It’s nights when I wear the most ridiculous outfit that I end up hooking up with someone sexy. Don’t ask me why. Let’s just say it’s charisma.
So here I am one night after a themed function wearing a hideous velvet vest for a holiday ugly sweater party at Max’s when I come across this charming, yet total douchebag of a man. He’s tall, strong built, and I’m currently fantasizing about ripping off his flannel shirt later. His enchanting half-grin paired with his blue eyes meet mine from across the bar.
I bat my drunken eyelashes at him and turn back to my friend. I repeatedly turned back to make sure he was still pointed my direction, which he was. I then pulled out my signature (obvious) flirting move, which I mastered in high school: the lower lip bite. While I carried on a conversation with my friend, I made sure to do this in his direction while playing with the straw in my drink.
I made the premeditated and drunkenly manipulative decision to push my way through the crowd to walk by him four or five times. On my fourth way to go to the bathroom/get more popcorn/chat with a friend, he stopped me.
“What sort of trouble were you getting into tonight?” he shouted while staring at the sequins on my chest. “That’s some shirt!”
“You should get a closer look at it,” I playfully replied (slutty, I know).
He offers to walk me home as he sees me heading for the door and grabs my arm. I replayed the image of me finding the buttons down his shirt and sliding my hand across his chest. I approve his gesture.
We meander back to my residence in the rain arm in arm – which at the time I found adorable, but in hindsight was probably necessary for my personal safety as walking + flirting had become increasingly difficult. As we approach my door he grabs me by the arms and pulls me towards him. He plants an aggressively hot kiss on me and we start going at it in the pouring down rain – hats off to you, bud.
As we start to get more aggressive, he hoists me up onto my neighbor’s car. At this point I’m like, “Alright, there’s a 40 percent chance that my neighbors are all asleep and no one is watching.” He’s lying on top of me as I’m giving the hood of my neighbor’s car a major rub down. It’s interesting.
Then the aggressive bar man starts to un-button my velvet babe magnet of a vest and I’m thinking, “Okay, so we’re going there, right here.” In the blink of an eye he grabs me by the ass and we switch places, and now I’m somehow straddling him. As he un-does my bra I begin to worry about people spotting us in the middle of the road, but ignore my prude conscience. I wish I could say that I’m modest about hooking up in public, sadly that is not the case. At this point I’m lying on my back with him sort of raised above me (enough for a passerby to see both of my girls hangin’ out).
As I’m returning the favor by beginning to let my hands wander down by his beltline (which happens to hide those sexy “V” lines that men can sculpt… swoon…), he moves his mouth down my neck and across my collarbone. Then it happens: MEEP, MEEP, MEEP. My neighbor’s car is in full panic mode. We quickly scramble ourselves together and jump off of the car’s hood. I look up to find both of my neighbors (males) with a house full of guests – all staring out the window.
So I played it like a lady and left my poor suitor on the doorstep, along with what remained of my ugly sweater vest.