Did you know if you eat peanut butter pie you get thirsty? And add to that good conversation which leaves you unwilling to get up from the table in which the only beverage making the rounds is several bottles of the nicest dry white wine I have had in a while and you get...
..well, you get Bridget the Sex Machine.
Oh, no I didn't really embarrass myself at all. Quite the opposite actually. I was fine, I was sitting down, having a great conversation about the Japanese experiment in which a man was locked in a room for a year and he had to enter contests and live off the winnings and the psychological ramifications of that endeavour. It got later and later, the conversation jumped around to world cup news, tropical destinations and a big debate on whether or not knitting needles and crochet hooks are indeed allowed on flights originating in Canada or not. Finally our friends bade their farewells and Jacob saw them out and I started gathering up glasses. Only I was slightly clumsy.
And then it hit all at once. Down she goes.
Jacob comes back in and I'm sitting on his chair all bright eyes and spinning a million miles an hour.
Uh-oh. Bridge, I knew when I saw that last glass that you tipped your favor.
Right. I'll be fine. Give me a minute.
No come on. The dishes can wait until tomorrow.
He picked me up and carried me to bed. Very romantically, I might add. No effort at all. He is all muscle. I am just over a hundred pounds (yeesh, I need to gain a little bit) of slithery slippery rubbery sex kitten by now.
Because when I'm drunk two things always happen. Which is why I usually police myself so strictly as a rule. (Because Jacob used to be a guest at these dinner parties. Are you following me?)
1) I get very excited. Affectionate would be an understatement. I'm not ashamed. Okay horny would be the appropriate word for what I get, but it sounds so....er...cheap.
2) I crank it right into high gear. Top volume, off the charts. Again, I really have no shame.
He stood me on the bed. Now we're at eye level. That never happens. I look into his eyes and put my arms around him. He's grinning. I kiss him so hard he steps back to keep his balance.
Of course once he's stabilized he can give it as good as I can. I get a lovely long drawn out kiss that left me breathless. He's very good. He's also getting really excited and trying to play it cool. Which he never did very well.
Oh no, no, Bridget. You need some water and some sleep.
Nohwaaaaay! I need YOU. Cos I have talens you haven'seen, baby.
No, sleep.
I will change your minds.
Haha, you're toast, girl.
He forgets how good I am.
My eyes get all teary. I bit my lip. (Hi, no shame. At all.)
Jakey. I need you.
I love you baby. I think you should sleep, much as I'd like to play right now.
The begging part I whispered. And I won't tell you what I said. But it works. It works very well.
Jacob couldn't win a bet with me if he tried. And strenuous sex is a very good way to sober up so I felt great this morning. Well, a little ahem, sore, but very very happy. Sated for hopefully 12 hours or so. I'm becoming Diane Lane in my old age. This sexual peaking for women over 3o thing is a never-ending gift. Just you wait.
Now I get to go to church and hope he doesn't look at me and lose his train of thought with visions of last night.
But you know what? All is well. And life is good again. And no one is allowed to pinch me. Ever.
