the Loose Slots Tour part 1

So I was sitting in my cube on Tuesday morning, fretting about not being able to greet Susan at LAX on Thursday. “Stupid AWA week,” I muttered to myself as I stapled a stack of papers with much more force than necessary.

But then I noticed P, one of the department managers, limping into his office, and my mood brightened considerably…for although T (the other department manager) had ixnayed my original request, it was P who had the final say, since he's my direct supervisor, and since he hadn’t been in the office for some time, I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask him. Figuring he might be loopy on the pain meds recently prescribed for him after hip surgery, and therefore more pliable, I sucked up my courage and walked into his office.

Green light!

I raced back to my cube to alert K, and we decided to keep the good news under wraps, so as to surprise Susan when I showed up at the airport.

The big day came, and after we parked, K said imperiously, “Walk behind me so we don’t look like we’re together.” She paused, grinned, and said, “I’ve always wanted to tell someone that.” I proceeded slowly, keeping at least ten paces behind her, and when we got inside, I made a beeline for the bathroom. When I emerged, I saw K hugging a petite curly-haired blonde, and I snuck up and prepared to grab a handful of sweet denim-clad ass when Susan whirled around and saw me.

“Hi!” she cried, giving me a big hug, and we all hopped around and squealed and twirled all girly.

The Hustler Superstore was first on our agenda. We giggled over Sphincterine towelettes and Cum Kleen personal wipes before flipping through racks of sexy lingerie. Then we went over to the sex toys aisle and alternated between “oohs” and “ews”.

But even horndogs have to eat, and we were all feeling a bit peckish, so we walked across the street and grabbed a quick lunch at Frankie’s Pizzeria, and then we took the scenic route through Malibu. At one point, when we were stopped at a light, Susan said, “Check out that tree!” So we looked over, and there was a huge tree covered with enormous thorns, and pendulous fruit hung from its branches. “It’s a ballsack tree!”

You know your houseguest is going to rock when she uses the phrase “ballsack”.

Then we saw some droopy plants, which I promptly dubbed cockti, and our botanical butcherings were complete.

We stopped at Neptune’s Net for surfer-watching and pictures, made a detour to Target for bottled water and travel-size toiletries, and then it was back to the Happy Ranch. Susan got the grand tour and loved up on Sneakers, and then she gave us cool presents (magnets, flashing rubber rings, body lotion, a candle, and a can of Flarp). We had dinner, chatted for a bit, and then went to a couple of local bars. At the last one, they had karaoke going, and a long-haired greaseball did a passable rendition of “Sunshine of Your Love”.

“Oh, Cream always reminds me of getting baked in art school,” Susan said wistfully, stirring her vanilla Stoli and ginger ale. “Think he’d sing ‘The White Room’ if I asked nicely?”

“How could he resist you?”

So when he was finished, she got up and sidled over to his booth, putting her hand on his shoulder as she leaned in to tell him her request. He responded, and she smiled and walked off towards the bathroom as he gaped openly at her. K and I burst into laughter, and K said, “God, he was totally checking her out!”

“Can you blame him?”

When she returned, we told her about Cream Boy’s ogling, and her succinct response---delivered in a Ren voice---was “Seeeck!” After he sang her request, we clapped loudly, and then we decided it might be a good idea to take off, since we had to get up so early.

“You know he’s going to spank it thinking of you later,” K said.

“He’s going to imagine entangling his Vienna sausage fingers in your pretty curly hair and moaning, ‘Oh, my tired starling, suck my big fat bratwurst,” I snickered.

“You guys are so gross and horrible,” Susan said.

Pause.

“I LOVE you!”

(to be continued)