Encounters 2

It’s been a very chill week at work. The server’s been down all week, so I’ve spent much of the time surfing and preparing for M.

One of the associates here was celebrating her 24th, so after work yesterday we headed to the neighbouring “Marry-ott” Hotel for drinks. To get a sense of the youth of the associates and consultants in our practice, of the 10 of us that were there, the oldest person must have been 25. And much of the banter was juvenile. I was feeling thirsty, and they had something called the Oktoberfest, which promptly reminded me of Kitchener-Waterloo, so I ordered that. Good thing they don’t card. I don’t think I’ve ever been so buzzed after two drinks.

About two hours later Mary and I stumble out of the “Marry-ott”, quasi-inebriated, and manage our way into the downtown McDonald’s, where we took advantage of their generous dollar menu. By the time I got home, I had my fries, threw the double cheeseburger in the fridge, and tuned into Raymond. I was so zonked that I must have passed out on the bed.

At about 11:15 I awaken to my 1986 model hotel phone ringing.… I’m thinking WTF... who’s calling me now? Not mom, she wouldn’t call me this late. Mary?

“SEN!” the party on the other line goes, and alas, it’s good old Two Shots Mercieca, expressing consternation at my last blog post. Not to worry mate, everything’s cool.

So we’re on the phone for a while, and then I hang up. At this point I’m catching the tail end of Letterman, still slightly buzzed. About 10 minutes later the phone is ringing again. What… it’s 12:20! What does Tristan want now?!

I pick up. A sultry voice breathes heavily on the other end.

Me: Hello.
Girl: Hi... it’s Jackie.
Me: Jackie Liu?
Girl: ...Is this Michael.
Me: No, I think you have the wrong number.
Girl: Is this room 602…
Me: Yes. But Michael’s no longer here. I’ve been here for about 6 weeks now.
Girl: What’s your name.
Me: Err... Ron.
Girl: How old are you...
Me: I’m 20. How old are you?
Girl: I’m 22.
Sen: Oh, nice.
Girl: I’m wet.
Me: Excuse me?
Girl: ... What... do you... have on…
Me: Sweatpants and a T.
Girl: ... How hard’s your cock.
Me: Huh?
Girl: Am... I... turning you on?
Me: Yeah, you are now.
Girl: How many inches you got.
Me: Depends.

Then I hear some rhythmic sighing and moaning on the other end, and clearly it sounds like she’s masturbating, and then 20 seconds later click.