From: aaron@space.ualberta.ca (Aaron Humphrey)
Subject: Hot Sex For Statisticians
Reply-To: aaron@space.ualberta.ca
Organization: University Of Alberta, Edmonton Canada
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL4
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1992 20:48:33 GMT

[This is for Tim O'Donoghue, who gave me

Conference horny misogynist suntan

A love/lust story in the style of John Irving, or anyone else escept Isaac
Asimov or William Gibson

Later clarification said that he basically meant a mainstream story.  Since, as
Blair knows by now, I've never read more Irving than a chapter or two of Garp,
I just thought I'd do a mainstream story.  If anyone knows whose style this is,
then feel free to tell me.]


I always thought I was a misogynist before I met Ian.  But Ian made me
reconsider a lot of things about my behaviour towards women.  He treated them
like dirt, like objects.  He couldn't stand them.

One night we got drunk together and he just started talking about this one
woman.  The one that turned him off all the rest.

"I was at this conference.  Statistics thing.  One of those places where all
th' recent graduates dash around and try to get as many job interviews as they
can, and the companies try to get people to figure out how bad their product
really is.  I was one of the recent graduates.  Real geek, just out of ten
years of University.

"It was in Florida, or California, or one of those real hot sunny places.
Shit, I don't remember.  Could'a been in Fiji for all I remember.  The hotel
was fuckin' air-conditioned to death.  I hated it.  I finally went outside to
get some real heat.  It was fuckin' hot out there, so I took my shirt off.
First sun my skin'd seen in years.  I heard splashing, so I went around the
back of the hotel.

"An outside swimming pool.  There was a few kids splashing around, taking turns
jumping off the diving board.  And there was this chick lying there getting a
suntan.  Well, this chick was hot.  She was wearing a bikini with a total
surface area of about two square inches, she had beautiful auburn hair, perfect
legs, and immense tits.  I mean, we're talkin' serious tracts of land here.

"So of course in about three seconds I've got the mother of all boners, and my
shorts aren't exactly hiding it.  She's sitting there with shades on, looking
straight at me for all I know.  Well, shit, I was worse with women then than I
was now, so I hightail it out of there, holding my shirt in front of my hardon.

"So that night I'm havin' dinner in the lounge, beer and nachos--real healthy
stuff, right?  And I hear the sultriest voice I've ever heard saying almost in
my ear, 'Do you mind if I join you?'

"Guess who.  Not wearin' a bikini anymore, but she's wearin' a low-cut dress
with astounding cleavage, a skirt that comes down about an inch past her hips,
and four-inch stilettos.  I mean, walking vamp, right?  But once again, I get
horny as hell, and Mr. Happy springs right to attention.  Anyway, she's sat
down by this point, since I didn't have the guts to say anything.  I buy her a
drink--one of those feminine cocktail things, and she starts chattin' me up,
askin' me about what I do.  I start babbling about my thesis, and she probably
understands about one word in ten.  But meanwhile she's givin' me a foot-job.
After about ten minutes she asks me if I would happen to have a copy in my
room.  And I say, like Mr. Casanova here, why don't you come up there and I can
check.

"In the elevator, even, she's got her hand on my pants.  There wasn't anybody
else in there, thank God--I don't think that would've stopped her, either.  We
get into the room, and the door isn't even closed yet when she's all over me.
She's got my pants unbuttoned in thirty seconds and givin' me a blowjob in
another thirty.

"So things get pretty hot, right?  Her dress comes off--she's got a garter belt
underneath--and I'm goin' at it.  I wasn't quite a virgin at this point, but
only by one or two times, and never with a babe this hot.  So anyway, she
starts comin' and screaming out 'Roy!  Roy!'  It doesn't bother me at the time,
since I'm comin' too, but a few minutes later, when she's all soft and warm and
snuggly, I ask her, all innocent-like, 'Who's Roy?'

"She stiffens suddenly.  'Aren't you...you're not Roy?  Shit.  Goddamn it all
to hell.  You're not Roy.'  She leaps off the bed and starts getting dressed
again.  'Goddamn paid in advance, too.  I'll bet he's gonna want a refund.
Shit.  Bad for business if this gets out.  Probably wondering where the hell I
got to.'  She dashes out the door.

"Well, I ain't quite as slow as I look, so by this point I know that this was
some high-class whore who thought I was someone else.  First woman that ever
come onto me like that, hottest babe I ever seen, and she's a high-class whore,
and only fucked me by mistake.  It figured.  That's when I realized how women
really were, right?"

I didn't say anything.  So that explained why she'd been a day late.  She'd
just said she'd written down the wrong day on her calendar...  He was right
about one thing, though.  Hottest babe I ever seen.

--
---Alfvaen(a.k.a. Nysinra, rot13 Psycho)
"While we talk, I will hit your head with a nail
 to make you understand me"  --Ivor Cutler
Current Album--Pat Metheny Group:Still Life(Talking)
Current Read--IASFM November '89
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