we all go out and get cute cheap vintage dresses, and start on the tequila. we were told that about 150 people were supposed to roll through. people wanted booty jams, so on goes my ipod.
Within moments their apt is filled with people and im on shot number 4 of tequila.
And let me explain, im not usually a heavy drinker, I usually stay clear of liquors and stick to beer. But one thing i found out is that I become the woman i've always wanted to be on tequila.
Then HE walks in. Tall, dark, slim and with the most amazing 70's porn start stache ever! I walk up, tell him i think he's hot, and the man follows me like a puppy dog all night. I have NO CLUE what i said to him, or what we talked about other than his name, he was 34 and owned an art gallery...which I thought was a totally lie. I figured this amazing looking man saw this drunk girl visiting from out of town and thought he needed to throw her lines....but he didn't. I didn't care about any of that, i thought he was hot, and i wanted him.
it took me a little bit, but finally we started to make out. And make out we did. On the stairs, in the hallway, on the dance floor, inside, outside.
the man's hands were all over me. pinning me against the wall and hiking my dress up, pulling at my panty hose and trying to slip his fingers in me. it took me a moment to realize that none of that was going on in private but instead at the top of the stairs where everyone can see. I went back to dancing.
then pulled him into a dark corner and pushing him against the wall. he pulled at my hands to touch him, but there was a level of fear within me. I rubbed him over his clothes, he was hard as a rock, and wanting me. I was at a friends house and kept thinking, "no you dont know him, and he's a liar, just keep it simple'. I walked away and it took him a few minutes to get back to the party to adjust himself.
Party ends, he wants me to come home with him. "Im a good girl, and i need to stay here". he gives me his number. He is so fucking hot. i want to go home with him, but he's a sleeze. he's a liar. i dont know him. I dont know brooklyn. I kiss him hard one last time, and he gets one last grab on my tits and leaves.
I drunk text him saying 'thanks for making my new years". he writes back that he lives close by and i should come over. I am wasted, one eye closed and i can't move from the couch. I tell him no, and he just keeps writing me that he wants to fuck me. and cum on my perfect tits and my sweet little ass. he wants me so badly, he needs me to call him and talk to him. talk him through it.
the next morning i wake up and tell my friends about him, still assuming he was a liar.
NOPE. international artist and owns two galleries in NYC. FUCK ME! why was i a prude. why was i scared? I am almost 30 and i could have had the hot as fuck gallery owner/artist fuck me good and hard. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!
. WHAT AM I SO SCARED OF THAT I LET THIS GET AWAY?!
photo is of him. face blocked for obvious reason