From there we went to another of the casino’s bars, and started talking about deep dark secrets we’d hardly shared with anyone.
Something about him being dressed up and out in the world made us both more vulnerable and more able to be honest and open with each other about things we’d never discussed before.
“We could save it for tomorrow and take it easy today.“No way,” he said. He drinks beer and whiskey, doesn’t dance when we go out, plays far too many video games, and all-in-all is a dude’s dude. “Your boobs are bigger than mine.”“Fuck yeah they are,” he said, grinning broadly.
He gravitated toward bright pink lip glosses and dark shades of eyeshadow, things I found too stripperish for my own regular use. When we got out of the car and stepped onto the two-story escalator leading up to the casino’s main floor, we heard a wolf whistle come from above. “Shit,” I said a minute later, as I thought of the perfect comeback.
As he fussed over his hair in the mirror I put on my own clothes, a skin-tight black slip dress and knee-high leather boots that I lovingly refer to as my hooker shoes. When we finally left the hotel room he looked terrified. A group of frat boys was coming down the opposite side, and after a couple of lewd comments one of them yelled, “Wait, that one’s a ” His face fell, and I could see him brace himself for an entire evening of those kinds of comments. “I should have said, ‘Don’t be mad that my girlfriend is hotter than yours.'”He laughed, before grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the closest bar.
He’s a paranoid fucker; nobody would be going near that suitcase. The stripper heels stayed in their box (which I carried up to the hotel room after being asked, “The box is hot pink, babe. Before this guy came along I thought I was pretty kinky.
I’d been asking boyfriends to tie me up, hold me down and hit me harder since high school, and my tastes had escalated at a pretty steady pace.
I tried to fish for a couple of compliments but he was too nervous to pay attention. I held his hand as we walked through the lobby, only letting go to flag down a taxi.“Where are you ladies headed tonight,” the driver asked without any trace of a smirk. “I’m gonna need a drink in my hand all fucking night, OK?
”We started the evening at an oval-shaped bar surrounded by poker, blackjack and roulette tables.Read our bloggers posts where they will tell you their guilt free experiences with Lean Pockets. I pulled out the two dresses I’d brought with me — both of them sluttier than anything I’d wear at home, but AC seemed to call for it — and my boyfriend started unpacking his bags.I revealed past experiences nobody knew about, toes dipped into worlds I’d kept from even my closest girlfriends, while he shared even more kinks he wanted to try.“This,” he said, indicating the dress, hair and heels, “is kind of the tip of the iceberg.”This dimly lit, drunken conversation bled into the months following our weekend away, and opened doors in our relationship neither of us expected.For both of us to find out that our partner was not only willing to try these things, but excited to push boundaries and break new ground? A little while later we went past the bar to a burlesque-themed nightclub, where we danced to Top 40 in between “Coyote Ugly”-esque dance routines backed by a hair metal cover band.