Amy came over last night to check up on me. The doctor says ‘no alcohol’ for a while, and she seems to think that means she can drink the whole bottle of wine herself. But my wine rack is full, and she’s certainly earned her share of whatever she wants to have. She’s my friend.
So she’s about a half bottle down, and we’re talking and laughing, when she asks, “What the hell was that blog about the other day?”
“What do you mean?”
She gives me her ‘you-know-what-I-mean’ look, but I don’t, so I just shrug.
“You know, the one about your dream girl, Chastity, and the men in black, and the creepy tattooed guy? What was that all about?”
“Seriously, Amy, that’s the way it went down after you drove away. Why did you drive away, anyway?”
She’s chuckling so hard, a dribble of wine slips out and down her chin. I’m so tempted to lick it clean, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m craving wine, or her.
“God, Marc, you’ve got such a great imagination. I picked you up at the hospital. There was no one else there. You were flying so high on your pain medications you babbled all the way home. Did you really believe that all happened?”
The images and memories of that day were still etched firmly in my head. I can’t imagine I dreamed that up, but Amy’s explanation makes a lot more sense than mine.
So anyway, to my readers, I apologize. It must have been the pain meds talking. Just ignore my previous blog.
“By the way,” Amy went on, “that nurse, Vickie, seems pretty sweet on you. You going to see her again?”
God, thinking of Vickie made me harder than hell.
I tell her all about what happened between me and Vickie in the hospital. “She’s in Points Club. I’ve kind of promised her a rematch.”
Amy knows about the club, and we’re at a point in our relationship where we can talk to each other about anything. We’ve gotten over the sex and into the friend zone. I’m not sure how that happened, but it’s nice. She’s got a new boyfriend named Bill, who’s keeping her happy, and we can still get together and bull-shit with each other.
“So are you coming up with something kinky for your little Points Club date?” Her eyes are bright as she jibes me. “Something you can write about later?”
“That’s the problem,” I tell her. “I’m kind of a meat and potatoes guy, when it comes to sex. I’m not really into the kinky stuff.”
“Yeah, but you do the meat part really good.” She’s chuckling hard now, and I notice the wine bottle is almost empty, but despite the fact that she’s pretty soused, she comes up with a really good idea. “Why don’t you ask your fans on that blog of yours for suggestions?”
So there you have it. What do you guys think? Anyone have any ideas what kind of scenario I should pitch to Vickie for my first real points club encounter. If so, leave them in the comments below. Nothing really kinky, because I’m not that kind of guy, but something fun, sexy—some fantasy you’d like me to write about. If I pick yours I’ll send you a free copy of the story when I complete it.