Smut

I’ve worked in plenty of restaurants. Fun places to work really. The majority of people there are living for the minute and mostly easy to get along with.

You have to be. Going face to face with the public everyday, you have to have an amiable nature. Friendships form quickly in restaurants. If you work at a decent/big enough joint, the money comes pretty easy and the party comes easier. I had a job where we all got together all the time. Usually around 20 of us. One summer we busted our asses. Killing it. Afterwards, we were getting slicked til dawn. Every night.

There was a girl named Erin who had been working with us for about two weeks. She was only in town for the summer. Erin had attracted a fair amount of attention from the fellas, and we had a crew full of hotties. Long brown hair, blue eyes and an easy smile. A slight twang in her voice and a blossom laugh. A complete sweetheart with an edge to her and undeniable sex appeal. She looked like she had fun.

The guys had been talking about fucking her since the day she entered the building. Not real conversations. No one was really planning on taking a run at her. But Erin had been put through the ringer in the ruminations of almost every dude there. The entire sexual spectrum had been explored with this girl in our passing conversations. You really learn about some of your friends during this time. Mostly it’s just basic “I’d fuck her in (location), like an (exotic animal, preferably endangered) and cum on her face/tits/hair/mouth/up in her/on the wall/everywhere!” But every now and then…

“I’d let her shit on my face,” said my friend Greg one day to absolutely no one in particular. He just kinda said it.

Standing alone, gazing at nothing, his mouth hanging open.

Creepy.

One night, we were finishing up. Erin approached me and asked if I was going out that night. Sure I was, we go out every night. She asked if she could have a ride from the restaurant to the bar after work. She didn’t mention how she’d get home. I honestly didn’t think anything of it at the time. There was no way this girl was coming on to me. I listened to (shared) the sentiments of my friends, but other than that I didn’t pay her any attention. She was out of my league. Not a better or worse league than mine, just a different one.

Why would she want to go with me? I had spoken to this girl twice maybe? I figured she perhaps trusted me since I hadn’t openly drooled on her. Or she thought I was safest since I wouldn’t drive all fucked up. Maybe she thought since I also wrote for the newspaper I had money and I would buy her drinks. I finally convinced myself she probably thought I was gay.

We drove to the bar, just a couple blocks down the road. We did an exploratory question-and-answer session with each other on the way and before you know it we’re 20-deep, draining kegs and fifths of vodka left and right. It was your basic hole in the wall. We all drank and danced. Some sang shitty karaoke, others got high in the parking lot. I acted like a dumbass, telling stupid jokes and leading a tablewide pledge of allegiance to the american flag on Erin’s shirt.

It was a 3 a.m. bar and Erin and I were the last to leave. We said goodbye to the karaoke guy packing up his stuff and escaped into the night. In an empty parking lot next to a long, barren highway, her blitz began. She caught me flatfooted.

“So,” she said, backing me against the side of my car. “I think you should do something.”

“Oh really? What’s that?”

“I think you should kiss me,” she purred.

“Oh. Okay.”

And away we went. She lunged into me, mouth agape, grinding on my waist and clutching the back of my head. Still a little surprised at the turn of events, I grasped to match her intensity. I didn’t even know this girl had liked me.

Maybe she didn’t.

But there we were. Erin pinning me to the side of my car. Soft moans escaping her lips, she was in control. She pulled on my scruff. She nibbled my ears and ran her hands up and down my chest. I kissed and sucked on her neck. I tasted a powerful blast of perfume. I held her head close into my shoulder while I worked my arm up and licked the sleeve of my shirt until the taste went away. I’m smooth!

The tease of being in a parking lot worked her frenzy into an uncontrollable froth. She started scratching a little bit. Then she started to scratch a lot. And bite.

“Oww!” I yelped.

“Sorry. You okay?” she said looking worried.

I tasted blood. “Yeah I’m good.”

Her concern morphed into a jokerish grin. “I’m not the way you think I am.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. I didn’t think she was anything.

“Guess what? Both my nipples are pierced. Do you believe me?”

“Yeah I believe…”

“Oh yeah?” Erin interrupted. “Now do you believe me?!?” She pulled down her shirt to show me her pierced tits. Looked painful.

“Those look cool.” My pickup lines need work.

She kissed me harder and fumbled at my zipper. The grin came back.

“How big is your dick?”

“Umm…I don’t know.”

That was honest. I’ve never been in any dick-measuring contests. I hear they’re fun.

“Is it gonna tear me up?”

“Sure…if you want it to. I guess. I mean if you really want it to. It will.”

“Let’s see!”

She shot down my pants and took a handful.

“Oh good!”

I completely bought in at this point. This shit was hot. I had dated (somewhat) reputable girls. Students, nurses and schoolteachers and shit like that. I got laid all the time, but it wasn’t crazy “I want your cock in the parking lot immediately” type of getting laid.

“Yeah? It’s good?”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna tear me up. That’s good.”

“Thanks. Wait. Huh?”

She pulled my pants down, exposing me to the cool night air.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Oh wow. I don’t know. What did you have in mind?” Pathetic.

She laughed. “You’re so funny!”

“Yeah. I am.”

She knelt down awkwardly and looked up at me. She had the biggest smile on her face. This was going to be awesome for all the wrong reasons.

She looked back down and “BLAR!” She threw up all over my crotch. It was five seconds tops, quick but powerful. I was slathered. My knees and thighs all the way up to and around my boner-of-the-year candidate. I didn’t know what she ate that night, but I knew it was chunky and I was gonna need to buy some intensive cleaning products.

“I’m so sorry!” You know how sometimes when you throw up you feel immediately better and back to normal? She seemed perfectly fine. Just a jet propulsion upchuck and it was like nothing had happened. Except me having her stomach gravy all in my pants. She arose, with vomit smeared across her cheeks. There had been splashing.

We got in the car to make the short trip home. I looked up, and the karaoke guy was sitting up on the ledge. He had been there the whole time, watching us in silence. I made eye contact with him and he didn’t look away. Not knowing what to do, I shot him a cocky, chin-high nod as if he saw some shit that happens to me all the time. Like what he saw was exactly the way I planned it all to go down. I really hope I never run into that guy again.

I rarely get real quiet, but I didn’t have anything to say at this point. I don’t have a “hey it’s cool, don’t worry about puking on my balls” Hallmark Card in my repertoire. Erin asked me to not tell anyone at work and that she was really sorry. That we would have to get together another time without the drinking/music/scene. I liked the idea.

Maybe she did like me.

We were about a half-block from Erin’s house. She kissed her hand and pressed it to my cheek. She pointed to her house, it was the only one on the block with the porch light on. We got closer and I noticed someone in the front yard. It was 4 a.m. It was a big dude. He wasn’t very happy.

I slowed up to let her off and he rushed the car. Her man was amped, screaming and waving his arms. The sun was coming up and a strange guy was dropping off his girl. There was no explanation I could give this meathead that would save me getting my ass beat, so I sped off.

“What are you doing? You have to let me off!”

“I am letting you off. I’m just letting you off down here. What the fuck? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We just live together.”

“You have got to be shitting me…”

“He’s not gonna do anything.”

Not gonna do anything? I looked in my rearview mirror and her man was doing full-body Hulk Hogan flexes at me in the middle of the street. Meanwhile my asscheeks had combined with her popped balloon to create a soup sandwich. I wasn’t going to be a part of this noise.

“I’m sorry Erin but…” I trailed off.

“Don’t worry about it.” She got out of the car with a final “sorry.” I went home, scrubbed up and went to bed. I didn’t see Erin again for a few days. I didn’t bring it up and she didn’t either. A couple days later Erin got fired for telling our manager to “suck my dick”. A classy yet confusing insult, it got her the pink slip.

No one really heard from her ever again. The weeks afterward, my buddies guessed and prodded me about what happened. They knew Erin and I had left together that night. Their enthusiasm over the supposed encounter was so mythical I couldn’t stand to tell them the truth.

If they only knew.