This story made me laugh out loud in large part because I recall trying to channel Madonna in my younger years and ending up looking like a dancing Elaine from Seinfeld!
Thanks to Kris at Pretty All True for this hilarious story!
Have you ever just missed something? COMPLETELY?
And then, years later, many years later... you are perhaps sitting lazily in front of your television and an image flashes before your eyes. And a realization is made, something you were supposed to have realized immediately many, many years before, but which you did not? And you are jolted to alertness.
Many years ago... all the way back to sometime in the 1980's. During the time period I call my six months of slut.
Good times, people. Good times.
Ok, so I arrive at this guy's house for our second date. We have no plans to go anywhere because for our first date? We had planned to go to the movies but instead we stayed in, drank a lot and had sex. Way fun! So this time? We just plan to have sex.
That's what six months of slut means people.
Ok, so we drink a lot and we eat some pizza and pretend that we might possibly be soul mates (what with our common interest in fucking and all.)
And then I am naked. Which is awesome. And he is not. Which is puzzling.
But I can work with this. I walk over and sit in his lap so that we are face to face. This turns out to be a fabulous idea. For a bit.
And then he whispers in my ear that he has a fantasy he would like to share with me. S omething I could do that would be so amazingly sexy. He pulls me close.
Bring this fantasy on, baby! I lean eagerly in to catch his words.
And he says, "I want you to be a cat."
And I think to myself...he wants to fuck a cat? Uh oh. He's into cats? That's weird, right?
Ok, but I have already sold myself as a woman who will do anything. A woman who is free and daring and sexually adventurous. Now I'm going to balk at being a kitty-cat? Not fucking even.
I down the rest of my drink, hoping that a slight bit more incoherence will keep me from giggling.
So he stays in his chair, fully dressed and I lower myself to the floor. Naked.
After a few too many drinks? In a state of giggly high-sexual arousal?
I try to become an actual cat.
I figure purring is a good start. So I purr. I do that head rubbing thing cats do against his leg.
I am completely unable to stop giggling. Being a cat is so fucking stupid and hilarious!
Ok, hold on... deep breaths.
And then I consider for a moment, unable to decide if a cat would crawl on its hands and knees? Or on forearms and knees? I try both, and then settle on forearms as that means my ass is higher. That's probably the effect I'm supposed to be going for here, right?
Head down? Or up?
FUCK. I should have asked him for more specific directions before I started catting it up.
I spot one of my socks and I ball it up. A cat toy! I bat it around the room. Like a cat. Duh. I am all playful and shit.
I glance at him as I bat my cat toy and the look on his face.
It's not good.
And I am still naked.
And he is clothed.
And so now I am feeling even less cat-like than I was because seriously... if a man asks a woman to pretend to be a cat and she gets down on all fours like an idiot and crawls about the room? Shouldn't the crawling humiliation only last for about 5 seconds before there is pouncing of a sexual kind? Duh.
But I am down here now. Annoyed but determined. I glare at the clothed man, but he says nothing. I sit up for a moment and think. I will win him over with my method-acting catness! I am going to make this work.
Let's see... what do cats do?
Pantomimed the whole face washing thing. Paws and licking and everything.
Because I can see from his face that this is still not quite enough?
I am a CAT, damn it!
The still clothed man?
Fuck this, I am not a cat.
So I stand up, pour myself a shot of tequila and drink it down.
And then I say, "OK asshole, I dont know what sort of bestiality crap you are into but I am done with the cat thing. So fuck the woman before you or I am out of here."
And then there was sex.
That's what six months of slut means, people.
And there was no more talk of cats.
And I never saw him again.
Because he was a cat-fucking freak... duh.
Fast-forward many, many years. And I am sitting lazily on my couch watching MTV... a collection of videos from the late 1980's. And suddenly, the screen is filled with Madonna's song "Express Yourself."
And then there is Madonna, slinking about the floor like a cat. All sultry and long and lean and sensuous. As feline as can be. Way fucking sexy.
That's what he wanted.
Not actual cat.
(Note: if you've sent me a G-Spot story, I promise to get to it! If you'd like to send one, email me and I'll give you the details. Thanks!)