During the day I work typical business hours, 8 to 5 with a lunch break. Monday through Friday it’s the same routine. But during most of 2003 I was hanging out a lot with my booty call, Richgirl. One of the main reasons I kept in close contact with her, other than the awesome blow jobs, was that her house was very close to my office. Did I say "house"? I mean "fucking drop-your-jaw MTV Cribs mansion". The place was insane...just getting through the guard gates was a major ordeal.
Her parents were typical Vegas parents. They were on their 2nd and 3rd divorces, owned a few businesses and were never around. I don’t think she even knew her new step father's first name yet. But she definitely was not going to move out on her own, her room and bathroom was as big as my entire downstairs, and with a part time maid and butler I wouldn't move out either. During the day when she wasn’t out shopping she sat at home, bored, playing Xbox, hoping I would come over and have sex with her. So naturally, this was my new lunch spot.
The best thing about Richgirl was that she didn’t waste time in booty call situations. If we weren’t fucking two minutes after we see each other she would be pissed at me that we hadn’t started yet. So we'd fuck right away. We had a good routine going that I was quite happy with. Head. Sex. More Head. Beers. After that routine was out of the way, I'd look for ways to enjoy her family's money.
Today I wanted to hang in the pool and drink some Coronas. Every time I finished one I would launch the empty bottle towards the in-ground trampoline to see if I could hit it. It was about 40 feet away from the pool and my accuracy got progressively worse with each beer.
BD: Noooo, it means I should’ve had a new beer before I finished this one, and I’m trashing your backyard to make a point. Why can't Rosa be in charge of my beers? You suck at it!
The background on Rosa, you ask? Eh, not as funny as you would think, but my Spanish is very bad at this point in my life, as I learned most of it from watching the movie "Tombstone" en Espanol. Let your imagination run wild.
After 30 or 40 minutes in the pool, we go inside and she starts giving me head as soon as I get back into her room. She's a good girl. I tell her that. She is not amused, but continues. After I finish, I start to go for my slacks and dress shirt.
OK -- seriously, chick. I already came three times, got drunk by noon, laid out in the pool in the middle of the summer Vegas heat, set new javelin records in your backyard with Corona bottles and it's only fucking 1 pm. Not to mention I'm pushing two hours now on my lunch break. I got to figure a way out of this, I have no more energy.
She trots over to her bathroom, which is the size of a major league ballpark, turns on the water, strips down and smiles at me like a stripper wanting more dollar bills, then walks in the shower. And then… BAM. I'm running out of the house as fast as I can, trying not to get lost in the maze of foyers and hallways, where’s the front door, where’s the front door, where’s the front door. I find it, throw it open, run out, jump into my car and start backing out the driveway. Somehow she hears this and about the time I back up, turn and throw it into drive I see her come out in a towel throwing her arms up. I figure the best thing to do is drive off laughing and waving.The very next day I was over there repeating very similar events. But to her credit, she never did fall for the ‘get in the shower’ trick again.