Monday, July 26, 2004

Bad pizza and good sex

First, let me assure all of you that it will be a very interesting week in my little corner of the blogosphere, since I am yet again backlogged (or should I say, "backBlogged") with good stories...

Friday, 6:30pm.  Phone.  Kelly.


"Hey babe!" she says.

"What's up?"

"I know you're crazy busy, and I figure you're too busy to hang out tonight, but I just wanted to make sure you're ok.  Do you need anything?"

OK, this is not Kelly.  There is NFW this is genuine.  Kelly is always plotting and scheming, always trying to get a leg up on me somehow.  It is simply not possible that she has suddenly turned into the supportive, caring girlfriend.  This is a fucking act.

But what is her purpose?  Is she trying to lure me into a trap, make me her boyfriend?  Does she WANT a boyfriend?  Or does she want to shift the balance of power so that I am pursuing her, just so she can say that she won?  This is Kelly, so I guess I'll never know.

"No.  But a drink tonight might be nice," I say.

"OK.  Meet me at Doc's at 9?"


"Don't tell me you're planning on still being there at 9 o'clock!"


"Just be there?  Please?"  She's begging me in a little-girl voice.  I actually like it.

"OK, I'll see you there."

"YAY!  Bye!!"

"Bye, Kel."

Yeah, I'll find the bunny boiling on my stove any day now.

Actually, I really like the idea of a few drinks and some nice conversation.  I am really stressing out with all this high-pressure, labor-intensive, deadline-driven work.

While I am working, a guy from IT comes into my office.  He and a few of his coworkers are working late also, rebuilding one of the servers.

"Dude, we're gettin' a 'pizza all the way'!  You in?"

"Pizza all the way" is one of the worst things you can do to your intestinal tract.  It's a little dish they make at a restaurant down the street, and it's pretty much what the name implies:  Pizza, with every conceivable topping.  Pepperoni.  Onions.  Clams.  Olives.  Meatballs.  And, I'm convinced, anything lying around the kitchen at the time.  I keep expecting to bite into a slice and find someone's house key, or an ATM receipt, or some spare change. 

I've had it several times, and it actually tastes different every time.  That makes me pretty friggin nervous, I tell ya.  It's just evidence that there is no set recipe for this thing.

But I figure, what the hell?, and kick in a few bucks.  I am starving.

The pizza comes, and I take two slices back to my desk.  That's my limit, I think to myself.

The theme of today's pie is:  SEAFOOD.  Each time I raise a slice to my lips, I am overwhelmed with a fishy odor.  I like fish, so I don't really mind, but DAMN is it strong!  I'm pretty sure it's anchovies, but I'm not positive.

I wolf down the two slices, and I'm still ravenous.  So I go back to IT and the guys have a few pieces left.  "Wicked fishy today, dude," one of them says, looking green.  I take one more back to my office, and as I munch away, I am vaguely aware that I am going to regret this.

8:30.  My stomach is in knots.  I chew 3 Maalox tablets and head over to Doc's.  Just in case, I toss about 10 more tablets into my pocket before I leave.

I am in NO fucking mood for Kelly's bullshit today.   She better be straight as an arrow, and if she wants to fuck, she better not make me work for it, because I am way too tired and frustrated to deal.  I can always go home and spank it.

I am 10 feet in the door when Kelly runs up to me, beaming, drink in hand.  "BA-BEEEEEEEE!!" she screams, hugging me tightly.

"Hey," I say, sheepishly.

"You made it," she says, wiggling her head as if she were dancing. 

Her face turns serious.  She looks up at me, her eyes big and round with concern.  "Are you ok?" she says, raising her eyebrows.

"Kel.  I'm fine, ok?"

"OK, OK!  I'm getting you a drink."  She takes my hand and leads me to the bar.

"You know what we haven't done yet?" she asks, as I sip my vodka and tonic.

"You mean there's something we haven't done yet?"

"We haven't gone away together!  Well, the cabin, but that wasn't exactly you and me.  That was you, me, and a bunch of other people."

Actually, I could use a nice, relaxing vacation.  Somewhere by the water, preferably....

But what the hell is she up to now?  Is this all part of the master plan?  Am I being hooked in, in my state of increased vulnerability?

Fuck this.  I'm not doing it.

"Not yet, Kel."

"OK.  Just a suggestion!  Will you at least let me buy you dinner next week?"

"Of course!"


She looks up at me.  Her eyes are locked intently on mine.  "You really work hard, don't you?"

I nod.

"I just wanna hold you right now," she says.  She hugs me. 

Ahh, for Christ's sake. 

Kelly looks really good today.  Her hair is down.  She is wearing a tight, low-cut top, and a lot of cleavage is showing.  Her top almost looks like spandex, shiny and stretchy .  And she's wearing tight jeans.  Her ass is looking plump and juicy, I must say.  And she's got platform sandals on, which I love.

My stomach starts gurgling:  MERRR-RRRRRRRR.  Of course, I can't hear it in the noisy bar, but I can feel it.  The alcohol is not mixing well with that damn pizza. 

I feel like the pizza hasn't digested at all.  My stomach feels full and bloated.  It reminds me of when I used to be fat and overate frequently.

I excuse myself and go to the men's room.  I whip out and start to piss, but I don't really have to go.  This is just an excuse to release some gas.  And what gas it is!


Holy shit!  And it stinks, too.  There is a guy in the stall.  Poor bastard.  The next person who comes in here is going to think that the smell is coming from him.

Kelly is very attentive and talkative today.  I am starting to unwind and enjoy the conversation.  She's actually pretty interesting to talk to.

"So what was your favorite TV show growing up?" she says.

"Gilligan's Island," I say.

"Ahhhh, Mary Ann, right?"

"Oh.  Yeah.  She was REALLY hot," I say.  "But I just like the idea that these 7 people had their own little world, and they had their own little routines, and no one could interfere...."

"Wow.  You really are anal, aren't you?"

"What was your favorite?" I ask.

"The Love Boat."

"The Love Boat?"

"Oh God, yeah!  I loved how these people got on the boat, and they had these little relationships, and sometimes they worked out, and sometimes they didn't.  It was just nice to see how the guys and the girls approached each other, what they said, how they reacted, and what ended up happening with them."

"Do you like soap operas?" I ask.

"Yeah, they're ok, a little dramatic though.  I just like The Love Boat because the whole affair would be squeezed into one hour.  It had a beginning, a middle, and an end.  I would always wonder what happened to the couples after the episode ended.  I even...."

"You even WHAT?"

"Oh GOD," she says, rolling her eyes.  "I've never told this to anyone..."

"I'm listening."

"I used to keep a notebook of all the couples that met on the show, their stories.  And I used to write down what I thought happened to them after the show ended."

"That is fucking GREAT!" I say.  "Do you still have it?"

"No.  You don't think it's dumb?"

"No, Kel!  I think that's really cool.  It shows that you have a different way of looking at things than most people.  I like it!  Who else would think of something like that?"

"Thanks, Steve."

My stomach.  MERRRR-RRR-RRRRRRRR!  It's getting worse.

I go to the men's room and fart again, and take three more Maalox.  The fart is frigging disgusting.  It smells just like fish.  But that's not POSSIBLE!  I just ate the fishy pizza a couple of hours ago!! 

I am starting to worry.  What if I am fucking, or getting blown tonight, and I blow one?  Oh, the embarrassment... 

It's 11:00.  I am way too tired to have a late night tonight.  "So where are we going tonight," I say.

"How about my place?" she says.


I follow her there.  There is no way I am sleeping at her house, especially not with THIS gas.  I chew three more Maalox, and feel a bit better.

We get inside the house, and Kelly checks her messages.  Then she walks to the kitchen counter, and leans over to check her mail, her long hair spilling down in front of her.  She idly puts it behind her ear.  She is so fucking beautiful.

I come up behind her.  "Put that mail down," I say.

She turns around and faces me.  Our noses are touching.  "I missed you this week, baby," she says.  "I was thinking about you last night."

I get hard, right on cue.

"Just last night?"

"And the night before..."

"What were you thinking?" I say.

"I was thinking it's been awhile for us."

"Yeah.  It has been."

She kisses me, slowly and passionately.  "I think I've been a bad girl," she says.

What, are you fucking your husband again?


"I need to be slapped."

Ooooooh, that! Now I get it!

I watch as she pulls the stretchy top over her head, and the way her hair gets tossed about as she does it.  Now she is unbuckling her belt, stepping out of her sandals, pulling her pants down.  She isn't wearing any underwear...

I take off my pants and drop them to the floor, and it suddenly occurs to me that we are still in the kitchen.  Fair enough!

I bend Kelly over the kitchen table.  A thin strand of hair goes into her mouth; she removes it with her middle finger.  I find that move so sexy.

I smack her on the ass with an open hand.  She moans softly.  "Again!" she says.

I yank her hair; her head snaps back.  I slap her harder, leaving a big red welt.  "OHHHHHHH," she says.

MERRRR-RRR-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!, goes my stomach.  It's incredibly loud, almost like a fart.

"Oh my god!  Is that your stomach?  I THOUGHT I heard that in the bar!" she said.  "What the hell did you eat?"

"Pizza all the way."

"Oh, GROSS!  I'll get you some Pepto," she says, standing up.  Way to kill the fucking mood, Steve.

"I've been taking Maalox all night," I say.  "I'm ok."

"Just don't fart on me," she says, kissing me.  "OK?"

We laugh.  She is kissing me more deeply now, her tongue wetly caressing mine.  The room is perfectly quiet, except for our smacking.  That sound drives me crazy.

I sit her down on the kitchen table.  She opens her legs to me, looking up at me beseechingly.  I shove my cock inside her.  The pleasure is immediate and intense.  It's the drug, again.  And this time is going to be VERY good.

She hugs my waist with her legs.  I thrust myself into her, again and again.  I look down and watch as the lips of her vagina turn inside out each time I pull back.  I bend over and suck on her nipple.  I lick her firm, protruding breast, feeling its heft on my tongue.

We fuck for endless minutes.  I can feel her heat, her wetness.  I am going to fucking explode.  If I don't shit myself first.

She takes my finger and places it on her clit, then rubs it in lazy circles.  She's biting her lip now, ready to come.  She grabs my shoulders, squeezes my waist tighter.  I can feel her nails digging into my skin.  "Fuck me," she coos into my ear.  "Fuck me with your nice big cock.  Don't stop.  You are sooo good-"

She runs her hand through her hair.  "Oh God-hah-hah-OOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!"

I look at her body, her smooth skin, her firm, toned muscles, they way everything seems to tense up in the throes of orgasm.  She really is a beautiful woman.

I pull out of her and slide my jimmy off.  I start to rub my cock against her finely-trimmed bush.  It feels awesome.  "Rub it," I say.

She spits on her hand and starts to masturbate me.  My body starts to shudder, and I know I am going to come incredibly hard.  The first blast goes straight up, surprising her.  "Jesus!" she says, continuing to rub me.  I blast her again, and again.  It's on her stomach, mainly, but also on her hand, and me....

She kisses me, still gripping my cock.  "Let's take a shower," she says.

So we do.  And I actually feel really good, really happy.  This has been a great date.  ANOTHER one! But I still think this is the same old Kelly.

The question is:  How long do I have before she goes totally psycho?