My First Orgy!!!

One of the things, I always thought were urban myths were sexual orgies. In fact, for a girl who grew up in Pakistan, the only time I found out what the word meant was after watching a heartbroken Tom Cruise walk around the streets of New York in ‘Eyes Wide Shut.’ In one particular scene, after wandering aimlessly, he finds himself at an exclusive fete with masks and ball-gowns forcing the carnal revelry to appear a lot more like a Cotillion than a Cuntillion. I really don’t remember how the movie ended. I am tempted to say that after all that wandering he found the Church of Scientology, divorced Nicole Kidman and then married a younger girl who bore him a daughter…but I may be confusing reality with fiction here! However for a freak like myself who then moved to a city of freaks like New York, I was always warned that it would be a matter of minutes before I would be propositioned to attend my first sex party! Although most women would balk at such an invitation or even pretend to be offended, ya all know, I am not like most women. In fact, it was exactly my visceral intrigue for voyeurism that led me all the way to the door of the party, attired in a sexy white-lace negligee and knocking nervously on a door which would beckon me into a world I had never ever imagined I would discover. But how did I get to that door? Well…let’s find out!

Why Yes!

A year after living in a row-house in the Bronx, I finally moved into my very first Studio in a building just down the street. It obviously paled in comparison to the trendy high rises of Manhattan, but it was mine, it was affordable and I loved it. No roommates, no housemates, no shared bathrooms. The building itself was quite unglamorous and the residents were mostly geriatrics and crazy cat-ladies who got drunk on Metamucil for Happy Hour. You get the picture, I was probably one of the youngest occupants there and was often reminded of that fact, when they flashed their judgmental and disapproving stares at me perched on their folding chairs. Probably gossiping about the new brown-skinned tramp who paraded strange men in and out of her apartment at odd hours. The one point of comfort, was that another 30-something man lived on the same floor as me and lived an equally, if not more of a sexually flamboyant lifestyle. We were the rebels of the building. The teenagers of the household who broke all the rules and crept unabashedly around the judgmental eyes of our elders.

His name was BD Rex and our paths would only cross in the hallway while taking out the trash or when I would be rushing to or returning from work. On some rare occasions, we would engage in small, neighborly talk outside the building during spontaneous smoke-breaks. I live by a strong rule of never acquainting myself with neighbors because I don’t want them snooping around in my personal life. However, Rex gave me a stronger taste of my own medicine. Always cordial but never too chummy. I must admit, after a while I was beginning to take this personally. Come on, I was Padash! A party animal! A born fruit-fly. Yet, the only fun guy in my building was dismissing me as just another boring and conservative South Asian woman living on his floor. This had to be changed, ASAP!

BD Rex was quite handsome and often dressed like an artist with a rock-star wardrobe. His face – and probably even his lifestyle – had an uncanny resemblance to the late Robert Mapplethorpe. I assumed he had to be a homosexual because in New York City, attractive men are almost always attracted to other men. If they have abdominal muscles, they are either homos from Chelsea or dodos from the Jersey Shore…and both have never woken up my bed. I was only partly right because BD Rex later disclosed that he was a proud bisexual. I acted like a kid meeting Santa Claus for the first time, because I had ever met an actual bisexual before. Most bi men and women I knew were people who just mostly slept with men. They only referred to themselves as bi because they had experimented with a female once, many years ago in their past. Did that make me bi since my best friend Jenny and I would often have threesomes in college? Nah…I liked men and only men! I was only buy-sexual…buy me something and I’ll get sexual! Juuuuuust kidding!

One of the things about Rex that intrigued me the most – besides the fact that he never took an active interest in befriending me, which men of any sexuality have known to do – was the fact that he seemed to be a bigger party animal than I was. Sure, I would go clubbing on the weekends or happy hours during the week but Rex enjoyed the role of being ‘the life of the party’ 24/7. I may have attended my share of parties, but Rex was the guy who actually threw the parties. And in ‘fun’ world, party-goers and party-throwers are very different; the latter enjoy a much higher stature in the merriment hierarchy. I mean, the man hosted parties in his apartment on a weekly basis. Every Thursday night, the foot traffic outside my door would be louder than a stampede at Radio Shack on Black Friday. When I would peep through the door, I would see excited men and women sashaying down the hall. Dressed in sexy clothes, laughing, giggling and with bottles of expensive liquor dangling from their hands. Some nights would be themed parties and people would be decked out in costume.

I hadn’t dealt with rejection of any kind for a while, especially men but I remember during those days, I was at an all-time low. Besides the fact that the only young and fun guy in my new building was treating me like chopped liver, I had a new boss at work who was a fire-breathing power-executive for whom humans were no different than slave-dogs. BFH (Boss from Hell), as everyone referred to him as, cracked the whip ruthlessly and walked around like a tyrant with an attitude. A misogynistic prick, he wasn’t just the boss from hell, he was the guy whose calls even Satan would be too scared to answer. A Miranda Priestly in a Brooks Brother suit, BFH was in his early forties, semi-attractive in a balding Clark Kent meets Stanley Tucci way and most men that fit his profile would dance at my finger-tips. He was married and I guess he was very loyal, but hell I wasn’t asking him for a damn affair, just a little pity at his hard-working staff. No matter how sexy my cleavage, it wouldn’t prevent him from yelling at us or making us stay late and work long excruciating hours. Sigh, I was 23 years old, looked my best and here I was really beginning to doubt myself.

A few months after I had moved into my studio, I was busy watching TV with a cup of tea before bed when someone knocked on my door. It was the old, whiny woman from down the hall standing in front of me in a horrendous nightgown clutching on to a pad and a pen. She wasn’t the nicest person in our building so I was surprised that she had paid me a visit.
‘Can I help you?’ I remained genteel but not too amicable.
‘I need your help with this petition’ She handed me the pad ‘We need everyone’s signature on our floor for it to go into effect.’
‘And what is it about?”
‘Well…it’s a complaint against that boy Rex on the other end. He is not welcome here.
‘Why not?’ She was already pissing me off.
‘Well for one…he is a…..is a…..’ and then she mumbled something so inaudible it sounded like ‘looker.’ Was this old woman turned on by Rex? Was she trying to kick someone out of her building for being a hottie?
‘A what?’
‘A hooker. A male prostitute. . It has been confirmed on numerous occasions that strange men and women are constantly going in and out of his apartment…’
‘Well…I entertain people too…and trust me I’m not a hooker!’
‘Well its different you are not a….a….whore.’ she winced every time she uttered the words.
‘But I have been called one many times.’
‘Look lady…the man gets paid to have sex. He doesn’t have a job and we have done our research. We don’t want such people in this building because….”
‘I’m sorry. I cant sign this. I have no problem with him enjoying a healthy sex life. Besides I don’t wanna get involved and he doesn’t bother me. Good night!’ I slammed the door in her face. It felt good! I wondered if she once harbored concerns about me as a possible female terrorist from Pakistan moving into her building too.

I arrived home one evening from a terrible day at work where BFH had spent his entire day yelling violently about a project. As I tried to finish my cigarette on the front steps, Rex stepped out of the building for a smoke-break at the same time and flashed me a wide smile.
‘Hey…thanks’ He greeted me.
‘For what?’ I was confused.
‘For not signing that petition. Not that it was going to make much of a difference anyway but I guess it humored these old farts for a minute.’
‘How did you know I didn’t sign it?’
He smiled as he lit up his cigarette ‘Oh darling, I am very well connected. Escorts have clients all over the place. These idiots cant do anything to me. Like I said…that petition went straight into the trash bin!”
‘Escort? So it really is true….”
‘It usually is’ he laughed. ‘Guilty as charged!’
I guess I looked visibly impressed because he smirked and said ‘You’re pretty cool.”
‘Correction, I’m pretty AND I’m cool!’
‘So you honestly don’t have a problem with it? I mean my job…because my clients are very safe and they don’t bother…’
‘Hey…I could care less how you make your living! As long as it doesn’t affect me….make your money boo. I’m actually envious, must be nice getting paid to get laid. Beats this crazy job I’m tempted to quit every day.’
‘The money’s not that great anymore. I’m not as young as I used to so business just kinda sucks these days…”
‘Blame everything on the economy.’ I joked.
‘Anyway…thanks…If there is anything you ever need….’
‘Well you could invite a sister to a party every now and then. You make me feel like these old farts.’
He laughed as his eyes widened ‘You really wanna come to one of my parties?’
‘Why not?’
‘Well….for starters they are not your average dinner or cocktail parties…they’re a part of my work….’
I nodded slowly because though I wasn’t sure, I was slowly beginning to catch on.
‘They are sex parties. I mean they are more just like a pansexual get-together where everything goes. A space open to anyone for anything. You can walk around naked or in a burqa, you could just hang out and converse with people or you could have wild, crazy, mind-blowing sex next to someone playing cards. Its just a very welcoming atmosphere, a haven for the broad-minded.”
Well, I definitely considered myself broad-minded but I had never even heard of such a party let alone been to one.
‘So…I mean if you’re interested…I can definitely send you an Evite! I always welcome beautiful women at my parties.’
‘But how are your parties work related?’ I was still slightly confused.
‘I charge 40 dollars to get in. Women pay 40….and men pay 80. Unless they bring a women and in that case then they only pay 60. We want the male to female ratio at these parties to be somewhat equal. You, my friend, wouldn’t have to pay anything of course. Just come check it out. My party next week is called “Sex in White” so make sure to follow the dress code. Wear something white and sexy!’
‘So the parties are just another way of making money for you?’ I was still more intrigued by the business aspect of it.
‘Well yes…like I said…I no longer get many clients because I am not as young anymore. I may still be very well-endowed which helps me get by but in order to survive at this age I have to host such parties to drum up more business. Its like advertising when I’m naked. Allowing people to sample the package in a “look but don’t touch” sort of way. If it peaks their interest they can schedule a more intimate session with me which I charge per hour.”
‘You must make a lot then?’ I asked.
‘Nah not anymore. I used to be youthful enough to fulfill my client’s high school jock fantasy or their frat-boy fantasy, but money in escorting for a 35 year old man isn’t that high…trust me. If it was, I would be living in a loft in Manhattan not in a janky apartment building full of prudes in the Bronx.”
He had a point!

I hadn’t really committed to anything when I left him, but I must admit my curiosity had reached an all new high. I immediately called Dario and told him what had happened. Dario was no stranger to the world of group-sex. In fact, he would quite often attend orgies all over New York and would then detail his escapades to me over lunch as I would stare wide-eyed, chin in my hands, lingering on to every word. Like a kid listening to her Nani narrating fairy-tales from Kohkaaf or watching “A’dick Wala Djinn.” I even tried to get him to attend the party with me but since he had already begun his path to recovery he had vowed to stay far away from alcohol, drugs and sex. A party which combined all these vices in one go, wouldn’t really fly well with his recovery group or his sponsor.



Before I knew it, the Thursday of BD Rex’s ‘Sex in White Party’ arrived and I still had not RSVP’d. Now, apparently Dario had informed me that you always RSVP to an orgy because if you don’t it really throws up the head count for the host. He needs to know the ratio of men to women to trannies at such parties so he can plan accordingly. As a neighbor, I was taking my liberties and probably testing BD Rex’s patience. I got home after another terrible day at work and was completely exhausted. The new boss (BFH) had pissed me off so much that I wanted to stay on my couch and drown in my sorrows all night. As for BD Rex’s party, I was still undecided. I fixed myself a cup of tea and settled on the Papasan staring at the Evite on my laptop. I clicked “Yes” and then I rolled over to take a nap.

I was woken up an hour later by the footsteps outside my door making their way down the hall to BD Rex’s apartment. I could hear music blaring from the apartment and the joyous laughter of libidinous revelry. Finally, after a few shots of liquid courage, I decided to brave the first step and cross an unchartered territory. Honestly, one of my main motivators was to cut the tags off on this sexy Victoria’s Secret lace negligee that I had bought. A white themed sex party seemed to be the perfect venue to adorn it.

In my sexy outfit and hints of light makeup sans the bright red lipstick, I nervously knocked on BD Rex’s apartment. He answered through the festivities and his face lit up when he saw me.
‘You look like a delicious white virgin ready to be deflowered!’ He remarked ‘I can’t believe you came!’
‘I can’t believe I did either!’
‘Well…lets just hope we’re still saying the same to each other in a few hours!’ He winked.
I rolled my eyes as I entered with my heart stuck in my throat and slowly made my way into the living room.

I had no idea what to expect but if I had ever imagined an orgy, this wouldn’t have been the first thing to come to mind! I guess at that point I realized that my concept of an orgy was far from reality. I always imagined such parties to be a gathering of beautiful people with perfectly symmetrical silicone breasts, washboard abs and failed acting careers that had landed them in the orgy scene of an airbrushed porno. But that’s just the problem. This wasn’t porn, this was real-life. And the two often never connect. Still, it was an interesting assortment of guests stretched out, socializing with each other as unremarkably as they would at any social gathering. The only difference was that some of them were already naked, a lot of them were dressed in overtly sexual and revealing clothes and the tension was more pronounced and ambitious at this party as opposed to all the other “non-sexual” house parties I had attended.

If you have never been to an orgy and want to envision what one must feel like, this is what I want you to do. Imagine a party where you knew no one. Now multiply your nervousness of entering that party by ten. Also imagine the people at that party! Every shape, every size. A living room or a drawing room with your Auntie next door drinking tea, your friends dad who helped set up your first desktop, the couple with children you sometimes meet for brunch, some dumb blondes, some angry heavy-set women glaring at the blondes and the few, token homosexual males who have taken over the music system at the party. It was pretty much the same people, doing exactly the same thing. But naked or dressed in skimpy outfits. And definitely not as subtle with the way they voraciously eyed you from head to toe as if you were fresh meat that had just been served on a plate at this party. Your auntie next door is still seated on the sofa drinking tea but in chiffon lingerie. Your friend’s father is in tight black bikini briefs very unflattering for his age but still discussing the proper way to install McAfee. The couple with kids are smiling at you just as warmly but tied to each other in fur handcuffs. The heavy set women still glaring angrily at you and the skinny blondes. The attractive and physically fit homosexual men are shuffling the Ipod in between locking lips and groping each other. For them the party started before the host even opened the door as they eagerly play tonsil hockey with each other. Oh and throw in a random transvestite in fishnets and a leather bustier, walking around with a leather whip which she whacks into her palm like a school head-mistress. And although this may not be your average school but she sure boasts about being the best HEAD-mistress in the room!

I smiled nervously at the guests, who all welcomed me cordially to their little bordello where sex was free and clothes were shed like discarded tissue papers. It was also a party where everyone seemed to know each other and that made me even more nervous. I couldn’t tell if the women or the men were flirting with me more . I quietly excused myself and made a dash for the kitchen to grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. As soon as I entered, I stumbled over a sea of white trash-bags layering the floor all tied up and with an alphabet scribbled on each bag with a black sharpie. I was now completely confused. Thursday was usually trash day but how much trash did Rex conjure up! And why was it spread across his kitchen floor?

BD Rex entered the kitchen with the tranny and immediately smirked at the questions in my expression.
‘Oh she is so green!’ He laughed as the tranny smirked back (who I would later learn was a deaf lip-reader!)
BD Rex finished his sentence ‘This is clothes-check sweetheart! Whenever people want to get naked or wear something more sexy, they put their clothes in a trash-bag, initial it and leave it here!’

For a person like myself who wears some pretty expensive clothes to parties, this certain ritual would take a little getting used to. I neither feel that my Prada belongs in trash bags nor would I trust strangers to be able to pilfer it so easily. I immediately made a mental note.
1. Unlike non-sexual parties, never dress in your finest for an orgy! You are going to get naked anyway!
2. It definitely helps if the orgy is taking place on your apartment floor in your neighbors one-bedroom. You can hop, skip and sashay over in your lace negligee and then stumble home all without the help of trash bags!

As I pop open a bottle of Heinken (ps: I hate beer but BD Rex didn’t exactly serve Martinis at his sex parties) I decided to stick around the kitchen and talk to BD Rex some more. He was already hanging on the windowsill with the tranny sharing a fresh joint that leather, deaf, lip-reading tranny had dug up from her fake yet extremely lifelike boobs. I guessed that lady-girl was also BD Rex’s dealer.

‘They love you!’ BD Rex informed me!
I roll my eyes!
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Yeah but…I mean pickings are slim here. It’s not hard to be the most attractive women when all it takes is for your boobs to not sag!”
BD Rex laughed and then directed my attention to the tranny’s perky breasts which competed with mine. In fact he began to squeeze them violently and then motor-boated them and then somewhere along the way, they began to make out on the windowsill. I grabbed the joint and inhaled a few quick puffs. Never waste a lit joint, never mess up a rotation and when you are more nervous than Justin Bieber would be in a Pushto cinema, you definitely need the help of marijuana to calm your nerves.

In between his lovemaking with a transvestite which had now gotten awkwardly graphic, BD Rex also took frequent breaks to school me on orgy etiquette.
‘Don’t feel pressured to do anything!’ Just think of this as a party where people may happen to have sex in front of you. Chill out, relax, talk to people. That’s all this is about!’

After my fourth beer and second joint, I was taking his advice quiet well. The place had filled up more and soon there even seemed to be some attractive men and women mingling with the ordinary looking folks. By 10pm, I found myself seated on a mattress on the floor (which will later be where someone will probably get gang-banged) but for now it was a comfy place where I sat surrounded by three naked and very drunk blondes swaying to some folk song by a 50 year old male guitarist with six-pack abs (I kid you not). His stomach was so perfectly chiseled, it almost doesn’t seem to be attached to the silver-daddy who sported a balding pony-tail and in all likelihood went to middle-school with Santa Claus. I was still amazed that I ended up staying at the party that long and also that I was actually having a good time. I had almost forgotten that there was supposed to be actual sex at this party and after the first hour of engaging in a heated debate on Jane Austen’s possible lesbian tendencies with a dominatrix that looked like Ursula the Sea-witch, I almost didn’t notice the nakedness around me. I had even become desensitized to the random sexual acts that intermittently took place around me in the most casual, matter-of-fact ways. In fact, a few minutes before I joined the hippy guitar corner, I had reached over a female going fervently down on another female and politely whispered an ‘excuse me’ as if I was reaching over someone reading a book! Even when the pretty brunette looked up, smiled and moved to the side with an ‘Oh, I’m sorry, am I in your way?’ I replied with ‘No you’re fine, carry on!’
Really? Really? Was this really happening?

However, there was another male at the party that had caught my attention. A tall, blonde man in his late thirties with a very handsome face. A clean-cut version of Stephen Dorf in a white shirt and seer-sucker pants. He could have been just another handsome broker sitting in a Wall Street bar the way he kept eyeing and smiling at me. And though we weren’t in a Wall Street pub, I flirted right back. At one point I even spotted him inquiring about me as he stood with BD Rex in a corner. He finally chased me down when I entered the kitchen to pull another beer out of the fridge.
‘Well hello there.’ He addressed me in a husky voice and a dreamy smile.
He was proof that you could meet an adorably handsome man at an orgy. I smiled back.
‘Haven’t seen you here before? First time?’ He continued to ask.
‘Yeah…I’m a friend of BD Rex’s and he just told me to come check it out…’
‘Ah a virgin!’ His eyes lit up.
‘Well I wouldn’t go that far!’
‘But…you are an orgy virgin aren’t you?’
‘And you’re a veteran I presume?’
‘You could say that!’ He smirked ‘But Rex’s parties are my favorite! They are the most laidback…and you never know when you may run into a beautiful unsuspecting South Asian girl here.’
I rolled my eyes. He was trying hard. Very hard. But he was a nice guy, he was attractive and I had time to spare.

We spent the next half-hour walking around. By then some of the attendants at the party had gotten more intimate. Others were still lounging around discussing literature or sharing joints. We entered a room where I was immediately taken by surprise but kept my composure. On the bed, BD Rex was completely naked going down on a woman while the deaf transsexual was err….lets just say…making love to him from behind. But, it wasn’t that scene which forced my eyes to pop out of my skull. It was the size of his penis. That man was the most, well-endowed person I had ever met. And trust me, I have seen a LOT of penises in my lifetime!

Mr. Wall Street Dorf leaned over and whispered ‘That’s usually the reaction most females have when they are first introduced to Rex in all his erect glory. He doesn’t even like women all that much. Lucky bastard!’
‘I…I..uh…..’
He smirked ‘Hey they don’t call him Big Dick Rex for nothing! Come on lets go say hi to Evita!’
So that’s what the BD in his name stood for, I nodded as I followed Mr. Wall Street Dorf to say hi to someone called Evita now.

Back in the living room, we arrived at a table which was like a seafood spread of sex toys. The woman a middle-aged Caucasian woman in heavy make-up and short hair stood proudly admiring a buffet of whips and weird-shaped gadgets. Decked out in leather from head-to-toe, she reminded me of a goth high school girl from Brooklyn. But instead of glares she was all smiles and niceties when we were introduced. She didn’t exactly look like an Evita either, more like an EVILa but then again she wasn’t standing in her balcony singing ‘Don’t Cry for me Argentina’ either.

‘I have been admiring her skin from afar. I hope she joins us tonight!’ she purred as she ran a leather whip-looking-thing on my arm and I winced. I did not want her to whack me with it because, THAT would lead to a fight! White girls have no idea what happens when you piss off a Pakistani chick! She would be flogged to oblivion.
Wall-Street-Dorf boy reached out and grabbed it from her and began to admire it like a kid in a candy store.
‘This seems new!’ His eyes lit up.
‘Yeah I just ordered it online. Came just in time for the party. Feel it….so soft…smooth…perfect!’
‘Cant wait for you to try it on me!’ He remarked excitedly.
‘Oh trust me…I’m just setting up. It would be even hotter than the last time. I brought some electrodes for your friend too.’ Before I could even blink at the word ‘electrodes’, she grabbed and began to demonstrate a weird-electric gadget on the Dorf’s skin as he began to wince in pure, blissful joy.

This was now getting a little too creepy for me! But I remained a good sport! After all, this would be an experience I would cherish forever!
‘Oh my buddy would LOVE this!’ Wall Street guy hissed.
‘He actually asked for it.’ She cackled. ‘Where the fuck is he anyway? I am ready to get started on you two.’
‘Oh he texted me not too long ago. He got stuck at work but should be here soon.’ He replied as we stepped away to sample the other party favors.
‘Will she be coming too? I hope so!’ Evita called out with priapic lust in her eyes.
‘I sure hope so too.’ The gentleman replied as he smiled at me.
Fat chance in hell! I thought to myself.

An hour later, the party had gotten busier and busier. I saw everything imaginable and it was almost like I was immune to public sex happening around me as Wall Street boy and I flirted against the wall.
‘You know, I’m really glad you came tonight.’ He leaned over breathing heavily into my skin. He was a VERY handsome man!
‘I’m kinda glad I did too.’ I replied.
He then cupped my chin and leaned closer ‘Can I kiss you?’
I nodded and he immediately pressed his lips into mine. Devouring me hungrily as his tongue caressed my mouth. Damn he really was an amazing kisser! Did he have to be a fucking S&M slave! Just my luck!

I was a little flustered even after the kiss ended and took a few minutes to open my eyes. When I did, he was smiling down at me holding on to something which decimated the last inkling of romance that could possibly spark between us. Dangling from his hands was a weird phallic sculpture of rubber with leather straps. It took me a few minutes to realize that it was a strap-on.
‘I would love for you to put this on! It would mean a lot to me!’
Was he serious? Was he asking me to sodomize him and using words one uses when asking for a nonchalant favor such as a ride to the airport. It would mean a LOT to him? Who says that when asking to be fucked with a dildo?

There were numerous other questions running through my mind. Had he been carrying this around the whole time? Did he attend every party with this hiding in his back like an upholstered gun? Was this even sanitary?
‘I really should get going!’ I replied.
He was more than disappointed ‘Are you serious?’
I nodded. ‘I have an early morning meeting and as I mentioned to you before…I just came to…’
‘I know…I know…’ he rolled his eyes and his reply was fairly curt.
I guess this is the difference between a Wall Street bar and an orgy. At the former venue men are a bit more subtle about hiding their blue-balls. Besides I had no business acting a like a cock-tease at a sex party either. It really was time for me to go.
‘Are you sure….you have no idea how bad….’ He begged one last time!
‘I’m sorry this is all a little much for me. Maybe next time! I mean you have Evita and…’
‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid…just go….’
Ok…that was a little rude. And that was probably my cue to exit. The whole expectations of gentleman manners at an orgy was something I wasn’t ready for. But I understood his frustration. He came here as a determined denizen. I came here as an unsure tourist. I leaned over and gave him a long, lingering kiss again as my apology.
‘Thanks for a wonderful evening.’ I replied and could feel him melt. Works every time.
With his eyes still closed he whispered ‘Please Jameela….walk away….you have no idea how turned on I am right now.’
Yes, I never told him my real name. You think, I’m that stupid. I opted for Jameela as my name that night! Hey it was the first name I could think of. It was also the name of my childhood jamadarnee. Sorry Jameelas!

And walk away, I did. Quietly exiting the door, making sure to lock it behind me as per BD Rex’s instructions. I should have said “goodbye” to Rex but he was well…a little…tied up if you will. And I mean that literally. A few steps later I was back in my apartment giggling like a little girl. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I checked my cell phone and there was a voicemail from my mother. Ok, a little bit of guilt there but now was definitely not the time to call her back. There was also a text message from Dario asking me if I made it to the party. I texted back ‘Lunch tomorrow. Lots to tell!’ I was still a little buzzed from all the beer but decided to drink one last glass of red wine before bed as I changed into my night clothes. Yeah I wasn’t going to wear my negligee to sleep. What I wore were my standard pjs. A red Elmo tank-top and men’s boxers. If you know me by now, you know I love wearing men’s boxers to bed with wife-beaters. My ex’s always joked that I dress like a man to bed but its comfortable.

Right before bed, I knew it was time to take out the trash so I grabbed the bags and made my way down the hall when I bumped into and came face to face with someone I had never expected. It was my boss from hell! Mr. BFH in the flesh, dressed completely in white. His wedding ring, tucked into his front pocket peeping dejectedly through the cotton.

We were both more than taken aback. I thanked my lucky stars for having left the party when I did and for changing out of the white negligee.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked more flustered than ever. I almost relished at his tyrannical self all flustered and vulnerable.
‘I live here. What are you doing here?’ I fired back.
‘I…umm….just here…my friend lives here…he lives in this building I am just here too…his name is.’ And after running through a few names in his mind he uttered the name of the Wall-Street-Stephen-Dorf doppleganger who was stupid enough to tell me his actual name!
Still, I decided to go easy on him ‘Oh cool. I probably wouldn’t even know him. I don’t know any of my neighbors because I’m hardly here. I’m always working such long hours on your projects.’
‘Yeah…yeah…but you’re doing a great job by the way.’
Wait was that a compliment from BFH himself? Did my ears deceive me? Were pigs going to start flying now?
‘Well I should get going…you know how I feel about mornings!’ I shrugged with my trash-bags serving as the perfect alibi!
‘Yeah…you look like you’re ready for bed! And hey Padash…no need to come early tomorrow. Take your time.’
‘Thanks!’ I grinned and after disposing of my trash in the chute, I crept back into my apartment and crawled into my bed. I could barely stifle my giggles. My tyrant boss’s cheating ass had just been caught in flagrante delicto. But it wasn’t just any type of cheating, it was an all-out twisted kink-fest that he liked to dip his fingers into behind his wife’s back!

I relished the thought of sleeping in the next day not only because I would probably be nursing a little hangover from all the alcohol but even if I tried to sleep, I would be haunted by nightmares of BFH being humiliated by a dominatrix as he got sodomized by Evita and flogged by a tranny while he and Wall-Street boy high-fived each other amidst their doggy-style positions. New York is a fucked up city! I LOVE it!

Life moved on! Boss from hell (BFH) became the nicest person in the world till he was promoted and moved to California a few years later. His marriage is still in-tact as far I can tell but hey if all it took to please the guy was to humiliate him, I’m sure his entire staff at the office would be more than willing to oblige. Everyone hated him! BD Rex and I stayed friends. He was a sweet neighbor and we got along well during smoke-breaks or when we ran into each other taking trash out in the halls. I thanked him for the party, told him how much fun it was and that I would hold off on attending the next one till I was sure I wasn’t going to be yet another dick-tease. He appreciated my honesty. I got busy with life and he did too but for some reason he aged much faster than I had anticipated. I mean he was a middle-aged escort trying hard to hold on to his youthful looks and body because his bread and butter depended on it. However sometimes, the best of us just have to give up and let go. He had gained a lot of weight and also began to sport a thick beard. He actually began to resemble a big grizzly, blue-collared bear and I sincerely worried about his career. How would he survive as an escort? At this rate he wouldn’t even be able to afford rent on his Bronx apartment.

I got the answer soon after when the old gossip ladies began whispering about the fact that the condemned BD Rex was finally moving out. The next day, when I got home from work, he had slipped a goodbye card underneath my door. He wanted us to stay in touch and shared his new address with me. A one-bedroom in Upper East Side, Manhattan! At the end, he signed his name and I realized that ‘Big Dick Rex’ had now become ‘Big Daddy Rex.’ Holy smokes! I guess he finally had his happy ending after all. And I also guess there is a HUGE market for fat hairy men in the escort business. BD Rex not only stumbled upon that niche but hit gold with it. Who would have known!

Like I said, New York is a fucked up city! And I still LOVE it!

As for orgies, I don’t really know if I would ever return to one again. It was a fun experience but not really my thing. But for those of you fellow freaks, who plan on attending an orgy in your life. Remember, rule number one. ALWAYS and I mean always, RSVP to an orgy! Its common courtesy and New York with all its fucked-up-ness does NOT forgive those who don’t! Happy hunting!