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Two for One: Writer’s Island & Slice of Life Sunday

April 12, 2008

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I actually wrote the following true story (she is blushing beat red!) several weeks ago to the prompt of Passion at Sunday Scribblings. But, it fits so perfectly this week for both Writer’s Island’s prompts of Flight and Chance Encounter and Slice of Life Sunday’s prompt of Blind Date/One Night Stand, I thought I would do a re-post with a few minor edits.

Passion: A One Night Stand

Three months prior to my 39th birthday, I was sharing the woes of my love life with a very wise and close friend. I had been married for over 22 years and my divorce had only been final a few months. “What you need is a one-night stand!” she very expertly advised. Me – a one night stand? I didn’t know if I could do this . . . I mean, actually getting naked with someone I did not know???

I should tell you that I was not a total prude. I was a flower child from the 60’s after all – the sex, drugs and rock & roll generation. An early marriage at 16 is testimony to my being “open” to the physical side of life. Plus, the fact I married the most degenerate of all sexual degenerates had afforded me enough sexual knowledge for a definite best seller. And, I still believe my ex sold our copywrites to the producers of Bob & Carol and Ted & Alice. However, even with all this experience, under my belt so to speak, I was not too sure about doing “it” with a total stranger. But then . . .

I had an early morning business conference in Columbus, which I was not overly excited about attending, and which also required spending the night before to avoid the rush hour mayhem. I asked my friend Evelyn, the wise one, to go along so at least a night in the city wouldn’t be a total waste. We arrived early and of course hit the malls. After several hours of shopping, we went to our hotel and got settled in. We decided a visit to the hotel lounge would be a nice start to the evening’s entertainment.

Why is that two women sitting at a table in a hotel lounge, obviously having a lively conversation while sharing a few drinks, is a sign that male attention is needed? It must be an unwritten law of the testosterone universe. Anyways, there we were, enjoying our drinks when two average looking guys decided they would come to our rescue. They brought copies of our drinks as a peace offering, along with the line, “Have we seen you ladies in here before?” The now not-so-wise one laughed at their tired pick-up line and invited them to join us. After a few more drinks and dinner, at our gentlemen caller’s request and expense (maybe she was wise after all), the wise one and I had to make a visit to the Ladies Room. “This is your chance for true passion!” she advised me, “Sex with no strings, no commitments, no I’ll call you’s. Just pure passion!”

I will have to admit my conversation with Jim-Bob (I still can’t remember his name) had begun to get steamy, or probably heated is a more accuarate description. It seems he was a big-wig in some regional union organization in town for a convention (I am anti-union), a Democrat (ah yes, I am a Republican), and a draft-dodger ( and I am a dyed-in-the-wool American); needless to say, not exactly the endearing qualities I was looking for in a man. But then, I reminded myself, you are not looking for a man, just a one-night stand. And, through my alcohol-enhanced vision, he was beginning to look pretty good. So, wise one and I stumbled our way back to the table and, after another drink or two, I gave Jim-Bob the signal this was going to be his lucky night.

Once in his hotel room, what I had envisioned as an evening of unbridled passion turned out to be ten minutes of wham-bam-thank-you-mam followed by an awkward silence that I had never known before, or since. After more minutes than it took to do “it”, Jim-Bob finally broke the ice by asking me what I did for a living (obviously he forgot the details of our previous three-hour conversation). This actually led to further conversation that turned out to be so interesting that I had forgotten we were both still naked under the sheets.

At some point, Jim-Bob asked me what kind of books I liked to read. Now, having gained a sense of comfortableness, I leaned over the side of the bed to get a cigarette out of my purse and propped myself up on my elbows so I could smoke. “I like to read most anything.” I began, and we discussed several books we had both read. “But I must say, my very favorite are books about serial killers.” I did not notice Jim-Bob had made a slight move away from me as I continued talking about Ted Bundy and then the Michigan murders, adding that though it was rare, there were female serial killers. “I keep thinking if I read enough books about serial killers, I will be able to figure out what would motivate someone to kill a complete stranger. Do you ever think about that?” I asked as I looked in his direction while moving my arm below the edge of the bed to put my cigarette out in the ashtray sitting on the floor.

Now let me tell you, after his performance an hour earlier, I did not think it was possible for Jim-Bob to move any faster, but he proved me wrong. He was up and out of that bed so fast he stumbled and fell to the floor. “Is this where you pull a knife or gun out of that purse and kill me?” he cried as he pulled himself up and backed into the corner. I was so stunned by his flight reaction to a simple question, it took me a few seconds to put it all together, especially since he was standing there, with all his manhood standing at full attention, visibly shaking down to the last bone in his body. Once the implications of my reading preferences finally registered, given the circumstance of our meeting and our current locale, I burst into uncontrollable laughter. I laughed so hard I cried, rolling back and forth on the bed, and ended up running to the bathroom to keep from peeing the bed.

After I gained control of both my laughter and bodily functions, I had to walk out and face this nameless man, in my nakedness I might add, who thought it possible I was a serial killer stalking unsuspecting horny men through chance encounters in hotel bars. I have often wondered how he tells this story. I do think passion is definitely in his version!

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14 Comments leave one →
  1. April 12, 2008 2:38 pm

    that’s quite a story, very entertaining!

  2. April 12, 2008 6:23 pm

    What a terrific yarn, and you recounted it so well! Loved every word

  3. April 12, 2008 6:38 pm

    Excellent! But he needn’t have worried. Apart from Wuornos, most female serial killers prefer poison 🙂

  4. April 12, 2008 7:26 pm

    You made my Sunday Morning!

    children’s day out

  5. April 12, 2008 7:58 pm

    It’s a wonder he didn’t take flight because he thought you were laughing at his naughty bits…

  6. April 13, 2008 8:27 am

    I am sure I remember reading this posting and thought I had written a comment.

    I still love the zany logic of it all.

    Gemma

  7. April 13, 2008 9:41 am

    I have to go to the bathroom real fast now : )

    What a funny story!

  8. April 13, 2008 9:49 am

    That is so funny… so, I ask you.. would you do that again?!

  9. April 13, 2008 1:55 pm

    I tried to leave a comment on slice of life to let you know I’m not participating this week, any of those memes could get me in serious trouble! hehe
    I’m sure glad I stopped by here, thats hilarious and definitely an entertaining story! That poor guy! LOL

  10. April 13, 2008 3:55 pm

    That is the funniest story. You wrote it in such a way that I felt I was right there in the room watching this man being scared out of his wits. So funny. Thanks for sharing that.

  11. April 13, 2008 9:22 pm

    I absolutely LOVE this story…rotflmao…I am not up to participating this week. But fear not, dear one…I will be back.

    Come and get your Linky-Love:
    http://tinyurl.com/6qcyg3

  12. April 13, 2008 9:43 pm

    Now THAT was different. *g* Very entertaining.

  13. April 14, 2008 2:26 pm

    What a good read! Truth (or a version of it) is often better than fiction.

  14. April 15, 2008 1:25 am

    You are a dark horse! That was brilliant. You really got him. I’m still laughing at Anthony’s comment that most female serial killers prefer poison. That should be a writing prompt in itself. You are an excellent writer, Cricket. I do so enjoy your work!

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