After setting up three little lines on a free table in his room, Mr. Hollywood hands over two cut straws to Serenity and me, insisting that, “C’mon!!! We need to keep this night going foreverrrrrrrrrr!!!” Hopping off the nightstands and humbly obliging, Serenity and I partake of the powder and continue to frantically fight over the iPad to play “MYYYYY song next!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Enthralled and entranced in the house and trance now echoing out throughout Mr. Hollywood’s mansion, Serenity and I hop and jump and skip and clap in place while Mr. Hollywood takes his turn with his yak.
Me: Serenity!!! *hopping in place and taking Serenity’s hands in mine* This is the greatest night everrrrrrrr!! *giddy with glee*
Serenity: *dancing in place with her hands in mine* Oh my God baby I know!! I’m having so much fun! I don’t wanna leave tomorrow or everrrrrr!! Can we please move in!! I wanna move in with him!!!!! I Facebooked him already! Heheheheee! We’re moving in yaaaaaaaaaaaay!!
Me: *still jumping up and down but lowering my tone to a serious nature* Listen…we’re in his bedroom, we’re dancing around his KING SIZED BED…I have a feeling he’s gonna try to rope us into a three-some. I’m not down for that…
Serenity: *matching my seriousness* Oh honey, neither am I…what do we do if he tries?
Me: Well… *thinking sternly* here’s what we do: We put our shoes back on, grab our clutches, and run out the door. When we get onto the street, make a left and we RUN FOR OUR LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES until we get onto Hollywood Blvd! Then we’re home free…deal?
Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not down for threesomes with two guys or close girlfriends. Fucking two guys at one time is just plain slutty, and, believe it or not, I’m actually nothing of the sort…REALLY! Scout’s honor. *crickets* Seriously, though…OK, well actually I’m quite slutty, just not a SLUT. There’s a difference. The explanation is for another time though. Threesomes with close girlfriends never works out either because then it feels incestual and completely counter-intuitive to your casual sex life. I like to compare it to having sex with a neighbor’s cat: You really like the cat, like playing with it when it’s around, enjoy its company and have no problem saying goodbye once it’s gone…but then if you FUCK IT, afterwards you wonder why the fuck you would DOOOOOOOOO SUCH A THING!!!!! and you feel nothing but shame, remorse, and anxiety every time you see that cat again….yes this is how I would liken threesomes with close girlfriends..just a big no-no in my book.
As Serenity gets back on her designated nightstand and continues to dance away in an elevated isolation, Mr. Hollywood comes over and takes my hands in his, both of us dancing and giggling with one another when he asks
Mr. Hollywood: Oh my God…let’s do MDMA!
Me: (What the fuck who calls it that…? Oh…the pure form of Ecstasy. What the fuck? Do we call meth “methamphetamines”? NO! Do we call eating out “cunningulus”? NO! Do we call butt sex………hmm….I need to get back to this one) MDMA? You mean MOLLY? Haha nooooooooooo we shouldn’t do it what the fuck! *currently satisfied with the amount of drugs ALREADY in my system* What do we need to do Molly for it’s almost morning!
Mr Hollywood: *a look of mild hurt in his eyes* I just don’t ever want this night to end I wanna do this for the rest of the weeek….!!
Me: *undoubtedly disarmed by his charm* Ooooh….me too….*pulling on his arm* Come on come show me the rest of the house! *prancing out of his bedroom and leading him along with me*
Making my way out of his bedroom, I turn my head left then right, undecided as to which avenue and door I’d like to partake. There are SEVERAL doors, all of which are opened, all of which have a queen-sized bed and an 80-inch flat screen TV in them. Hmm…I feel like I’m in Wonderland and I’m Alice following the little white rabbit, except the little white rabbit influencing all my decisions (or lack thereof) happens to be an illegal white substance coursing its way through my veins with every irregularly rapid beat of my heart…ooooooooooh how bout THIS door! In a frolic of excitement and curiosity, I yank Mr. Hollywood along with me into another bedroom, finding a door on the far wall, which leads outside. YESSSSS!!!
Still toting him along behind me, I thrust open the doors and find myself amidst a balcony overlooking the backyard, the pool and the waterfall illuminated and sparking from Mr. Hollywood’s prior spur-of-the-moment creeper debut in the kitchen with the remote. Finally letting him go, I prance out onto the cold back balcony and run and jump and siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing along to the songs playing from inside the house, Mr. Hollywood following my lead. In my spandex black dress and now barefoot, I can feel the cold, wet, cement on my feet and feel Mr. Hollywood’s warm body press up against mine and his muscular arms wrap around me from behind, snuggly surrounding my waist towards him as he presses his lips onto the back of my head, his hot breath teasingly sending chills throughout my whole body. Before I can get desperately disarmed and immersed in the moment, I spot a black metal ladder off to the side against the wall of the house, leading to an unknown location. Pointing to it, I ask Mr. Hollywood where that goes, to which he replies that it leads up onto his “work in progress.” Entirely too intrigued with the site of the ladder and the sound of his description, I break from Mr. Hollywood’s grasp and climb carelessly up the ladder, indecently incognizant of the fact that my dress at this point is riding half-way up my ass…oops! Mr. Hollywood following close behind me, I get to the top of the ladder and see a wide-open rooftop cabana area, adorned with patio furniture, a fire pit, and a grill. Looking out from on top of the roof, I can see the entire city illuminated and iridescent in the moonlight, the palm trees black and beckoning against the gray night sky, as I let out a deep breath and a soundless, “Wow.” Making his way up next to me, now side-by-side as we look out beyond, Mr. Hollywood stands silent as we both soak in the sight of the city, our city, currently grounded in between the falling moon and the rising sun, shades of amber, gray, and navy blue collectively cascading and fighting their way across the early morning sky.
Lasciviously looking my way, Mr. Hollywood pulls me close and wraps his arms behind me, parting and protruding his lips and he inches his face into mine. Knowing DAMN WELL that I have considerably undesirable cotton mouth at this point (it tastes and feels like I’ve been sucking and chewing on cotton and peanut butter simultaneously for hours) I think, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” as Mr. Hollywood seeks to cease and arrest me with his kiss. Our lips now touching and both of us now realizing that we both have ungratifyingly grotesque textures in our mouths, Mr. Hollywood and I both let out a impromptu, “BLEGH EEEEEEWWWW!” in unison as we taste and turn-off to how gross we both are. “Hahaha let’s get some water and makeout!” he screams at me, both of us now in hysterics over how undeniably romantic the moment WOULD HAVE been had it not been for how coked out and gross our mouths are. Eww. I can still taste that shit as I type. Nothing like the casualties of coke to ruin romance.
Now following him back into the house, I find Serenity still dancing in place by herself in the far corner of Mr. Hollywood’s bedroom. “I saaaaaaaaaaw you!!” she taunts at me, still lost in her self-isolated lust. I find myself blushing at Serenity’s tease, as I notice a faint feeling of weakness at the thought of Mr. Hollywood. Initially, I wanted to fuck his brains out and give him a generic name like BOB on my blog, making sure I never speak to or speak about him ever again after the night. Now with a coked-out crush of endearment pulsating throughout my body, I detect warm, fuzzy feelings for Mr. Hollywood. Now I just wanna snuggle. No! NOW I WANNA TELL HIM I LOVE HIM!!! I’M IN LOVE WITH MR. HOLLYWOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I SHOULD TELL HIM! People love hearing that people love them! Right? Especially from strange, girls they meet in the club and bring back to their bachelor pad to pump em full of blow and dance around aimlessly…right? Oooh…probably not. As I sit here and contemplate whether or not to propose to Mr. Hollywood, Serenity asks him
Serenity: Mr. Hollywood, exactly how old are you?
Mr. Hollywood: How old do you THINK I am? *giggling at the little game he’s starting*
Me: (OK he’s probably not 27…) You’re 30.
Mr. Hollywood: *shaking his head* Nope.
Mr. Hollywood: Nope…but you’re within four years of how old I am…
Serenity and Me: *both letting out the words slowly…knowing damn well that if we’re wrong he is WAAAAAAAAAAY too old for us to be doing cocaine with at 5 o’clock in the morning after having come home with him from the club* Thirty………twoo………..? *waiting in awkward anticipation*
Mr. Hollywood: *giggling slightly at realizing how weirded out Serenity and I will be if he says, “No”* Haha…nooooooooooo…..
Serenity and Me: *appalled in disbelief at his denial* FORTY?!!?!?!?!?!??!!?!?!??!!?!
Mr. Hollywood: *laughing, however, not disturbed by our reaction* Haha YUP!
Me: *baffled and taken aback by his admonition* Holy shit yeah right! You are not 40 years old! You could be my father if you were in the hood! (Oh how inappropriate of me to say…quick say something else! Compliment him instead!) You don’t even look Botoxed! (Yeah that’ll do it that’s a nice thing to hear at his age, right?)
Mr. Hollywood: Haha…thanks…?
Still two-stepping and dancing around one another, Serenity admits that she’s crashing really hard and desperately wants to go to sleep. Mr. Hollywood and I are hurt by this, as the three of us take each other’s hands in a collective realization that our epic night of debauchery is now coming to a close. Having been doing more lines since Serenity stopped, Mr. Hollywood and I demand we do JUST ONE MORE rendition of “My Heart Will Go On” before Serenity calls it a night, as she allows us to lead her back to the piano for another attempt at a superstar ensemble. After one try at the piano (I couldn’t play for the life of me at this point and we were all too tired to trudge on), Serenity makes her way into one of the guest bedrooms, demanding that I wake her up in two hours (8 am) and fuck Mr. Hollywood unrelentingly in the meantime. I snuggle up next to her, spooning her from behind, and tell Serenity that the best thing to do to weather a comedown is practice mindfulness, warning her that, “WHATEVER YOU DO…DON’T GET CARRIED AWAY WITH YOUR THOUGHTS!” now kissing her goodnight and closing the door softly behind me.
Before making my way into Mr. Hollywood’s bedroom, I saunter into another guest bedroom and swing open the closet doors, hoping to get a better glimpse into who the hell I’d be sharing a bed with tonight. Hmm…OK, no dead bodies, no pickaxes, just shoes, sports gear, and sweaters. OK. Fine. I cross the hall and make my way into a different bedroom. In similar fashion with the last, I YAAAANK open the closet doors, expecting to find children’s or women’s clothing…I find neither. Convinced that I’m not going to bed with a serial killer and/or married family man, I shrug off my endeavor and head back into Mr. Hollywood’s room, finding him over in his closet putting on pajamas, as he tosses a t-shirt my way. Pulling his shirt over my head, I slip off my dress and unhook my bra, letting both fall to my feet as Mr. Hollywood and I both JUUUUMP into his white, plush down-filling filled bed, with six pillows placed deliberately against the wall. Awesome fuckin bed man. I ask him what his mattress pad is made of, he tells me I can have it. Sweet. As we fluff our pillows and situate ourselves comfortably into one another, Mr. Hollywood lays upright on his back and I on my side, as he wraps his right arm sweetly and snuggly around my back, me now throwing my right leg across his stomach and engulfing him with my arms and legs, much like that of a koala on a eucalyptus tree. I feel his heart racing from underneath my palm and he kisses my head and breathes deeply, as I remind myself that I’m in no condition to fuck tonight. Besides, he DEFINITELY won’t be able to get it up. For the next ten minutes or so, as we both make feeble attempts to fall asleep, Mr. Hollywood and I continue to giggle and snuggle, both too weak to speak but both too awake to sleep…
Mr. Hollywood: *slurring and soft, his lips against my head and hair* Soo….what do you wanna do?
Me: *matching his speech, my eyes still closed, teasingly and weakly* I dunno…what do YOU wanna do…?
It’s now 6:30 in the morning and we both need to be up by 8…what can we do….?
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