Diva and the Double Date

Friday night I was to meet Diva et al for martinis and oysters at the Black Pearl. I sort of felt I was crashing this eventful double date but can I turn down being treated to oysters and martinis just for fear of being socially awkward (which I almost never am anyway)? Hell to the no.

I flew out of my office and ended up arriving first.

This is what I saw.
Other than thinking it looked like a fun game, I was unmoved by it. Once the others arrived, they all commented that it seemed inhumane. Um, people, these are creatures we boil alive, grabbing them out of a tank with a mechanical claw is pretty much a walk along the ocean floor for these lobsters. Lobsters, yum. I know, so call PETA if you must. Lobsters are so succulent.

Diva and Eddie arrived next. It was great to see her in her Tess-mandated outfit, skirt and wedges. Baby steps, I'll get her in stilettos and low cut tops yet. And damn if she hadn't been hiding a lovely set of legs under her (shudder) capris.

Note the drink in hand. That was Diva's first martini. It was of the fruity variety and she took to it like a fish to water. Watching her swill Eddie's vodka martini was more amusing. She scrunched up her face like a baby sucking on a lemon.

These are our legs tangled together. Note my adorable leopard patent leather Mary Janes, previously photographed in my office john. The drinks apparently were taking effect.

Connor was next to arrive. As we waited for Bridget, Eddie noted a parking space in front of the restaurant.

"That's Bridget's spot," he said. Now this may seem like nothing special, but we are talking about NYC, people drive around for hours looking for parking and end up paying $35 for three hours out of utter desperation. Not Bridget. Bridget has been appeasing the parking god with the blood of virgins or something. Eddie was right; that spot was hers. She pulled up, pulled in and walked the fifteen feet to the bar. We all settled into amiable conversation as Bridget and I decided on our oyster order. You see, Diva, the domestic goddess has led a very sheltered little life thus far and right on the heels of her first martini was to come her first oyster. Hard to say if she loved them because of her first (by now, second or perhaps third, I lost count) martini or because oysters are truly amazing. I prefer the smaller, tastier Pacific oysters but with Bluepoints at a dollar each I was willing to gulp down plenty and we thought their more mild taste might be more suitable for an amateur. Add a little lemon, horseradish and hot sauce and mmm mmm mmm.
While I was outside on the phone with that dick, Victor, it seemed our little pre-dinner party had broken up. Everyone drifted into the street and dragged me, resisting all the way across the street to eat BBQ. The place was amazing. We had ribs and chicken and brisket and potatoes and corn pudding and god knows what else. It was all wonderful. I love the smell of smoke that permeated the place and the cute waitresses in denim minis and cowboy boots didn't hurt the ambiance any.





Then it was time for dessert. Diva and I picked out bourbon pecan pie, banana pudding and the most insanely delicious s'mores cupcake ever for all of us to share. Yes, I said s'mores cupcake, with a cake that tasted like graham cracker, molten chocolate in the center and marshmallow frosting. I was in fat, stuffed and bloated heaven. Sadly I have no photos of dessert. It got inhaled too fast.

After dinner, everyone was ready to go home. Diva was spending the night with Eddie and was eager for more sex, though how she just didn't want to fall over and sleep I can't imagine. It must be that magical Eddie cock that she somehow is under the illusion I want to see. I really only want to see it if there actually IS glitter swirling around it. Now that would be special even for a cock slut like me.

I got into my cab and headed home, happy to have made new friends and happy to see Diva letting go and really enjoying herself, developing an appreciation for the skirt and with her vibe tucked in her handbag for jerking off while driving. I fear I have created a monster. Only time, and our upcoming trip out West, will tell.



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