I'm going to combine a couple of these together: Been Drunk (Um? Yes.) and Made Out with a Stranger (Double yes.) to be specific. I've thought I've told this story before but I tell is frequently because it's funny as hell that I may just think that I've repeated it here.
I was in Millington TN still and worked at the infamous Mama Lanni's (at least infamous in Millington TN) circles). My friends, Nicola and Heather, and I accompanied each other to many places especially the Enlisted Club on the base. They were always with boyfriends. Me? Loser loner girl that never turned a head.
ANYWAY....
We went to the club to watch a band, a cover band that did the 80s metal hair bands justice. The girls' men were in the Navy and were hanging out with this guy named Vincent. This will be the only time that he will be called Vincent on this space of mine (Incidentally, I did mention him one other time but never went into detail. I'll give the link at the end.) Vincent was wearing this purple shirt and during the course of that drunken night, I told him that I liked said shirt.
As mentioned, I got drunk. We were rocking to the band that were not that great. Fast beat. Screaming the lyrics. Jumping around. Arms around pals. Beer mug in one hand. The other around the shoulders or such of Purple Shirt. And then I saw the look.
The exchange of glances between the lead singer and Purple Shirt. We were standing right in front the stage. The crowd was behind us jumping and dancing and having a gay ol' time; and I saw it. Without words or payment, Lead Singer slowed the crowd down. He called for a ballad for all the couples to get close. In my head, I rolled my eyes. In my spirit, I groaned. I was stuck. Purple Shirt and I turned to face each other. Locked bodies suddenly stuck in a slow song...a slow song that turned into kissing.
Now, touching me whilst I'm drunk is a scary thing. Like some hypnotized slave, my body betrays me. It wants to get very intimate. It craves sex and it doesn't care from whom it takes it. Like some succubus unleashed, I desire...and he felt soooo good. His tongue. His hands. His hot breath pounding on my throat, in time with the bass. I wanted to use him.
With drunkenness comes time incoherency. At the end of the night, when the club was closing, Nicola, Heather and I stood before a cab saying goodbye to the guys. A last kiss and into the car. The hyper-sexual dream state ended at the closing of the door. The girls gave me shit about Purple Shirt. I was disgusted with myself because I wasn't attracted to him. I was glad to be going home.
Not soon after meeting him, the discussion of my eighteenth birthday comes up (tsk tsk, Naomi). We were at work when the girls and I decide on a party at Nicola's house. Just some friends. I explicitly say at least a few trillion times, that I do NOT want Purple Shirt there. Do not. Not. I'm given an agreement that he won't be. Yeah, right!
In the course of planning the party, which has now developed into a bigger party because my birthday falls the day before the Marine Corps' birthday (celebrated religiously in my household when I was a kid...Marine dad) and on a long weekend because Veteran's Day was that weekend as well. We invite a Marine friend of mine that had gone to my high school in North Carolina and was stationed in Millington. Was excited. Then they tell me...Purple Shirt was coming.
Bitches! Yeah, they think it's funny. I don't.
Night of the party. As a joke, Heather gave me a package of glow in the dark condoms because I was a virgin. And before anyone arrives, I had her promise me to keep me safe. I had her swear that matter how I plead, she would keep me away from Purple Shirt. She swore.
Everyone and their brother showed up. Purple Shirt showed up. Was casual with him. We had a lot of alcohol. I had a lot to drink. I don't know when it happened but I suddenly found myself under the bar in the kitchen making out with Purple Shirt. He felt fantastic. Teeth. Lips. Tongues. Hands. Rubbing. Yum. It was delicious.
Then Heather found us. She separated him from me and dragged me into the living room. She forced me onto the couch and I remember her telling him to go away. I begged her. She told me 'no.' I reasoned with her. She told me 'no.' I told her that I would be careful because I had condoms. She laughed and told me 'no.' I did something to convince her to leave me alone.
And when she left, he came back to me. On the couch, we were at it again. Hot with frenetic motion. We were still fully clothed but the grinding was fabulous. Heather found us again. She separated us again. She dragged me into the den where most of the party had gathered. She sat me on the couch. Purple Shirt sat on the floor across from me. I beckoned him to me. He started crawling towards me and I think I to him. We got separated again. I was forced to the couch once more but this time by my Marine friend. I motioned for Purple Shirt to come to me. He started but in one quick movement, the Marine looked at him and told him to stay away from me. After his stern warning, he looked at me and told me to go to bed. I was pissed. He sat down and forced me to stay on the couch until I fell asleep. I did, completely unsatisfied.
I woke up the next morning. I thanked Heather. Repeatedly.
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