Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the 26-Year-Old Woman Having Sex With Her Ex in a Public Bathroom: Female, executive assistant, Brooklyn Heights, 26, straight, single.
DAY ONE
6 p.m.: After work, I head to yoga. I’m happy to escape hosting duties for an evening. I have a girlfriend visiting from Scotland, but tonight she’s seeing other friends.
9 p.m.: Meet fun gay guys drinking in the East Village with a friend.
9:15 p.m.: Nope, not gay
just Israeli.
9:30 p.m.: When Israeli #3 finds out my friend is Jewish, he is mortified and apologizes for hitting on her “like a shiksa.” We laugh, make our excuses, and go to another bar.
11 p.m.: Drank entirely too much for a weeknight. There are no available cabs, so I bitch to a cop about the nerve of tourists coming to my city and stealing my cabs. He doesn’t find me as funny as I do. A really attractive guy walks up and asks him for directions to the 6 train. He is tall and athletic. I offer to walk with him and we hit it off instantly. He playfully says if I can high-kick a flag hanging from an awning, he’ll propose. I do it. He gets down on one knee in front of numerous passersby and proposes. We make out.
Midnight: After some time canoodling on a park bench, we hop a cab uptown.
12:20 a.m.: Within moments of arriving in his apartment, our clothes are in a pile on the floor.
12:25 a.m.: I discover stubble all over his chest and arms. When I inquire about it, he explains that he doesn’t like body hair so he shaves everything. Red flag …
12:30 a.m.: He starts to vigorously suck on my nipples and tells me I have perfect tits. What a gentleman, I think to myself. Then, while fooling around, he slaps me across the face and chokes me. Next thing I know, he’s biting my nipples, pinning my arms down, and pressing his penis into my mouth. I love giving head and always involve my hands, but every time I try to use them he slaps them away. This kind of aggression can really turn me on, but not when I’m in a stranger’s apartment. I find it all a bit too rapey, so I ask him to tone it down or jerk himself off. He mellows out. I go down on him until he comes. He does not return the favor.
1:30 a.m.: He falls asleep. I have no desire to wake up in his apartment, so I quietly gather my things, get dressed, and make a run for it.
DAY TWO
9 a.m.: Wake up to text from Aggro Guy : “Im sorry u couldn’t sleep. Fun times!” Ignore. I get the feeling we aren’t sexually compatible.
8 p.m.: Swing by H&M after the gym to pick up something sexy to wear tonight. Settle on a skintight black minidress. I’m normally a jeans-and-T-shirt girl, but I’ve lost seventeen pounds in the last few months and I want to flaunt it. My behavior is despicable when I feel this hot.
11 p.m.: Arrive at a housewarming party in the Lower East Side. Ex-boyfriend shows up with a pretty blonde date and barely acknowledges me. When he’s on a date, he always acts cold. He dumped me back in June because he didn’t see a romantic future any more. We’ve dated on and off for nearly three years.
1 a.m.: Walk to Restauranteur’s new bar. We’ve been drawn to each other for years, but one of us is always dating someone. Tonight we are particularly flirtatious.
1:15 a.m.: I find out that Restauranteur has a girlfriend who is six-feet tall, skinny, in a band, and fun. Damn.
2 a.m.: We are gazing into each other’s eyes and talking unnaturally close. Alcohol is flowing and we’re admitting how badly we’ve always wanted each other.
4 a.m.: Restauranteur is trying to convince us to find somewhere to hang after hours. My friend is tired and feels like a third wheel, so we go home.
DAY THREE
11:30 a.m.: Wake up with hangover from hell. Take Advil and head out for brunch and shopping in SoHo.
11 p.m.: After cocktails and primping at my place, a couple friends and I head to a bar. We’re already doing shots and dancing.
Midnight: Back outside Restauranteur’s bar waiting for the doorman to recognize me and allow us to skip the line. Ex rolls up with two women. He greets me warmly, so he must not be dating either of them. We sit on opposite sides of the bar.
12:15 a.m.: I resume flirting with Restauranteur. He quickly shuts me down and points out his girlfriend sitting at the bar. While she is taller and skinnier than I am, I definitely have her beat in the face and boobs department. I take a hint and back off. Ex and I are making faces across the bar.
1 a.m.: I visit Ex. We’re both fairly inebriated. We talk about how happy we are to be friends still. He says he loves being around me. He really knows how to suck me back in.
2:30 a.m.: Ex pulls me aside to tell me he still loves me. He says he’s going to the bathroom, then pauses and says, “Wanna come?” I really do. The bar only has two restrooms, and we head into one of them. He takes his dick out of his pants and looks to me to assist with puppy dog eyes. I start rubbing it while we are kissing, then go down on him on my knees. He reaches down my shirt and pulls my breasts out of the top of my bra, then pulls me up to him. He sucks on my nipples hard. I’ve always found him a little too aggressive with my nipples, but he enjoys it too much to tell him not to. He turns me around and bends me over the sink. Someone starts knocking on the door but we ignore it and he reaches up my skirt, pulls my tights down around my thighs, and slips into me from behind. People outside the bathroom are getting agitated and the knocking is louder and more frequent now. After a few minutes, he pulls out, twirls me around, and I go down on him again. His penis tastes like me. The banging on the door is beginning to make me nervous and him soft. I keep imagining Restauranteur unlocking the door and busting in on us. We decide to stop for now, despite the fact that neither of us came. Walking out of the bathroom we are greeted by a chorus of boos. I put my head down and return to my friends as though nothing happened. Ex does the same.
3:30 a.m.: When Ex leaves with his friends he tells me that he is going to call later. I assume he wants to have “the talk” about how he doesn’t want to get back together.
4 a.m.: I find Restauranteur in the back of the bar in a quiet area to say good-bye. He hugs me, gives my ass a squeeze, and tells me I’m gorgeous. He says that if no one else were around, he and I would be in the back room getting it on right now, then leans in close and says, “I can keep a secret if you can … ” I’m flattered but I’m not sure where I stand on adultery, though it would undoubtedly be incredible. We agree to be in touch.
4:30 a.m.: I get a booty call text from the Ex as I crawl into bed. I suggest a rain check dinner and he says he’ll follow up. I go to sleep equally horny for both Restauranteur and Ex.
DAY FOUR
1 p.m.: Before I have a chance to wipe last night’s makeup off, my mom Skypes me from abroad with my entire extended family and their children. I look like a tramp and it does not go unnoticed. I permit my cousins a few jabs at my expense. They are well deserved.
3 p.m.: Go to local Polish restaurant for pierogies and pancakes and spend the rest of the afternoon in Williamsburg wandering around and checking out thrift stores. I hear a song that reminds me of Ex and text him. No response.
6 p.m.: Scottish friend ships off to Scotland. Finally, I have my apartment to myself for the first time in a week. Feeling horny so I try Ex again. Still no reply. I am reminded of one of my many relationship grievances. I’m angry at myself for allowing him to be in my head again.
7 p.m.: A friend of mine recently introduced me to the Suicide Girls website. I don’t consider myself bisexual, despite having had sex with a girl once before, but I do find women sexier to look at. Looking at images of hot tattooed girls, I press my vibrator rhythmically into my clit. I always have multiple orgasms and have no self control once I start. This time I stop after about ten, trembling and sweaty. I spend the rest of the evening watching TV and reading.
DAY FIVE
9 a.m.: All 4, 5, and 6 trains are running with delays because of a derailed train. Fantastic way to start the work week. At least I have a seat and a book.
4 p.m.: I initiate an e-mail exchange with Ex and we make tentative dinner plans for tomorrow.
9 p.m.: Masturbate with vibrator again, this time while watching The Walking Dead. This show isn’t good enough to watch without periodic orgasms. Ponder whether it’s strange to come while watching zombies eat human flesh … It’s the physical sensation that brings me to orgasm; I don’t require mental stimulation as well.
DAY SIX
8 p.m.: It was a long day and I’m exhausted, but I’m trying to gussy myself up for dinner with Ex.
9:30 p.m.: Meet Ex at ABC Kitchen for dinner and cocktails. We talk in a completely platonic way during dinner. We discuss work, mutual friends, and even people we are dating. I realize he makes a much better friend than boyfriend.
11 p.m.: Ex brings up Saturday night’s bathroom adventure. With a cheeky smirk he says, “So, I was disappointed we never got to finish … ” I request the check, he pays, and we’re off.
11:30 p.m.: As soon as we are in his bedroom we start pulling off each other’s clothing piece by piece. I push him backwards against his bed and kneel down to give him head as he holds me by my hair. Then we climb into bed and he starts kissing his way down my body. I lay back and enjoy it. He goes down on me using his tongue and so many fingers that I lose track of what’s touching what, but it feels phenomenal. I have two orgasms in quick succession.
Midnight: I clamber on top of him and we start having sex, slowly at first but building speed. I turn around to ride him reverse cowgirl to give him a view of my butt, and I look back over my shoulder to check him out checking me out. After a few minutes, he asks in his sweetest tone, “Can I fuck your tits?”
12:15 a.m.: He licks my breasts to get them wet enough, then puts himself between my breasts, with me squeezing them tightly around him as he thrusts. He finishes all over my chest and neck and rolls onto his back, deeply satisfied. A moment later he grabs me a towel to clean up with and we cuddle until we fall asleep.
DAY SEVEN
8 a.m.: I wake up. Ex is still fast asleep but he is holding my hand. I gently wriggle free of him. He senses me moving and rolls over and grabs my breast, the international sign for “let’s bang.” We have sleepy morning sex with him on top the whole time. It’s slow and tender with lots of eye contact and kisses. I moan softly as his momentum builds to a faster pace. He pulls out and comes on my stomach. As he lies recovering, I shower and get dressed.
8:30 a.m.: Ex is lying in bed with his eyes closed. He stirs as I kiss him good-bye. On my way out, I momentarily forget his alarm code that used to come so easily to me.
Noon: Spend my lunch hour sitting outside and pondering whether this means that Ex and I are officially sleeping together again. If it does, I’m opening myself up to being hurt; sharing friends means I will inevitably see him on dates with other women and I know if I continue to do this I will become attached to him again.
9 p.m.: A friend from high school is in the neighborhood, so he stops by my apartment. We get high and watch silly videos on YouTube.
11 p.m.: My friend goes home. I’m high and relaxed watching Planet Earth out of the corner of my eye as I lie in bed. I take a moment to appreciate the quiet. I take my vibrator out and get myself off a few times before drifting off to sleep.
TOTALS: Three acts of intercourse; four blow jobs; one act of cunnilingus; three masturbation sessions; approximately twenty orgasms; one hairless partner.
