All right, so this is a couple of weeks out of date. I’m still dating Adam, The Baptist–in fact I’m seeing him tonight–but our third date and my Bad Decision Tiara weekend cannot go unexplained.
Here’s how it began: I met up with Adam at a fund-raising event for a local police department. It was an outdoor party with music, booths, food, and presentations by the officers. It was in a park adjoining the police station. We quickly bored of the festivities and went for a walk through the park. We were bantering back and forth went Adam caught sight of a log spanning a ravine with a creek running through it. The log was probably 15 or 20 feet above the creek, and probably 20 feet long. Adam being Adam, I knew what he was going to say the minute the evil glint came into his eyes.
“I bet you wouldn’t walk across that log.”
I said sure I would, as long as it wasn’t rotten or wobbly. He didn’t believe me, so I hopped the fence that the police had placed there to keep idiots like me from doing exactly what I was about to do. I pulled off my shoes and danced barefoot across the log singing the theme from Dirty Dancing. Adam just shook his head. Bad Decision number one.
From there we went to a bar where we proceeded to get fairly hammered to the sounds of a decent Guns N Roses cover band. We had come in two cars, so we both drove back to his house (fortunately just a few blocks away) almost certainly over the legal limit. Bad Decision number two. Very bad… I think driving under the influence is extremely irresponsible.
We got to his house around 11, and I told him I felt like swimming. The lake isn’t open at night and is patrolled by police, but Adam offered to take us to a community pool in a posh neighborhood nearby. It was closed, too… his real estate pass code would get us into the gated community but access to the pool would require more fence climbing. So, the bad decisions kept rolling, and we went skinny dipping while trespassing. Bad Decision number three.
Back at his house, I had to honor the bet I’d lost playing HORSE on our second date, so I had to watch one of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies with him. I hate horror movies of all things. And with a wolfish grin, Adam comes back into the bedroom with a bottle of 90 proof liquor and announces that we will be doing shots every time someone dies.
About 40 people die in that movie. The bottle is gone. Bad Decision number four.
By now it’s got to be close to three in the morning. We’ve been on the couch in Adam’s bedroom, watching his enormous screen TV. We haven’t so much as touched or kissed at this point, not tonight or on our first two dates, either. But the bed is looking pretty good to my drunk and tired eyes. And so is Adam. Hell, that boy looks good even when I’m not drunk. Nice body. Great eyes. Killer smile. So… into the bed. Bad Decision number five.
From which Bad Decision number six followed naturally, and was compounded by the fact that the sex was unprotected. Through my drunken haze, at one point I know I said, “If you don’t want to have sex with me, you need to stop kissing me like that,” to which he responded “Like what? Like this?” and then mmmm….
In the morning, I was sober enough to put my clothes on to prevent a Bad Decision number seven, and left him so he could go to church.
I’m actually texting with him as I write this, and we’re plotting mischief for tonight. There’s already a wager on a game of pool; he thinks I’ll be better than he is, so I offered to play with a handicap & use the cue in my left hand.
Of course, I didn’t tell him I’m left-handed.
~ Sex Kitten (with claws)