Around the time I moved to Florida, there was a moment I was rocking my game like a pro. I had an incredible bachelor pad with all the fixings to make the ladies crumble. Candles, large framed picture of Audrey Hepburn, a modern feel, just everything that created a wow factor.
I had recently met an incredible girl who was a general manager for a high-end restaurant and she worked hard, but certainly played just as hard. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it.
She told me once, “my time is valuable and I’m not in the business of wasting it.”
So with this highly touted commodity, I realized that when I had my opportunity to impress her, it was a narrow window that I had to slide through just at the right angle if I wanted to make this work.
I started weighing my options for what I could do to implement a strategy and ultimately end up on the right side of her good graces. I had been killing it in the kitchen and thought there was no way for me impress her with a restaurant, since her restaurant was pretty much top-billing for the immediate area.
After our next conversation, it turns out I was on target. I asked her what she would like to do for the evening, she claimed, “I honestly don’t give a shit what we do as long as it’s not in a service situation. I don’t want to see a restaurant or bar anywhere near me or I might lose my fucking mind if I do.”
I replied, “Perfect. Then you’re going to come to my place and I’m going to cook for you.”
She didn’t let off the reaction I was looking for, but quickly said, “that’s fine. I’ll be there around 7:30pm.”
In a discussion we had at our first meeting, I distinctly remember her saying she LOVED spicy food. So I thought maybe I would revisit this and make myself seem like a good listener to increase my chances for, well, you know.
I decided to keep it light and not get too far out of my comfort zone. When I hit the grocery store, my plan was to grab some jalapenos, chorizo sausage, and cream cheese to get together a small appetizer to munch on while dinner was cooking.
It was Fall and getting dark around 5:40pm-ish. So it felt like it was later than usual. I guess that made her restless and I hadn’t even started getting my stuff prepped for the appetizer or dinner.
I got a text saying, “OMW,” around 6:35pm.
All I could think was, “fuck, I better get my shit together and fast.”
I chop up the chorizo, throw it in a pan to get my cream cheese and sausage filling going. I turn the oven to 375 degrees and sure enough, the doorbell rings. Turns out she was barely around the corner at a friend’s house.
“This is just fucking great,” I said to myself.
I answered the door all smiles and told her she was early. She smiled back and said she knew and she was sorry. After I rushed her in so I wouldn’t miss a beat in the kitchen, she quickly offered help and asked what I was making. I told her about the appetizer and said I needed to get the jalapenos sliced and cleaned pronto.
I had already set my knife and spoon on the cutting board right next to my trash bowl. She went right to work. I offered her a drink to which she quickly obliged, “I’ll take a beer if you got it.”
She started asking me about my job and I kept thinking this was going too well, too soon.
Not even before I could finish that thought, I heard the knife stop hitting the cutting board and before I knew it she had pressed herself ever-so-gently up against me and left me with no option but to lift her onto the counter and grab her by the hair to start making out. I was assuming she was giving me a hint about her slight affinity for the rough stuff.
She wasn’t wasting any time and neither was I.
I felt her reach for my belt with both hands she had no problem getting it undone. But she didn’t stop there.
She pulled my dick out and still using two hands started pulling at it like a girl who knows what she wants. Remembering she had told me her time was valuable, I was under the impression she was only there for one reason and patience wasn’t something she had a high tolerance for.
I’m thinking to myself, “WOW! This couldn’t have happened any more perfectly.”
Though, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I start noticing a sharp pain right at the tip of my dick and tried to ignore it. But the more I ignored it, the more it began to burn and the pain grew more intense. Finally I couldn’t take it and had to pull back and make mention of it.
I said, “My fucking dick is on fire. What did you do.”
Then it donned on me. She never washed her hands after handling the peppers.
I quickly put my burning penis under the faucet, running cold water over it and not even paying attention to her reaction.
About that time, I let off a short giggle, turn and say, “Wow. Next time we’re in the heat of the moment, make sure there’s not pepper juice all over your hands”
She says nothing, smiles, chugs down her beer and grabs her things. I’m insanely confused, but still burning like crazy. Before I even get the chance to ask what in God’s name she was doing she said, “That’s for Carly motherfucker.” And walked out.
Sadly, I knew immediately knew what she was talking about.
All I could think was, “Well played.”