Flying into D.C. on Friday afternoon, I knew it was going to be a fun weekend. How fun, was the real question. Knowing me…BIG fun!
Two events brought me to our nation's capital…my cousin's wedding on Saturday and my nephews' baptism on Sunday. I was staying with my father, my sister and my niece in a hotel room. Close quarters, but I knew we could work it out.
My cousin is a wild partier so I knew the wedding would be fun. Everyone got dolled up and off to the party. After a quick ceremony in the courtyard of a huge restaurant, cocktails were served on an outside patio overlooking a gorgeous lake. My sisters and I hob-knobbed with some pretty well-known politicos (my uncle is a lawyer in D.C.) not really knowing who they were until my dad filled us in later…it still didn't mean that much to us. ( I don't get too wrapped up in politics.)
After cocktails, dinner and dancing! Lots and lots of dancing. I danced for about an hour straight – took a break for cake – then back to dancing. But when the wedding was over is where the REAL fun began. My father wanted to go back to the hotel because he was tired. Once we returned back to the hotel, my sister and I headed up to the bar where the remnants of wedding guests, from two different weddings in the hotel, littered the hotel bar…along with one of the brides and grooms. Everyone was completely shit-faced! I haven't seen that many 20-somethings so hammered, in one room, in a very long time.
My sister and I got to chatting with the drunks. The 20-something boys were all over us. They kept calling us cougars! My sister didn't like the reference, got pissed and went to bed. I laughed it off and hung out a little longer. The youngsters got a little more aggressive with me, suggesting that I, “take them upstairs and show them what a real cougar can do.” I responded with, “I'm not really in the mood to be a teacher tonight, but thank you for the thought.” Yep. I turned the little buggers down. They kept pushing and pushing. And I kept laughing and laughing! There was a really sweet boy among all the pushy ones. He and I got to talking about all kinds of stuff, other than fucking. I had a great time with him and I decided to ask, “Would you want to piss your friends off and end up being the hero?” He answered, “What do you have in mind?”
“I'm not going to take you upstairs and screw you, but how would you like your friends to THINK that I did?”
Sweet boy answered, “That would be hilarious! Let's do it!”
So I scooted a little closer to him and he put his hand on my leg. We started touching each other a little bit more, as his buddies would swoop in and try to get on the action. I shoo-ed them off. After about an hour of pretend flirting, I said, “Let's go say goodnight to your friends.” We walked over, hand-in-hand, and told the boys where we were headed. I saw 10 jaws hit the floor. They couldn't speak. They didn't say another word until after we were outside of the doors of the bar, then I hear lots of high-fiving, hooting and hollering and lots of, “Dude's getting a 43 year old! Sweeeeeet!”
Sweet boy and I went around the corner to the elevators, pressed the button and got on. We both got off on my floor. He was sweet enough to walk me to my door. I kissed his cheek and told him, “When you see your friends tomorrow, keep up the game. I'll do the same if we run into each other somewhere in the hotel.”
The next morning, inevitably, my family and I ran into a bunch of these boys having breakfast. I waved to sweet boy and his friends and went over to say hello after we finished eating. I hugged sweet boy and his friends nearly shit. It was absolutely hilarious. He was the fucking hero! And I helped get him there! Perfect.
And just for the record, no. I didn't fuck sweet boy.