last night, the office rendezoused at a swanky midtown bar/restaurant to drink, eat, and boogie down (the last part was especially humorous). i set my limit at three baileys due to previous party experiences.
at the office summer party, on a little "cruise" around manhattan, the had the gaul to offer a cash bar. i solved this dilemma by tucking my roommate's flask between my garter belt and the top of my stockings. my coworker's partner (they have been together since they were fifteen, they are the cutest dyke couple i know) took turns nipping our diet cokes. when the boat docked, we headed over to henrietta hudson's for more drinking. the had to cab me to the train.
but the christmas party the year before takes the cake. it was held in the office penthouse (not acceptable), although there was an open bar. so i drank lots and lots of baileys in the holiday spirit. and i started feeling randy. we were playing the who in the office do you find fuckable game, and laughing at our lack of selection. so, i stumbled down the stairs to my desk to make a booty call. and another call. then post a craigslist ad. at which point my friend of a decade and former three-time boyfriend, and occasional fuck, gave me a call. i was lamenting my predicament and he offered his cock. my nipples perked (the slut's equivalent to a lightbulb going on).
i checked travelocity and discovered a flight leaving to detroit in a little under two hours. i walked out of the office, flagged a cab, and entered laguardia. now, you can't book a flight online that close to take off. so i approached the ticket sales counter. i welled up the tears and improvised a story of my uncle having a heart attack and is in the hospital and we don't know if he'll be okay. i kept up this facade through the personal search and onto the plane (bad bad karma, i know, but he isn't dead yet and his heart is ticking strong).
on the plane, i take inventory. i'm in a full length vintage hippy dress. i need underwear, a pair of pants, a toothbrush, various other necessities. however, i do have my zippy vibrator. i slip over the old couple next to me, offering me grapes and crackers from their cooler, into the lavatory. once there, i twist the base of my zippy onto high and tuck it snug between my lips, hood, and panties. then i stroll back to my seat. thank god zippies are so quiet and airplanes are so loud. i put my headphones on and fake a nap as i clench my pc muscles through fantasy after fantasy and a series of satisfying orgasms. when i've had enough, i make sure the airline blanket covers my lap up to my tits. i reach down and lift my skirt to discreetly remove the zippy. i suck it clean with my face to the window and drop it back in my bag, dozing sweetly for the rest of the flight.
once in detroit, my pal is there. we head to meijers for panties and sweat pants. then we stop by a little caesar's for a five dollar pizza. and a video store for porn (little runaways, so hot hot hot). in the red jeep where i almost lost my virginity (damn cops), there is groping and sucking and all sorts of hands as we rush back to his apartment. in the door, to the room, down the condom, on the cock, good times.
after or third round, i'm already beginning to get sore. i regret that i don't have any lube with me. he questions the concept, saying i'm more than wet enough. i explain the wonders of lube. like a good boy he picks some up on his way home from work in the morning. so there was a weekend of sex in a far off city, where i left my pink lace panties dangling from the kitchen lighting fixture, all due to the holiday office party.