The Foursome (not posted on IG)

The foursome: He wanted to have dinner at the Rainbow at five-fucking-thirty. The Rainbow’s a ghost town that early. What’s the point of showing it off to out-of-towners in that state? I changed the reservation to the place that’s kitty corner to Book Soup. 6:30 p.m. was the compromise. I hate eating that early with him but he likes the fucking to start as early as possible, plus, he has to make the wife calls—from the hotel room is best. I like when he has people with him. Makes it easier for me to be late. I told him to go the restaurant early, “It’s a bar, I’ll meet you guys there.” He hates hearing this. His dream is for me to arrive at his hotel at 3 p.m. but that dream can kiss my grits.


I parked behind the restaurant. I know that parking lot well. State Social House was two other joints back in the day. Places I used to go with my homegirl, Honey. During our wild LA days. I put my white fedora on and checked my makeup. I was sparkly. I was wearing white shorts, shimmering heels, and a glistening fake tan. You know, the in-her-late-forties meets two twenty-something’s-she’s-going-to-fuck-that-night outfit. He seemed relieved to see me. I don’t know why. Aren’t young women your thing? I was a little up, if you know what I mean. Adderall, mostly.


BREAK


Shit, I just realized this a a two-night story that I was melding in my mind. Ok, this is night one


END BREAK


The Texan was fairly sober. The girls (Blondie Pop and her half-sister whom I’ve heard about for years) were trying in earnest not to be. I liked the sister right away. I wasn’t sure I was going to. I was worried she’d be ghetto. Not that I don’t love ghetto, I do, but sometime that white girl ghetto comes with a side of unnecessary attitude. Anyway, she was none of that. She was smiles and sweetness.


Honestly, she seemed pretty nervous. Lord knows what he’s been saying about me. I know she hasn’t done this type of work in a long time (she moved out of Texas years ago). I’m sure she was dealing with a myriad of emotions. And bad blow. I noticed Tex was doing his louder than need be/manic laugh routine. It is to prove his funny? Having fun? It boggles my mind and hurts my ears. So much to prove. A lot of ‘dick out at the table’ talk. It’s like, we’ve all seen your dick, leave it in your pants, bro.


We ate. We drank as many doubles and shots as we could. I drove us all back to the hotel (only a few blocks away). Oh, we stopped at 7-Eleven and CVS first (both close and on the way).


Wasting time running errands while buzzed is fun. All vet ho’s know how to waste time. At the room; it was more awkward then I’m used to. Not because we weren’t getting along, but he got a room with one bed, it was too many people, and because it was her sister-in-law they weren’t going to fool around, there was no flow. He wanted me to stay the night but no way was I going to sleep in a bed with three other people! Knowing this, I barely drank once we hit the room. Unfortunately, he wanted this whole porn scenario, but it was early as fuck and the room was too silent. He wanted to fuck BP and yours truly right away. No warm-up. No porn. No nothing. I didn’t even have time to put my homeopathic probiotic up my snatch and the small amount of coconut oil I grabbed wasn’t enough for his ‘I have something to prove BAM BAM’, I was sore almost instantly. Blondie Pop was on the same page. It was annoying. I kept saying we needed chill out; get turned-on first. He wouldn’t listen. Didn’t care. Was on a mission to make us come. What a joke. We weren’t particularly happy. I faked a small one but honestly, the scene was odd as fuck. We finally put the porn on but none of our usual routine happened. It’s difficult to lay four people across a bed jacking off to porn, plus the girls didn’t have vibrators. I got my travel speaker out of my bag and played Rhianna. The girls seemed happy having music. The Texan, not as much. Why he thinks three chicks is gonna be the ultimate dream is crazy to me. Also, they were barely partying which I found odd.


BREAK (to eat and hug a local who’s mom just lost her husband…I’m still teary-eyed)


Fuck. Can I be honest with you? I don’t recall the sequence of events that first night. I know that it wasn’t the sex bomb he was hoping for and he didn’t come; in spite of our best efforts. He fucked Blondie Pop and myself. Not the sis at all. She’s gained some weight since the last time he saw her, he told me on the DL. I said, “No shit, we’ve all gained weight. You included.”

I tried to get him to come but I could tell he wasn’t going to. He was too centered on us coming. Too bad for him we were centered on talkin shit/old stories about him and trying to stay away from his dick. Why he mixes his girls will forever confound me. I got up to take a bathroom break. I called him in and sucked his dick while I was on the toilet. I then hugged him and told him I loved him. He said it back and added, “I wish it was just us.” I dipped my head dramatically as my hands went up in that ‘why the fuck?’ statement. I peed. I skedaddled around midnight. Barely saying goodbye. Maybe he’d chill out and come if it was just them. He didn’t, I later found out. Blondie Pop told me she forced him to sleep around 4 a.m. She was very sore.


NEXT DAY


I was hoping we’d get a later start (as we usually do on night two in L.A.) but he didn’t have drinks/dinner with clients because the girls were there. Again, he was trying to get me to show up by 6:30 p.m. I wasn’t happy. I love BP, but I don’t think I want her visiting L.A. anymore. It’s too complicated and we can’t go to our sushi joint because she doesn’t eat sushi. On top of that, he expects me to entertain them, show them the town. Hello, I’m working! I don’t want to play cruise ship captain. The good news is they were all running late so we ended up eating at the Rainbow at a normal time. It was bumpin. It was fun.


We kept telling him how sore we were and insisted on a warm-up this time. That ding-a-ling took our soreness as a point of pride. Men, please, listen to me, there are several reasons why a woman could be sore from sex. I get it, in your (his) cave brain it means a dinosaur dick and good fuckin’, but mostly it means (I’m speaking for myself, but I imagine I’m not alone) that I wasn’t turned on one iota and it went on too long or was too rough. Sorry to burst your bubble. Sure, I’ve been sore from good sex, but that shit is rare and no one involved would have questioned the velocity of the legit passion. Stop using sore or walking bow-legged as the gold metal marker.


Back at the room: it was a little more fun this time. He asked me to go through the porn DVD’s (as he’s wont to do). There were disks in there with “trade” written on them (by my hand) from months (if not years) ago. I started tossing them off the deck like frisbees into the pool. Not an easy task due to the angle of the deck but super fun. I handed some for the girls to toss. We were dying laughing. I fucked him good while the sisters laid back on the pillows. I noted that their pussies looked alike. A random, on-the-fly observation. I put on a real show. He got close but no-go. He was too much in his head and there were too many moving parts; no more foursomes. I made him stop once I realized he wasn’t going to come. He put up a fight. He was enjoying the “I’m a stud” teleplay while we were hosting the “hurry up and cum” channel. The sister said she came while we were fucking.


“That was hot as fuck” she cooed. I’ll take it. Not bad for an old hag!


I turned into a pumpkin again at midnight. He’d handed my envelope on the sly earlier so I could blow the stand with ease. I hugged the ladies and ran outta there. BP told me the following day that he didn’t come. What a freak!





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