Night Games

It was 1987, and that summer I was planning a long 3 month vacation in Europe. So I decided to take a night job for a few weeks doing editing for a cable company to earn extra pocket money for my upcoming trip. The staff, I found out was mostly women. Editing requires sitting with a Producer to assemble a segment, and the process is slow, taking many hours and sometimes days. After being there just a week an attractive blond Producer came in to do a few hours of fixes. She came from money somewhere in Kansas. I asked her how she got the job, and she told me honestly she slept with one of the owners of the Channel. She then lay on the couch at the back of the room and sighed heavily. I asked her if she was tired, she said she had spent the weekend in New York, then in a provocative way said, sex slaves are so much fun but very tiring, then started laughing. I asked her what she meant, she laughed, can't tell you. A couple of days later another female producer came in, and instead of sitting behind, sat next to me and began asking personal questions, rubbing up, touching me, her face only inches away when she spoke. Later, we went to have dinner, and on the way she asked to stop at a record store. When we got to the parking lot, she leaned over and started kissing me, my neck and chest. Then undid my pants and gave me a blow job as I fingered her. Later back in the Edit Room I asked her to lean over the the console, lifted her dress, pulled down her tights and panties and fucked her. About a week later a quiet well educated reserved female producer came to edit with me, she was engaged to an attorney who would call her every few hours. The second night we went out for a meal, she started expressing her doubt about getting married, she told me that she had told her fiancee about working with me, and how enjoyable it was. "He gets very possessive" she said, the conversation somehow drifted off to the fact that she was not very sexually experienced, and she was making him wait till they were married and ended up with our lips locked and my fingers deep inside her pussy. She would go no further, she thought it unethical, but for the next 2 days of editing, a steady stream of kisses and touching accompanied our creative endeavor. Not long after a short, energetic New York female producer came to edit. She never stopped talking, which slowed us down, but she was funny and entertaining. We finished early one night and decided to cut the evening short and go for drinks. She selected a place not far from her apartment and then expressed concern about me driving home, over the alcohol limit and invited me to her apartment. Or should I say she lured me to her apartment. She had not had sex for a while, and she wanted her neighbors to know, not only did she moan loudly, but she left the curtains on her wall to floor glass French Windows open, and to make sure the complex knew, she left a light on. At night time from inside this was not evident, but about seven in the morning during some intense oral sex her neighbors walked by to see her sucking and fucking, and she was evidently very proud of this, because the sucking became more frenzied and the fucking harder and noiser everytime someone walked by.
It was coming to end of my temporary night assignment when a very sexy senior producer walked in and asked me if she could treat me to dinner for the good work I had done. Dinner turned into drinks, followed by desert in her apartment consisting of passionate kissing, tearing off of my clothes then her stripping naked and wrestling me. She had a beautiful body, great breasts nice legs, she felt and smelt wonderful, but she was like a woman possessed, she wanted to fuck, and fuck hard. I gave it my best, late night after eating and drinking is not my best time, and wrestling with a gorgeous woman is not my style. But she seemed happy to have me come inside her 3 or 4 times.
The following day was my last day, I came by to say good bye, but the atmosphere had changed.
Soon, one after another female producer came in to express their shock that I had been with other women, that is all but the first producer, who eyed me with humor and admiration. She was a beautiful slut and proud of it, I never touched her, but she appreciated the handiwork of a peer and a colleague, a man who maybe knew more than he would admit about how to handle sex slaves.

When A She's A He

I have always liked androgynous women, I also like a lot of different body types, but a woman in
page boy like haircut, small breasts, nice features and no hips has its own unique appeal. I met one such woman at a party in Hollywood and asked her out. I drove up to pick her up, she wore jeans, a top, casual but approachable. Lunch was fun, we talked about where we had lived, about music and films we liked. I invited her back to my place for coffee, put my arms around her and started kissing. She was a good kisser. My hands drifted under her top to her braless tits, then slide down to her jeans , when she said stop, there is something I must tell you. I was expecting I have herpes, or I am on my period, but it was neither, "I'm not what I appear", she said, "I have a dick", I am a guy. She was expecting shock, but got from me, "I think your cute, doesn't bother me", I led him/her into the bedroom, removed him/hers clothes. He/She had a dick, a very small one not much thicker than my thumb, and 4 -5 inches long and small testicles, a pair of nice breasts, and a very cute ass. I laid him/her down on the bed, fondling him/her's breasts, penis and ass. While I missed the warm wet feeling of a pussy, this him/her exuded an aura of a woman. How she respond to touch, she used her hand and moved her body like a women. From the bedside table I pulled a tube of vaseline and lubricated his/her ass, after giving it a good licking and fingering, and slid inside. It was a steady relaxing rocking motion until I came. We lay in bed kissing, I asked him/her to massage my ass, expertly, he/she lubricated me, put one finger then two, I reached down and felt his/her dicks, and asked to put it inside. It was so small, it hardly felt like anything, but for a while I let him/her screw me. Every time I looked in his/her's face I saw a cute, pretty woman, and made myself believe it was a dildo. I can only take anal penetration for short periods, and the thrill wears off quickly. We lay in bed for a while, he/she thanked me for being kind and considerate.
I told him/her I had learned something today, you have a dick, but you are a woman, you act, move, talk like a woman, so I just spent a great afternoon with a real cutie. She kissed me, then my nipples, then took me in her mouth and gave me a gentle enjoyable blow job, better than most women ever had.

A Mature Woman

My life has taken me many places, and I have met many people, but the assortment of people working in and around the music business are some of the strangest. I had an office in the Museum Of Rock Art in Hollywood, with my partner John, a former Marxist pot smoking hippy. We were termed the odd couple, John the gloomy socialist, Peter the cheerful optimist. The Museum was devoted to Album cover art, so we got lots of famous "Woodstock" photographers like Henry Diltz, album cover designers, writers about Rock Musicians and even famous musicians like those from the Doors and Fleetwood Mac come by. We also got an assortment of shady characters who bought this stuff , wannabees and an older woman, whose name I do not remember come by. She was around 70 years of age very flamboyant, she was once associated with the sex trade, either as a Vegas girl or lived in Paris, I could never make out, because she said such outrageous things one never knew what to think.
I was then as now a hard worker, and sometimes late in the evening, as a young 25 year old I would be preparing for a Video Presentation of some Artist. One evening about 8 pm with everyone gone or going she showed up, mostly to get something to smoke from John, I had a couple of beers and welcomed the distraction. She was funny, and strangely seductive, I showed her the set up for the Video Presentation, with the lights out. She rested her arms on my shoulder. I found myself getting aroused, and surprised that she was over 40 years older than me and it did not bother me. I slid my hand, down her dress and into her panties, she was wet. I always thought older women had a problem with dryness, not her. We stood there saying nothing me fondling her pussy with her eyes closed. We began kissing, she undressed me, took me in her mouth. We lay down on the carper, she sucking me and I licking her. She tasted clean, and as it was dark, she could have been 30 years years younger. I withdrew my cock from her mouth, raised her legs over my shoulders. Been awhile I asked, "too long" she said. I'll be gentle I told her. I slide into her slowly, gentle going in and out, afraid that her bones might be brittle. Whether it was the slowness, or just a pussy that had been in mothballs, it took a long time to come. She savored every moment, saying nothing for once. When I finished I let her lick off the drips, "Love that taste", she said, I looked at her in admiration, a wild crazy lady who could still be sensual, and a good fuck. Nobody would believe her if she told them we had sex, but since then I've never looked at a senior citizen or mature lady the same.

Night Train 1976

There were 4 incentives to going to college when I was a teen. The first was the education was free, the second was you would be away from home, the third was students were not taxed, which meant when you worked you pocketed all the money and lastly there was 3 months of summer vacation. After 6 weeks working, one had enough cash to buy a Eurorail pass and spend the next six weeks traveling around Europe. The target was not to just to see the canals of Venice or the Matterhorn, the real goal was to find Scandanavian pussy. There were 3 things all red blooded males knew about Scandanavian women, they spoke English, liked to drink and loved sex for fun, they had no hang ups. It also helped that they were beautiful.
So on reboarding the Orient Express in Venice, passing through Trieste and into Yugoslavia, imagine my joy at having one sitting next to me. That joy was tempered by the fact our compartment also had smelly old ladies carrying water bottles, shady looking guys who were smuggling something into the former Soviet Bloc country, and there was no air conditioning or any drinks cart. It was nightfall, and the compartment was finally dark, the blond next to me had pulled a blanket over herself, it was time to act. First, a move of the leg to rub against hers, no response, that was good. I slid my hand under the blanket and onto her thigh, no response even better. Gently I stroked the inside of her thigh, her shoulders moved nearer to me, her legs parted, as my hand reached her crotch, this was very promising. A few minutes of gentle rubbing, and I made my hand drifted up to her zipper, quietly slowly, I pulled it down undid the button her jeans. She appeared to be still dozing, my hand slid in to her pants I whispered for her to slide down in the seat and began massaging her pussy. An appreciative hand reached over, pulling some of the blanket, I undid the zipper on my pants. We stroked each other, she trying not come, me wanting to come but wishing she would take my cock in her mouth. She did lean over quickly and lick it, but we then passed through a lit station and she quickly retreated. After an hour or so we stopped, we could go no further. A suggestion of retiring to the bathroom was rejected, the smell was pretty bad. We fell asleep. Sometime the following morning the train arrived in Dubrovnik, we got off, she headed off in one direction and me the other. We never even spoke, we never asked our names. There was still lots of cock and pussy to see and sex encounters that still needed to be explored.

Quickies 1

I've have gained most of my sex experience in one night stands and quickies. The fun was always the chase and conquer, once the thigh gates were spread wide, it was more often the case
to fire, declare victory and then beat an orderly retreat. So, through these encounters I have discovered what I like and what I do not like. In college I discovered that I like wet, moist pussy. Many women are, even when young, dry, the lips of their vaginas feel like a piece of hanging skin. Magazines talk about how to arouse a woman, but my experience is that there are wonderful wet pussys around, that are ready to slide into if you get lucky. I don't remember her name except that she was the room mate of a former dry pussy girlfriend who ended going out with a good looking guy friend of mine. I do remember she enjoyed sex, was attractive and enthusiatic, the sort of enthusiasm a surfer has when he sees good waves, or a tourist seeing a beautiful beach. sex was laughter and fun, I liked that too. I remember removing her panties kissing her and then without even touching her, just sliding into the moist, smooth place, it felt so good I came immediately. I visualized the most extreme fantasies to keep me hard, it worked, twenty minutes later I came again. The sheet below her ass showed a big wet spot, her juices had rolled down my cock, over my balls and into my ass, so my whole groin area was covered in her. I remember going down on her, that slight off scent, that says this pussy has just been fucked, and licked her. She pressed my face against her pelvis so hard, I nearly stopped breathing, but she was on an orgasm high and needed more dick. She sucked me for a while but I knew it would be a while til I go hard again. She settled for that. I wish we did it again, but she was the performance type, who liked to be ridden long and hard, her's was the pleasure of the long and hard big dick fuck with fewer nerve ending, the multiple orgasms piling one on top of another until she has to catch her breath. I did not fit the bill, but I learned that dry pussy was a turn off for me no matter how beautiful she was... wet and willing my first lesson from the University of One Night Stands

Passing Through

There have been many, but only a few are remembered, why those few I can't say, but there are others who are remembered but their names long forgotten. In the bottom of some dusty box there is a letter from her written from Jackson Hole, in the spring of 1978. Her story happened in another State, in another range of mountains, in another year. November 1977 saw me taking a Greyhound Bus to Boulder Colorado. At the time there was a youth hostel there. Hostels are commonplace in Europe but not the USA, so it was a surprise to find one in an out of the way place like Boulder. You were allowed to stay no more than 7 days, which was fine with me, enough to get a few hot showers and a good night rest. The first night was eventful, it was bitterly cold and I was not prepared. A girl from Boston gave me a red brown flannel shirt, and suggested I buy a down jacket. I headed over to a K-Mart on the edge of town and bought a screaming white and red jacket, which I was teased unmercifully about. My second day was even more eventful, I lost my travellers checks, and unfortunately they were not American Express, they were Lloyds Bank of London, and the only place I could replace them was in San Francisco, some 2000 miles away. I asked around the Hostel as to what to do, and one guy told me to come down with him to the Job Bank, a place in Boulder they hire day laborers. For the next couple of days I hammered in fence poles getting paid at the end of the day. My situation brought out the best in people, the Hostel agreed to extend my stay so I could accumulate some cash, it also allowed me to meet her, I will call her Linda, she looked like a Linda, high cheekbones, blue grey eyes, angular, wearing jeans and Timberline boots, as close to a ten as I had seen in the US. She was traveling from Michigan with her boyfriend, a chef. He looked the part, a bit overweight, rotund and dark, she was definitively too hot for him, but I guessed that he was her ticket out of Michigan and to better things. I became one of those better things for a few hours. One night her boyfriend decided to go out with some guys and left her alone. I was looking for somewhere to eat and someone to go with me, and she agreed. We headed into town, had a few drinks then she suggested going for a drive. I had never driven in the US, so she threw me the keys. Cars are bigger here, and after bashing both the car in front and the one behind, we took off in some huge boat down the road intending on going to a small Cowboy town outside Boulder called Netherland. My driving was such that she suggested, that on the way home she would take the wheel. We found a small bar, a real bar with real Cowboys and had a beer or two, then headed back to the car. By this time, we had progressed to French kissing and fondling. As we started to drive back she began to tease me about my driving, but I noticed she held her hands tight on the steering wheel. As we drove I slide down between her legs, she still held onto the steering wheel. "What are you doing", she asked, and quickly found out. I undid her jeans, pulled them and her panties off. "Your crazy", she shouted, as the sound of a horn blared from a car going the other way. I barely heard it, my head was between her thighs and my tongue in her pussy. Some women have a wonderful taste, and she was one, it was a sort of slippery, sweet texture and it gushed out, a sweet taste that I can never get enough of, which meant I was down there a while until she pulled over and let me lick her to orgasm. We fucked in the front seat then as the windows were completely steamed up went outside and fucked again on the car. It is always gratifying to have a woman come when you make love, I felt that after months of forcing herself to fuck the fat chef, she was having a fuck with a guy she thought hot, someone who turned her on and who maybe nuts as well, in a fun way. I could have fucked her all night she was so hot, but she suggested returning to Hostel.
The chef was there, she told him we had gone to Netherland, to show me some real cowboys, I had become the mascot for the Hostel who needed to be taken care of, clothes, jobs, a place to stay, help for the good humored basket case Brit. I stayed back, leaning against a wall, in case he smelt her wonderful pussy smell, that was still in my nose and covering my face. He said you should come to Jackson Hole with us, you could find job there with your British accent. Then the rest of the assembled crowd, said, better still Aspen, they will love him in Aspen. "Where's Aspen" I asked. Feeling the need to help this lost soul they told me in the Rockies and added there is a bus that goes there. Linda thought it was a good idea, if I wasn't going to Jackson Hole I would go to Aspen she said, look here is our address, write lets us know how it is going and we may stop by. What she was really saying was, "I will come and see you, when I dump this guy". Guess its a done deal I said.
She did dump her boyfriend in Jackson Hole, went to live with a girl she met, wrote to me to tell me how much she loved the Tetons, and wanted to take a trip to Aspen in the summer, by that time I had gone, but her scent and her memory has lingered down through the years.

Lisa 1980

Thinking back there have been a handful that I have never forgot, whose aura still lingers after all these years, Lisa is one. Let me take you back to a time in Los Angeles, 1980. At the time I was a struggling media person, I had spent two years in radio, made a lot of contacts, got a few good breaks, but money was tight. I was working as an Airborne Traffic Reporter during the day, doing small events in a new media called Video, for which I got some additional bucks, and to pay the rent I would take jobs in restaurants where at least the money was steady. It was at one of these restaurants, I was waiting tables on an 18th birthday party. It was obvious they were used to wealth, they showed deference, were polite, how people used to money are, and they were gracious enough to ask about me. When it came time to pay, they had Lisa, the birthday girl sign, and under her signature on their copy she wrote her phone number. In front of her family with a little teasing she asked me to call her. Very classy.

A few days later I called her and arranged lunch down by the beach where I lived. She arrived on time dressed smartly, fresh faced and cheerful. We stroll down to a local cafe and there I started to learn about Lisa. Her mother was a well known Art Critic, her stepdad Ed was NASA engineer, they lived in Pasadena, in the old money part. Lisa was average or a bit below average height, beautiful complexion, blue eyes and page boy haircut. She was girlish in a humorous, silly way, like many she liked the B52s Rock Lobster silliness, the mixture of fashion and foolishness. She wore tasteful expensive jewelery, Pearl necklace and a ring her grandmother gave her.

After lunch we walk back to my apartment, she allowed me to hold her hand crossing the road, didn't pull away when I touched her. On reaching the apartment leaving the door open to have the sea breezes come in, I leaned over and kissed her, reaching down gently running my hand over her breasts. She didn't object as the buttons were opened, or my hand slide between her legs. She had come to have sex. We moved to the bedroom, I removed her clothes, she was naked, yet had made no effort to other than kiss and hold me. I laid her down on the bed, spread her legs, her skin was soft and pink her pubic hair shaved tight. I began licking her, she tasted clean and healthy. Standing up I removed my clothes put my cock in her mouth, and thrust it in and out. She was a novice, I made myself come and made sure she swallowed. We climbed between the sheets, her confidence rising as she rested on my shoulder. She told me her mother was impressed I offered lunch, it showed class, I wondered what she would think if she saw us now. Then she told me about Frank, her next door neighbor, an older guy, who got her drunk and took advantage of her. Her parents were mad at Frank. I now understood that they thought Lisa should block that memory by finding someone she liked as a positive experience. It was my first run in with the progressive, therapy driven mentality that was part of this families thought processes. I looked down at her sweet face, rolled over on top of her, kissed her and entered her, holding her tight as I came inside. She was worried because she had a cold sore on her lip, my response was to make love to her again. The afternoon has been unexpected and relaxed, I liked her, and as I was later to find out she had fallen in love with me. I was her first real love, her first not counting Frank.

Knowing her background, I wasn't expecting much, class like her was always in high demand. But she called the next day, and we set up another date.... dinner with her family.
Their house was large, the walls covered in original art, they showed me the Rauschenbergs, the Lichensteins, deKoonings and many more, not only that, as I learned from their conversation these famous and very trendy artists were their friends. They came to the house, like I did for dinner. The conversation was wonderful, the company gracious, and they were pleased that their daughter was dating an educated, if somewhat penniless guy. Lisa liked it too, she also liked my good looks and British accent. It was supercool for some reason, women were constantly telling me they loved my voice. They would go out with me and say just talk and most of the time I did, then at the end of the evening with me still talking they would put my cock inside themselves then closed their eyes and fuck me. Soon, Lisa would do the same.

The dinners led to being guest of honor at Art Functions and other events, but in the meantime I was pulling back, I felt out of place, coming from a class conscious country I sensed I was a Boy Toy, a sex novelty to a young upper class girl. There was nothing I could offer Lisa, except in my mind sex and the envy of her friends, lower class down and dirty sex. So I made a point of having gutter sex with Lisa, the sort girls whisper about to their Private School Friends, in public places, in the front of my car, sometimes just lifted her dress and screwed her while she talked on the phone, on a whim. She never objected, she swallowed my cum obediently, licked my butt when told to do so. One day I made her kneel on the bed, I pushed my cock into her ass, no lubrication, and fucked her hard while fingering her pussy. The second time she told me it hurt, I apologized, the truth was I had never done it before, but did not want to tell her. Instead I took time licking, putting my finger inside, using her feces for lubrication. She cottoned on quickly, often coming to me already smeared, sometimes I would lick it then make her do the same to me, she never said no. I realized that I was pushing this to see how far I could make her go before she said no, or I can't do that, but that time never came.
She was going away to college, and secretly I was pleased, she would meet some upper class guy in Santa Barbara, and become his girl, I could then hide myself from the feelings of not being in her league. I have always wanted people to accept me for what I was, and what I was, was a struggling media person, with some contacts in the music business who would have to do it the hard way. I didn't want to be seen being a hanger on, looking for favors, I was just too proud. Also she was innocent and silly, she didn't know I had had the clap, screwed many women, though she often told me she regarded me as her sexual mentor, her trainer in the art of lovemaking. As a defensive mechanism, when she went away to college, I let her call, she would tell me she called late I was not home. I told her I was working some project which was true, a video presentation, or at a restaurant. Soon the calls became less frequent. We arranged to meet when she came home to visit, to continue her training, but I noticed a change. She was sweet and willing to please but there was somethingelse bothering her. I didn't press it, instead I buried my tongue between her smeared cheeks and licked her clean, and made her do the same. Eventually she told me, she had met a guy, she thought I'd be mad, I said I wasn't, she was at college, but deep, deep down I knew this is what I was preparing myself for. In response she took my dick in her mouth sucked, swallowed and kissed me. I told her she was a fast learner.

One day I got a call from her mother asking me for a special favor, would I mind escorting Lisa to her debutante ball. There was two ways I could take it, see it as a chance to rub shoulders with Pasadena's elite, or I could see it through my prism of class. I was hired as a high end male escort with a British accent. They didn't know I was having sex with her, and I figured they saw me an an ornament, a well spoken good looking Brit, that would go well with the chandliers. Her mother could sense I knew what I was being asked, I had asked nothing from them and she was sensitive to my feelings. She knew that I understood the class system, and what debutante balls were about, finding the right partner for an upper class girl. I had gone to many of these events in England, I knew from experience that when I would get there everyone would be polite, but, if they hadn't met me at the Country Club, I was probably not worth knowing, just rented for the night like the tuxedo I wore and returned soon after.
I wondered why Lisa had not asked her boyfriend at college. I found out later. The night of the debutant ball was everything I dreaded, I was an ornament sitting at a table, until a very attractive blue eyed blond, with large breasts asked me if I was an actor, she was convinced she had seen me on stage in London Play, she remembered me. It was a come on line and I knew it. She was here as an ornament as well, she lived in Westwood, upscale, but not old money. I had had a few drinks, I suggested going for a walk somewhere dark, we found a place we thought was quiet, started making out, fonding her large breasts, and very wet pussy, we kissed passionately, she rubbed my cocked, the feel of her body and the smell of her pussy on my hands turned me on, I rubbed myself hard against her and came. The sound of voices made us stop. I didn't care, I was angry at this whole event and angry at myself for being there, for being little better than a low class male hooker for a debutante. After awhile we started to drift back, and decided that maybe we should both go find our dates. Back in the main hall at the Country Club, Lisa came up to me, "where were you", she asked, "I was taking some air with one of the guests". She said a school friend had seen me making out with a girl. I told her wrong guy, I was having a very involved conversation with a girl who was emotionally distraught, and I was comforting her, he may have misunderstood. "That's not how he described it", who told you I asked, she named a guy, he's had a crush on me since high school. He was jealous, that's all I told her.

Feeling bad I decided it was time to start being the classy escort I was supposed to be. I sat with her sister. Very different from Lisa, pointed features, future model type, when she spoke she put her hand on my thigh, then "accidently" on my cock. Then began telling me all her gripes with her debutante sister, ending with taking my hand and putting it on her thigh, very high on her thigh, panty high. I gently fondled her pussy, I had no interest in her, I was just acting the role, the male escort, available to meet the needs of this wealthy and well heeled family, a sex toy with an accent.

As the party winded down we were invited to a late night drinks session at a friends house, just the young people invited. I was being driven in a group of wild young upper crusters, I started kissing Lisa in the back, most were drunk and did not care. I also felt guilty, this was her night and I wanted to make it special. The rain was pouring outside, a late summer late night thunderstorm. When we got to the house everyone jumped out of the car, I grabbed Lisa arm as she began to run. Kissed her, we were soaking wet, I leaned her back against the the hood of the car, lifted her white party dress, pulled off her slip and panties, spread her legs, and with all the party staring out the window, fucked her in the pouring rain. I was doing my job, and I felt I had made it up to her, put those rumors to bed. It was also a way to get back at that love obsessed prick who snitched on me, I fucked her then kissed her for a long time until we were soaked to the skin. Lisa glowed, she laughed, and loved it, in my mind it would make her the talk and envy of her Private School friends. Sex in public in the pouring rain, during her coming out party, beat that. We stayed up late, returned home to parents tired, and fell fast asleep fully clothed. Which was where her mother found us in the morning, my arm around her, she spooning tightly into my crotch.

A few days later Lisa called, her mother had started asking questions, and Lisa admitted she had sex, how could she not, many of her neighbors had seen her performance with their own eyes. Then Lisa added something which hit like a Thunderbolt. "I told her", she said " I am madly in love with you". Are you I asked. Yes she said, from the day I met you.
When the call ended, I realized I had been wrong, the anal sex without lubrication, the having sex in public was not some game for an upper class girl, but that of someone who was madly in love, who wanted to please. I began thinking about how she would feel when her sister teased her about being fondled, or the date of the Westwood girl tell her I was quite the stud and I began to think about the times I had pushed her away, and been short with her, how much that would hurt. She was going back to college, and I didn't want her to go, she was a sweet, fun, classy girl who had made me her first love, and I had acted like a sleaze bag. As the weeks passed other thoughts came to me, her family would have reached out. Had I played my cards right it would have got me production projects with the top museums in LA and maybe New York, where I could use my professional talents. They had liked me. I could leave this hardscrabble existence, and use my talents to build a business moving among movers and shakers, and well educated, refined people, instead of the music video hanger on crowd of Heavy Metal and New Wave. I had totally blown it, but maybe I could make it up to her.
I started to call her at college, at first she replied quickly, then it was days late. I went up to see her. Coming back from dinner one night we met some of her friends. Back in the car, she told me, that they had invited her to an orgy last weekend. "Did you go" I asked, sensing something in my voice, she did not reply, "no, silly", but it didn't ring true. The word had spread, she puts out, get her in mood and she will play. The return calls became less frequent, and I criticized her thoughtlessness. One evening on a visit home we went out on a date, she said she had to get home and couldn't stay the night. We had sex and she left. I was woken the following morning, it was her mother on the phone, was Lisa there. No, I said she went home about 11 pm. Later I got a call from Lisa she apologized, and started to explain she was having difficulties. Then, I realized something I deeply cared for her, she was hurting. I asked to meet but she said no, maybe in awhile. Some weeks later we met for lunch. She started explaining about her boyfriend at college, whatever she did it was wrong or not good enough, she would try harder to please. He sounded like he was a jerk. He played with her insecurities and persuaded her to do things to make him happy like accepting invites to parties. Lisa explained she was the daughter of an alcoholic father, an ex VP of a large Bank, who when he came home raging drunk, would scream at the kids, beat his wife. Lisa always believed she somehow was responsible. So she was always trying to make things right. She had grown up to believe that any issue was her fault. Her parents had sent her to therapy. I hated myself. I could have loved her properly, built that esteem, but instead, I had contributed to her being bullied into orgies, being made a play thing for a guy who knew how to press the right buttons. In therapy, she would tell about the sex in public and more, the girl at the ball and her sister's come on. The therapist would tell her and her parents, that she needed to keep away from people like that. I had been given a precious gift, the first real love, and I had squandered it, I told her that she was terrific, kind and caring, she said, she needed to change her thinking to protect herself.

About a year later, the phone rang it was Lisa, she was nearby and asked if she could stop by. I was thrilled and excited, when she arrived I hugged her, she laughed, moved my hands from her and sat down. We talked for a long while, then I told her, that I had fallen for her, and hated losing her. She laughed, she thanked me for what she had learned, and the therapy had made her a stronger person, no longer the easy giving and loving person I once knew. It was necessary for her survival, she needed to grow up. I realized that I had lost her forever. She had come to test herself, and found that she felt nothing for a guy full of self pity and self recrimination. We never spoke again.