My Rendezvous with Mr. Wrong – the Perfect Day Off

7 Sep

I got a full night sleep before my Rendezvous with Mr. Wrong.
I texted a couple days before that I would be in town.

We know each other from previous, non-brothel business dealings in the Catering Biz.
While I no longer deal with the catering biz (obviously), I am still friends with one of his carpool buddies/co-workers, Jim, who I’ve become fast friends with since he’s such a cool dude. He knows what I do and we joke that his 40th bday will be a huge “BLOW OUT” here at my work.

But – Back to Mr. Wrong.
First off, I’m a PRO.
I figure our rendezvous will turn routine.
What does this mean?
Time to fire up the old ho phone.

A text to Mr. Wrong saying, “hey, this is my new number, save me under a guy’s name in your phone” reduces the chances of us getting caught.

Mr. Wrong said he wouldn’t be carpooling with Jim that night to the winery. Instead he’d drive himself, and tell him that he’d be staying at a friends house close by.

And instead of going home, he’d go to my house.

Mr. Wrong is calling me from the drive down.
Jim is swaying down the windy road in front of him.
“He must be texting you!” says Mr. Wrong.
My other phone lights up:
The Text says, “I know where he’s going!” says Jim.

Mr. Wrong says, “I’ll be there in an hour! Can you drive to the store to get beer?”
“I’m already on my way there!” I say.
“Jim needs to stop texting you, his driving is terrible!” Says Mr. Wrong.

So I call Jim.
Jim says, “I was telling you about how he’s going to Eric’s house. HI ERIC!”
We both laugh together because we both know that I am Eric.

Two seconds later, my ho phone rings – Mr. Wrong again!

I’m great at a real life three-way but a hooker driving a car with one phone on each ear?

That’s a sight to behold.
Once they each figure out what I’m doing, we all laugh.

It’s great to get caught together and have no shame!

We’re liberal motherfuckers, and our secret is safe to the grave.

He showed up at my door…white shirt and black pants…with the faint smell of food and sweat.
He’s got a look that could burn a hole in a girls panties.

The drinking begins!
You’d think Mr. Wrong would be all about the fucking.
But, maybe that love letter I wrote to him did something. A little more value is there than before.
We catch up on life.
He requests that I serenade him on the piano.
He tells me how he would love to learn to play one day.

I bought him a pack of cigarettes but I’m an ex smoker with no lighter.
out come the giant kitchen matches, and I take a drag or two of his Pall Malls on the front porch.

Crucial innebriation levels kick in.
He asks me what pills I have….
Of course.

I have been holding onto the Viagra for some time. A gift from an ex-client of mine.
We decide it would be the perfect day for each of us to take one.
I don’t know how well old Viagra works…but swear to you, I’ve never been so horny in my life.
Every angle leaves me thinking,

We melt into oblivion…..sunlight peering through my window.
Mr. Wrong is particularly relaxed when we wake up.
We spend an hour or so in the swimming pool on a perfect Southern California day.
I thank him later via text for contributing to making my life so much easier.
“I had a good time too.” He says.


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