So Saturday night was a bad night.
It all started a few weeks ago. It was a Thursday, I think, and I'd just gotten off of work. One of the bouncers, a nice man about ten years older than me who I chat and gossip with every day, walked me to his car. He often does that ever since he found out I don't have a car and usually call a taxi instead (especially since Beth and I broke up).
Before we drove away from the club he asked me if I'd rather come back to his place and hang out with him and an old friend of his who was staying at his place. He said it'd be a three-person party.
Now, before you think that his proposal was an overt sexual advance, you don't know "Joe" (aka Joe the Bouncer, lol). He's seriously the person I (thought) I knew best at the club because he talks a lot, he's funny, and he's awesome at what he does. I mean, the whole reason he found out I didn't have a car was because I called one day when I started dancing again to tell them I was going to be late (this was back when Beth and I were still together; she had promised to drive me but at the last minute called and cancelled and I had to wait for a taxi). When I explained the situation Joe asked for my address and came out and picked me up himself.
He's just a really nice guy, too. Never accepts tips for the drives when I offer them, always friendly, that sort of thing. Yeah, he's flirted with me, but it's the playful kind of flirting, you know?
So on this particular Thursday night (or I guess it would have been a Friday morning) I figured, why not? I had nothing better to do. Also, I knew I could trust Joe so even though we weren't exactly friends it's not like I had to worry for my safety or anything.
Joe's friend, "Larry", turned out to be a nice guy, too. An old high-school buddy of Joe's, he was recently separated from his wife and crashing at Joe's until he could find his own place. Unlike Joe he was on the short side, balding, and a little overweight. When Joe and I arrived he was already four beers into a six pack and watching some classic football game on ESPN.
The three of us got along great. We drank some beers, told stories, that sort of thing. When I asked if anyone wanted to smoke a slim joint I had in my purse they were all about it. The plan had been to watch some movie Joe had rented but that never happened. We were all having too much fun just shooting the shit and getting a little high.
It was Larry who first turned the conversation toward sex. He wanted to know what my relationship with Beth, as her sub, was like. I didn't care that Joe had obviously told him this about me (probably while I was in the bathroom or something). Joe was one of the few people at the club who knew the true nature my relationship with her had become and I didn't care if some outsider I'd never even see again, most likely, knew.
That line of talk eventually led to more explicit, sexual conversations. At one point, probably around 4am or so, Joe decided to ask me a favor while Larry used the bathroom.
"Shannon," he said, using my stage name (which isn't really Shannon, btw), "I know we're all getting fucked up, but before you get too drunk to stand I was wondering if you could do me a favor and give Larry a few free dances. He doesn't have enough money for the club right now and he's been really depressed about the separation..."
I stopped him by saying bluntly, "If you want me to fuck him, I will."
I think he thought I was angry because he said, "No, nothing like that! I know you're with Beth and all that. I was just thinking a regular dance..."
For some reason I felt even more bold than usual that night because I interrupted him by grabbing his cock through his jeans. I said, "I'll fuck you, too. Trust me, Beth won't care!"
For the record, I was telling the truth. At that particular point in our dissolving relationship Beth had made it clear I could fuck who I wanted, when I wanted, so long as I told her about it after. I think she got off on hearing about it even though, you know, eventually she started insisting on always being there and then treating me like crap afterwards. Sigh...
Long story short, Larry didn't need much convincing. When he got back from the bathroom I told him I was going to give him a private dance. And I did. In front of both of them I stripped out of my clothes, dancing to music in my head, the beer and weed having fogged my mind enough to keep me loose and completely uninhibited. Before I finished I asked him to take his dick out and instantly, it was out. After putting a condom on him I stradled him and sank onto his pole while Joe watched the whole thing at the other end of the couch.
Larry didn't last long enough to get me off, even as worked up as I was. But Joe took care of that. He already had his cock out with a condom on it when I finished off Larry. All I had to do was slide off of the latter and move over to the former. Joe's cock was a good size, and he had endurance, and the sex with him lasted so long that we experimented with a variety of positions before I was on my hands and knees on the floor with a re-invigorated Larry in front of me, his cock in my mouth. I have no doubt the two guys turned the final moments of the fucking into an "Eiffel Tower" scene. I heard their hands slap together above me.
It was pretty hot. I definitely got off, extremely well, and more than once. Remember, at this point I wasn't getting guys on a regular basis because I was with Beth. But I've always preferred guys when it comes to cumming. Sigh. I think I'm feeling the same way right now, only backward, now that Beth is gone from my life. Argh...
Anyway, the point is I didn't regret anything afterwards. There was nothing to feel dirty or ashamed about. The first thing I did when I finished was send Beth a text to tell her I'd just fucked Joe and Larry (I knew she wouldn't reply since it was so late, but I wanted it on the record). Then the three of us returned to chatting on the couch, laughing, and having a good time. They dressed, btw, but I remained naked the rest of the night.
I spent the night with Larry on the fold-out sofa-bed. He cuddled and groped me while we slept but I didn't care. I barely noticed. When I awoke the next day it was noon and both men were gone. A note left for me said something like, "Shannon: Here's some money for a taxi. I'm taking Joe apartment hunting today and had to leave early. Thanks for last night, see you at work."
I went home, told Beth all about it later, and the two of us made love. After that I didn't give the events of the night before a second thought. It had been fun and sexy and very desirable but it was over. Joe and I were just co-workers again and that's all we were going to ever be. As for Larry, well, as much as I thought he was cool there wasn't much of a chance I'd ever see him again and I didn't really care.
I didn't even think about that whole experience until last night.
Last night. Saturday night. Was a very bad night.
It started when one of the waitresses told me someone was looking for me. I'd only been at work a couple of hours. When the waitress pointed the customer out I saw it was a woman. White, mid-30ish, kinda pretty. I walked to her table and she bought me a drink. Getting lesbian customers at my bar is very rare but not unprecedented. I got to flirting with her, gave her my whole sales pitch, etc. I figured she'd asked the waitress to find me after seeing me dance on stage. I was wrong.
I found out how wrong I was when I got her into the private-dances room.
She didn't even wait for me to strip. Now that we had a little bit of privacy she literally attacked me. She told me that I was a whore, that I was fucking her boyfriend, etc. At first I thought the wife of one of my "freelance clients" had tracked me down, but nope.
Turns out she was Joe's girlfriend. Long-term girlfriend. Live-in girlfriend.
I didn't even know Joe had a girlfriend. He'd never mentioned that to me. Ugh!
The bouncer on duty in the upstairs room that night pulled her off me before she could do any real damage and she was kicked out of the curb. Still, the whole thing really shook me up. I ended up telling the manager I couldn't work the rest of my shift and he let me go home. I took a cab home and planned on getting drunk, working on my stories, and just relaxing. Also, I called Joe about a thousand times (he never answered; he hadn't been on duty that night).
I was probably home about half an hour when someone started banging on my door. It turned out to be one of my roommates. His room is right near the front door to our "apartment" (a house converted into several apartments) and he'd heard someone banging on the entry-door to the actual building. He told me some crazy woman was screaming for someone named "Shannon" (the roommate didn't know at the time I dance and use a stage name) to come "face her". He told me that he'd tried to tell her no one by that name lived here, but the woman insisted I did and after describing me, he knew who she was talking about.
So. Suddenly a bad night was getting worse. I had to get rid of the "crazy woman". Obviously I was pretty sure it was Joe's supposed girlfriend. How she got the address to my home I had no idea but I was mortified that one of my new roommates (neighbors?) now knew I was a stripper. Stupidly, I went out to confront her. I wanted to clear up the situation. Why am I so dumb sometimes?
She hit me as soon as I stepped out onto the porch. It was a weak hit (I've taken worse) but it did leave a bruise. Also, it sent me falling to my side before I could even say a word in my defense (I honestly had no idea Joe had a live-in girlfriend when I fucked him! I swear!). Thankfully that same roommate was with me and he pushed the woman away before she could start kicking me, which is what she clearly wanted to do.
My roommate/neighbor said he was calling the police while both me and the crazy-woman were on the ground. Crazy-woman said, "Good, good, call them! I'll tell them you fucking assaulted me!".
The rest of the night was a fiasco. The roommate helped me back into the house but he stayed outside as the crazy-woman screamed things like, "Assault, assault! You pushed me! You hit me!". It didn't take long for the cops to get there.
I told the cops the whole story. Or, most of it, at least. I denied that I had truly fucked the woman's boyfriend, but that was irrelevant anyway. They ended up taking the crazy away in handcuffs for assault. I was actually really impressed by how kind and non-judgmental they were about both my profession and what I had clearly done (they never bought my lie about not fucking the woman's boyfriend, I could tell, but they didn't care). I also told them that yes, I wanted to press charges. I was angry, and hurt. Though I didn't need medical attention, the cops took pictures of the obvious bruise (more obvious today) to my face anyway.
Now I have to go to the police station tomorrow and file a more formal complaint, or something. They said something about me having to talk to a detective, or some attorney (DA?). Guess I'll find out about that later... sigh.
What a bad night. And guess what? It got worse from there.
After everything had been totally settled with the cops, and I was free to return to my own apartment (with the full knowledge that the roommate who had been so helpful would now, most likely, spread the truth about my profession around the building... argh), I decided to just chill, drink beer, and chat online. Big mistake.
I ended up getting into a fight with a longtime friend of this site. He messaged me, we chatted a while, then politics came up. I brought them up. Because that's just sort of where I am right now, mentally.
Let me explain.
Lately, the last week especially, I can't go five minutes without experiencing a mood-swing. One moment I'm happy, the next I'm horny, the next I'm a fucking train-wreck. It's all this election's fault, too!
Obama is in the lead. Right? Everyone says so. All the polls show it. I should be bubbling over with joy. I mean, I've loved and respected this guy for a billion reasons since 2004. Longtime fans of this site will know this. I've read his books. I've watched his speeches. I truly believe that he is the best, most qualified, most inspiring candidate for the office of the presidency of the United States we've seen since Bobby Kennedy. I mean, I hoped my whole life I'd get a chance to support a guy as amazing as RFK and then, one day, there he was. And now, here he is. And he's on the cusp of victory. Right?
I should be happy. But then I remember past elections. The surprises. The shocks. The stories the next day with headlines like, "How Were the Polls So Wrong?". I remember the heartache of Kerry losing in 2004. The pollsters making up excuses after the NH primary. Me, drinking myself stupid every day for like a week after the let-down in '00. I remember the fucking lies the Republicans tell, the fucking awful nasty lies. The nasty, terrible machine they run to suppress voter turnout, the whisper campaigns, the rumors. The robo-calls. The fake mailers. The "remember to vote on Wednesday!" lies they always spread in urban areas.
"He's going to raise your taxes," they say. "He's a Muslim." Most recently, "He wants to bankrupt the coal industry." (That last one is trying to gin up votes in PA, btw). Sheer lies. Sheer bullshit.
But it works. That's why I'm so nervous. It's why I'm such a wreck. Churchill once said, "Truth is still lacing up its shoes while a lie has sprinted across the world." Something like that. The point is, lies are easy. Truth is hard.
I have friends who think this thing is in the bag. They have literally called me crazy for being so sure Obama is going to lose. They point at the polls. They argue history. They cite great examples and make compelling arguments about why it's insane of me to get an ulcer over this thing. One friend of mine recently told me that I was not invited to his "Obama Victory Party" anymore because I'd be a "bummer". His words.
It's true. I'm a mess. I've been a mess for weeks over this. I can't see how anyone who loves this country cannot be. How can you not be urgent? How can you... argh.
Let me put it to you this way: If Obama was considered the under-dog right now I'd feel better. I would. If he was, say, 8 points down in the national polls, I'd feel okay. Sad, but not chaotic. Why? Because then if he lost, I would have expected it. I would be conditioned for it.
This year, though... well, that's the other swing of my emotional pendulum. Sometimes I feel the same way my friends do. That this thing is in the bag. That Obama has it all locked up. That America will finally elect a leader who inspires, a leader who cares about the middle class, a leader who can fucking change history! And that makes me happy.
Last night was not one of those rare times. So when a long time friend of this site started to espouse some bullshit Republican talking points about Obama (on tax policy, of course) I got mad. I said some things I really shouldn't have said.
You know who you are. I'm sorry I got so personal, got so mean. I forgot one of the biggest things I've learned in life: good and decent people can disagree about policy, about politics, and still be friends. You stated your views and they reinforced my paranoia and I got really mean. I'm sorry for that.
Sigh... anyway. This will all be over on Wednesday. Hopefully. Then maybe I can regain some sense of sanity. I'm tired of being like this.
If Obama loses, by the way? Don't expect to hear from me for a long, long time. I'll be too depressed to do anything but cry. So it's in your best interest to vote, no matter what state you're in, for Barack! :P
Seriously, go out there and vote for him. Don't believe the bullshit they're saying, don't believe the lies. Just go and get this man elected!
If you live in a "red" state, don't think, "It doesn't matter, Barack can't win here, I'll just stay home."
If you live in a "blue" state don't think, "It doesn't matter, Barack is definitely going to win, why waste my time?"
Vote no matter what. Unless you want to vote for McCain. Then by all means, stay home. :)
One last thing. If you're like me, and are freaking out about this election, and need a little reassurance? Just look at this:
-shannon-
~hoping against hope and having the audacity to hope~
