A Bird in the Hand

“I bet I can get you off in less than two minutes”, she says with a smile. 

To which I reply, “Really, I don’t know, you’d have to be pretty good at what you’re doing.” 

“No”, she says, “two minutes, tops!” 

I’m standing beside the indoor pool in the beach house the promotional company put us up in during spring break.  The house is an impressive six bedroom 5,000 square foot home that has been dubbed the “MTV Mansion”, because of the entertainers and host that stay here throughout the more than six weeks of spring break every year.  There are four girls that came home with me from the event I hosted prior to this late night party.  I had made out with all four of them at different times at the bar earlier, and I couldn’t decide which one was the pick of the litter just yet, so I invited all of them back to the MTV mansion.  Besides me, there are at least four other guys who stay here who work for the promotional company and organize all of the spring break contest and events.  Of the four girls, there is one in particular, Megan, who seems to be most enjoying the spring break experience.  We were home for all of five minutes before this girl strips nude and jumps in the pool double fisting bottles of beer.  She’s gathered the attention of all the other guys in the house, but I’m talking to another girl, a tall blonde named Ashley, at least I think her name is Ashley.   She grabs me by the hand and pulls me towards the back side of the pool where the master bedroom is.  It opens up through French doors onto the pool.  Just as we enter and I turn to draw the curtains, I hear her friends yell out. 

“NA AH AH DUNBAR!  If you touch her, you can’t touch us.” 

The word “us”, and the possibilities associated with it, ring through my mind.  Now usually, I adhere to the expression, “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”… but usually those two birds in the bush aren’t half naked 18-year-old girls from Indiana on spring break in Panama City.  I pause; look at the blonde girl I think is named Ashley, and say, alas my dear, another time perhaps.  At least that’s the way I remember it, in all probability I just dropped her hand, walked back out to the pool and grabbed the other two girls.  Holding one by the left hand and one by the right hand, I lead them back through the beach house to my bedroom.  Small victory.  That’s what I’ve come to realize my life by, small victories, small failures, small any things.  People think that only big things impact their life.   A good friend once told me, it’s the little things in life that make you want to kill yourself.  I’ve always gotten a lot out of that statement.  Yes, big things change your life, but it’s the little things that make your life.  The best part is little things aren’t that hard to change.  All it takes is a little work here and there to change the shape of your entire life.  I close the door to the bedroom.  As I lock it, I turn back towards the bed.  Jen and…. fuck, I can’t remember her name either… her friend, have already taken their tops off and are both kneeling on the bed.  Jen, who is rather comfortable with getting to the point, says,

“Well I just want to blow you, but if you really want to beast me you can”…

The other girl jumps in and says,

“Well I want to blow him and beast him, so maybe we can just take turns.” 

I’ve come to understand after hanging out with girls from Indiana for the last several days, that the term “beast” is slang for sexual intercourse.  To each his own I guess, I prefer:  Fuck. 

I join the two girls in a subtle embrace, me standing them kneeling on the bed.  I’m positioned perfectly between the two girl’s breasts.  You know in yoga, when they tell you to find your center, and discover your happy place?  Well, this is my happy place.  I kiss them both, and run my fingers through their hair.  Just as Jen has finished sliding off my board shorts and the waist band hits my ankles, there’s a beating on the door.  Damnation!  Someone will die for this intrusion, I think to myself.  I try to ignore the fact that someone is pounding on my bedroom door, and continue to kiss Jen and blah blah blah.  My thumbs slide down their backs to their bikini bottoms.  Once more, a pound, pound, pound on my door, this time it’s accompanied by screams and a whimper.  After trying to ignore this for a minute, eventually Blah blah blah’s conscience gets the best of her, and she complains. 

“It’s Megan”, she says, “We have to see what’s wrong with her.”  

“Awesome”, I say out loud. 

She goes to the door and opens it, to find her friend Megan, who was completely naked, skinny dipping, running around the house, and dancing to the latest Britney Spears single just minutes before.  This same skank, is now fully clothed, soaking wet, half screaming, and half crying about how all of her girlfriends abandoned her with a bunch of perverts who tried to feel her up.  Just a bunch of psycho babble really. 

I actually do feel bad for the girl, but this isn’t my house, and I don’t know the guys that live here all that well.  So I’m upsetting a lot of people, allowing this psycho whore to go on the way she is.  I asked her to calm down.  I assured her that all of her friends are accounted for and ok, if not very satisfied by now.  She says she’s called their parents, as apparently some parents came on the trip with them (bummer), and that the parents are going to call the police if they’re not back at the condo in thirty minutes.  Whether this is true or not true, and I’m personally leaning on not true, it scares my two ladies into putting their tops back on and going back to the pool for the rest of their clothes. 

“Fuck”, I say to myself, “unbelievable”. 

In the mean time this Megan chick is screaming and ranting and raving, running through the beach house.  She’s going into every bedroom, which usually consist of one guy and one girl doing… well, not exactly playing connect four… unless of course, there’re four people in the room.  This is making me look like a jackass, as I just met these guys a couple of days ago, and now one of my girls from the bar, who somebody thought they were going to hook up with, is fucking up everybody else’s good fortune.  After pissing everyone off, or at the very least interrupting, this bitch is at the front door continually slamming it.  Making a very loud, well, the sound a door makes when you slam it, all for attention.  I grab the door, and with a crowd of very angry roommates behind me, and yell back at the piglet. 

“What in the Hell is wrong with you?  Get your fucking crazy ass out of this house right now!”

 I turn to her friends, apologize, and thank them for what was otherwise a lovely evening.  As I close the door I reflect over that old adage, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”… That’s good expression; you should probably take note of it.