The First Barry White Dance Part I

I grew up watching the cheesy teenage love films. You know the kind. Girl loses virginity to boy at prom, everything is perfect, it feels great, it ends with an amazing kiss plus an orgasm for both, cue over commercialized song at the end during the credits. Well, I wanted something better than that for myself. I was determined to have my experience of losing my virginity to be something different than after prom. I was going to make it special. Boy was I in for a treat when it happened.


Of course something fucked up would happen to me when it came to a huge happening in my life like losing my v-card ...Eh, I take back the huge part. That's giving him too much credit, he was anything but...:-p

I was very choosy when it came to who I let give me my first kiss, let alone who I slept with for the very first time.

I grew up to believe that one should wait to give the goods when you have a ring on your wedding finger and for a long time I believed that's what I was going to do. It was tradition with all the females in my family. That tradition was going to continue with me until I started thinking about the "car theory", everyone test drives the car they end up purchasing before they buy it. No, I wasn't planning on letting everyone and their brother enter into "hottoland" but I wasn't going to say "I do" to some guy who liked to play the role as a baby during foreplay without knowing about it beforehand. I mean there's a lot of sick minded people out there. I was going to start my own tradition...the "do what you want and sleep with someone before you marry them."

So, I guess you could say I was a late starter to the whole "sex life" thing and it didn't fully exist until I was in college. That's where "Matt" comes into play.

No, I'm not using his real name. Unlike him and Lil Kim, I still like to keep things classy in my world. He thinks he's a local rock star, he's a musician around these parts, so you may know him. Besides being a warren based rock star, he's also a liar, a cheater, and toting a little winky dink in his jeans. I state this because I believe he is close to being the scum of the earth.

Now that it's been sometime since this all happened, I kind of giggle about it all. "Kind of" are the key words. I mean, when I tell people this story they always say it sounds like a combination of a lifetime movie plus Jerry Springer making a guest appearance. Lucky me. Oh well, it gives me something interesting to tell at the dinner table...

So, here it goes...

I met Matt at a music festival where he was singing. It wasn't a very big music festival but it had a good amount of people jamming to it for the local musicians to feel appreciated by the public. I was instantly physically attracted to Matt when I saw him on stage there was no doubt, but he seemed more than the amount of cocky I normally put up with. I could tell he thought he was something.

He approached the table my best friend and I were sitting at after his performance, sat down next to me and said nothing. Just sat and looked at me with a smile and started staring. What was I suppose to do? Start jumping for joy? Ask him to sign his name on my right boob? I would have given him a few free minutes of looking at me without saying anything but he was doing it to the point that it was annoying me.

"I think I may have a picture in my phone somewhere in here that I could send you..." I stated while looking for my phone in my purse.

"What picture?" He smoothly asks.

"Oh, a picture of me. Ya know, since you've been staring at me forever. I figure it might come in handy later on when I leave you sitting by yourself at this table."

His mouth dropped open slightly.

"No girl has said that to me before when I smile at them and give that look."

"Well, I would be surprised any girl said anything to you if you stared at them like that in a stalker-ish fashion."

I turned my body away from him and started talking to my best friend, feeling like I was done with this conversation that I knew was going nowhere.

An attractive ginger girl approached our table, telling Matt every compliment in the world but that he should run for president of the world. Matt interrupted her and told her he would continue to talk to her about his music after he was done conversing with me.

Psh, maybe I didn't want to continue conversing with him...

But, I did.

As we continued on talking some more I began to get intrigued by him and I could tell he wasn't used to a woman not kissing the ground he walked on. So, we did the obvious thing - we exchanged numbers.

After a few dates, I had found out that he had a four year old child with his ex girlfriend who he said was beyond crazy.

I didn't really think too much of it considering most men consider their exes "crazy."

I also wasn't too keen on the thoughts of him having a child. I myself had no children or baggage so I was iffy on whether to get involved with someone who did.

After several months, five to be exact, we began to question what our relationship was. Were we an item? Just friends that went out? Or random people that liked to stick our tongue in each others mouth?

We finally decided to be exclusive and see only each other. No other person involved in the equation, just him and me. Which I didn't mind, because honestly I was starting to really care for the guy.

On a mid September evening, after dinner and a night at the lake, we went back to his bachelor pad. I had been there countless times before and always thought how tidy it was for a guy his age. Everything was always perfectly placed, no crumbs, the fridge was always fully stocked, the right piece of artwork was placed on the walls. It was too perfect. But, I just assumed he was a male straight version of Martha Stewart. Go me.

After watching some stand-up on Comedy Central, him serenading me with his guitar in his jam room (he is a good singer) we started making our way to the bedroom.

This wasn't the first time I had been in his bedroom, after many sessions of fooling around before hand, I was to the point that I considered his bed very comfy.

Clothes started flying off in various directions, heavy breathing combined with the sound of Ben Harper playing on the stereo was heard. I knew this was going to be the night. I was ready for it to happen. There was going to be some Barry White dancing going on...aka: sex.

So, I whispered to him "Before we do this, I have something to tell you..."

He instantly jumped back and looked a little scared on how I was going to finish the sentence. Which I can't say I blame him, anyone who watches a little bit of television knows that statement being said right before sex usually ends in two ways...

1.) I have (insert STD here).

2.) I used to be a man named Harold, love me for me.

But, I finished the sentence with "I'm a virgin."

Of course, he had no problem with that at all. His junior was getting the opportunity to be in a tight space that no other explorer had been to before, no loosey goosey equipment on this chick a dee, might as well call his dick Christopher Columbus discovering hottoland.

To make the sex scene short and not so indepth, here it goes:

He wasn't gentle with me for my first time. It was difficult to distinguish the difference between his penis and finger. For me not having sex beforehand I still knew he sucked at it and I was praying the whole time that the rest of my sex life wasn't going to be as pitiful and boring as that episode was.

When it was over and only one person in the equation was satisfied, we layed in his bed, talking about us and listening to the Kings of Leon playing on the stereo.

In the middle of him telling me how he feels, his bedroom window flung open in a dramatic matter, and a persons head popped in screaming at the top of their lungs. Not saying anything but just screaming, like the scream you would hear in a Halloween movie.

My first thought was 1.) Im going to pee the sheets with how much that scared the living crap outta me and 2.) I'm assuming this person is one of his idiotic friends playing a trick.

The second thought was quickly corrected after I realized this person trying to climb in the bedroom was a blonde woman, with a crazy look on her face, a hammer in her right hand and screaming "I'm going to kill you, you fucking whore."

Was she talking to me? Or the wimpy scared looking naked guy standing in the far corner that left me in his bed?

(to be continued...)

Happy Endings Aren't Just For Fairy Tales...

Some people crochet to pass the time, others may listen to their ipod when they have some minutes to burn, or possibly even take a nap when they're bored. I on the other hand am different. Are you surprised? Of course you're not. When I'm bored I go in my car, grab a friend and go to a random place. Last week I went to a sex store with a friend just to talk to the person that works there. Come on, everyone knows anyone that works at that kind of store is usually fucked up. You may think I have too much time on my hands to do this random shit, but I actually have a busy schedule and find time to fit a little random with a dash of WTF in my life. It's what I live for, the craziness that life has to offer you. Oh, and by the way that sex store has a hidden room in the back for random people off the streets who want to have orgies...No lie and I didn't participate in one. But, it pays to be friendly to people because you find out the hidden scoop.

I've always been the one to do dares without really questioning what the outcome could be. I realize this isn't the safest way to go and I have a lot of scars resulting from this thinking but it sures makes for a fun time. My friends quit offering me money to do a dare because they found out that I'll most like do it for free. I do have boundaries, thank you. Nothing involving children, pets, or sticking a foreign object in mine or anybody else's body part.

So, when a good friend of mine, whom we'll call Zoey dared me to apply at a Japanese Massage Parlor - I didn't even blink. In fact, the funny thing was is I was actually thinking about wanting to do that just to see what was behind the doors. I swear, I should have went into investigative journalism.

As we were driving in downtown Warren Zoey mentioned it to me and all she had to say were three simple words and I was all for it - "I dare you"

I have turned down some dares that I have been challenged to do. Some how being front row at a acoustic concert and shouting "Fuck (insert lead singer;s name here) didn't seem quite worth the story I could tell at a dinner.

So, there I was looking for a massage parlor in downtown Warren. If you know Warren, you know it didn't take long to find one. Massage parlors are like taxi cabs in New York City, it's a rarity not to see one every 25 steps you take while walking.

It was about three in the afternoon and I had on the normal attire like I always do: heels, big hair, and red lipstick. I had to make sure the twins were pushed up, otherwise I didn't think they would let me through the door. Hey, they give out happy endings there not practice questions for Jeopardy.

So, I finally got the imaginary balls to get out of my car and head to the door. Next door to the parlor was a shady looking convenient store with the cliche dirty smelly cat strutting around a broken pay phone and a man with the same characteristics of the cat sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette butt he found on the ground. I felt like I needed to put on a short leopard dress, tease my hair up high, re name myself Tiffany, and see what offers I could get on the corner of the street. I will take nothing less than what my mascara costs, boys!

So I opened the door and looked back at Zoey sitting in the car, ducking her head down. To my surprise there was another door inside the door I had already open...does that make sense? The space was small, off white walls with a dirty yellow tint, a door bell placed on the wall next to the other locked door, and a handy dandy video camera. I rang the door bell, straightened up my posture and smiled into the camera. For a place that relies on horny men to oay to get a "massage" they sure did take a while to answer the door, I thought to myself. Finally the door opened barely and my stomach felt topsy turvy.

The smell that escaped as soon as the door was slightly open, smelled like a combination of sex and left over rice. I wish I was exaggerating. I can still smell this in my nostrils when I think about it.

A little head popped from behind the door. Try to imagine an Asian looking lady with bright hot pink lipstick, yellow teeth with several spot of the lipstick on them, a slight mustache, and a bright yellow streak in her greying black hair - that is what I was looking at. I was hoping she was not the most popular female at this joint or else they would be going out of business soon.

Okay, Hotto...put on your best smile, push out the girls and find a way to weasel your way in there.

"Hiiiii, my name is Wendy Matthews. I just moved here from Maryland, have my Massage therapist license and was hoping you are hiring." (insert cheesy smile)

She stared at me for what seemed like forever, just staring at me, looking me up and down with elevator eyes. I think I felt more violated by how she was looking at me than I have when I went to a truck stop diner.

In her broken English she said "You work at place like this before?"

I took a deep breath, smiled and said "of course" noticing that she did not move the door one bit. I couldn't see anything passed her.

She continued to stare at me for a few more minutes and continued some more.

She rubbed her dainty little ear and plainly said "I be back" and closed the door in my face.

Oh great! I found the female Asian version of the Terminator, I thought to myself.

I was tempted to just turn around and leave, stick a sticky note on one of the thousand doors they have at the parlor and inform them that their windows were dirty and could use a little "wash on, wash off" and flee outta that area that was throbbing the words "ghetto" and "murder."

But, then the door once again slightly opened and there were two Asians heads peeking behind the door. If I was a man, I would assume this is how a lot of Asian pornos start. The other one was the younger version of the Asian Terminator. Now they were both giving me the elevator eyes and were talking in their language to each other.

I hated being talked about by girls, now I had two girls talking about me right in front of my face that I couldn't fucking understand. Perfect.

"What your name again?" The Terminator whispered.

"Wendy" I simply answered. (Why the hell I came up with the name Wendy, I'll never know.)

They both looked at each other, the younger one nodded and they opened the door.

I felt like I was being aloud to enter the rice and blow job version of Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. I was getting the behind the scene action, bitch!

The smell of rice and sex became stronger as I entered the foggy area and I felt like I was going to be sick to my stomach. The lights were dimmed down low, I assumed they did this so no one could see that terminator was sporting a Tom Selleck stache.

They motioned me to sit on the love seat by the desk. I was thanking god I had leggings on, thinking that maybe they use the love seat when all the beds were filled up. Who knows what I could get on my legs. Those leggings went in the garbage when I got home.

As they were going through papers on the dusty desk, I casually looked at my surroundings. There were eight doors closed in a hallway with red lights outside each one, every single one was lit up. I assumed that's where the massages happened and all were occupied, considering there were quite a bit of cars in the back and no one was at the convenient store getting a watered down slurpee with a side of disease.

As I glanced at the 1995 mandarin magazines on the filthy coffee table, I noticed the bobsy twins approaching me.

"You work at place like this before?" asked the younger girl.

Okay, Hotto...think of something good, so they'll believe you. Oh, who are you kidding? All they're paying attention to is how much your tits are hanging out and how wide your mouth opens when you speak. Just emphasis on things they want to hear.

"Yes, the last place I worked at was just like this. It was a pleasure working for them. I'm so happy you guys are interviewing me. It's been a while since I met somebody this nice since I moved here from Maryland."

"You liked the customers, yes?" Smiled the Terminator STILL sporting the hot pink lipstick on her teeth.

"Oh yes, the gentlemen, I mean everyone was very nice to me." (insert cheesy grin here)

"Ohhhh hahahahaha" went the bobsy twins. You would have thought I was Jackie Chan on stand up.

"You start right away? You're pretty girl. I love your blonde hair." the younger girl gushed with excitement.

I told her I could start now if she wanted me to...I couldn't believe I said that, I was hoping they would vote for tomorrow - so I wouldn't have to come up with a lame excuse that I have jaw lock or sneeze when small objects are by my face.

She thankfully voted I start the following week and asked to leave my name and number.

"WENDY MATTHEWS (Insert Number of girl I really dislike.)"

Yay, I was accepted into the massage parlor world. Take that, bratty girl on playground who teased me when I was in the 2ND grade and said I couldn't play with her and her friends because they didn't like me. Psh, I have Asian whores that like me, you brat.

As I stood up to walk over to the desk, I saw a man walk out of a room that the red light was no longer lit. He adjusted his clothing and walked our way to the exit.

"Oooh, Harry. We will have new girl working next week." explained the Terminator.

Harry was old. Not grandfather clock old that he needed the blue pill but old enough that he could pass with flying colors if a child took him to school for "grandparent's day."

Harry looked at my goods and said "Bout time you got a new girl in here, Suz."

...Apparently Suz was the Terminator's name. And yeah, if I was Harry I would hope new girls would come in too, the terminator's stache looks like it would tickle the pickle a little.

"Well, sir I'm looking forward to working with you." I said, trying hard not to laugh.

I said my goodbyes to the bobsy twins hoping I wouldn't see them at a local restaurant and explain why "Wendy" never came back.

So, in conclusion I leave you with these statements:

1.) Zoey said she was ready to call the cops with how long I was gone for and I felt like I smelled like sex and rice the next three days

2.) If you ever go by there and think the convenient store is dirty I got news for you...the girls next door are dirtier.

3.) And unlike that parlor this story ends in no "happy ending"

XoX

Hotto

What happens in Vegas appears on this blog...Part 2

Part II: Rachel asked the question that I was wondering..."How much does this go far? That looks like a pound."

"Roughly 27,000 dollars." He stated.

Dear John Travolta, You are not a lawyer and if you are, I sure hope you have some good lawyer friends to back you up.

Rachel's eyes widened with disbelief. She acted like this was a rarity in Vegas. That's like having disbelief for seeing a fucking whale at Sea World. Moron.

This was not Rachel's first rodeo when it came to cocaine. She had done it a handful of times after she had graduated high school and was going through her lesbian phase. She thought it was a glamorous drug. If Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan did it, it has to be. However, I had never done anything but Advil, not even weed, so I was debating on whether to do it.

Not doing weed and skipping right to Cocaine is like skipping out on jumping off the monkey bars and going straight to sky diving. There's a slight difference in risk I do believe.

Now, I'm not going to reveal on whether both Rachel and I did it or if only one of us did. Some things I like to keep private. However, I will state that both John Travolta and his sidekick did indeed.

After holding back an urge to sneeze with the pound of coke in front of me, the sidekick packed it away and we continued on talking.

John Travolta became less attractive to me, especially with some left over coke underneath his left nostril. I had better taste than that.

And something was off about the sidekick as I had stated earlier, he seemed...weird.

Rachel suggested music and John told the sidekick to get out his laptop and make a playlist for us to jam to.

As a music fanatic, I stood behind the sidekick to see what songs he had and noticed he had a naked male as his wallpaper.

Um, what the hell?

So, I said it. "Why is there a naked man on your computer?"

All of a sudden it got quiet and both John and the sidekick looked at each other.

"Uh, he wants to look like him. That's his inspiration for his body building." John assured me.

Well, I wouldn't mind having the body of Jessica Alba but you don't see me having a naked picture of her on my computer. Oh, and body building my ass, the sidekick looks like he would have trouble carrying 2 cans of Campbell's pork and beans.

"Yeah, what he said." The sidekick softly spoke.

I glanced at his music library before I sat back down. Cher, Dolly Parton, Melissa Etheridge. The sidekick was definitely a fan of Rock Hudson if you know who he is. Which there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. But, the fact there was one bed...made this situation all the more fishy

I sat back down on a leather seat, folded my arms and stared at the ground, trying to figure out what was going on. I was ready to leave. Sadly, it wasn't that easy. I first had to pee...again.

I excused myself to the little girl's room and snooped in their bathroom for evidence on what their deal was after I peed. All of sudden as I was looking in another satchel bag, the door swung open in a dramatic way and there was John staring at me with my hand in one of their bags.

"Heyyyyy." I said with energy and a fake smile.

"What are you doing?"

"Umm, I was looking fo..."

"Condoms weren't you? I've got it covered. I'm the man, I should be the one to provide that for our lovemaking." He says as he smiles.

Dear John Travolta, 1.) Lovemaking? Really? In Ohio when it's with a stranger we call it sex or fucking. 2.) Unless you plan on filming a sex ed video by putting the condoms on bananas from room service - you can forget about the need of condoms tonight.

"Umm, No. I was looking for some toothpaste. The alcohol gave me a bad taste in my mouth." I stated.

He handed me some gum, took my hand and escorted me out of the bathroom. Ugh, without me washing my hands first.

I could tell it was not going to be easy to get out of here.

Once again, he pushed me up against the wall and got in my face and was about to kiss me when all of a sudden I sneezed. I told you I had to sneeze earlier when the cocaine was on the table.

"Bless me." I simply said and began to laugh.

"Are you ready?" He said while pinning my arms against the wall.

"Ready? Ready for the war to end? Ready for Donald Trump to admit he has a toupee? Ready for my mother to quit treating me like I'm 14 years old? Ready for you to give me my personal space? Yeah, I'm ready for all four."

Well, he didn't look thrilled by my comment and asked how we could get rid of my friend.

Yeah, good luck with that, Buck-o. She's like a bad disease you can't get rid of.

I took my unwashed hands, planted them on his face and attempted to use some of my mediocre acting skills from theatre.

"Don't you worry, I'll get rid of her and we'll be able to make love." ...I felt like I was going to bust out laughing when saying that to him. I had to bite down on my tongue a couple times.

Well, this little statement I uttered had him jumping with joy and he went to the phone to order some champagne and strawberries. Which gave me enough time to think of my next move.

Sidekick boy was staring at his laptop in a seductive manner, probably looking at a photo of Ashton Kutcher without his shirt on. He was coked out and in his own little world, I wasn't worried about what he was gonna do.

I sat next to Rachel and told her that John Travolta was psycho and it was definitely time to go. She agreed and told me she had seen a gun in the other room but didn't want to freak me out.

...Great 27,000 dollars worth of coke in a bag, an angry man who is determined to make love to me, a gun in the other room, Dolly Parton playing on a laptop, and me having to pee...again.

What was I going to do? What would Jesus do?

Well, knowing that Jesus first would have probably hit me in the head with a bible and then make me live in some Holy Water for the next year, I was going to pass on what he would do.

I decided to just go with my gut feeling and do whatever came to mind.

Which was to pee again. FYI when I drink I have the bladder of a 98 year old woman.

So, I told Rachel to distract John while I went to pee so I could actually wash my hands this time.

She did and I came back to find them arguing. Loudly.

Which wasn't in my plans of getting us out of there.

As he was about to charge over to her and get in her face as well, I stepped in front of him and did the first thing I could think of that would make him stop.

I kissed him.

It took everything in my power to kiss that man and I remember his mouth tasting like a combined taste of peppermint patties and oranges.

"Let me get her a cab, you get rid of your friend, and you can have me any which way you want me when I come back in an hour." I offered.

He stood there for a second, looked at her and then looked at me and agreed to it, as long as I promised to come back and to give him my number so he can text me when I'm gone.

Wow! Really? He thinks I'm going to give him my real number?

I could have given him another phoney number but I wanted to do something to make myself laugh later....I gave him 330-867-5309. This was the start to giving out Jenny's number.

After we finally got out of the penthouse, we hauled ass out of there not looking back. It was 10 am Vegas time, and we had the same dresses on as we did the previous night at 8pm.

If you've ever been to Vegas you will know the morning look is nothing out of the ordinary. It's like the state of Nevada's jogging attire. More people are seen with a dress from last night on at 8am then they are with jogging shorts.

So in conclusion, I leave you with these statements:

1.) I hate watching John Travolta movies now.

2.) That was just one of the many stories from Vegas.

3.) When I hear Dolly Parton I always think of that night.

4.) I just now realized after writing this entry that I kissed him after rubbing my unwashed hands on his face. Gross.

xox

hotto