an hour or so chatting it was a no brainer for me to pop a mint in his mouth and go in for the kiss.

And it was good.

That’s definitely the bonus of making out with the big boys, most of the time a thirty two year old will kiss you ten times better than a twenty one year old, although there are definitely exceptions. After our little saliva interlude I felt that damned bladder calling out for release again. I disengaged and with a flutter of eyelashes let Salvatore know I’d be right back.

It was safe to say I was riding a bit of a high; eight beers, two cocktails and a kiss, what a great night this was turning out to be! I started to skip as I neared the glass revolving doors of the bar, sex could actually be on the cards, why wouldn’t I skip? And so it was that I was going much faster than walking pace as I slammed face first into the glass.

Oh fuck, I’ve missed the door and slammed into the wall!

My face hit the glass so hard I ricocheted off it instantly, crashing straight into the concrete floor beneath me with a thud. But that thud was nothing compared to the crack my scone made against the glass. I was floored so fast that I didn’t even have time to put my arms out to catch myself, so my head and my ass took the full force of that lovely soft concrete.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, not comprehending what had just happened. Where the fuck did the door go? Before I knew it Homie and some unidentified female were hovering over me. I stumbled up and pushed my way through them to the door, making sure to go into it and not attempt a detour through the glass like before.


But oh, my pride, my poor wounded pride! It had shriveled up into a tiny ball and was hiding just north of my stomach. How could that have just happened? I ran to the bathroom, tears streaming down my broken face and locked myself in the nearest cubicle.

No no no! My first chance at sex in weeks and I had to try and redecorate the walls with my face! I could hear Homie knocking frantically on the cubicle door but I just needed a moment to myself to figure out if I was in a terribly painful nightmare or if I had really just run full tilt into a wall.

Yep, I’d gone the wall option.

When I finally opened the door I was greeted with unidentified female cooing soothing words at me. Apparently that happened a lot. In fact twenty minutes before I had gone ass up some guy had done the exact same thing. This information made me feel a little better I admit, but boy I hated the designers of that bar. I bet they did it on purpose just so the bored bartenders would have something to laugh at. Oh god! Sexy bartender would have seen it! Oh double god! Salvatore! Sex was definitely off the cards now.

After some kind words from Homie, to whom I will be forever grateful to for being a supportive friend instead of laughing her ass off at her completely uncoordinated douche of a mate, I steeled myself to face the music again. After blowing my nose several times to get all the blood out (didn’t actually have a blood nose but for the next few days my nose was certainly surfing the crimson wave) I decided it was time to head back to Salvatore. Deep down though, I had very little hope he would still be there. Even if by some miracle he was still around and he did see my epic tumble, would he even still want to talk to me?

Slim chances, very slim.

What happens next Lovers? Oh it get’s SO much better! However my head still hurts so I shall continue tomorrow 😉

Claire xx

Pickup line of the week: I’m French Horny for your Tromboner.


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