Always a Happy Ending...

For a minute he just looked at me.  He didn't look surprised, just like he was carefully contemplating his options.  Who could blame him? How often does a barely legal chick ask for a happy ending to a massage from a guy she's never met? Looking back, Im glad he took the time to think.

"Call me old fashioned," he said quietly as he leaned closer to my face," but I usually buy a girl dinner and get to know her first."

"How about tonight?" I asked, knowing I was pressing the boundaries of even my own boldness.

"Sure, how does nine sound?" He looked slightly amused

"Thats fine"

I got up from the table, not bothering to cover myself.  Alessandro looked away, but I thought I saw him peek just for a second.  I left the room after putting my robe back on, and headed back to my room.

***

I watched her get up from the the massage table only for a second before looking away.  I caught a glance of her full, supple breasts, and lithe frame.  It was obvious she took care of herself and had a certain amount of natural beauty.  Thats what I liked about her, she didn't have to try in order to be pretty.  As she slowly slid on her robe I shivered.  Her creamy, tan skin glistened in the delicate light from the oil. 

I had not expected her to be so forward when I  first met her but I liked that she was unafraid.  Too many times I met women who became so nervous around me any kind of meaningful conversation was impossible.  But with this girl I could tell it was going to be different.

It was only after she left that I realized I had not asked her name.  I became so caught up in the moment, I had forgotten to ask.  But it seemed a rather trivial thing to worry over.  I knew I would get my chance to learn her name and maybe much more about her. 

Happy Endings?

The next morning I woke up and realized that I was surrounded by an ocean of partially eaten plates of food.  The bed, the floor, two room service carts, and the night stand were playing host to the plethora of cravings I had following the awful ending to the previous night.  Really I didn’t feel that disappointed, or angry.  I was more annoyed that Cary had inconvenienced me at that hour of the night.  Somehow though I managed to forgive her as a maid knocked on the door, entered, and began clearing away the plates.  I nestled into the 1200 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, and the imported down comforter and thought about what I wanted to eat for breakfast.  That I was sure I could handle.

“I’d like the Greek omelet, with the hash browns and pancakes. Oh, and a carafe of fresh mango juice and a bottle of champagne.  Oh, and a piece of the chocolate fudge cake.   That will be all.”

The guy I was speaking to was very polite and soon enough my food arrived.  I was in the middle of the most gloriously creamy, cheesy, and succulent bite of my omelet when my cell phone rang. It was my fathers’ number so I answered the phone.

“Hello,” I said sweetly.

“Hello, darling.  I got a call from the school today that there was some kind of incident in your dorm, specifically in your room?”

“Yes, Dad, that was Cary having a drug fueled orgy in my room while I was out having dinner with some friends.”

“I see; well I hope you’re not still staying there are you?” Now he sounded concerned.

“No, of course not.  I’m at a hotel now, the ones that the Devons own.”

“Good Girl.  Do I need to send anyone to get your things from the dorm room?”

“Yes, please! I wasn’t able to get everything last night.”

“Alright well I will have someone go and collect the rest of your things and bring them back to the house.  Your mother doesn’t know that something has happened so I thought we would just tell her you need to move to an apartment so you have a quieter place to study.”

“Ok.”

On the outside I was fully composed but on the inside I was screaming with overwhelming joy.  My father was going to pay for my apartment when usually he would have told me to “suck it up and enjoy my college experience.” I began to think that maybe something about the incident had frightened him or struck some kind of nerve but I couldn’t be worrying about that now.  I had to focus and show appropriate appreciation in case he was feeling even more generous.

“I will have a realtor come to you tomorrow morning and show you around some properties.  Once you find a suitable one we will of course have to furnish it…”

He kept talking but I couldn’t concentrate any longer.  All I could hear was that my father somehow sounded sympathetic and was showering me with gifts in what seemed to be an effort to make me feel better.  I decided not to over think it.

Once the conversation had ended I made myself a mango mimosa.  This hotel knew how to do things right, you could taste the freshness of the juice and the champagne was as good as my parents served at new years eve parties. It was heaven.

After my gluttonous breakfast, and how ever many mimosas that bottle of champagne made, I had a nice buzz going and decided to head down to the spa.  A good massage would help ease my tension about school and the male massage therapists they hired here were top shelf in terms of looks.  I figured getting rubbed down by some guy named Jose, or Jaque, or Vincent might make me feel better.

I entered the spa and changed into one of the spa robes.  They were very gracious and showed me to one of the private rooms that included a waterfall.  The skylight in the ceiling let in the pale morning sun, and the heated natural stone floors felt amazing on my feet.  I situated myself on the table, trying to relax as I waited for the massage therapist to appear.  When he finally walked in I almost didn’t hear him.  He was wearing a blue silk robe that covered much of his wonderfully tanned skin.  His muscles were visible beneath the thin silk robe and all of a sudden the room felt warmer.  He leaned his head towards my ear and whispered “Bello dea, my name is Alessandro.  I’m here to help ease your tension. What is your name?”  His accent made it obvious he was Italian and it looked like he knew how extremely hot women thought he was.  His hands were amazingly gentle or firm in all the right places and soon I could feel every muscle in my body relaxing and turning to butter.  His face seemed intent on my body as his hands caressed my skin.  We chatted briefly every now and again, just making small talk.  His voice was soothing.  After about an hour I could feel him starting to wrap up my massage.  

“Signora, do you still feel tension in your muscles?  Is there somewhere that still needs my attention?”

 I thought about it for a minute.  

Then I asked for a happy ending.

Oh, What Daddy’s Plastic Can Buy!

Now I don’t want to come off as one of those over- privileged, underappreciated rich girls because its not entirely true.  I am intimately aware of just how rich my family is, and I am also aware of how other people (most people in fact) are not so monetarily gifted.  However, appearances are sometimes necessary to uphold in order to avoid a later shit storm.  For example, if word got out that I stayed at a hotel in Michigan that was not owned by our “dear family friends” the Devons, I would never hear the end of it from my mother.  She would be terrified that I had insulted our “dear family friends,” and she would lose her discount on her yearly, month long stay, on some exotic island.

“Hi, are you checking in?” asked the desk clerk in a voice a little too cheery for 3am.

“Yes, I don’t have a reservation though.”

“That’s fine Miss Rossi, we have your usual suite available.  Will that be ok?” I was surprised that she knew me by name.  I had only been to that hotel once or twice in my life, and I had never seen this woman before. “I’ll have someone carry your bags for you.  Would you like some room service?”

“Yes, please” I was already hungry again, even though I was exhausted.  At least I didn’t have to carry my bags, the valet had moved them to the sidewalk for me and now some scrawny looking young man was putting them on a cart and leading me to my suite.  

“Don’t you need my credit card?” I asked the clerk.

“No, miss, everything is already on file, have a lovely evening, and let me know if there is anything I can do for you!” Her cheery talking was starting to give me a headache. I had never been to a hotel before, even with my parents, that didn’t require a credit card, or had kept our card “on file.” Whatever.

Once I got to the room I directed the bellboy where to put my bags, and then tipped him generously. Now it was time to get down to some serious business: food.

“I’ll have the crab cakes, the mac & cheese, garlic bread, the veggie omelet, black bean burger with fries, double chocolate cake, a strawberry milkshake, and the scrambled eggs with hash browns. Oh, and can you send up a bottle of ketchup?”

“You want the whole bottle, ma’am?”

 

“Yes, and some extra napkins”

“And you would like all of this at the same time, ma’am?

“Yes”

“Will anyone be joining you, or is one place setting sufficient?”

“I will be dining alone, thank you.” He probably thinks I am a fat cow, but somehow I’m ok with that.

Hello, Officer

As the RA washed her face I leaned against  the door frame, waiting. 

 I did not move when the RA came out of the bathroom and started half yelling for everyone to put their clothes on. 

 I did not move when she started handing out paper towels for people to clean themselves with. 

But I did move when I saw two officers walking down the hall towards me.  

I was exhausted and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.  My head was throbbing, and my body felt strangely sore and unresponsive.  I tried to look like I was upset that my room was turned into a party and that I was far too innocent to be involved in any illegal activities.  I hoped I didn’t smell too much like vomit and alcohol, but then realized I was standing in close range to a cesspool of bodily fluids.  

The officers walked into the room, surveyed the scene, and called for back- up.  I don’t really remember what they said, but they asked everyone to line up outside the room against the wall.  I stood apart from everyone else, not wanting to be associated with these shenanigans.  One by one they began to cuff everyone, and more police officers showed up just in time to supply extra cuffs and zip ties.

 I moved closer to the RA hoping that would keep me from getting arrested.  It worked.

“Are you the one that discovered the scene?” asked the officer.

“Yes”

“Well I need to get a statement of what happened, maybe you can tell me what you saw when you came in the room?”

“Uh….ok…..” My brain struggled to form words, to remember the first part of the atrocity I had walked into.  I apologized, using my tiredness as an excuse. He nodded understandingly, and then looked at me suspiciously.

“Young lady, did you partake in any of the activities going on in that room tonight?”

I started thinking about drinking at the bar, throwing up on that douche bag, stumbling to the diner…..

“No, sir” 

“Good, now do you have another place you can stay tonight? I don’t think that room is fit for staying in tonight.” At that moment the RA barged in and said I could sleep in her room.  She had a sleeping bag I could use and sleep on the floor.  She sounded like a small child who had made her first friend.

“I live locally, so I’ll just go stay at my parents’ house tonight, officer.”  He seemed very satisfied with that response, but the RA looked visibly rejected, as if I had just vomited in her face too.

At that moment, I didn’t even care. Fuck the dorms.  Fuck Cary and her orgy.

I went in the room with some hesitation and a lot of breath holding.  I opened the window, pulled out an overpriced suitcase my parents bought me,  and began to pack all of my things into it; clothes, books, laptop, my secret stash of, uh, medicine, and some other essentials.  I was exhausted, nauseous from the smell, and too hung over to deal with this shit.

Fuck this, I’m going to the Four Seasons.

Eyes Wide Open

Once I got close enough to the door of the room I saw the lights were on and music was playing inside.  This immediately saddened me because it meant that Cary would be home.  I sighed and unlocked the door.

Inside the music was much louder, and the room was much warmer than it normally was.  There were 5 naked people, 3 girls and two guys, in various positions in the center of the room, performing various sexual acts, and no one noticed that I was there.  As I stepped forward my feet hit several beer cans and other empty bottles that used to contain alcohol, making lots of noise as they banged together.  There were lines of coke on my laptop, and various pills laid out on my dresser.  Everyone there looked pretty fucked up, too fucked up to notice I had walked in, or were they so into their sexcapade that they didn’t care? I took a step forward, once again bumping into more bottles and finally got close enough to Cary’s CD player to shut it off.  Cary looked up and said “Kristin!” and then just sat there, not bothering to move, even though there was some strange guys dick in her ass.  It was also then that I looked around the room and noticed a used condom on my bed, and some sweaty guy who left a wet ass print on my comforter when he got up to get his clothing.  

I stood there in shock.  I was not sure what to do.  And then one of the other girls, who had been sucking one of the guys cocks, made up my mind for me quite easily when she vomited a huge amount onto the floor a few feet from where I stood.

I’m usually not a tattle tale, but I’d had enough of Cary’s shit.  I pulled out my phone, snapped one picture of the overall scene I walked into, then  turned and stormed out of the room.  At this point Cary must have pulled the dick out of her ass because she was screaming after me, and I could hear the bottles clinking on the floor. I walked straight to the RA’s room.  Her door was open so I simply walked inside, gently grabbed her arm and told her she needed to come with me.  I must have looked serious because she put up no resistance as we glided down the hall, towards the sound of Cary still screaming my name over and over.

When I walked into the room with the RA everyone was still in their original places except Cary who was standing, naked and sweaty, at the door of the room.  I pushed past her, towing the RA behind me.  The girl that had vomited before I left was still vomiting. The puddle was now at least three feet wide, and widening each time she heaved.  Everyone was still naked and seemed unaware that anything was wrong.  Cary seemed to be the only one that was alarmed, even though she was just as seriously drugged up as the rest.  She moved around me, and in front of the RA; placing both her hands on the RA’s shoulders to steady herself.  With a lot of effort she managed speech and said, “I am sooo sorBLAAAAGGGHHHH!!!” Cary had projectile vomited all over the face and chest of the RA, who screamed and started trying to wipe the vomit off her face while Cary turned slightly and started vomiting on the floor next to the other girl.  The scent of vomit, stale alcohol, sweat, and sex juices had heavily permeated the air and it was getting hard to breathe.  I calmly turned, grabbed Cary’s towel from the bathroom and handed it to the RA, then I propped open the door to the room because the stench was so intense I thought I might vomit myself.  

After the RA wiped off her face she called the police.  Cary passed out before that phone call with her hair in the pool of vomit and naked, while the others just stayed where they were, also naked, staring with incredibly dilated pupils and a goofy grin on their faces, giggling every now and again.  

To be Continued…

Pitcher Perfect

When I left Beaner’s it was late afternoon and I was hungry.  I considered eating out but the only thing around Middle State College is fast food which I will pass on every time.  So I decided the head back to the dorms and maybe grab some food from the Cafeteria (not the best idea I’d had that day). After driving around trying to find a parking place for 20 minutes I finally walk into the Caf.  The smell of beef product drenched in pepper sauce filled my nose- it was Mexican night.  Usually I don’t have much of an appetite for the Caf food but this somehow sounded good.  It was buffet style so I didn’t hesitate to pile about four times more food on my plate than I could eat.  I even found this slightly charming girl who was in one of my classes to sit with and we talked for a few hours about various things.  She was majoring in mortuary sciences which I found fascinating, and wanted to own a funeral parlor.  I didn’t really know what to say when she divulged these bits of information so I pretended it didn’t bother me and barreled on with my questions.  She was very good at making conversation and before I knew it, it was time to go get ready for the nights festivities.

I got back to the dorms and was surprised to see Cary and a few of what had to be her friends (read: backstabbing bitchy frenemies) sitting around drinking large cheap bottles of what had to be beer.  They giggled, drooled, and talked with slurred speech that could have only been the result of too much alcohol.  I got dressed, and left, as quickly as possible while they whispered loudly to one another the way drunken people do, as if I couldn’t hear them from 5 feet away.  I hoped they would either be gone or passed out when I got back.

The bar I went to was one that the girl from earlier in the Caf invited me to.  It was your typical college bar, full of drunken frat boys, and slutty girls.  They played loud rock music, and served cheap beer but there were some attractive looking guys so I decided to stay.  I found Caf girl and proceeded to meet all her slutty friends who I’m sure would have made better conversation had they not been totally wasted.  “Fuck it,” I thought, “might as well join them.”  And boy, did I join them.  

After my second pitcher, yes pitcher, of beer to myself, my vision was beginning to become unreliable, as were my legs.  I planted myself on a bar stool to keep myself upright as this hot guy I’d been flirting with all night came back from the bathroom.  He began to do the Greg Geraldo routine about being too drunk to get on a plane.

“Excuse me miss, I don’t think you look like a sitter.”

“What?” I played along for a minute.

“Um, I think you’re too drunk to get on the plane, miss, you don’t look like much of a sitter…” he continued for several more minutes.  Had I not been completely trashed I would not have found this incredibly funny.  But I was trashed, so it was funny. 

After he finished talking I began to not feel so well and sure enough I went into the bathroom and vomited all over the toilet, somewhat missing it and getting some of it on the floor.  After that I had to find another stall because I had to pee.  Don’t judge me;  you know you’ve been there too.

When I came out of the bathroom Hot Guy, who I had been flirting with all night was shoving his tongue down some skank’s throat.   He turned to me and said “Hey babe, we were just about to leave, did you want to come?”  We? I felt the urge to vomit again and thought about running to the bathroom but I decided he deserved it and hurled all over his shoes, splattering the skank in the process, and leaving them both to stand in a puddle of my puke in shock.

Caf girl then asked if I wanted to head to the local greasy diner that was open late for some food. I agreed because after vomiting twice I felt empty and had a strong desire to fill myself again.  I was beginning to tire of drunkenness, and even though I could feel my level of intoxication lowering with every step, I felt I needed food.

The large quantities of greasy food put me in a food coma and also sobered me up enough that I started to remember what thinking clearly had felt like.  I started having thoughts like “what time is it?” and “do I still have my keys?” and “where did I park my car?” and “did I drive or did I walk to the bar?”  All of these thoughts washed over me as I ate my third plate of sliders with fries, drowned in ketchup. Leaving the diner, I may have been in a food coma but I felt massively better than when I left the bar.  It was still early, only around midnight or so, when all of us started our long, and staggering walk back to campus and the dorms. I don’t remember the walk, but the girls tell me it was uneventful.  I do remember the chilly night air further serving to sober me up which caused me to notice the intense pounding of my head.  I was looking forward to the pain killers I had in the dorm, and some sleep.

This is the part where I should confess that at first I was eager to get back to the dorms, but once I got there I felt this feeling like I shouldn’t go upstairs.  However, there was my stuff in the room and that feeling made no fucking sense, so at the time I ignored it and proceeded to go upstairs.