California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – I Can Deal With This

I was in a bar down in Venice Beach, having a beer and this girl starts talking to me. She seems OK, but the bar is dark. Band on stage is loud. Hard to tell.

She asks me if I want to go out to her truck and smoke a joint.

“Yes, please.”

When we wander out of the bar, the bright lights outside illuminate her face in a disturbing way. I ignore what I am seeing. Not that hot.

“So where is your car?”

“I thought we were going to your truck.”

“No, we are going to your car.”

OK. I can deal with this.

We get to my VW minibus, and she says “Where is the joint?”

“I thought you had a joint.”

“No. Take me home.”

OK. I can deal with this.

So, I start driving her home. As I am driving, she starts rambling.

“You can fuck me. You can screw me. You can do anything you want to me.”

OK. Maybe I can deal with this.

As we approach her apartment she says: “I sure hope my boyfriend isn’t home.”

Oh, fuck. Can I deal with this?

She points to a convenience store and says “Pull in there, and go buy me a 12 pack of beer.”

“I’m not buying you a 12 pack.”

So she gets out of the car to buy beer. I definitely cannot deal with this.  I shift my van  into reverse, and race off into the night.

I didn’t go back to that bar for a year.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – The Blue Lagoon

It was New Year’s eve and I’d bought new clothes, so I thought I was cutting quite a dashing figure, but the reality was I’d drunk four 151 rum and cokes and was shouting the word “dickhead” at my friend Frank for reasons I can’t remember. That was the taxi. Then I was in a kitchen (can’t remember whose) holding a big bottle of prosecco (not mine) and I was sharing it with a girl named Jennifer. She was telling me she was a freshman at Santa Monica College, and I was doing that glazed eyes listening but not really listening thing, so I asked Jennifer if she wanted to go upstairs.

She did.

We went up, and I was holding orange juice now as well and Jennifer was saying something about the actor from The Blue Lagoon, Christopher Atkins. In someone’s parents’ room and Jennifer was now on top of me and pressing her (large) breasts into my face. Hard. Really hard. So hard I had a nosebleed. All over her breasts, all over the (inevitably) cream carpet. That was when the owners of the house came back. I recall them screaming the words “what”, “the”, “fuck”, “are”, “you”, “doing”, “in” “here” at me and Jennifer quite a few times. As I left I kicked the orange juice (probably an accident) all over the carpet, which now resembled some kind of crime scene.

Smash cut to March, I haven’t seen or spoken to Jennifer since NYE. I’m wandering around a club after a show looking for a bottle of Jack Daniels and then Jennifer is in front of me and my inner monologue is like, “How is this happening?” But you know what? Jennifer was pretty cool about the nosebleed.

Jennifer and I had sort of OK sex back at her place. We lay there in that blue grey not quite morning light and we talked. Jennifer said she thought I looked like Christopher Atkins (which is generous). And the blue grey light changed and soon the rest of the room was visible, the clothes on the floor, the photos of Jennifer and her friends on the walls, the pictures of Christopher Atkins on the wall, the many pictures of Christopher Atkins… the SHRINE devoted to Christopher on the wall. I felt like a voodoo doll. I was some kind of fuck your favorite actor fantasy boy. I was creeped out then and I’m creeped out now. My skin didn’t crawl, it ran. I left and on the way back to my apartment it rained. I didn’t have a coat.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Tim’s Wife Donna

It was the summer of 1982. I was living in Los Angeles. Me and my bass player Frank were hanging out at our friend Tim’s house just chilling out, drinking and heating up the BBQ Pit. We and the band met him one night at Gazzari’s on Sunset Strip. Tim used to play guitar in the band Scandal before they made it big. (Which sucked for him, but he made a pretty good living as a session man in the music industry.) Tim went in to grab a couple of beers. He came out and said his wife was taking a bath and the door for it was in his garage in need of repair.

He had been drinking most of the day and dared me to quietly go to the doorway and watch her until she sees me and tells me to beat it. I think back now and a lot of the people I met in California in those days were kinky and crazy.

I always enjoyed a good dare and gladly accepted. Frank’s just sitting there laughing his ass off.

Tim’s wife Donna was smokin’ hot. I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

I remember walking through the house and by Tim’s studio. I’ll never forget that he had a white Marshall amplifier. I had a Marshall back then, but I’d never seen a white one before. (His had four 12 inch Celestion speakers in them.)

I got to the door and saw her laying back with a wash rag over her forehead & eyes. I decided to venture further. I quietly went in and sat on the toilet about 3 feet away. A couple of minutes passed and she sat up and removed the cloth. She let out a little scream.

“What are you doing here, Chaz?”

Her husband Tim would be pissed off.

“Tim dared me to come in here and watch you until you made me leave.” (I’ve never seen her nude)

“Is that so? I bet he assumed I would yell and scream and run you out of here.”

“I’ve already been watching you for several minutes and you’re even sexier than I’d imagined.”

She just then realized I could still see her.

“I guess I have no reason to cover up now.”

“So what do we do?”

“Hmm… How would you like to help me turn this around on him?”

I’m not sure, Donna. Tim’s half in the bag and what if he tries to kick my ass? I can’t let anything happen to this face.”

She winked at me. “I have an idea. You’ll get to watch me nude until he finally comes in to see what’s up.”

I was immediately game.

Her idea was to get out of the tub and dry off. She said it would take her about 10 minutes to blow dry her hair. If he still wasn’t in she would put make up on, etc. in the nude until he did. She stood up and my excitement meter went from half mast to full mast by the time she was dry. I had gym shorts on and she made a few joking comments about how aroused I was. I was in a band and I’d already seen many things in my short rock and roll life, but I started blushing and my heart was pounding. This was a gorgeous 28-year-old woman.

I was but a boy.

A bad boy.

She then began blow drying her long dark hair. She was now purposely teasing me as she leaned over to dry the back with her bottom staring right at me with a nice view. She turned around smiling, and now I knew she was enjoying the show she put on for me. (Was Tim’s wife into me?) She finished with her hair.

“Follow me.”

She sat at her make up table. I was literally trembling as I sat on the edge of their bed.

Donna turned to face me and started rubbing lotion on her arms, shoulders and breasts which were as erect as I was.

“If he doesn’t come in soon he’ll wish he had, Chaz.” and laughed.

She was now rubbing lotion on her belly. “You should really enjoy this.”

With that she lifted a leg and slowly worked her way up to her hips. In this position I could see everything wide open in front of me. What I’m seeing could only be described back then as two slices of rare roast beef between two hot dogs that had been dropped on a barber’s floor.

Beautiful in 1982. Women still had hair down there back then. My young mind was melting down.

“I’m actually in pain, Donna.”

She laughed. “You can’t leave me until he comes in.”

She then shifted her other leg up and when she got to her knee, Tim walked in. What he saw was me sitting on the edge of his bed with a woody impossible to hide and his wife about 3 or 4 feet in front of me spread eagle and smiling ear to ear.

At first he was pissed off. “What the fuck?”

“Tim, you dared me to watch your nude wife until she made me leave. She never asked me to leave.”

I’m thinking I’m probably going to get my ass kicked and the friendship is over and Frank and I will be running down the hill to my VW mini bus.

“Donna… why the fuck did you think it was okay to spend about a half hour in front of Chaz nude with your legs wide open towards him?”

“I asked him why he thought it was okay to sneak in and watch me nude. He told me that you dared him to come up and watch me nude. I figured if you didn’t come up and tell him to get out, you apparently wanted me to be naked in front of him.”

Is this really happening?

He then laughed, (Thank God) “You turned the joke around on me and I guess I deserved it.”

He then went to her. “Weren’t you embarrassed to have him watching you?”
“I was at first but the thought of getting even made it worthwhile and that other than the big woody, Chaz was a good sport.”

She looked down at him. “It looks like you have the same problem now.”

We decided that they were going to make use of their bed and suggested I could sit in the chair she was in and relieve myself at the same time.

WHAT?

I declined, and let them have at it.

I limped out of their bedroom, and went back to the party out back.

Frank sees me.

(In his thick Belfast accent) “Where the fuck’ve you been, mate?”

I’ll tell you on the way home. Hand me one of those beers.

 

What a crazy time it was back then.

But this wouldn’t be the last time there would be an altercation with Tim’s wife, Donna.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Lux – It Started With An Entire Bottle Of Champagne

I was having a beer at the Roxy in West Hollywood. I see this hot girl who looks a little older than me. Maybe 22 or 23. She has tan skin and an exotic foreign look. I can see she’s checking me out and I send her a drink.

She immediately comes over and sits next to me at the bar. We chat for a bit and she likes that I’m a musician. She suggests brunch at Cafe Casino in Santa Monica.  We hop in my ’69 VW minibus and she says she has to stop at her apartment. Her apartment is in Brentwood. Nice place, beautiful, lots of high-dollar stuff, no roommate.

We go to Cafe Casino at 1pm. During brunch she drinks an entire bottle of champagne by herself. We leave, and in the van she says she wants to stop by a shop in Westwood. I park in the parking lot and get out. I look for her and don’t see her. I hear a noise, so I look around my van and she’s squatting next to the wall peeing on the ground.

We go into the shop. She takes a few dresses into the changing room and tells me to come over. I stand outside the changing room and she pulls me inside. Lux completely undresses, gets in the clothes, asks me what I think, undresses, gets in more clothes, etc. That was super hot to me at the time and probably would be today.

She takes about $400 worth of clothes to the counter and tells the cashier she really has to pee. Cashier says sorry. Lux begs, so cashier relents and takes her into the back, but it’s too late. The damage is done. So she also buys a new pair of pants.

We’re back to her apartment, she answers a call and starts talking in a foreign language that I can’t place. Couldn’t even guess the continent. (Maybe Iran?) She’s very nervous and upset. She hangs up and tells me she has to go to her other apartment at the Wilshire Palisades. She asks me to go in with her.

We go into her apartment which is also completely beautiful and belongs only to her. This chick is some sort of rich heiress. She has a badass telescope that I start playing with. In the mirror, I see her open a safe and put something in her purse. She tells me we need to leave and asks me to take her to my apartment.

We go to my place and she instantly passes out. She stays like that for about 6 hours. When she wakes up, Lux wants Dairy Queen. It’s closed and she starts crying. I take her to Carl’s Jr. She gets a cheeseburger, a chili dog, cheese fries, and a sundae. We come home, she eats it and throws up. Passes out on my couch again. I read and go to sleep.

Next morning she asks if she can stay and watch TV. I tell her I have plans and need to take her home. She says she can’t go to either of her apartments. I tell her too bad, I have plans, and drop her off.

She called a few days later asking when we could see each other again.

I told her no.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Trash Talkin’ Tina

Tina and I had been together for a few weeks, and had planned a weekend camping trip to the mountains. We packed and headed off. By noon on the first day, we were up in the mountains, miles away from anyone, anything, and decent cell phone service.

We had been having a nice time, and then it was time for lunch. At a site, we opened our packs and pulled out food, including a couple of cans of vegetables.

“You have the can opener?” Tina asked me.

I had said that I’d bring it, and I thought that I had. However, upon searching through my packs, I found that I didn’t.

“I’m getting hungry, here,” Tina said, becoming agitated. I was also hungry, and I searched high and low for the can opener that simply wasn’t there.

“I can’t find it,” I admitted, “But I can probably use my knife to pry the lids open.”

“You forgot a can opener?” she asked.

“Yes, but I can use my–”

“Holy fuck. You forgot a can opener? Are you fucking retarded? I’m starving!”

I repeated, “I think I can do it with my knife.” She picked up her pack, shouldered it, and stormed away. “Where are you going?” I called after her. She yelled back, “To find a man who has a can opener!”

I yelled back, “I can open them with my knife!” She kept going, and I wasn’t about to chase her. Less than five minutes later, I had two cans open, thanks to my knife. I ate my lunch and decided to wait for her to return.

One hour turned into two, and two turned into three. It was mid-afternoon, and I was worried. I called for her over and over, but there was no response. The only thing I could think of was that she had circled back to the van.

I returned to it and found her sitting, leaning against it. When she saw me, she sprang up at once. I said, “I had the cans opened in minutes. Want some?”

She replied, “Why did it take you so long to come looking for me?”

I said, “Why should I have had to look for you in the first place? You stomped off on your own. Now, do you want something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you were starving before.”

She said, “I want to go home.”

It wasn’t a big deal. I could always return to hike on my own or with another friend. My main goal was to slide this whiny psycho out of my life as quickly as possible.

I shrugged, said, “Okay,” and opened the van. I put my bag inside and reached for hers.

“No,” she said, “I’m not riding with you. You’ve treated me like shit all day. I’m walking.”

She turned and started on her long journey. “It’s a 20-mile walk to anywhere,” I called after her, “Let me drive you.”

She said, “I’d rather die out here,” and kept going.

I wasn’t about to play games. I had given her plenty of chances to be nice. I jumped into my van and drove away.

Three hours later, I was almost back home when I received a text from her: “Some fucking strangers had to drive me to the closest gas station. You come and pick me up right the fuck now.”

I wonder how she ever made it home.

 

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California Dreamin’ -1982 to 1984 – Dariella – Into Darkness

Let me preface this by saying that I’m no prince charming, but even I have limits. I met Dariella one night after a show at Madam Wong’s West in Santa Monica, and she seemed interesting and metal. Naturally I wanted to see her again.

The First Date:

I found out she doesn’t drive, which isn’t a problem. I also found out that she lived down in Long Beach, not great, but I wanted to spend time with her so I took the drive to pick her up. When I arrived I also found out she lived with her parents, and was unemployed, again, see seemed great so I decided it wasn’t a big deal. We went to one of the local haunts to get some food and get to know one another better. That’s when I found out she was a part time Dom in a local dungeon. Okay to each their own, people have different tastes. Everything else during the date went smoothly. She was hot and exotic. The night ended and I drove her home.

The Second Date:

She wanted to go to this great bar that she knew about. I was all for it, something new. It turned out to be a really seedy dive bar. It was like something out of a movie. Everybody knew her, and she even had some family there. She proceeded to get wasted while I took in the sights and got to know the people. There was an old Hell’s Angel that told me about his youth, and how he was the king of the skating rink back in the day. I got to see a midget line dance to Copper Head Road. My date ran into a friend she’d met in county lockup. (Nice) All in all, it wasn’t too bad. I really enjoyed the place more than spending time with her though. She ran up a HUGE bar tab while we were there and expected me to pay which wasn’t really cool.

The Third Date:

Back to the bar! This time I brought the guys from the band and a few of my friends along. Everyone loved the place. Crazy group of people that looked like, rockers, punks, goths, hookers, bikers, and hippies. It was nuts. But things took an odd turn on the way to the van to drop off my date and her cousin. Her cousin stops and makes a comment about having just about the right amount of people for an orgy. My date replied that it wouldn’t be the first time. What did her cousin think she did at all those parties she went to? The level of crazy just went way up. Her cousin was smokin’ hot too, so we went back in the bar and put it to the group. Everybody was down, so off we went back to somebody’s house.

Sadly, phicklephilly is a dating blog, not a sex blog so I can’t go into all of the details of the orgy back at her cousin’s house. But it was insane and my first one!

Here’s and excerpt of a conversation I later had with my buddy, bassist, Frank.

Me: “That shit was crazy, right?”

Frank: “Fuck sake, mate. Remember the one I was with?”

Me: “Dariella’s hot cousin or that chick with that Bow Wow Wow Mohawk?”

Frank: “Mohawk.”

Me: “Okay.”

Frank: “After I gave it to her she said she’d been smoking meth with her boyfriend earlier that day.”

Me: “That’s fucked up.”

Frank: “And she said how she hoped she wasn’t pregnant!”

Me: “By you or her boyfriend?”

Frank: Fuck sake, I wore a sweater with her, thank fuck!” (condom) But that’s not the worst part.”

Me: “What?”

Frank: “She stole like $80 out of my wallet!”

Me: “I told you that chick was a hooker!”

 

Sadly, that was the last time I went out with Dariella. I think the band was all to weirded out by what had happened.

I miss that bar though.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Celia – Entitled

“I was going to have a second date with this girl Celia. She knew of three parties happening on the same night, so she suggested that we hit all three. Sounded good to me, so off we go.

At party one, her best friend from college is there that she hasn’t seen in four years. They immediately run off together, and I’m left with the friend’s boyfriend having a drink. I think to myself, this is no big deal. She hasn’t seen her friend in a long time, and the night has a lot more to go. She comes back after a while and suggests we head on to the other party. Great!

Arrive at second party. My date immediately runs off with some other friends. Like, “Tim, oh my god, how are you doing,” and dashes across the party to find him. I slowly follow behind, but then they keep scurrying on to talk to other people without the girl making it clear that she wanted me to come. I feel really awkward because she doesn’t introduce me or say anything about me. I’m just an awkward guy there that no one knows. I get tired of that and go to the bathroom, where I find that the door has been ripped off its hinges. I find a screwdriver and fix the door before using the bathroom. Fast forward 30 minutes, my date finds me and suggests we go to the final party. But this time, her friend Tim is going to join us. Okay…

Arrive at third party. As soon as we walk in the door, Tim says he needs cigarettes, and the girl and Tim run out for cigarettes and leave me at this new party with all these other people I don’t know. They are gone for 45 minutes, by which time I decide that this date isn’t working out and I should just go home. When my date comes back with cigarettes, I tell her I’m leaving and she FLIPS OUT. She starts screaming at me in front of everyone about how she was going to have sex with me later and how I ruined everything. Then she proceeds to scream, “you’re not leaving me; I’m leaving you,” after which she bolts out and slams the door.

Then everyone at this other party, whom I don’t know, is staring at me while my date, who brought me there, has abandoned me.

Someone eventually comes and offers me a drink. I stay for another hour and laugh it off with the people at the party. I ended up having a pretty good time!

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Saffron – Down with the Sickness

Met Saffron at a the restaurant where I worked. She seemed relatively normal from our conversations, and she was very cute.

I try to set up plans to go see a movie, and she can’t/won’t make up her mind about what to see/when to go. Then she calls me and sounds a little funny. As if her voice was hoarse. She says “I normally don’t sound like this I yelled a lot at work today.” Something was up.

We finally agree on plans. I go pick her up to go see The Dark Crystal. She gets in the car and we start talking and it’s clear to me that she didn’t give me the whole story. Her voice did indeed sound somewhat odd. In addition, I began to notice certain ticks/movements as well. After the 10 minute drive to the theater I began to wonder what she hadn’t told me.

We walk into the theater and I realize a few more things. She had somewhat awkward gait, and had trouble with keeping normal distance from me. She either got super close or super far away as we walked and talked.

At this point I begin to wonder if perhaps she has Aspergers or another health issue, but keep it to myself.

Despite all of this I was still having a good time; we got along well and went to see the movie.

Here’s where the trouble begins:

About an hour into the movie she goes to the bathroom. I check my watch and realize that she’s been gone for over 10 minutes. No big deal, maybe she got food or didn’t feel well.

She comes back 15 minutes later and said she bought water and felt a little sick. Hint #4. I asked her multiple times if she was ok/wanted to leave. She said, “I’m fine, my cousin was sick maybe I caught a bug from her.”

Cut to about 45 minutes left in the movie; she starts to make faces as if she doesn’t feel good. I ask again multiple times if she is ok; she insists she is.

I suggest that she goes to bathroom in case she has to throw up. She says no.

A minute later SHE THROWS UP ALL OVER THE PLACE. COVERS THE ENTIRE FLOOR IN FRONT OF HER AND THREE SEATS TO THE LEFT ALL THE WAY TO AISLE. IT WAS LIKE A MOVIE SCENE, I COULDN’T BELIEVE HOW MUCH ONE PERSON COULD THROW UP.

I’m shaken obviously so I climb up a row and go to get help from the theater workers. On the way out of the theater I have to stop short as I round the corner…

WHY?

BECAUSE THERE WERE TWO GIANT PUDDLES OF VOMIT IN THE HALLWAY!! HER “BATHROOM” TRIP WAS ACTUALLY AN “I’M GONNA THROW UP ON THE FLOOR, LEAVE IT, AND RETURN TO MY DATE LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED.”

So yea, that was a bad date I guess. Plus I never saw the end of the movie. I took the poor girl home. I felt so bad for her. I’ve had stomach disorders my whole life so I could identify with her. I think she was so mortified and embarrassed by the incident we never went out again because I don’t think she could face me. Poor girl. She was so cute!

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Truth of Dare

I was over at Vicki Yamamato’s parents’ house on my 21st birthday in her room watching TV and she says to me “Babe you wanna play truth or dare?” I said: “What are you 14?” She replied “No! I think you’re just chicken.” Now I couldn’t just let her win so I said: “Sure, come on let’s play.”

It started off with just a few simple questions because we both did truths like do you love me and little things like that. I started getting bored with it and said dare. I should have never said it. She sat and thought about it and with an evil little grin she said: “okay my parents are not home so I got a great dare for you.”

So my mind went straight to the gutter, I mean what guys mind wouldn’t right? I said: “What’s this big bad dare you got in your pretty little mind?” She looked me dead in my eye and said: “You gotta run around the entire house naked!”

I thought okay that’s easy, I mean her parents had a huge house, but it wouldn’t take long to run around inside. And the worst that could happen is that her parents show up and then I gotta explain we were just playing truth or dare.

So I said: “Alright the basement too?” She smiled again and said: “no.” Then she laughed and I asked what was funny? She said: “The entire outside of the house!” I told myself don’t be a sissy just do it. So I said: “Okay I’ll do it.”

I got naked went outside and darted around the entire house as quick as I could, but as I opened the front door to get in there stood half of Vicki’s family standing in the living room. I ran upstairs and got dressed as quick as I could. She had really got me, when I came down she was holding a cake smiling and the cake read “Happy 21st, DON’T END UP IN YOUR B-DAY SUIT”

I had never been that embarrassed or pranked that bad in my whole life.

 

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California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Shira – Persian Beauty

“…Her brown body, drenched in sweat as she rode me like a stolen horse.”

Oh… this one takes me back. I love this story!

(This post is not safe for work! NSFW! You’ve been warned!)

I was living in Santa Monica, playing in a band back in ’82 just living the rock n’ roll dream. I was working at that time as a busboy at a place called Cafe Casino in Wilshire Palisades in Santa Monica. Shira came in a few times to dine with her friends. Because of all of the shit at that time in Iran with the Shah, we had a lot of Persian people immigrating to America. Mostly California. If you look back in history, you’ll see that’s how the Kardashians got here.

I was a guitarist in a struggling band and a lowly busboy by day and flirted with Shira when she came in. I guess she liked my long blonde hair and fresh face and took a shine to me. She lived up in Brentwood which isn’t too far from me, but far enough way to be exclusive. We chatted a bit and exchanged numbers. I liked that she was dark, foreign and different from the usual girls I dated.

She and her girlfriends came out to see our band but nothing ever came out of it. She was lovely but I think I was just distracted from all the fleas and ticks of rock and roll at the time in early eighties Los Angeles.

One night we actually talked for six hours on the phone (9pm-3am) and she invited me to her house the next day for dinner to see if we liked each other in person. I agreed to go over. I was so naive back then.

So I go there and as soon as I walk in the door, she sniffs me and says “Last night on the phone, I just wanted to inhale you through the line”

And I was like “Yeah, we got on pretty well.”

“Is this your own place?

It is, Chaz

(Yes!)

She looks smoking hot and middle eastern sultry and I’m down for whatever. I just think she’s really pretty. I don’t know any better. She’s wearing a light blue blouse and really small white shorts and high heel sandals. Her long caramel legs are making me crazy. I’m 19 years old and this is all new ground for the boy I once was. She’s absolutely lovely and exotic. I don’t know any girls like her back home.

So we sit on the sofa, have a drink and are talking a while. She hops up from her end of the sofa and says “I want to smell you again”.

OK. So she straddles me and puts her nose deep into my neck and starts breathing in really deep. So I kissed her neck and she goes,”ahhhhhhhhh”. So I kept kissing her neck and shoulders, she starts doing the same to me. Next thing we’re French kissing,

Awesome, I’m a teenager, I love deep tongues. I was really enjoying it. Next she lays down on the sofa, I get on top of her and start kissing her again. One thing leads to another and we go to the bedroom and take turns giving each other oral. It was great. She had a raging orgasm and then teased me for what seemed like an hour until I had a huge orgasm too.

We end up having mind bending sex. She’s almost brutally sexual. Her brown body, drenched in sweat as she rides me like a stolen horse.

I have never met anyone like Shira, and girls back home don’t possess the kind of sexual prowess when it comes to staving off an orgasm and then coming like a freight train blasting through a forgotten station.

We made dinner together, pasta with pesto and truffle oil, with some really good parmesan, shared a bottle of wine and chatted on. Eventually we go to the bedroom again and had some crazy good sex and more oral in between. Great, intense, passionate sex.

Then we’re lying there, kissing and talking and she says:

“What am I going to do? I just took a six month lease on this place”.

Well, it’d be a good idea to pay your rent.”

“Well, that would be wasteful seeing as I’ll be living with you now”.

“Well, no, I think we should see each other as much as we can, and maybe have the odd sleepover and see how things work out”.

“But things did work out, I let you into my vagina, you’re mine now.”

I thought she was kidding.

“Well, if it’s important to you, you can call me your boyfriend, but you don’t own me.”

She started screaming, insulting me in Arabic, raving… (Which is kind of hot because it’s way before 9/11)

“Whoa, whoa, we just had sex, we’re not married. Sure we got into sex quickly, but hell, we met at a restaurant. I’m a musician. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“You said you take sex seriously, so do I. I only have sex with someone I’m in a relationship with, so this means we’re in a relationship and you said you wanted someone to live with and be happy with. I will cook your meals, clean your house, take care of our children. I want a child of my own soon.”

Holy crap… I agreed that we should keep talking, but I had to go home… I dressed and said good-bye. To her it was like seeing off a lover who was travelling overseas for a few years, massive hugs and kisses.

“Call me tomorrow???”

“Okay…. Okay…”

It was a moonless night, midnight, pitch black and pissing down with rain and I had to drive for 90 minutes on narrow, winding  roads in the Hollywood hills in my old ’69 VW  van. Because no one can drive in the rain in L.A. By the time I got home, white knuckled from gripping the wheel it was late, nearly 2am.

I woke up around 9am, my phone was ringing non stop and I answer it.

“I don’t appreciate this lack of communication. You are going to have to improve. You can’t treat me like shit after I’ve had you in my home, fed you, given you my vagina”

“I just woke up. Why did you call me so many times?

“ARE YOU CALLING ME CRAZY? I AM NOT CRAZY JUST BECAUSE I EXPECT SOME COMMUNICATION FROM MY MAN!!!!”.

At this stage, we’d known each other’s first names for like 36 hours.

We phoned on and off for like a week, me trying to increase the number of fights so she’d give up on me. About three days in, we’re arguing on the phone and I hear her moaning and stuff. She was fighting with me while masturbating.

Had to write her off.

Back then it was so much easier to cut off the crazy. I’m just glad her family didn’t hunt me down and cut my hands off… or worse!

But I will leave you with this lasting memory that has haunted me all of my days in a good way.

When Shira and I would have mad sex, she would get really sweaty. I like that. I like everything that happens to the woman I’m with during sex no matter what. But her sweat smelled like lawnmower exhaust. It had that hot, sexy, oily, burning with gas mixture kind of smell. I think it may have been from her diet, but I don’t care. It was real and I liked it.

For weeks after that whenever my neighbors mowed their lawn, I’d get a massive erection.

I wish that last part of this story wasn’t true. But it is!

Fuck you Pavlov.

 

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