“A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.”
Jane Austen

"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."
Mark Twain


Remember pimple poppin' Patty, the drug counselor?

At this point I hadn't talked to Patty in over a year, ever since right after my divorce, back when I had hung out with her three or four times at the mansion in the Poconos, and she had made meatballs with tomato sauce from scratch.

After that I had met Jennifer, the gorgeous, impossibly perfect gold digger. Then Linda, the scam artist who was immune to abortions. And then Liz, the yoga pothead who moved to North Carolina. And Raven, the airheaded wannabe porn star. And finally, Alice, the heroin addicted hooker.

What a team, what a team! What an all-star team!

Now, a year later, while I was living in the apartment in Middletown and going through all this crazy turmoil with Alice, I suddenly got a call from Patty out of nowhere:

"Hey Oliver! Remember me? It's Patty. It's been a while. How have you been? I'm still thinking about you all the time. Listen, can I ask you a favor? Can I come stay with you?"

"Uhmm, wait, what? You want to come stay with me?" I asked.

"Yeah, things are crazy here. I need to get outta Scranton for a while. Disappear off the radar. Get away from the paparazzi."

"Paparrazi? What paparazzi? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, remember when we met last year and you took me out to dinner at that steakhouse in Milford?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember I told you I had been there before, because before I met you, I dated a musician who lived near you in Milford?"

"Yeahhh?"

"He was actually a really famous musician. You might know him."

I thought she meant he had a little local band and played at fairs or in bars and restaurants around town. "I don't think so. I don't really go to bars or clubs," I said.

"No, no, he was pretty famous. All over the world. Especially in Germany, so you probably know him."

"Hmm, I don't know. Who is he?"

Then she told me his name and said he was the lead singer of a famous heavy metal band. Im going to change his name, like everyone else's name in this book. So let's call him Rocky the rockstar, lead singer of a famous heavy metal band. Let's call the band Blood.

I was pretty underwhelmed. I had never heard of Rocky or his band Blood, so he couldn't be all that famous. "Nah, no idea who that is," I said.

"Google them. They really are pretty famous. They had platinum records. Their music has even been used in horror movies. And Howard Stern is a big fan," she said.

"Alright. I'll google it. So anyway, what's going on with all that? Why are you trying to hide from paparazzi?"

"Well, I met Rocky while he was in drug rehab in Scranton. He was one of my patients."

Woah! Big ethics violation! Huge no no! That's the kind of stuff counselors get fired for. That's kinda like a school teacher sleeping with one of his underage students, or a psychiatrist sleeping with one of his vulnerable, mentally unstable patients.

As it turned out, Rocky had actually dated his psychiatrist first. Go figure. Then he dumped his psychiatrist and started dating Patty, his drug counselor. Maybe he had mommy issues. Maybe he liked when women with authority told him what to do. No idea.

Anyway, Patty told me that Rocky had moved in with her after rehab. But if anyone at work would have found out that she was dating one of her patients, she would have been fired, and blacklisted. She wouldn't have been able to find another job in her field. So she decided to quit on her own, and go work at a different rehab, also in Scranton.

I guess while Rocky lived with her, he was on house arrest or something. I don't remember what exactly she said.

She told me he still wanted to get wasted, so he ended up drinking two bottles of mouthwash that he found in her bathroom. Mouthwash is basically concentrated alcohol with some mint flavor thrown in. She said the concentrated alcohol burned a hole in his stomach wall and he died in her living room from internal bleeding.

She said when he was hunched over in pain on the floor, she wanted to call an ambulance, but he told her not to. And by the time he finally agreed to go to the hospital, it was too late.

Apparently Rocky's friends, fans and family were convinced that this had been no accident. They accused Patty of poisoning him on purpose, to get his millions. Rocky's family told the cops about their theory, and Patty was now a murder suspect in a police investigation.

She said she just couldn't handle the pressure any more and needed to get away. She said she had felt really comfortable around me, and wanted to come hide at my place for a few weeks.

During that phone call, I told Patty: "Sorry, I don't even live in that house anymore. I sold it. I moved to Florida. So I'm too far away."

That was a lie. Yeah, I did sell the house in the Poconos, and I owned some houses in Florida, and I had just been in Florida a few days ago, but I hadn't actually moved down there yet. I was still living in Middletown, NY, in the apartment at The Regency that Alice had picked out for us. Middletown was about 30 minutes east of Milford, PA, where the big house was. Scranton, PA was 30 minutes west of Milford. So when Patty called me from Scranton and I answered the phone in Middletown, we were really just less than an hour apart.

But I told her she couldn't come stay with me, since I was too far away in Florida. I didn't want a drug counselor to know that I was now dating a drug addict. Especially not after all the horror stories Patty had told me last year, about how you can never trust an addict, because all they do is lie and cheat, lie and cheat, lie and cheat. And that addicts are incapable of really bonding and being in a relationship with another human being, because they are in a relationship with their drug, and the drug will always, always come first.

Obviously she had been 100% right. It was as if Alice was on a mission to prove right everything Patty had told me about addict behavior last year. I felt so stupid that I got caught up in this clusterfuck of a relationship. And I was so upset over the things Alice was doing, the last thing I needed now was to hear Patty say: "I told you so."

After that first conversation in over a year, Patty called me back every other day or so and kept asking me to let her come stay with me: "Florida really isn't that far away at all. My sister lives in Tampa. And there's an airport right here in Scranton. I could hop on a plane and be in Fort Myers in 3 hours!"

Finally I gave in. I had caught Papi Chuloco in my bed just a few days ago, kicked him and Alice out, and terminated my lease at the Regency in Middletown. Now I was about to move to Florida for good. Alice was running around doing God knows what with God knows who, fucking drug dealers and Backpage dates, living the high life with Papi, while I was home alone, miserable. Meanwhile Patty actually wanted to be with me. So why the hell not? Why was I fighting it?

When I was back in Florida, I called Patty back and told her that I changed my mind, and yes, she could come stay with me for a while if she still wanted to.

Patty got on a plane the next day and I picked her up at the airport in Fort Myers. She was hungry, so we went straight to the IHOP on Route 41 in Bonita Springs and got something to eat.

Then we went back to my place. We were in the living room, and within ten minutes, she got comfortable. She slipped her dress off and pulled off her panties. I sat on the couch, still fully dressed, and she was lying next to me, naked, with her head on my lap. She looked up at my face, took my hand and put it between her legs. She wanted me to rub her clit. I hadn't even seen her in over a year, and here I was, with my finger in her pussy, ten minutes after walking through the door. Boy, that was quick! But hey, I wasn't complaining. I figured, if Alice is out there having fun without me, I might as well have fun with Patty, too.

It didn't take long until I remembered why I had stopped seeing Patty last year. For some reason I just didn't like to have sex with her. Maybe it was her deep, manly voice. Or maybe because she always seemed to want it more than I did. I almost felt like I was being pressured into it. I wasn't even in the mood when we had sex. I wasn't horny. I didn't get a chance to be.

She had come to stay with me in Florida, not only to get away from the homicide investigation and the paparazzi, but also to spend her birthday with me.

Patty gushed that she and Rocky had gotten very close and that she was really in love with him, because he was such an amazing man, such a beautiful mind, such an incredible artist. She said they had planned to get married. And now he was gone. She was devastated. And she couldn't bear the thought of being all alone on her birthday.

I don't remember if we had sex once or twice on the first day she arrived in Florida. But sex was always on her mind. Every day revolved around sex. More and more sex, every damn day. One day we fucked five times while watching porn together. I could only cum twice. That was it for me for that day. But that was not enough for her. She kept sucking my dick after each time, to get me hard again, even if it took a while, and then she sat on my lap and rode me, for what seemed like hours. I couldn't believe I even managed to get hard that many times in a row. She made herself cum three more times. I honestly started to feel like I was being raped. It was just too much. But I couldn't tell her. What self-respecting guy would ever complain about too much sex? I might as well turn in my man card. Isn't having lots and lots of sex every man's dream?

When I had met her a year earlier, she told me that she felt very comfortable around me. She said I was unlike any other guy she had ever met. I figured it was because of my upbringing in Germany. She said it was very easy for her to open up to me, because being around me was just like hanging out with her best female friend. I gave her a dirty look: "Did you just call me gay?"

She laughed and said: "No, no, it's a good thing. You're just so... understanding... comforting... nurturing... and supportive. When I'm around other guys, I feel like I'm being circled by a shark. It's like they're predators, and all they can think about is ways to get in my pants. But I don't feel like that at all when I'm around you. I feel like you actually listen when I talk, because you're actually interested in what I have to say."

Even back then, when we hung out at my house in the Poconos, she was very sexual. She told me all about how she liked to masturbate with dildos, and that she had a big box of adult toys under her bed. Then she asked me if I liked to watch porn. I said yes. She asked me if I liked to have sex while watching porn. I told her: "Well, for some reason I really like when a girl sucks my dick while I watch porn. It just feels kinky somehow."

Then she told me she loooved to watch porn and sometimes she just masturbated all night long with her dildos, making herself cum over and over again, and that she had a whole collection of Andrew Blake films. She said he's one of the few porn directors who really knows how to make erotic films. I had never heard of him. I really wasn't THAT much into porn, where I would actually know the names of directors or even the names of the porn stars. Well, except for Jenna Jameson. I knew her name.

Now, one year later, Patty had brought a couple of Andrew Blake films with her to Florida. She told me she remembered what I said I liked, and she wanted to suck my dick while I watch my very first Andrew Blake porno.

Wow! Could this get any better? Yes, it could. Since she was also a good cook, and she knew that I liked brownies, she made these amazing brownies, topped with vanilla ice cream, strawberries, fudge and Cool Whip. She told me she wanted me to eat the brownies, while watching porn, and while she's sucking my dick. Wow. Just wow.

I was being stimulated every which way. I tried to make this perfect moment last, and I tried to hold out for as long as I could, but it didn't take me long at all to cum in her mouth, and she swallowed. Then she gave me a coy smile and asked me: "Did you like it?"

"Did I like it? Damn! That was probably one of the best moments of my life!"

We weren't in a relationship or anything, but she really really went out of her way to show me that she could be the best girlfriend ever. She told me she would do anything I want, just name it. I think if I had asked her to jump of the roof, she would have done that, too.

She told me she liked to be in pain while getting fucked, and she asked me to pinch her nipples really hard, and pull them away from her chest as far as I could. I just couldn't get myself to do it. I didn't want to hurt her. But she insisted. So I pulled on her nipples, like her boobs were rubber bands. I pulled them so hard and so far away from her chest, I thought if I let go, they'll snap back. I couldn't imagine that this felt good to her. It looked like I was about to rip her tits off. But she liked it.

She had a habit of scratching my back and screaming loudly during sex. That was a big turn off for me. I don't like when a girl totally overacts during sex. I almost feel like she's mocking me. Patty noticed that I liked her blowjobs better, so she did that a lot.

The next time she sucked my dick, she had an ice cube in her mouth. That wasn't bad either. But nothing topped the brownie-porn-blowjob trifecta.

She tried to make each blowjob experience different. And at some point she started to totally overact, like a porn star on steroids, moaning loudly and slobbering lots of spit all over my dick. She was twisting the shaft with her hands, while biting the head. Chewing it. She was going to town like she had lost her mind. Like a zombie on The Walking Dead, eating brains. It was painful. I was starting to worry about the safety of my little buddy. This was not sexy at all. It was just grotesque. Instead of cuming, I lost my erection.

Somehow she seemed to take that as a challenge. Every time after that, she always tried to include the wild slobbering, twisting and biting in her blowjobs, instead of doing what she knew I enjoyed, a slow, tender blowjob with feeling. She seemed determined to make me like getting fast and wild blowjobs, with lots of slobbering, instead of slow and sensual ones. But that wasn't gonna work for me, and from that point on I really didn't like her blowjobs anymore. Or maybe I was just getting sick of way too much sex.

One day she asked me if I would like to see her squirt when she has an orgasm. I told her no, not really. Especially not with her deep manly voice. She asked me to go down on her a lot. She really liked it. But she always asked me if she tasted good. It turned her on when I said yes. But it turned me off when she asked me that, because I always expected her to squirt in my mouth any second now. Yuck!

Then she asked me if I'd like to fuck her in the ass. I said: "No, not really. I mean, I have nothing against anal. I tried it once or twice. But it doesn't really do much for me. I'm perfectly happy with a pussy."

She seemed disappointed: "Aww, really? You don't wanna try anal with me? How about if I put my little lipstick dildo in my ass while you fuck me?"

She kept going on and on about anal. I was getting kinda impatient: "No, I'm really not all that interested in that. Can we talk about something else now?"

Maybe if it had been any other girl, I would have been more interested in trying anal. Maybe if Alice or Jennifer had asked me. But I was just getting sick and tired of the way Patty was totally preoccupied with sex.

I hadn't heard from Alice, ever since I kicked her and Papi out of my apartment. But now Alice suddenly texted me, and told me she wanted to come over. I told her that it was too late, that I had gotten rid of that apartment in Middletown, and I was living in Florida now. She was really upset. She acted like I had abandoned her.

"What are you talking about?" I asked her. "You're fucking around with Papi and all these other people, so why the hell would I stick around for that? I went to Florida with Patty. At least she wants to be with me."

Alice was upset, but she admitted it was her own fault. She asked me to come back. I told her Patty was going to be there for a few more days, until after her birthday. Maybe afterwards I would go get Alice, and we could spend some time in Florida together for the first time.

Alice asked me how things were going with Patty. I told her that I wasn't really all that happy having her at my house, and I would much rather have Alice with me right now.

Later that day I texted Alice: "She's a squirter, a scratcher and a screamer. Kill me!"

I looked at my phone, and suddenly I realized that I had not sent that text to Alice. I had accidentally sent it to Patty!

Holy. Fucking. SHIT!

I was sitting in the bedroom while texting. Patty was in the living room. I didn't even want to go out there and face her after sending her that text message. My heart was pounding! But I figured I was gonna have to face that situation sooner or later, so I went in the living room and decided to play it off as a joke, and to pretend that I had sent that text to Patty on purpose.

Patty was on the computer, chatting with people on Facebook. They were fans of the rock band Blood, and they accused Patty of having killed Rocky on purpose. She was totally absorbed in that online argument.

I nervously giggled: "Uh, haha, uhhh, did you get my text?"

She absentmindedly took her eyes off the computer screen for a second, looked at me and said: "Yeah, I got it."

"Uh, haha, uh, did you think it was funny?"

"Uhmm, I guess," she said, and continued to furiously type rebuttals on Facebook.

Wheeeww! That went a lot better than I feared. I really dodged a bullet there, I thought.

Later that night we were in bed. The lights were off. I thought she was sleeping. Suddenly I saw her cell phone screen go on in the dark. She was re-reading my text message about her being a squirter, a scratcher, and a screamer.

She put the phone down and the screen went off.

Then the screen went on again, because she picked the phone back up and re-read the text again.

The screen went off. She put the phone down again.

Then the screen went on again. She re-read the text again.

Her cell phone screen went on and off about ten times. She kept putting the phone down and picking it back up and re-reading my text over and over again, like a psycho. Then she got up, locked herself in the bathroom and started crying hysterically.

I felt like such a major ASSHOLE! Yeah, she was way over the top with all that sex, but I really didn't want to hurt her feelings about it. And now she was sobbing in the bathroom, because I had been such a total jerk, when I wrote that text about her.

I didn't even want to face her anymore. I'm not a praying man, but now I prayed: "Dear God, please let her not even be here tomorrow! Please make her leave before I wake up!"

God didn't answer my prayer. Go figure. Did he not want to interfere with her free will? Or was the confrontation I was about to have with Patty the next morning a predetermined part of God's great plan for me? Or is there really no God who answers prayers? Discuss! (Just kidding. Just checking if you've been paying attention to my book so far.)

The next morning, I found her sleeping on the couch in the living room. After she woke up, we both avoided the topic and acted like nothing had happened. Later in the afternoon, we finally talked about it. I told her that I was really sorry I hurt her feelings with my stupid text, and that she was just a bit too aggressive sexually. She teared up, and said: "I know. You're not the first guy to tell me that."

Wow. All I could think was, damn, woman, take a hint! If more than one guy has told you that you're too over the top when it comes to sex, then maybe you need to dial it down a little. But I didn't say that. I didn't want to hurt her feelings again.

During our sex talk, she started to open up more about her relationship with Rocky. She said that he had been an addict for a long time, and that he didn't have any money left when she met him. She said she definitely was not a gold digger who tried to kill him for his money. And even if that had been her plan, wouldn't she have waited until after they were married?

Then she told me about their sex life. She said since he had been an addict for so long, he had erectile dysfunction, and couldn't get hard. She said they expressed their love for each other in other ways. Not sexually. And she said she was probably so over the top right now, because she didn't have sex in a long time and wanted to make up for it, and because while she was having sex, for a few minutes she wasn't thinking about how unhappy she was.

So, sucking my dick was part of her grieving process. Ok. To each his own. But then the things she told me next took a bizarre turn into the Twilight Zone:

She had told me a few days earlier that Rocky had a few strange fetishes. She said he liked to play with fire and burn things. "Significant things," she said. Whatever that meant. She didn't elaborate any further on it at first.

But now, during our sex talk, she told me what she had meant by that. She said Rocky liked to go to the pet store and buy little hamsters, guinea pigs, rats, mice or gerbils, and light them on fire. And while those poor critters died an agonizing death, he'd get off.

"What?!?" My disgust was written all over my face. "Did you ever do that with him?"

"Uhhh, no," she said. But she paused just a little too long. My instincts told me that she was lying and that she did do that stuff with him.

Patty told me that Rocky kept asking her to burn animals with him: "Hey, you hate snakes. So how about we get a snake, I scare you with it, and then we light it on fire?"

She said she never agreed to do anything like that with him, and that she had asked him: "How about we get one of those rubber Halloween rats and light that on fire?"

He said that wouldn't get him off: "It's not the same, unless it's an actual live animal and it's squirming in pain."

Then she told me at one point he said: "I don't know if you've noticed, but I have all the symptoms of a serial killer."

And then she told me that he said: "My ultimate sexual fantasy is to kidnap a homeless girl, light her on fire, and rape her while she's screaming and burning."

While she was in Florida with me, every day Patty had been weeping about how she had lost the love of her life when Rocky died, and every day she kept gushing about what a beautiful mind he was. And now she was telling me that he wanted to light homeless girls on fire and rape them. What. The. Fuck?!?

How sick in the head did she have to be to think that sick fuck was a beautiful mind? Up until this point, I thought that she was just weird. But now I was starting to think she was really not all there in the head, or at least mentally or emotionally disturbed.

She told me that she had bought a wedding dress a few years ago, even though she had no wedding plans, and she didn't have anyone to get married to. She just liked the way she looked in a wedding dress, and walked around the house at home, imagining what it would be like to get married.

To me, that sounded like something out of one of those horror movies, where some crazy girl in a dusty old wedding dress never got over the fact that her high school sweetheart stood her up at the altar. And now, thirty years later, she kidnapped the balding, aging ex-jock and re-created her dream wedding in her basement, with dressed-up corpses she dug up at the cemetery. (Come to think of it, I've never really seen a movie exactly like that. Someone needs to get on that.)

Oh, and did I mention she talked in her sleep? One night, she said, loud and clear as day, as if she was wide awake: "You're going to hell! You know that, right?"

Another night, she said: "This isn't over yet!"

When I asked her about it the next morning, she said the anti-depressants she was on had to be giving her vivid nightmares.

I was really starting to get very uncomfortable around her. I felt like I needed to sleep with one eye open while she was lying next to me, because it seemed more and more plausible that she really did kill Rocky.

Before Patty came to Florida to spend her birthday with me, one of her co-workers, Susan, had gone on a road trip to Florida. Then her mother got sick all of a sudden and had to go to the hospital. Susan decided to fly back to Scranton to be by her mother's side. She left her car behind in Florida.

When Susan heard that Patty was about to go to Florida to visit me, she asked Patty if she could drive Susan's car back to Scranton. Patty had planned on flying back the day after her birthday. But if she had to drive back in Susan's car instead, it was going to take her a lot longer to get back home, which meant she would have to leave two days earlier.

Patty asked me if I would take a road trip with her back up north, so that she wouldn't have to spend her birthday alone in Susan's car on the I-95. She said once we get up there I could stay with her in Scranton for as long as I want.

I really rrreally didn't want to. I just wanted her to leave, because even after our sex talk, she really didn't tone down at all. She still wanted to have sex all the time, and she still tried to convince me that I liked her sloppy zombie blowjobs.

But I felt bad for her. She was obviously a train wreck right now. And spending her birthday alone, while she's in this vulnerable mental state, certainly wasn't gonna be good for her. So I told her I would join her on her road trip and spend her birthday in the car with her, but that I probably wouldn't stay in Scranton for more than a day or two.

This whole road trip thing actually worked out pretty well, because while Patty was in Florida with me, I had bought a condo in Liberty, NY, at an online real estate auction. Liberty was not far from the famous Woodstock concert site, and just a few minutes north of Middletown.

I figured once I'm up there, I could check out my new condo. And since Alice and I had been texting every day again, and she asked me to come save her from Papi, this all worked out perfectly. And as long as we were driving in the car, Patty wouldn't be able to rape me. As long as I wasn't alone in a room with her, I'd be good.

Only three or four days after Patty had arrived in Florida, I overheard her talking on the phone to her friends, co-workers, and her family. We hadn't seen each other in over a year, and now we had not even spent a week together yet, but here she was, on the phone in my bathroom, telling everyone she knew that I was The One: "Oh my God, he is sooo nice! He is one in a million! I love him! I'm gonna marry him!"

I think that was really just her biological clock talking. I think she was so desperate to get married before she ended up old and alone, she was even willing to marry a guy who liked to burn little animals. And compared to that psycho, I looked pretty damn good.

And I don't mean to sound like I'm making fun of her for liking me or having a crush on me. I think that's sweet and I was flattered. But I think she should have talked to me about it first, before telling her family, friends and co-workers that she was going to marry me, four days after meeting me.

When the time for our road trip came, Patty told me she wanted to stop in Tampa along the way, and introduce me to her sister, Rita. She told me that Rita was a total bitch. Oh, great! I can't wait to meet her!

I really rrreally didn't want to meet Rita. I just wanted to get this whole thing over with and go rescue Alice. But of course we stopped by Rita's house anyway.

As teenagers, Rita had always made Patty feel like she was an ugly heffer. Rita was prettier and skinnier, and all the boys wanted her. Patty was an overweight ogre with a hormonal issue. Too much testosterone. I guess that's why she had such a manly voice now. She told me for most of her life, she never got her period, and couldn't have a baby.

She obviously had a lot of issues growing up. She told me she had been in therapy for it.

So there was this rivalry between Patty and Rita, and I guess now Patty wanted to show me off in front of her sister. When we arrived, Rita was arguing with her ex-husband, who was dropping off their kid at Rita's house. I instantly disliked her. She really was a total bitch.

After she had scared off her ex-husband, her current boyfriend, Jake, arrived. He was a handsome, friendly guy. I got along well with him. I asked him what he did for a living. "Construction," he said. Rita seemed embarrassed by his answer and tried to make his job sound much fancier than it is. I guess Patty had told her that I had made a lot of money with cartoons online, so Rita felt her boyfriend wasn't measuring up.

Patty and Rita had planned for all four of us to go on a double date at the International Plaza mall in Tampa. Patty and Rita loved the hand-made soaps at the Lush store. As we strolled through the mall, Rita and Jake were kissing and necking, while holding hands.

At Lush, I bought Patty three or four bars of fancy soap. Jake bought Rita one bar. Big mistake. He failed to measure up again. Suddenly Jake was dead to Rita. She wouldn't look at him, wouldn't talk to him, and walked with her arms crossed in front of her chest. All that because of some stupid bars of soap. What a petty bitch!

Patty and Rita had planned to end the double date with a dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. Rita and Jake were sitting across the table from us. Rita wouldn't even acknowledge that Jake existed. Patty and I didn't know whether to pretend we didn't notice, or try to help mend things between them. It was so awkward and uncomfortable. You could cut the tension with a knife.

Suddenly Patty put her hand between my legs, opened my zipper, and started to play with my dick. Un-fucking-believable! There's a time and place for everything. But the double date from hell is neither the time nor the place to play with my little buddy.

After the dinner, Rita gave me a long hug in the parking lot. Way too long. Then she whispered in my ear: "Thank you. Thank you so much for what you did for my sister. She has really come out of her shell since she's been hanging out with you. She was a wreck after Rocky died."

She was basically welcoming me into the family.

I didn't say anything. I just smiled politely. But I was thinking: "If you only knew."

Afterwards Patty said she was tired and wanted to get a hotel room. But I told her I wanted to keep on driving north. I drove until about midnight. Then we got a room. I hopped in the shower and went to bed. Then Patty went in the shower. When she got out, I pretended to be sleeping, so she wouldn't try to have sex again.

She went back in the bathroom and started sobbing hysterically. I don't know if it was because I had pushed her hand away at the Cheesake Factory, or because she knew I was only pretending to be sleeping. She cried in the bathroom from 12:30 am until 6 am.

I couldn't get any sleep at all. My heart was pounding. This reminded me of those nights when Donna would wait for me to fall asleep, and then slam the bedroom door wide open, turn the lights on and scream at me so that I would wake up with a near heart attack. I expected Patty to storm out of the bathroom any second now and scream at me. But she didn't.

At 6 am the hotel started to serve breakfast, so I got up, knocked on the bathroom door and told Patty that since we were both still awake, we might as well get an early start. When she finally unlocked the door and let me use the bathroom, there was a love letter waiting for me next to the sink that she had written during the night.

This was the actual day of her birthday now. I took her on a ghost hunting tour in Savannah, Georgia, and then to a fancy restaurant overlooking the river. At the River Street Market Place I bought her a chain with a hand-crafted pendant that caught her eye. I wanted her to have a nice birthday.

Then we got back on the I-95 and kept driving north. Suddenly she pulled out her little lipstick dildo. The one she had shown me in my living room a few days earlier, when she asked me if I'd like to fuck her in the ass, or at least fuck her while she had that dildo in her ass.

"Remember my little friend?" she asked with a naughty smile.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Wanna watch me masturbate?"

Well, no I really didn't. But obviously she wanted me to, otherwise she wouldn't have asked. It was her birthday, so I really didn't want to make her feel any more rejected. "Sure," I said with a fake smile.

She took off her white summer dress and her panties. She was sitting next to me, naked, with her lipstick dildo in her hand. She turned it on, and it started buzzing while she was rubbing it against her clit. Then she put her feet up against the windshield, like she was sitting in a gynecologist's chair. "Feel how wet I am," she moaned. I rubbed her clit for a second or two. She was wet alright.

All I could think was: Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

I could not believe she was actually doing that, while cars and trucks were passing us and those people could see her right through the window.

I just wanted this to be over with sooo badly. But I didn't want to make her feel like shit on her birthday. She obviously thought she was being incredibly sexy. Carpe Diem! Seize the day! YOLO! It was her birthday, and dammit, she could masturbate in plain sight for everyone to see, if she wanted to! I think I would have completely crushed her, if I had told her: "God damn, put some clothes on, woman! You're making a spectacle of yourself!"

I kept thinking to myself: eyes on the road, eyes on the road, eyes on the road.

Eventually she came and told me again to feel how wet her pussy was. There was white slimy foam all over it. It was like her vibrator had churned her wetness into butter. Really not sexy.

I loved watching Alice masturbate with her little vibrating egg. She was cute when she did it. Understated. She wasn't putting on a Broadway show. I loved to see and feel Alice get all wet. And she looked beautiful when she had an orgasm. That didn't happen very often though, since heroin makes a lot of girls pretty numb down there.

And I'm sure I would have liked it, if Alice had masturbated next to me in the car. Maybe not the feet against the windshield. That was a little much. But with Patty, all that over the top sex was just making my skin crawl at this point.

And then she did it againnn! A few minutes after she finished masturbating, she gave an encore performance. Up her feet went against the windshield and there she was, going to town again.

Eyes on the road, eyes on the road, eyes on the road.

We arrived at Kennedy Airport late at night. I had left my car there when I flew to Florida, right before I called Patty to let her know she could hide from the paparazzi at my place in Bonita Springs.

Patty asked me to follow her to Scranton and stay with her. I said: "No, I got no sleep at all last night, because you were crying in the bathroom til 6 am. I really need to go to sleep. I'll get in touch with you tomorrow."

 

OSense O-Sense