Contractual Sex: Part II

Remember our discussion on contractual sex? That being of all kinds?


Anyway, so I’m kind of coming back to this--in a way, anyway.

Here’s my angle—

There is a definite stigma against every encompassing genre of…
[drumroll please…]
Hotel Sex.
Specifically when it is, in many ways, kind of obligatory.
I said kind of.
What does this really entail? Hmmm. Well, there are a few saving graces—being:
1. I did not get paid for it.
2. I got totally wasted for the ten bucks I chipped in for a bottle of vodka.

and, well, that’s pretty much it. The definite cons?
1. I looked like a ho walking out of the ***** at 3 in the morning with one of the doormen.
2. I didn’t get breakfast in the morning.

The pro’s?
1. I got a most excellent story out of it.
2. I made [sex/nasty/right] with an old, but good, fuck buddy.

Here’s the really interesting part—the whole occasion spurned some very poignant, however off topic, conversation. For the sake of all the employees involved in said on-the-clock-sex-travaganza and their internet savvy bosses (long story…), let’s just call the particular boy I’m having the conversation with “Jeremy”, and the boy I refer to, “Oliver”.

M: “Dude, I need to party like this more often.”
J: “Yeah. Dude, you used to all the time. Every night.”
M: “Yeah, dude. I know. You know Oliver called me a sell out? True story.”
J: “Oliver? When?”
M: “A couple months ago.”
J: “And it’s still bothering you?”
M: “Well, yeah. I guess. Jeremy? Do you really think I’m a sell out?”
J: “I don’t know. You do have a phat apartment.”
M: “Yeah, I mean, I don’t sleep on bunk beds, haha.”
J: “He’s probably just jealous. I don’t understand how he handles that whole bunk bed thing.”
M: “I feel like the same old me.”
J: “Well, if it helps any, you feel like the same old you to me, haha.”
M: “Yeah, there you go. I am the same old me. Just with more expensive pajamas.”
J: “Yeah, and really—how long do those stay on anyway?”

Good point.
Lessons learned?
That maybe my trip to Scottsdale will be far more fun than I had anticipated--even with the prospect of seeing Daniel, Ed and Carrie.

God save the Queen.
p.s.—I think there might be something intrinsically wrong with the fact that he was on the clock—but I s’pose it doesn’t matter. Whatever dude—just get it, as Renee would say.

p.p.s.—Angelica could unfortunately not attend. Too bad—‘cause as the blonde girl in the suite on E noted: “An orgy sounds good right now!”

p.p.p.s.--I gotta find a TV and soon--or my Valentine's Day plans might be thwarted.

No comments: