I have to admit, it was an interesting way to be hooked
up, but it was well worth it. We had known each other
for several years, but neither of us had ever expressed
an interest in the other outright. Until her roommate,
with whom I was doing a show, told me she had asked how
to get me to go out with her on a friendly date. So the
friend in the show asked me to just call her. So I did.
When I did, she was nonplussed, but simply asked, “So
when are you free?”

“When do you want me to be free?”

“Don’t be a smartass. What about tonight?”

No slow worker, this one. “Okay, your place at, say,
seven?”

“Cool. Dress is casual. Don’t plan on keeping your
clothes on all night.”

Whoa! This girl was abrupt!

“No problem,” I said, wondering what the hell she had in
mind. I knew she had a reputation for the bizarre, but
who was I to judge? I knew what I liked, and for all I
knew, she might like the same.

Smartly at seven, I arrived at her apartment to find her
in a tight red sweater, showing off her newly acquired
body. She had lost more than fifty pounds in the past
year, although none of it was lost from her breasts. Red
hair to the shoulder, and a short red skirt under the
sweater, and her whole body glowed. Red leggings, red
heels, and for the kicker, a red lace cameo choker (I
was really enjoying the fact that this little item was
so much in vogue).

She was not wearing the glasses that I occasionally saw
perched on her nose, which made no difference, since the
first thing you saw when she walked up was not her eyes.

“Well? Are ya just gonna stand there, or are you coming
in?”

I stepped in, slowly, still not sure what was going on.
“Where are your roomies?”

She smirked. “Oh, they all went out for the night. We’ve
got the place to ourselves.” She turned on some music,
Pearl Jam, loudly enough to cover several other noises
in the building. “Come on, I made food.”

“Food? What for?”

“Well, you’re gonna need your strength tonight. Sit.
Pasta con broccoli, with a generous helping of mushrooms
to build up the sexual appetite.” She didn’t beat around
the bush!

“To drink, I thought wine would be nice, but I figured
we should have some hard stuff to chase it with.” She
poured two shots of Southern Comfort. “Here’s to fucking
like animals.”

“Cheers!” I downed it.

Southern Comfort is famous for picking up the libido,
and everything else in the room was made to order for a
night of unending sex. I smelled trap, but I was too
turned on to even try doing anything about it. She
downed hers, then poured herself another and passed me
the bottle.