I had told her NOT to use my room. Yes, I had the nice king sized bed and the candles, the incense, and the tube of lube in the night stand along with a generous supply of condoms. Jen, my gorgeous leggy 5’10” blond roomie had a twin bed in her room with no carpet, a sheet hung on the window for drapes, stacks of boxes, piles of clothes, books, and shoes on the floor here and there in some sort of random organization. The focal point was the ironing board which she kept permanently set up in the center of the room.
But I told her NOT to use my room, so when I got home ready to change my clothes, relax, kick my shoes off, etc. and saw that Jen and her current boyfriend, Adonis, were in MY bed, in MY room, strappin’ it on, I got pissed!
“Don’t come in here! I mean it!” Jen called out with a warning.
“Bullshit!” I thought to myself and barged in turning on the light. I sat down on the edge of the bed where the couple was entwined in full flagrante. She was on top takin’ it deep. I could tell that even though they had stopped grinding immediately when I entered the room, he was still fully engorged and hard within her throbbing.
I lit a cigarette and took a big drag exhaling the smoke in their direction. “So, what’s up?” I ask casually. “I thought I told you NOT to use my room? Why don’t you use your own room?” I was only moderately mad and really rather amused at the mix of hormones, fear, and embarrassment of the coital couple.
“Will you PLEASE get out,” she begged sincerely. So, I left the room and wandered into the kitchen to finish my cig and make some coffee. It was going to be a long night working the graveyard shift at the Yum Yum. Should be good though – lots of tips from the late night crowd.
My favorite customers were a group of strippers and their beefy boyfriends. Good tippers. Nice guys. They ordered the biggest breakfasts with eggs, steaks, potatoes, toast, a side of pancakes or a monstrous chile-size topped with chopped onions, cheese, and hot sauce. The girls typically ordered eggs and toast and ended up giving half of it to their boyfriends. They always left a $20 bill on the table which in those days was exorbitant and even in these days would be considered a good tip for a coffee shop.
Then home to try to sleep for a few hours before classes at the JC. When she wasn’t waitressing, she bartended. Either way working and going to school simultaneously was a stretch. I was just sitting there trying to figure out my schedule when Adonis came tearing out of the bedroom (fully clothed) followed by a frantic Jen who was trying to conceal her pulchritude in a short slim red kimono… MY RED KIMONO!!! “So much drama. Will it ever end?” I question the universe.
Jen is out on the street now screaming and crying, “Come back! I didn’t mean it! Come back!” She is crying out of control. “He can’t leave me! He can’t leave me!” She sobs as I try to console her. I never did find out what the argument was about, but later that week I heard another friend of mine tell me what a great lay he was… how he examined every inch of her body with little kisses calling himself “The Chicken Inspector”, etc. and I figured it was over. Jen never did use my bed again and I was actually glad to have to go to work that night. Geez!
(First published June 29, 2011)
