Why’d you have to pee the bed?

28 Aug

It’s been a slow few days here.

Granted, I have kept track of all of the parties I’ve had since I have been here, and since August the 5th my tally is at about 80 parties.


I have this fantasy that if I hit my 100th client of the month before I went home, I would have sirens go off and confetti fly and streamers fall down and I would say CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE MY 100TH CLIENT OF THE MONTH!

But alas, I think I will be heading home before that fantasy will happen.

Speaking of fantasy, picture if you will, a foxy gray haired man.

This gray haired man had already paid good money to party with a cute blonde girl, but he hadn’t gone back to party with her. He looked me up and down while thinking out loud and the only word he said was “Amazing.”

After which he said, “How late are you working? I will be back in an hour.”

An hour passes and both the bartender and the manager make a beeline for me as I’m talking with another customer, as if to say “Look this guy wants to talk to you NOW, and he’s gonna pay you good money.”

So I find him. We chat.

He pays me a nice four digit number for the hour.

We were chatting a bit before that, and he tells me he’s an entrepreneur, has a bunch of employees under him…combine this with his handsome looks and that salt and pepper hair, and he’s the picture of every brothel girl’s fantasy: We all wonder when we get a good one,  “Hey, is this Mr. Moneybags who’s going to sweep me off my feet? Is this the guy who’s going to take me away from here?”

I wonder this not because he’s THE GUY, but because he’s the picture of THAT GUY…fiscally responsible…so handsome…clearly finds me very charming. It would be so EASY.

We go into a nice bungalow to have our hour long session.

It’s fun and all.

He’s giddy.

He makes me laugh.

He tells me I am “quirky.”

We have sex, and he falls asleep.

I lie awake staring at the ceiling…thankful for the money I just made.

He wakes up.

He’s frisky again.

I notice…oh hey, the condom slipped off.

I try to retrieve the condom to throw it away.

I notice, “oh hey, it’s AWFULLY FULL.”

I quickly walk from the bed to the trashcan in the bathroom.

I figure, ok…he peed a little bit in the condom….no biggie…no mess.

Its dripping as I walk.

Pee is sterile.

It’s cool.

I wash my hands.

No big deal.

Then I get back to the bed.

By this time he has sprang to action to get up to pee.

I get back to the bed to realize…

no no, it wasn’t just the condom that was full.

Dude fully wet the bed while he was sleeping.

I quickly  try to arrange the sheets in some fashion to maybe cover up the fact that he peed. He was underneath the covers…so I’m trying to fold sheets…BUT NO. The pee keeps seeping through.


Then he decides he wants to spoon! He wants to spoon on top of his pee!

And I’m there, the smaller spoon…with the dampness beneath  me…crinkling my nose…

And my whole entire fantasy is ruined.

There will be no outside contact when a guy wets the bed.

This will not be a guy I will speak to again.

I make NO MENTION of the bed wetting thing. I just try to pretend it doesn’t exist.

And after that…it was like the perfect man was no more. And the realization of why Mr. Perfect doesn’t have a girlfriend, and why he’s here…..all comes into focus.


Oh well. It was fun for a little bit.

I think I’ve seen it all now.


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