As we both turned back to the show, the performer came up to the table and lifted me out of my seat and placed me on the front edge of the table to the raucous cheers of my girls.
As the music changed over to “You Sexy Thing,” the performance was starting to heat up; my dancer’s glistening, rock hard chest was inches from my face as he grinded against the table from between my legs.
Due to the increasingly personal nature of the performance, I had become a tiny bit pre-occupied and I didn’t even notice as Sam re-entered the room, ripping off his shirt as he strode up to our table, taking his place right next to my dancer, directly in front of Elyse.
Then, much to the delight of the rest of the girls, who by now were deliriously encouraging both men, he joined in the performance; his gaze never leaving Elyse’s eyes as he hoisted her up onto the edge of the table next to me.
My dancer, taking note of the unusual development, appeared to take Sam’s entrance as a personal affront to his talents as he quickly took his performance up a notch; his slacks disappearing with a flourish as the cheers and whistling around me grew louder.
Sam was apparently unperturbed by that development as he quickly acted to match my dancer’s state of attire and, in doing so, revealing that incredible butt that I had heard so much about from Elyse in the past.
I glanced over at Elyse, curious as to how she was handling the unexpected turn of events.
Her eyes were clearly locked on Sam but her face was an inscrutable mask.
As I turned my attention back to the performance, Sam and my performer swivelled to face each other as they started playing off the other’s performances, neither willing to be outdone as the moves and thrusts became increasingly outlandish with each passing second.
I’ll admit it wasn’t exactly a duel to the death but, judging by the squeals of delight all around me, it sure was causing the estrogen levels in the room to spike to a dangerous level.
After the performance reached its climax with two synchronized pelvic thrusts that left my girls and I roaring, my dancer stepped back to bow to his appreciative audience; catching a pair of panties that appeared to come from the direction of Paige’s seat before using them to mop the sweat from his glistening chest.
Sam, on the other hand, had walked straight up to Elyse, picked her up in his arms and, the last we saw of them, Elyse had her legs wrapped around Sam’s torso; their lips locked as they disappeared out the door to a standing ovation for Sam’s efforts.
Doing a strip tease in front of a crowd of wildly intoxicated women to win back the love of your life might not have been straight out of any classic love stories, but you certainly couldn’t question where the guy’s heart was at.
I’ve had a wonderful time, but this wasn’t it – Groucho Marx
35. Mmm, I don’t know how Jonathan managed to end up next to me in my bed, but whatever he’s doing to me under the sheets right now feels absolutely amazing! It’s like he’s making my whole body vibrate.
Wow, there it goes again. That sensation is so intense! I can practically feel the whole bed shaking. What on earth is he doing?
Wait a second, what is that buzzing sound and why is it getting louder?
Oh no, no, no, don’t stop, it can’t be…
“Hey Mom,” I moaned, trying my best to contain my disappointment at being woken from what had been a very satisfying dream.
The lower half of my body was still pulsating as I gingerly rubbed the sleep out of my eyes in an attempt to keep my hands busy.
For some unfathomable reason, they desperately seemed to want to disappear below the sheets to continue things where my dream had left off.
The next time I go out for the night, I definitely need to remember to turn my phone off.
As I slowly made my way back towards consciousness, I became acutely aware of an intense burning sensation in my eyes.
As if this conversation wasn’t going to be painful enough as it was, I eventually emerged far enough out of my stupor to realize that my contacts and I had not parted company last night and they were now caked to my corneas.
“Happy birthday sweetie!” my mum’s impossibly enthusiastic voice reaching my ears at a decibel level that made every fibre of my dreadfully dehydrated body wince in agony.
“Did you get up to anything fun with your friends last night?” she inquired innocently, clearly unable to hear the ringing that was echoing through my head with every word she uttered.
Hmm, what parts of my night would be best to tell my mum about?
Maybe I could start with the fact that I nearly burnt down another restaurant and that I’m beginning to question at what point a person is officially considered an arsonist?
Or perhaps I could instead go into detail about how I spent the latter part of my evening inches away from the grinding pelvis of a nearly naked man who just so happened to be joined by the equally clothing impaired boyfriend of my best friend.
It’s possible that my night had gotten a bit more PG from there, but if it had, my memory had apparently decided to sweep it aside in the tidal wave of shots and martinis I had ingested because I really couldn’t recall a thing after Sam had carried Elyse out of the room.
“Well, Elyse, Veronica and a few other friends took me out for dinner and drinks. Paige even managed to get a couple of days off so that she could be there,” I replied, choosing my words carefully as I gazed around at the heap of clothes on my floor before taking a quick peek under the sheets, trying to confirm that, whatever had happened the rest of the night, I wasn’t going to have any more unpleasant surprises this morning.
Not noticing any unwanted additions to my life, I breathed an audible sigh of relief and pulled the blankets up over my head in an effort to block out the sunlight that was streaming into my room and searing my dry, blurry retinas.
“That’s so sweet of Paige to make it out there for you. Make sure you say hi for me. Have you been out for a birthday breakfast yet?” my mum continued, obviously oblivious to the requisite recovery period that’s required after a girl’s night out.
Flipping my phone around for a second, I checked the time and groaned “Mum, it’s barely 9 o’clock. I haven’t quite made it outside yet,” I replied as civilly as possible, biting back the urge to mention to her that I would have been perfectly content to sleep well into the afternoon and that the only reason I was getting out of bed today at all today was my upcoming attempt to become the next Jimmy Choo.
“Well, don’t let the day get away from you. You only get one birthday a year, you know,” my mum responded, completely unaware of the irony of her comment.
“Hold on a second, your dad wants to say hi too.”
As I collapsed back onto my pillow, struggling to stay awake, I couldn’t help thinking that if I had to go through this more than once a year, I wasn’t sure that I’d be sufficiently recovered in time to survive the next one.
“Hey honey, how’s it feel to be thirty?” my dad’s chipper voice popped onto the line and jolted me back to semi-consciousness.
Like I got hit by a truck, but thanks for reminding me.
“Well, it really doesn’t feel that different from twenty-nine yet, so I guess so far so good,” I responded with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
That was probably at least half true. My splitting headache and queasy stomach felt no different from anything that I had experienced after my previous nights out with Elyse.
“Your mum and I are heading down to the fish market today, but I just wanted to remind you, you’re not getting older, you’re just getting wiser,” my dad said before letting me go.
As I hung up, I felt an ominous sensation insidiously churning my stomach, sending the older and wiser version of me running for the washroom as quick as my wobbly legs would let me. Perhaps the wiser part takes a few days to kick in?
As it turns out, the experience of turning 30 really was not all that different than turning 19. Who knew?
To be brave i
s to love someone unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. To just give. That takes courage because we don’t want to fall on our faces or leave ourselves open to hurt – Madonna
36. After a few more blissful hours of unconsciousness, I finally managed to summon the willpower required to crawl out of bed and to stumble into the shower, where I quickly cranked up the heat and attempted to unglue my contacts from my corneas.
I’m guessing extreme, alcohol induced, dehydration wasn’t something that they warn you about on the package of daily use contacts, but they really should!
Then again, even if such a warning was sitting there in big, bold letters, I was currently in no shape to read it.
An hour and a half or so later, I emerged from the bathroom feeling far closer to human than I had upon entering and I was hoping that my hours long ordeal had left me with a fresh, easy, I just rolled out of bed and naturally look this good, sort of look.
I could add something trite about how if guys only knew the lengths women go to in order to look good for them, but every guy that I’ve been in a relationship with has given me grief about the process as he sat in front of the TV, beer in hand, wondering how much longer I was going to take.
If they know that we’re putting in all this work to look good for them, shouldn’t they either show a little appreciation or, at a minimum, keep their mouths shut while the transformation is occurring?
I mean, how is it we let them get away with body hair sprouting from every orifice, eyebrows so bushy that they almost look like they need a good combing or fingernails so unkempt that they look like they belong to a caveman?
I’m betting that if women the world over went on strike and took a few weeks off from shaving, waxing, scrubbing and plucking, there would be a major attitude shift in the male population once the situation started to get hairy.
As I made my way into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, determined not to let my energy level wane during my shoe design experience, I unexpectedly came across Sam and Elyse passed out on the couch.
Letting my gaze momentarily wander to the view of Sam’s naked derrière on the couch for just a second, I had to admit to myself that some men probably required less maintenance work than others.
As I was rummaging through the refrigerator shelves, searching for anything that might help to balance out last night’s cheese extravaganza, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Startled, I whirled around and caught Elyse grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.
“You’re looking awfully chipper today,” I whispered, doing my best not to wake Sam.
“So things went well last night? I don’t remember much of anything after he carried you out of the room,” I admitted to her, somewhat shamefully.
“Seriously? Wow, that’s so unlike you. I guess that must mean that I put together a decent birthday celebration then, huh?” Elyse responded with a huge smile, seemingly quite pleased with herself.
When her comment failed to draw a response beyond me casting my gaze downward in embarrassment, she continued, saying “It was pretty hard not to be swayed by Sam’s performance. I’ve never had a guy do anything close to something like that for me before. We didn’t exactly get around to talking much last night though,” she said with a giggle.
“I’m shocked,” I replied, doing my best to feign a look of surprise.
“Yeah, okay, point taken. But I think it was good just to remind myself that the spark’s still there and I guess we’ll see what happens when he wakes up,” Elyse responded, gazing longingly at Sam’s lifeless form on the couch.
“You can’t ever tell Sam I told you this, but I was fooling around with a random a few nights ago and when he tried to get all cuddly with me it was making my skin crawl! I made up some excuse and got the hell out of there ASAP but, when I got home, I couldn’t sleep. I kept remembering how good it felt lying in Sam’s arms. It always just felt right being around him, no matter what the situation was, you know?” Elyse continued, still whispering quietly.
Based on personal experience, I was having a tough time relating, but I think I got the gist of what she meant based on how I felt every time Jonathan wrapped his arms around me.
“So do you think you might give him a chance at something exclusive?” I inquired delicately, not wanting her to feel like I was putting her on the spot.
As long as I had known her, Elyse has always treated the idea of commitment with much the same trepidation as a puppy that’s gone on the fancy rug and now had to face the music.
She was skittish in the extreme and anytime someone had applied any sort of pressure on her for a commitment, it had always lead to one of those cartoon-like puffs of smoke appearing where Elyse had been a second ago while she high tailed it for the horizon.
“I don’t know. I’m thinking that giving him that chance is probably better than any alternative I can think of. Besides, let’s face it, if there was something better out there, you would think I’d have found it by now, right?” Elyse responded with a shrug of her shoulders.
I certainly couldn’t argue with that point. I had never met anyone that had explored her dating options as thoroughly or as vigorously as Elyse had.
Speaking of dates with potential, my phone had started vibrating on the counter as Elyse was finishing her thought.
Jonathan had been skating through our relationship with virtually no visible faults thus far, but he might need a little training when it came to timeliness.
No man needs to be right on time, every time. His penchant for punctuality was a bit disconcerting. Also, timeliness, as every boss I had previously worked for could attest, was not my best quality.
Nevertheless, as he was about to whisk me away to a place that was going to make my shoe design dreams come true, I could probably forgive him just this once.
I hurriedly grabbed a banana from the fridge, wished Elyse luck with Sam, and hopped out the door feeling very much like a little kid at Christmas while visions of stilettos danced in my head.
Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world – Marilyn Monroe
37. My feet felt like they were barely skimming the ground as I hustled out to Jonathan’s car. Not a bad thing when you were on your way to design your own shoes!
Jonathan was waiting for me next to his car, holding my door open, and, as we sank into an unexpectedly ardent kiss, shoes quickly moved down a notch on my priority list.
It had been a few days since I had seen him, and the feel of his arms around me again had set the butterflies in my stomach in motion.
Having wasted way too much time hoping for some sort of spark to develop with Ricky and some of the other boys that I had crossed paths with, I had made a conscious decision to appreciate this sensation to its fullest whenever I was lucky enough to come across it.
“I meant to wish you a happy birthday, but I guess I got a little distracted there,” Jonathan said to me with a sheepish grin, our faces still inches apart as we caught our breath.
“It’s okay, you’ve still got half a day to make it up to me,” I replied playfully as I reached my hand behind his neck and gently pulled his head down to my lips so that we could continue to tease each other in a more direct fashion.
When we finally separated, Jonathan replied, “Well then, how about I start with this,” as he pulled a small, beautifully wrapped package out of his coat pocket and handed it to me.
“I thought the shoe design experience was my present?” I responded, staring at him incredulously as my fingers worked the wrapping paper.
Good Vibrations Page 15