Back a long time ago, we are talking way back like many plus years when I was single and ready to mingle, I had lets say a ton of fun. Some of the best times of my life were spent with my partner in crime Becca and we could get ourselves into some shitzle. We used to hang out at a local honky tonk. Every Friday and Saturday you could find us there. At first it was just us two, then we recruited a few more into our cult. We could call the bar and say, "We want to reserve a table" and they knew exactly who we were. We walk in to pay our cover charge and the girl would announce "The Party Girls" were here. I met some interesting people to say the least. Half of which I vaguely remember now what their names even where. And they probably don't remember my name because I called myself "Beth."
One night we decided to venture to Downtown Nashville. We met some people there one of which his name was Will. Will was a preppy dude. He had flippy hair. An updated Elvis do with a college oxford shirt wearing twist. Will was a nice guy. He was kind of on the rebound because his girlfriend had dumped him.
We sat down at the pool hall and Will was already fucked up worse than a dollar watch. We ordered a drink that cost a blazillion dollars and drank it. We all chatted and looked up and Will's friends had left his ass. That's right -at the bar -with us. Probably thinking he was going to get lucky. But that wasn't going to happen. I didn't go home with guys in bars.. or so I thought.
Will didn't have his cell phone. We were Downtown and we weren't going to stay long because the po po's swarmed that place on the weekends. His friends were no where to be found and he was licking the pavement. So, I said, look you can come with us and I will take you home tomorrow.
We got back to my house with my 80 pound beast of a dog Mille waiting anxiously to go outside. We sat down, chatted and I left Will on the couch with said beast. She liked to cuddle.
Becca and I changed our clothes and went to bed with the door closed. I am pretty sure we had a convo about leaving the door open or closed but decided that if he was a mass murderer, the dog would take care of that.
We woke up. The sun was shining, the dog on the bedroom floor, look over at each other and there he was slap dab in the middle of both of us. Naked as a jay bird. We both roll out from each of our sides of the bed while Naked Man is face down with the pink thing on my sheets. Becca and I look at each other puzzled. How did he get in here? How did we not feel the bed move when he climbed in? Holy, shit, what will he think or tell everyone? My dog sucks at protecting her master. Again, his pink thing is on my sheets. Ugh!
So I looked and her and said, "Well, you wake him up." She said, "I ain't waking him up you wake him up." This went back and forth for about 5 minutes. I finally lifted the sheet and slapped him on the ass and said, "Hey Naked Man you have to get up and I need to take you home."
On the ride to his house, not much was said. He explained where he lived, which I can't remember to this day, said thank you and got out of my SUV. I never saw him again until....
A few years later, this firm I worked for the copier broke. I placed a service call. A guy walks in with an updated Elvis do with a college oxford shirt twist. I immediately recognized him but didn't say anything. I called Becca and said, "You will never guess who is fixing our copier?" She said, "Who?" I said, "Naked Man!" We both laughed and he came over and said that the copier needed parts, he would have to order them and come back. I signed his service ticket. I think he recognized my name because I never saw him again. Some other guy came to put the parts on the copier. That's right run, you to twisted for color TV creeper.
To this day, we still have no clue how he got in the bed. That's the honest truth. I don't let nobody in my cookie jar unless its pure love and she didn't either. Neither of us were drunk because we couldn't afford the drinks in that place. To sum it up. My dog has been and always will be a worthless guard dog. We figured out that she probably took up too much room on the couch and her breath ran him off and he was just too wasted and climbed on in.
And that's the story of Naked Man. One of the many adventures Becca and I have had together. She still can't believe I slapped his butt with my bare hand and I still can't believe his flesh and boner was on my sheets. Where ever you are Naked Man thanks for the memory. I am sure you are a Lifetime movie maker about a drunk who crawls into bed with strange women. I washed my sheets promptly after you left, you perverted bastard.