Home and Mostly Sober

It has been not just a week, but this week in particular has been week-y. You know the kind. The ones you wish you could just fast forward through, even if you had to put up with the consequences of maybe having done things in fast forward non-optimally. Okay, maybe that made no sense at all, but it's been that kind of week. Or month.

So tonight, when some of the cast and crew said, "Hey, you want to go out?" I said, "Sure." In fact, those were my exact words. I don't have the money, and I'm tired, and I don't love all these people all that much, but hey. I wanted to get really drunk, but I couldn't because I have to drive. Still, I had drinks, which was probably not the greatest idea from a legal standpoint but I am not a good person.

We were all crammed into the place, elbow to elbow, and I was seated next to this cute guy who's been flirting with me for a while but never actually doing anything other than flirt. My flirt-fu has been a bit off lately, so I'm not sure that it's not my fault that he hasn't done anything. It may well be that I've been turning him down without realizing it. But the drinks were flowing and I was basically pressing against him without being able to do anything about it, and before I knew it he'd reached under the table without anyone noticing and put his hand on my thigh.

I'm an old-fashioned girl. If a guy puts his hand on my thigh, I'm either going to slap him or encourage him. And there wasn't enough room to slap him, so I rubbed my leg against his under the table and gave him a sideways glance, and he returned it with this cute little smile, and pretty soon his hand was between my legs. He wasn't really doing much with it, just kind of resting it there, but every so often, without even looking at me, he'd rub with his middle finger. I wished more than anything that I'd been wearing a skirt, because I would have let him fingerbang me under the table in a heartbeat. Sadly, my pants were in the way. But I still enjoyed it.

I didn't want it to be too obvious, so I didn't put my hand in his lap. Because it would have been pretty obvious. Also because I'm a whore. Glad I've established that. Anyway, I wasn't interested in just sitting and rubbing, so I said, "Get up, I've got to go to the bathroom," and once I was out I gave him a little look and nodded in the direction of the bathrooms. He raised an eyebrow, but he didn't do anything else, and I was all set to kick myself in the ass all the way home. But I trailed toward the bathrooms, which luckily were fairly secluded and not crowded at that time of night, and waited for a few minutes until, miracle of miracles, he showed up. "Sorry I was being cryptic," I said.

"What did you want?" Okay, so I was being way too cryptic or he was being stupid.

The point was made that I'd enjoyed his hand and would be happy to continue in some other fashion, away from the hustle and bustle, and though I would probably have tried bathroom sex at that point, he didn't seem like that was his style, so I told him to meet me by my car. We said our goodbyes and headed out, and maybe we weren't fooling anyone, but whatever, it's not like no one else in this cast is shacking up. At my car we hopped in and headed off to a darker area of the strip mall to conduct our business, which turned out to be him stroking me off with his hand in my panties, then me giving him head in the passenger seat. I can still taste him on my tongue. I wanted a fuck but he played coy, so in the end I drove him back to his car and then went home. And now I'm writing this and wishing, really wishing, that I had a magical bedroom in a box which I could produce and whisk people away into, where comfortable surroundings would make sex more possible. Damn it.

It somewhat depresses me to think, now, that actually I wasn't all that into sex either, at the time anyway. It would have been a lot of effort. I'm getting lazy. I was perfectly happy to get off, give a bit in return, and then go home. Sex would have been a production. Not worth it. Which is not where I really wanted to be. Also, in the morning I'll probably kick myself for shitting where I eat. But oh well. He's just an actor.

Anyway, it's more action than I've had in a while, so I'm not really complaining. Nor was I really drunk. And who knows, maybe we'll get together again in circumstances less cramped both spacially and temporally, and we can have a show fling. Haven't had one of those in a while, and I'm really not looking for anything steady. And the way my career is going, it's not like I can do that much damage by canoodling with an actor anyway.