~Tmunky

My friend Trish begged me to go visit her in Ontario for months. "C'mon sis, it'll be fun!" Well, she finally roped me into it by buying me a ticket for my birthday. It being one of the few birthday gifts I ever recieved, I figured why waste it?

So there I was, waiting outside with my luggage at her end. I sat there 5 hours, calling her house frantically on my cell and hoping she wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere.

Some lady asks if I need a ride anywhere. I ask her if she would mind terribly to get me to my hotel, where I'd made a reservation even though Trish offered for me to stay at her place. I love my friends, but dislike staying over at other people's houses for more than a night or two. She finally agreed to let me have my hotel.

So she drops me off at the place, after a 28 minute drive and me continuously saying how grateful and appreciative I am, and are you sure you don't want me to pay you ma'am? She declined. Said that she hoped I had a nice time here in Canada. I check in, get all my stuff up to my room, and try calling Trish yet again. No answer, and damn I could use a drink. I figure, Fuck it, I'll have a good time.

I shower, do my hair and makeup then turn to my suitcases. Black low-rise jeans, fitted white button-down that I have to leave the top couple of buttons open to because it's just a little too fitted. Add my favourite pair of heels and I'm a vision that any man would love to meet in a bar. It occurs to me. How do I get there? Luckily the girl at the front desk directed me to a nice-ish place within walking distance.

I take a seat at the bar. Tender walks over, asking what I'll have. Tempted to say "You, in the corner..." But instead I giggle and ask for something that'll get me good and sauced. No mixed drinks, and wine'll be a lot-a-bit too weak. He breaks out a shot glass and a bottle of decent whiskey. Luckily before he can pour, I am able to cover the glass with my hand and say, "Sorry love, that one's not big enough."

He raises his eyebrows at me and sets down a mug. Pours till it's three-quarters full. I notice that he takes a moment to look into my shirt. Picking up the mug, I take 2 gulps of it and set it back down.

I sit there for a while, nursing my whiskey and people-watching. There's one group in particular, several guys over near the middle of the room. Prime target. Time to narrow it down. That guy, he's looked at me four times now. Pick up the glass, walk over, and plant myself down on his lap and the glass on the table.

Shock and awe. Just what I anticipated. I smile and wait for him to talk. While I wait, I'll turn towards the table, grinding my hips back across him, for dramatic effect. There's really no way a girl can make herself any clearer. I drink some more.

He leans forward and asks me my name. Just what I was waiting for. Play it mysterious. "What's it matter, I'm heading back out in a week anyhow." Add a sly smile and slightly raised eyebrow, almost daring him to walk away.

"Well, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. How's that?"

"What makes you think I want to know your name?"

"..."

Dumbfounded. Perfect. I turn back towards him, bringing my left leg up, and swinging it over his head to the other side so that now I'm stradling him. The glass is empty, and I'm still not drunk. Just feeling happy, a bit spritish, and desperate for a shag. I lean down to whisper in his ear... but I end up licking and nibbling on it a tad first. Again, just to make myself clear. "Do you want to fuck me tonight or not?"

"Let me buy you another drink first at least?"

"Fine with me."

So I move and he gets up. Walks back with another glass of whiskey and sits back down. I sit back down on his lap, and he grins like an idiot.

Not long after I finish that glass, he puts a napkin on the table in front of us and writes 'Jon." Just had to fucking let me know his name didn't he? So I take his pen and write "Megan you asshole."

I don't remember very much after that till about 3:00 the next afternoon. Bits and peices come back to me. I remember some really freaking awesome sex. I remember that it was outdoors, and also being glad that I hadn't worn panties at all.

Next thing I know, I'm coming-to and looking at the ground below. Ground below? Ouch. Something scratches across my breasts and belly as I try to sit up. Branch. Tree. What the fuck am I doing in a tree? Where the fuck are my clothes? These aren't my pants. Where are my fucking pants?

Took me another 5 hours to figure out how to get back to the hotel topless. After I got back and re-dressed, I found a folded peice of napkin with a phone number on it. Out of curiosity I called it.

"Hey this is Jon, leave a message and I'll get back to you."

"Uhm ya, This is Megan from last night. I have your pants. I'm staying at the Meriot here in town, and if you don't get back to me I'm taking the pants back to the states with me and you'll never see them again. Thanks for the sex love, bye."

`Jon-Law, I still have those pants. You never called. Fuck you.






But the sex was still awesome.