A Quick Note

April and May are busy months for stripping --- at least in my area. So combining my day job and the evening strip shows of spring, I haven't had much time to sit down and write much, because I've been motorboating some boobs and teabagging some brides.

A lot has happened, though, and I'll touch up on the highlights during the next update with some possible pics.

For now, I just want to say that I no longer plan on using Twitter. I never really liked it much in the first place, considering I'm not one to condense what I have to say down to a few words.

I'm also phasing out Facebook. Many pervs have been adding me on there and harassing me. The fans have been great, but it's the nasty ones who ruin everything. Seriously, when a granny sends me pics of her vagina and several guys send me unsolicited pics of their dicks, it's time to move on. These are things that cannot be unseen.

That leaves Instagram. I'm still using that and check it almost daily. So feel free to add me there.

You can also e-mail me at either of the following:

sinistralmetal@yahoo.com

malestripperdion@gmail.com


Until the busy season is over, give me approximately a week to get back to you.

The P.U.A. Scam

The P.U.A. Scam

Over the years, many people have asked me if the tactics of pick-up artists (P.U.A.) work. In case you're wondering, there are several renowned pick-up artists such as Neil Strauss, Mystery, David DeAngelo, etc. Their followers, who often refer to themselves as the "seduction community," cite these guys as gurus to gaming women. These guys often ply the same tactics of going into a club setting and approaching as many women as possible. Based on my experience as a male stripper who has had his fair share of sex, I find a lot of advice from these self-proclaimed PUAs to be absolute horseshit.

The whole attraction concept is very subjective, so PUA can never be a concrete science. The whole PUA process revolves around the consumer (the guy who can't get laid) buying into the PUA products (seminars, books, videos, etc). The self-proclaimed gurus sell these seminars or books at inflated prices with the promise that you'll improve your "game."

Sound ridiculous? Because it is.

Let's take a quick glance at these gurus so you can see for yourself: 


Neil Strauss

I'll start with Neil Strauss, the author of The Game. I've actually read that book at the recommendation of someone who follows my blog, and disappointment is a weak word to describe my feelings. In his book, Strauss claimed that he was the second-best pick-up artist in the world, only surpassed in gaming skills by his mentor who is referred to as "Mystery." Yeah, I rolled my eyes too. I need to take him along to a male revue and we'll see how well being the "second-best" in the world fares at picking up women there.

Just for laughs, here is a video of Neil Strauss spewing his bullshit:

Now for you naysayers who claim that Neil Strauss can get women---that's certainly true. However, keep in mind that he interviewed stars for the Rolling Stones magazine beforehand, then he became a best-selling author. Having achievements like those help. However, take those away from him and stick him on Tinder and let's see how many swipes he's going to get.

He currently has a business website that offers men advice on dating. It's called Neil Strauss' Stylelife Academy. Save your time and money by ignoring it.


Mystery

Here's Neil Strauss's mentor:



The No. 1 P.U.A. in the world, according to Strauss.

Maybe it's because I live in the rural South, but this guy would get his ass kicked if he tried to romp around my neighborhood parading around like that. In case you're wondering why Mystery is wearing black fingernail polish, steam-punk goggles, and eyeliner, Neil Strauss refers to this whole absurd manner of dress as "peacocking." In other words, you dress outlandishly to catch the attention of all the women in the room. I hope Mystery didn't scam too many people out of their money by preaching this shit.

For entertainment purposes, here's another pic of him dressed as a gothic Cat in the Hat:

David DeAngelo

Moving on, let's discuss David DeAngelo, also known as Eben Pagan. While he's not quite as popular as he once was in the early 2000's, he used to be one of the most prominent figures in the seduction community and released a successful e-book called, "Double Your Dating." I'll spare you the entire book and sum up the two main points: Be cocky and funny and don't be a wimpy nice guy. Got it? Good. You just saved yourself some money, because those are really those only two points in the whole book, followed by numerous examples.

What sets David DeAngelo (I mean, Eben Pagan) apart from the other two is that he's actually a pretty shrewd marketer. He enlisted Ebaum's World--back when it was a popular media site--to advertise his e-book, and he mass-promoted to young college-age males across the internet. In fact, he gives marketing advice right here:



Yep, that's David DeAngelo above. So if you want to follow his advice from "Double Your Dating," then hit on many women as possible, be cocky, be funny, and don't be a wuss while doing so. Wait... so you're not a cocky or funny person? That's okay. Just fake being something you're not! Women will never pick up on forced arrogance and humor.

Roosh V

I'm not going to spend too much time discussing this guy. He self-published books on his sexcapades, whether they're true or not is debatable, and he received widespread criticism from various media outlets, which label him as a "sex tourist," "rapist," and "misogynist."

In a nutshell, this guy gets a lot of negative press. Therefore, I really don't need to elaborate on what other journalists had already covered. Judging from the forums and such, it seems that women abhor this guy, while his followers consist of creepy millenials.

Overall, the PUA market is lucrative industry. There are many men more desperate than ever to spend their money on whatever will get them a relationship or get them laid. I can sympathize because I fell into this category at one point in my life (minus the spending money part because I was too cheap). But if you want to attract women, these guys are not the answer. Unless the advice is about making improvements to yourself via exercise, career, mental health, finance and motivation, then I advice you steer clear of most of this PUA garbage out there.

Twilight of Stripping Career

I'm back from my hiatus, so please excuse the lack of updates. 

Long story short, I've considered hanging up the G-strings and the costumes for good soon. I may be taking on a new job that will require more of my time this summer. If that happens, I can no longer strip. That's not a bad thing, really, because the new job would pay more.

Furthermore, I'm turning thirty-five this year. While many of my customers assume that I'm in my 20's, I definitely feel like I'm in my 30's. I'm starting to get various joint and ligament pains, and have to warm-up and stretch extensively to avoid injuries. The wear and tear from both the gym and my strip shows have also done a number on my knee. I can no longer squat heavy without pain, and hoisting up heavier girls is a thing of the past. Now I can see why many professional athletes retire in their 30's and 40's.

When I began stripping in 2003 at the age of twenty-one, I had never imagined I'd be in the industry this long. I thought that it was just a brief stint in college, but I always returned to it even when I started working professional jobs. I tried quitting, but agents always called me again because they could find no other steady replacement in my area. How could I turn down easy money like that? Stripping was always something that I could do on the weekends in secret to earn that extra buck, not to mention, give me opportunities to meet and party with beautiful women.

This job has changed me for the better, I believe. It has boosted my confidence and sense of well-being. It has also made me wiser with social interactions, considering the dynamic social nature of the job. Stripping also introduced me to various threesomes, interesting girlfriends, and lucrative job offers over the years. I've stripped in mansions, dingy hotel rooms, beach condos, trailers, Hollywood movie sets, restaurants, clubs, and even on the beach in broad daylight.

Thirteen years is a long time for a job, and I feel my motivation for working these parties is not as strong as it once was. I still love the job, but it will soon be time for me to move on.

If I was given a choice to go back in time and do it all over again, I definitely would! However, I'm glad that I developed various professional work skills and didn't get trapped into solely working in the stripping industry. As I'm getting older, I'm still looking forward to what else lies on the horizon.

Until I get my new job, I'll keep stripping on the side a little while longer. It has been a good run so far. 

A Brief Hiatus

I apologize for the lack of updates. The new year has brought an excess of activity in my life, especially regarding my day job. Therefore, I currently have little time to write stories, articles, and update this blog.

This busy schedule will last until mid-February. Afterwards, I plan on updating and writing again.

In the meantime, "Behind the G-String" is now $0.99 on Kindle, and the paperback version of "American Stripper" is reduced to $9.99 if you haven't already picked up a version of either.

Enjoy.

A Very Scandalous Affair - Part Two

Continued from PART ONE.

 

The next day, my phone exploded with text messages from Jen. Just as promised, she sent me pictures of the beach party along with selfies of herself.

“We’re going out on Saturday night,” she wrote. “Wanna go?”

I didn’t have a party scheduled that Saturday night, so I agreed. From that point on, our text messages became full of erotic ideas of what was to come.

Besides discussing potential sexual activities, Jen was dying to know what kind of job I had. “I’d have to know you better,” I said. “I’d get fired if they found out.”

That answer only furthered Jen’s curiosity.

“You seem like the professional type, so you’re either a doctor, lawyer, or maybe even a firefighter. I’m guessing firefighter.”

“Okay, you got me,” I responded.

“I knew it. That is so sexy!” she wrote.

I couldn’t remember much about what Jen did for a living, but I do remember that she was twenty-nine years old, close to my age at the time.

Judging from the way things were going, I went into Saturday full of wonderful and exciting expectations. I did find excitement…

We met at a karaoke bar on the beach. I cannot remember the name, but it nestled between the boardwalk of the beach’s public access area and a high rise hotel. The bar catered towards a laidback crowd, only providing barstools, tables, chairs, and a karaoke stage. Various people took their turns singing, alternating between country and rock music.

All five girls from the beach party filed in and sat with me at a table. We ordered a round of drinks and talked, more like shouted to each other over the loud music.

Jen, who was very animated and touchy the other night, seemed like an entirely different person when sober. She smiled at me, but said very little and even sat apart. For a moment, I wondered if this was the same girl who sent those racy text messages.

“She’s just being really shy because she likes you,” the bride said into my ear. “She was talking about you all day.”

“Did she now?”

“Oh, yeah. She really likes you.”

I tried to converse with Jen again, but she only gave me short answers as if struggling for something to say. Perhaps she needed more alcohol to loosen up and relax.

To pass the time, I engaged in small talk with the other four girls. The one who spoke to me the most was the one I least expected: Brittney.

Unlike the other night when she was withdrawn, curt, and blunt, she was much friendlier tonight. She even had her hand on my leg under the table.

When the Jen and the bride went to the bar, Brittney leaned very close to me and said, “See the girl next to me? She has a boyfriend, so don’t fuck with her. The girl next to her is married, so don’t fuck with her.” Brittney nodded towards the bar. “Of course the bride is getting married soon, so she’s off limits. And Jen is also married, so don’t fuck with her—”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Jen is married?!”

“Yep. With kids, too.”

“You’re making that up,” I said.

Brittany shrugged and pointed to her friends sitting nearby. “Ask them if you don’t believe me. Jen is lying to you if she’s playing that single card. And personally, I think it’s fucked up that she’s trying to cheat on her husband and keeping you in the dark about it.”

I paused in thought to soak in this new information. That definitely changed things.

“Since every girl here is taken, that leaves me as the only single one here. So that leaves only me.”

“So that’s your motive,” I said, placing my hand on her bare thigh. Her skin felt smooth as silk, her thighs firm enough to reflect her athletic and youthful nature. She was quite attractive and looked younger and prettier than Jen. Plus if what she said was true, then the choice was a simple one.

“Do I need to be clearer?” she asked.

Before I could respond to her invitation, Jen and the bride returned to the table with drinks. Jen saw my hand on Brittany’s leg, and she purposefully took a seat on the opposite end of the table.

The bride noticed too. She leaned towards me and said, “Why are you flirting with Brittany? You’ve been talking to Jen all day, and she’s been excited to see you. Go talk to her.”

“Tell me something,” I said, studying the bride’s face intently. “Is Jen really married?”

The bride’s eyes flickered in alarm, then she looked away. “Umm…”

“You hesitated.”

The bride patted my arm. “She is, but you should talk to her anyway! She’s been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“How would her husband feel about this?”

The bride shifted nervously. “Jen’s a nice person. You’ve been texting her a lot, so you should hang out with her.”

So Brittany wasn’t lying.

Another round of drinks came. Everyone was becoming progressively drunk except me and the bride. The bride, being the designated driver, limited herself to two shots. I, not caring much for alcohol, stopped after one shot.

As we conversed, Brittany latched onto my arm. Jen sat apart and sulked.

“Let’s get go somewhere private,” Brittany whispered into my ear.

I knew what that meant.

We slipped out of the bar and headed towards the parking lot. Brittany stumbled around in her heels and almost fell, but I caught her. She turned and grabbed my biceps with both hands and squeezed on them for a few moments. “Not to boost your ego, but you’ve got some really sexy arms. I’ve never been with a guy who had such muscular arms before.”

She turned towards me. Her lips parted and she leaned forward. I embraced her as she kissed me there in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, the text message notification on my phone chimed a few times, but I ignored it. A few drunks walking through the parking lot shouted at each other, further distracting me. Brittany didn’t seem to notice.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” I said in annoyance.

“Okay. Where?”

“How about the beach?”

“I’m wearing heels, and I don’t feel like getting sand on my feet.”

“That’s fine,” I said, leaning over and scooping her up into my arms.

Brittany gasped in surprise. “My, you’re strong. I’ve never been manhandled like this before.”

I trekked across the sand with Brittany in my arms. By the time we neared a lifeguard hut, my arms felt like they were filled with lead.

“How about here?” I said, indicating to the empty hut.

“Are we allowed in there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

A ramp led up to the lifeguard hut. The door was closed and locked, but we could get a good degree of privacy on the deck facing the beach.

Brittany dropped her purse to the ground, leaned against the railing and pulled me in for a kiss. Her hand shot down to the front of my jeans and began to unbutton and unzip them. Her hands felt soft as they freed my growing member and began to rub it.

I reached down to undo the button of her shorts, pulling them down slightly enough to slip my fingers down into the front her panties. She was wet to the touch as she shuddered and moaned against me.

“Put it in me,” she whispered.

I pulled her shorts down to her ankles, allowing her to step out of them. She grabbed my hair and pulled me towards her again for a deep kiss, her other hand guiding my cock towards her pussy. I began to reach for the condom in my back pocket.

Brittany grabbed my cock and lifted one leg up and wrapped it around me. “Fuck me, now.”

I could have entered her right there, but I fumbled for the condom. “Hold on,” I said, pulling away from her kiss.

Suddenly, she slapped me hard across the face. The move stunned more than hurt, but it angered me.

“What was that for?” I demanded.

“I told you to fuck me now!” she said, clawing at my chest.

Just then, the phone in her purse began to ring. Brittany pulled away and stooped down to retrieve her phone.

I sighed. “Do you really have to answer that now?”

Brittany answered her phone.

It was the bride, her sister. “Where are you?!” I heard her shout.

“Walking on the beach… Okay, okay! I’ll come back. Quit worrying.” She hung up and said, “Sorry, but my sister is getting worried. We’ll do this later.”

“All right,” I said.

This evening was not going well at all. Unfortunately, things got worse.

I checked my phone and saw multiple text messages – all from Jen – warning me to stay away from Brittany because she was underage. Each subsequent message became more threatening, and the final one stating how I was going to get fired from my teaching job.

I showed Brittany the texts. “Is this true you’re underage?”

“What a bitch!” Brittany said. “I’m eighteen. Not old enough to buy alcohol, but old enough.”

“How’d you get into the bar?” I asked, remembering the bouncers who carded everyone who entered.

“I have a fake I.D.” She pulled out both her real and fake I.D. and showed them to me. “See?”

Her fake I.D. looked similar to her real one, but the fake one was missing the official watermark.

“So why is Jen saying that you’re underage?”

Brittany shrugged. “She’s just jealous that I’m spending time with you, and she’s not. But she’s married… with kids! She has no right to complain. Anyway, let’s get back before my sister worries.”

Once we returned to the bar, Brittany went to the bar to order some drinks.

No sooner did she leave when Jen confronted me. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

I met her gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re married?”

For a brief moment, the look of anger gave way to pure astonishment. Jen quickly recovered, utter hatred forming across her face. “You’re going to be in big trouble. We’ll see about what your job has to say once I report that you’re messing around with underage girls.”

She walked away before I could say anything.

Jen’s penchant for retribution coupled with a lack of guilt left me dumbfounded. I have met women who had no qualms about cheating before, but this particular girl felt entitled to it like it was her birthright. And if she was already threatening vengeance on me, I wondered how she treated her husband at home. I couldn’t feel more disgust towards her.

At least Brittany was much prettier and single… even if she was rather demanding and bossy. But even my evening with her turned sour.

Brittany became so intoxicated that she could barely keep her eyes open. She definitely could not walk without assistance. She flirted with random men around the bar, sitting down on an old man’s lap right in front of his wife. I no longer wanted her. She was so drunk at this point that anyone would’ve sufficed.

Nevertheless, she still insisted we return to the lifeguard hut to have sex. I refused, saying that she was beyond the ability to have consensual sex. She staggered off.

I sat down with the bride and told her the situation of Brittany and Jen. She nodded in understanding and laughed. “You’re quite popular,” she said. “That’s what happens when you have two girls fighting over you. Most men would love to be in your shoes.”

“I can do without the drama,” I said.

The other married girls of the group were mingling with random men at the bar. Jen found a blue-collar type of guy and was talking to him at the bar. When she thought I was looking her way, she wrapped her arms around the guy and made out with him. The guy was elated. You’re welcome, I silently told him.

A few minutes later, one of the bouncers approached me and said, “You need to get that girl out of here. She’s passed out at the table, and the bartender wants her out.”

“Gotcha,” I said. “I’ll get her. We were about to leave anyway.”

Brittany was sprawled on one of the tables. There was a large empty space around her. When I tried to wake her, she mumbled something incoherent. When I picked her up, she tried to fight me and wriggle out of my grasp, but I was too strong and she was too drunk. I ended up carrying a comatose Brittany back to the car, dumping her unceremoniously into the back. Her sister thanked me, and I left and went home alone.

The next day, I received a text message from both Jen and Brittany.

Jen wrote, “We’ll see what your boss has to say when he finds out you’ve been with an underage girl. You’re going to be in big trouble.”

I replied, “You saying crazy things like that makes me glad we didn’t hook up. You’re trying to make me pay because I didn’t help you cheat on your husband? And Brittany’s eighteen, so you can stop your lying.”

Jen didn’t respond to that.

The next day, my phone exploded with text messages from Jen. Just as promised, she sent me pictures of the beach party along with selfies of herself.

“We’re going out on Saturday night,” she wrote. “Wanna go?”

I didn’t have a party scheduled that Saturday night, so I agreed. From that point on, our text messages became full of erotic ideas of what was to come.

Besides discussing potential sexual activities, Jen was dying to know what kind of job I had. “I’d have to know you better,” I said. “I’d get fired if they found out.”

That answer only furthered Jen’s curiosity.

“You seem like the professional type, so you’re either a doctor, lawyer, or maybe even a firefighter. I’m guessing firefighter.”

“Okay, you got me,” I responded.

“I knew it. That is so sexy!” she wrote.

I couldn’t remember much about what Jen did for a living, but I do remember that she was twenty-nine years old, close to my age at the time.

Judging from the way things were going, I went into Saturday full of wonderful and exciting expectations. I did find excitement…

We met at a karaoke bar on the beach. I cannot remember the name, but it nestled between the boardwalk of the beach’s public access area and a high rise hotel. The bar catered towards a laidback crowd, only providing barstools, tables, chairs, and a karaoke stage. Various people took their turns singing, alternating between country and rock music.

All five girls from the beach party filed in and sat with me at a table. We ordered a round of drinks and talked, more like shouted to each other over the loud music.

Jen, who was very animated and touchy the other night, seemed like an entirely different person when sober. She smiled at me, but said very little and even sat apart. For a moment, I wondered if this was the same girl who sent those racy text messages.

“She’s just being really shy because she likes you,” the bride said into my ear. “She was talking about you all day.”

“Did she now?”

“Oh, yeah. She really likes you.”

I tried to converse with Jen again, but she only gave me short answers as if struggling for something to say. Perhaps she needed more alcohol to loosen up and relax.

To pass the time, I engaged in small talk with the other four girls. The one who spoke to me the most was the one I least expected: Brittney.

Unlike the other night when she was withdrawn, curt, and blunt, she was much friendlier tonight. She even had her hand on my leg under the table.

When the Jen and the bride went to the bar, Brittney leaned very close to me and said, “See the girl next to me? She has a boyfriend, so don’t fuck with her. The girl next to her is married, so don’t fuck with her.” Brittney nodded towards the bar. “Of course the bride is getting married soon, so she’s off limits. And Jen is also married, so don’t fuck with her—”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Jen is married?!”

“Yep. With kids, too.”

“You’re making that up,” I said.

Brittany shrugged and pointed to her friends sitting nearby. “Ask them if you don’t believe me. Jen is lying to you if she’s playing that single card. And personally, I think it’s fucked up that she’s trying to cheat on her husband and keeping you in the dark about it.”

I paused in thought to soak in this new information. That definitely changed things.

“Since every girl here is taken, that leaves me as the only single one here. So that leaves only me.”

“So that’s your motive,” I said, placing my hand on her bare thigh. Her skin felt smooth as silk, her thighs firm enough to reflect her athletic and youthful nature. She was quite attractive and looked younger and prettier than Jen. Plus if what she said was true, then the choice was a simple one.

“Do I need to be clearer?” she asked.

Before I could respond to her invitation, Jen and the bride returned to the table with drinks. Jen saw my hand on Brittany’s leg, and she purposefully took a seat on the opposite end of the table.

The bride noticed too. She leaned towards me and said, “Why are you flirting with Brittany? You’ve been talking to Jen all day, and she’s been excited to see you. Go talk to her.”

“Tell me something,” I said, studying the bride’s face intently. “Is Jen really married?”

The bride’s eyes flickered in alarm, then she looked away. “Umm…”

“You hesitated.”

The bride patted my arm. “She is, but you should talk to her anyway! She’s been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

“How would her husband feel about this?”

The bride shifted nervously. “Jen’s a nice person. You’ve been texting her a lot, so you should hang out with her.”

So Brittany wasn’t lying.

Another round of drinks came. Everyone was becoming progressively drunk except me and the bride. The bride, being the designated driver, limited herself to two shots. I, not caring much for alcohol, stopped after one shot.

As we conversed, Brittany latched onto my arm. Jen sat apart and sulked.

“Let’s get go somewhere private,” Brittany whispered into my ear.

I knew what that meant.

We slipped out of the bar and headed towards the parking lot. Brittany stumbled around in her heels and almost fell, but I caught her. She turned and grabbed my biceps with both hands and squeezed on them for a few moments. “Not to boost your ego, but you’ve got some really sexy arms. I’ve never been with a guy who had such muscular arms before.”

She turned towards me. Her lips parted and she leaned forward. I embraced her as she kissed me there in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, the text message notification on my phone chimed a few times, but I ignored it. A few drunks walking through the parking lot shouted at each other, further distracting me. Brittany didn’t seem to notice.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” I said in annoyance.

“Okay. Where?”

“How about the beach?”

“I’m wearing heels, and I don’t feel like getting sand on my feet.”

“That’s fine,” I said, leaning over and scooping her up into my arms.

Brittany gasped in surprise. “My, you’re strong. I’ve never been manhandled like this before.”

I trekked across the sand with Brittany in my arms. By the time we neared a lifeguard hut, my arms felt like they were filled with lead.

“How about here?” I said, indicating to the empty hut.

“Are we allowed in there?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

A ramp led up to the lifeguard hut. The door was closed and locked, but we could get a good degree of privacy on the deck facing the beach.

Brittany dropped her purse to the ground, leaned against the railing and pulled me in for a kiss. Her hand shot down to the front of my jeans and began to unbutton and unzip them. Her hands felt soft as they freed my growing member and began to rub it.

I reached down to undo the button of her shorts, pulling them down slightly enough to slip my fingers down into the front her panties. She was wet to the touch as she shuddered and moaned against me.

“Put it in me,” she whispered.

I pulled her shorts down to her ankles, allowing her to step out of them. She grabbed my hair and pulled me towards her again for a deep kiss, her other hand guiding my cock towards her pussy. I began to reach for the condom in my back pocket.

Brittany grabbed my cock and lifted one leg up and wrapped it around me. “Fuck me, now.”

I could have entered her right there, but I fumbled for the condom. “Hold on,” I said, pulling away from her kiss.

Suddenly, she slapped me hard across the face. The move stunned more than hurt, but it angered me.

“What was that for?” I demanded.

“I told you to fuck me now!” she said, clawing at my chest.

Just then, the phone in her purse began to ring. Brittany pulled away and stooped down to retrieve her phone.

I sighed. “Do you really have to answer that now?”

Brittany answered her phone.

It was the bride, her sister. “Where are you?!” I heard her shout.

“Walking on the beach… Okay, okay! I’ll come back. Quit worrying.” She hung up and said, “Sorry, but my sister is getting worried. We’ll do this later.”

“All right,” I said.

This evening was not going well at all. Unfortunately, things got worse.

I checked my phone and saw multiple text messages – all from Jen – warning me to stay away from Brittany because she was underage. Each subsequent message became more threatening, and the final one stating how I was going to get fired from my teaching job.

I showed Brittany the texts. “Is this true you’re underage?”

“What a bitch!” Brittany said. “I’m eighteen. Not old enough to buy alcohol, but old enough.”

“How’d you get into the bar?” I asked, remembering the bouncers who carded everyone who entered.

“I have a fake I.D.” She pulled out both her real and fake I.D. and showed them to me. “See?”

Her fake I.D. looked similar to her real one, but the fake one was missing the official watermark.

“So why is Jen saying that you’re underage?”

Brittany shrugged. “She’s just jealous that I’m spending time with you, and she’s not. But she’s married… with kids! She has no right to complain. Anyway, let’s get back before my sister worries.”

Once we returned to the bar, Brittany went to the bar to order some drinks.

No sooner did she leave when Jen confronted me. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

I met her gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re married?”

For a brief moment, the look of anger gave way to pure astonishment. Jen quickly recovered, utter hatred forming across her face. “You’re going to be in big trouble. We’ll see about what your job has to say once I report that you’re messing around with underage girls.”

She walked away before I could say anything.

Jen’s penchant for retribution coupled with a lack of guilt left me dumbfounded. I have met women who had no qualms about cheating before, but this particular girl felt entitled to it like it was her birthright. And if she was already threatening vengeance on me, I wondered how she treated her husband at home. I couldn’t feel more disgust towards her.

At least Brittany was much prettier and single… even if she was rather demanding and bossy. But even my evening with her turned sour.

Brittany became so intoxicated that she could barely keep her eyes open. She definitely could not walk without assistance. She flirted with random men around the bar, sitting down on an old man’s lap right in front of his wife. I no longer wanted her. She was so drunk at this point that anyone would’ve sufficed.

Nevertheless, she still insisted we return to the lifeguard hut to have sex. I refused, saying that she was beyond the ability to have consensual sex. She staggered off.

I sat down with the bride and told her the situation of Brittany and Jen. She nodded in understanding and laughed. “You’re quite popular,” she said. “That’s what happens when you have two girls fighting over you. Most men would love to be in your shoes.”

“I can do without the drama,” I said.

The other married girls of the group were mingling with random men at the bar. Jen found a blue-collar type of guy and was talking to him at the bar. When she thought I was looking her way, she wrapped her arms around the guy and made out with him. The guy was elated. You’re welcome, I silently told him.

A few minutes later, one of the bouncers approached me and said, “You need to get that girl out of here. She’s passed out at the table, and the bartender wants her out.”

“Gotcha,” I said. “I’ll get her. We were about to leave anyway.”

Brittany was sprawled on one of the tables. There was a large empty space around her. When I tried to wake her, she mumbled something incoherent. When I picked her up, she tried to fight me and wriggle out of my grasp, but I was too strong and she was too drunk. I ended up carrying a comatose Brittany back to the car, dumping her unceremoniously into the back. Her sister thanked me, and I left and went home alone.

The next day, I received a text message from both Jen and Brittany.

Jen wrote, “We’ll see what your boss has to say when he finds out you’ve been with an underage girl. You’re going to be in big trouble.”

I replied, “You saying crazy things like that makes me glad we didn’t hook up. You’re trying to make me pay because I didn’t help you cheat on your husband? And Brittany’s eighteen, so you can stop your lying.”

Jen didn’t respond to that.

Brittany wrote: “Hey, do you remember if we had sex last night?”

I replied, “No. You wanted to, but I figured you were too drunk to make that choice.”

“Thanks for doing that!”

“No problem. Just be careful. There are guys who’d take advantage of that.”

“I know. I had that happen to me before and it wasn’t good.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t get so drunk. Anyone could’ve hauled you off last night.”

No response. I guess I pissed her off, too.

In the end, I had to laugh about the whole incident. I had two girls fighting over me, both willing to have sex with me, but every plan went awry. Maybe I avoid disaster. I certainly did by not sleeping with Jen.

Brittany wrote: “Hey, do you remember if we had sex last night?”

I replied, “No. You wanted to, but I figured you were too drunk to make that choice.”

“Thanks for doing that!”

“No problem. Just be careful. There are guys who’d take advantage of that.”

“I know. I had that happen to me before and it wasn’t good.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t get so drunk. Anyone could’ve hauled you off last night.”

No response. I guess I pissed her off, too.

In the end, I had to laugh about the whole incident. I had two girls fighting over me, both willing to have sex with me, but every plan went awry. Maybe I avoid disaster. I certainly did by not sleeping with Jen.