I regretted giving Lisa my number as soon as my feet hit land.  I had no idea how much until about a week later.  She called me the next day.  Of course she did.  As we were chatting, I scolded myself.  What is my issue?  Had I really become that conceited that I thought I was too good for this woman?  No, that wasn’t it.  It was something.  I just didn’t know what.  Yet.  We made plans to get together that weekend.  She’d drive up to Tampa from Orlando and we would spend the day together.  I emphasized that it would be just for the day.  Her friend was throwing a barbecue so that would be a nice gathering for us to get to know each other, with a few minor distractions in the background to make it less awkward.  Delightful.

The week seemed to pass by very quickly.  I wasn’t necessarily looking forward to my ‘date’ that Saturday, but at least I had something exciting for that particular week.  I started dance classes at the local college, which was also home to a small company.  It’s always nerve-wracking to start fresh in new classes, a new company – but still very refreshing.  One of my instructors was an older guy, assumingly gay…not because it’s so typical of a male dance instructor to be a flamer, but because he flailed, giggled and spun like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music every few minutes.  It was very cute.  The classes were extremely small, so a bit more intimidating but I handled it well.  I also handled my kudos from my new teachers very well…I am always so frightened of criticism – and praise.  Once you’ve received accolades from teachers and fellow students, you are expected to be on your game, or your ‘toes’ as luck would have it, at all times.  Because when you mess up, everyone knows it.  But for the time being, it felt so good to be twirling and stretching again.  My muscles thanked me.

By the time the weekend arrived, I was in no better mood to receive Lisa at my apartment.  After I heard her knock, I took a deep breath: Do not be a snot.  Have a good time.  Give her a chance.  I opened the door to a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed Lisa.  She was dressed casual, having just driven in.  And had a shit-eating grin on her face.  I was instantly turned all the way off.

Okay, so, sure.  I want a girl to be into me and all, but don’t drool on my doorstep before you even get to know me.  As she came in and looked around my apartment, the drooling didn’t stop.  She loved everything: my apartment, my furniture, the area I lived in, my shirt, my hair, the rug, the sun shining out of my ass…she was annoying me.  I wish I could relay further more of our conversation that afternoon, but there was so much of it spilling out of her, I can’t quite pinpoint any concrete subject matter.  Finally, it was time to head out to her friends’ barbecue.  I drove and, you guessed it, she loved my car.  Before we got in, though, she stopped at her car (correction: her friend’s car she borrowed) for something.  I couldn’t help but watch as she tried to be discreet about what she was pulling out of her bag.  At first, I thought she was trying to play down the fact that it was an overnight bag filled with clothes and toiletries.  But, she was actually being thoughtful…applying an extra layer of deodorant.  Nice.  I guess that night on the cruise wasn’t the first time that her body odor cleared a room.  What the hell was I thinking?  ‘Sigh’, just get through it and send her on her way.

The drive was uneventful.  She talked the entire time…about her business, about her dog, about her apartment with no furniture, about not having a car, about how nice my car was and I must be ‘rollin’ in it (whatever that means…if she was referring to $, no, I wasn’t), about possibly moving to Tampa (no!) because it seemed to be where a lot of her gigs were coming from.  I thought of slamming on the brakes so she’d slam into the dash, bust her lip and shut the hell up.  I know, I was so mean back then.  Not so much mean as impatient.  Reminiscing about Lisa brings another interesting point: I’ve found that when someone says they’re a club promoter, it usually means they are unemployed, party all the time, have no $ and think that if they show up somewhere with some friends, they’re a promoter.  So far, Lisa was true to form.  But I couldn’t simply throw her choice of employment out the window.  She did get the lesbian cruise noticed.  I mean, I heard about it, which is saying something because I’m not exactly the most social person in the world.

The barbecue was less than stellar.  We got there at the tail end, I think.  There weren’t enough people there to get a volleyball game going and there still wasn’t a whole lot of food to nibble on.  I was confused as to how that was possible, but then I noticed why there were few people and little food.  People showed up, said hi, fixed a plate and went merrily on their way.  That was just so rude.  So when Lisa started making a plate (she actually made 2) I told her that we could stay awhile if she wanted to.  She paused (astonishing!), set her plates down and got to chatting the hostess up a bit more.  I quietly sat and talked with a few other people there.  I figured even though I didn’t know these people, I owed them a bit more than a hi, a goodbye and thanks for the food!

By the time we left, I was so ready for her to go home and for me to take a hot bath, I sped down the highway.  We get back to my place, I got out of the car and leaned against hers, preparing for the ‘goodbye.’  It didn’t happen.  She asked if she could take a shower.  Sure, you can, I said.  She grabbed her (overnight!) bag and we headed upstairs.  While she showered, I just shook my head at myself.  This is what you get and now you’ve got to deal with it.  It’s almost ten o’clock.  You couldn’t possibly send her home to Orlando now.  That would just be mean.  The shower seemed to have added more pep to her already spastic disposition so I decided to relax and try to salvage the evening.  She was trying to make the best of it, why shouldn’t I?  She pulled out a video she wanted to show me of a stripper she worked for as an event promoter.  Why the hell not?

It was interesting but, like its promoter, seemed to go on forever.  Just when a song ended, another one would begin or a whole ‘nother show in a different location.  I have to say this chick was talented.  The promotional video was bootleg, but the talent was genuine.  She did flips around a makeshift jungle gym, splits this way and that way…it was actually kind of sexy, too.  I couldn’t help but get a little turned on.  I glanced at Lisa.  My thoughts wandered…why not?  She might be kind of fun and it wouldn’t go any further than tonight because, hell, she lives all the way in Orlando and she doesn’t have a car so what are the chances she’d be able to visit all the time?  Now, I had never had a one-night stand up to this point in my life, unless you count my guy friend, but does it count as a one-night stand if you were friends prior to the stand and continued to be friends after?  Or does that shift over to a booty call, even though there was no actual ‘call’?  I’m not positive of the proper sexual terminology, but I realized that I had been looking at her like a piece of meat.  She was butchily attractive, but I wasn’t really attracted to her like that.  She was simply an opportunity.  I had entertained her for the day, now it was her turn to entertain me for the evening.  Especially if she wanted to stay the night.  I know what you’re thinking.  And you’re right, I was such a bitch.

So I decided to flirt and see where it took me.  I grabbed some strawberries from the fridge and started nibbling, then I offered one to Lisa.  Taking the bait, she leaned over and ate it out of my hand.  It grossed me out, like my finger-sucking former customer.  She asked for more and I couldn’t help but watch, even though it was turning me off – like a surgery on the Discovery Channel.  You can’t take your eyes off of it, even though it makes you cringe.  The way her lips wrapped around the entire strawberry (they were in season, so quite sizable), the way her eyes closed as she bit into it slowly, the way it sounded as her teeth ripped through it, the moans she made as she did all of this.  If we had been in a champagne room, I would have demanded for her to cease.  It was almost obscene what she was doing to that strawberry.  After about 3, I put them away in a hurry.  It was a long time before I ate strawberries again.  As we watched more of the video, Lisa moved in closer.  I could almost read her intentions in her body language.  She was nervous and it made me smile.  I wanted to tell her just to go ahead and go for it.  I was bored.  So I did her a favor and dove in…