So, my house fills up with well dressed people, some go off to do some of Juan Valdez's other fine columbian export, and I introduce Lydia to some more of my friends.

Shelia was there. She's put on weight since I severed contact with her due to her stalkerish weirdness.

I went to find Roomie, to find him in front of a bunch of j.v.o.f.c.e whaling it down like it had the antidote.

He offered me some, and I obliged. Feeling guilty about abandoning Lydia, I went back, and rounded up the troops to go to the party.

Unbeknownst to me, Lydia had prior crept up to the doorway, and Shelia had been rude to her.

Classlessness abounded, I guess.

We divied up the driving duties, and headed downtown, to a swanky skyscraper hotel party.

Getting to the room was a little task, finding my way through cavernous lobbies and bars, past the baby grand piano's which tickled my fancy more than all the opulence combined.

We made our way to the ninteenth floor. The suite took up the whole corner of the floor, at least. Probably more. I think there was only two suites on that floor.

Inside, it was something out of decadence.

The entire wall was open windows to a terrace, sporting a twinling veiw of the city. The windows were open, and the white curtains swayed slightly in the breeze.

They had pushed several tables together, and made some seating. The carpet was white, and the several sofa's were white as well, and no one sat in them. The whole night they were ignored, and the welcome basket was only deprived of its Bush Mills whiskey.

I was greeted by the hostesses as I entered. Introductions were made, and I found myself being hugged by Judy, the fifty-ish woman who bankrolled the birthday soiree.

The suite was cavernous, and went on forever. Lydia looked luscious, dressed in a tight, but not too tight, black dress and black shoes.

I stepped behind the bar, and got into conversation with Garret. (the drummer from Cali.)

We laughed and hugged. People flowed around and showed up. Shelia pigged out on roast beef.

A bullet was being passed around, and I got a turn.

At one point, Don's girl was standing alone, and I had Lydia accompany me over.

I started chatting with her, and brought up that they were both educated in Women's Studies. They started there own repartee, and I queitly departed. Sink or swim, baby.

I chatted a bit with my buddies, and I watched Shelia saunter over to Lydia and Janie. Shelia had been giving me her pattented manic stare all night, and I watched, detached from the other side of the room, waiting for holy hell to break out, and having the trite male thought that, "Hey, I slept with 2/3'ds of that conversation over there."

I kept an eye out, and made eyes at Lydia, who smiled at me and eventually came over.

I took her to the balcony, and we talked. She seemed awestruck and happy, fighting with something in her soul, about to cry, but with a smile, we chatted aimlessly, and I couldn't help but kiss her with the night skyline of Denver as a backdrop.

We came back to the conversation of my friends, and I stated a desire to go "exploring".

"Exploring? You want to do it? Go do it! Go!" Don said.

"Yeah, I'll do it. Wanna come with me?" I said.

"Yeah." Don said with a strange fervor.

We went past the bar into a hallway that opened up into what was the bedroom. Two queen sized beds in white and a wall of all windows and balcony. Garret was there with a clique of other people around him. The other wall was all mirrors, and the curtains were green.

We passed through to the back of the suite, and found the mammoth bathroom. Someone was inside, and they hurried out.

The shower was small, with dual heads, there was a large whirlpool tub of marble, several sinks, one toilet and a bidet. I stood in amazement at the bidet.

(I have encountered several bidets in my time, especailly in Europe, particularly in Venice, and the both bemuse, baffle and disgust me. It just looks like such the unpleasant process. And how exaclty does one know when one is done? And what's the upside to having a wet ass? I have thought of trying it, never possessing the courage, and predicting that the whole expirement could go horribly wrong. So I'm willing to bet that the bidet will be one of those life experiences that I will quietly let slip by me, never tasting the fruit of the forbidden tree, the forbidden pleasures of the full european toiletry experience.)

I heard Don lock the door.

"Don, look at the bidet." I said.

He turned quickly and gave me a patronizing,"Yeah, wow."

"Come over here and take a look at this." he said.

I turned around to see him chalking up huge strips of J.V.O.F.C.E.

A knock came at the door.

"Occupied." Don said. "Got a bill?"

"Yeah, sure." I said.

The knock came again, more intently. "C'mon." the voice said, "I left something in there."

"Occupied. Sorry." Don said. "Go ahead."

I bent down to the task, making that unmistakeble sound.

The knock came again, even more intent.

"C'mon." the voice said, "You could only be doing two things in there, and only one I disapprove of."

"Sorry. Occupied. You'll have to wait." Don said.

"You're up." I said.

Don bent down and lashed up the evil white stuff.

We both took turns urinating, and admiring the shower. Then we unlocked the door, and brushed past the guy we hardly knew.

I caught up with Lydia, and took her back to the bedroom balcony. We talked for awhile. Again we kissed.

She brought up how rude Shelia had been to her, not making eye contact, interrupting her while she was speaking. I told her about the past, how she and I had been involved, and she had turned wierd on me.

"Basically," I said, "She wants what you've got."

Lydia seemed allright with it.

I took her off of the balcony to see Garret with the fifty-ish, yet perky hostess, Joanie, sitting in his lap, and another guy with issues, Marty, on his lap. Marty is a big guy.

"Got room for one more?" I quipped. And they made room for me. I sat down breifly but moved on.

They lassoed Lydia into sitting down on his lap as well, as I fled the weirdness of the scene. Ten years ago, Marty, who was good friends with Joanie's daughter, had been sleeping with Joanie. He would wake up and come out of her room to say hello to her daughter. No wonder I always have the tune of "Mrs. Robinson" playing in my head when I see Joanie. She is Mrs. Robinson.

I had a quick shiver of disgust and made my way to the bar. Lydia followed shortly, and I told her the twisted tale.

She seemed unsurprised, and didn't really think it that strange. To each their own, I guess.

Don, Janie, Shelia and some others had taken off, and a few more arrived.

Tom, a law student who had just done a month work release for a DUI said, "Hell, no, I loved jail. I sharpened my toothbrush into a shank and stabbed someone, and I fucked the first little guy that came near me. It was a good time."

More people showed up. John showed up with a train of people, and his actual girlfriend in tow.

I had been talking to Tom, when I noticed Marty had plopped down next to Lydia rapping a blue streak.

I do not trust Tom.

He was talking about making the Olympics and other fanciful bullshit, which is compounded by the fact that he weigh 230, has testicular cancer, and is 37. He is layers of issues.

I put up with it for awhile, and the scene felt played out, so I grabbed Lydia and left.

"Who was that guy? He was strange." she said.

"Marty. What did he do?" I asked.

"Well, first thing he does is plop down next to me and say, 'Hey, wanna do some blow?'."

Classy fruitcake.

We made our way down to this bar/ballroom, and the lure of the baby grands was too much to bear.

There was no stool, but I crouched and played a classical peice I wrote derived from Beehtoven for Lydia in the empty balroom, the sound was flush and resounded off of the thirty foot high ceilings of plaster. The piano was in perfect tune.

"I want you to know, I can play much better than that." I said. Which is true. I couldn't sit.

"I thought it was beautiful." she said.

We left and made it to the car. On the way back she brought up the Marty thing, and asked if anyone was doing that at my house.

"I think so." I said.

"Did you do it?" she asked.

Well, here comes this conversation.

"Yes." I said.

"Then why did you say, 'I think so' wehen I asked if they did it at your house?" she said.

"Well, you asked if they did it. I said 'I think so." I said.

"So I have to ask the right questions." she said. Dead on about that. I will always tell the truth, but if someone doesn't ask, I don't usually feel the obligation to share.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she said.

"Well, what did you want me to do? Walk out and say, 'Hey honey, Guess what I just did?" I said tauntingly.

"Now you're just mocking me." she said.

"Well?" I said. "Is this an issue?"

"No. Its not. I just..."

"Just what?" I said, feeling it slipping away.

"Just...couldn't tell." she said finally.

"Well, I have done a lot of partying. Most people can't tell when I've done anything." I said matter-of-factly. Which is also true.

"Its not just that...I feel...." she trailed off.

"What?" I said

"I don't know. Naive, I guess. You said you didn't like it, and you did it." she said.

"Well, it was my roomates birthday. He's my best friend out here. I don't know. " I said. "I feel anxiety now, because I have felt you looking for a flaw in me."

"No, its not that...its not a big deal...its just that you said you didn't like it and you did it, that's all." she said.

And we were quiet on the way back.

At my place, we shuffled around, quietly getting ready for bed.

"Will this be an issue?" I asked.

She thought for a minute.

"No, it won't." she said.

"Mmm. I'm glad." I gave her a kiss, and couldn't resist the last push, "Especially since you've done it too, while you were in high-school."

She looked aghast. "I'm only twenty! Everything I did before I did in high-school" she said.

"Its okay. I just never would have even conceived of doing that in high-school." I said.

"Well, it was everywhere in my school." she said.

And then she launched into a long explanation of this.

I trotted off to bed, satisfied.

She came down, as though the ride home hadn't taken place. As though I was still wonderful in her eyes.

And I made love to her. A couple of times.

At one point, she was laying face down, flat, and I was fucking her from behind. The feel of her small body, her tight little ass, her wet pussy, her hips as they pushed into me , grabbing every last inch of my cock,our bodies hot and slightly sweaty, tightening and tired from the long session and the long night, was exhilerating. I started talking dirty to her, and I think she liked it.

We changed back to missionary, and I talked dirty to her a little more. Eventually I finished, and I pulled out as she stroked me off, cumming all over her.

Something is so right between us.

She still shivered on top of me, later. Uncontrollably.

Everything was fine.

I really like this girl.

What a day!

And then it was Saturday.

And the weirdness still was not done.