I was napping Tuesday afternoon, after having spent the morning coming home from my parents house, and doing some quick cleaning around my apartment. I wanted to rest up before heading to the Sexerati book release party. When I woke up, there was a message on my phone from my escort for the evening, who was too ill to attend.

I was sad, because I had been looking forward to going to the party with him, and getting my hands on him. I do so hate waiting. I also had a momentary stab of panic at having to go alone.

I’ll tell you all an open secret - confident as I seem in person, I’m often nervous in very large groups. Especially when I have to wade my way into them alone. Some of the most terrifying moment I’ve had in my life were during my residency in the funeral home, when I had to stand up in front of the families and speak, introducing the priest or decon. Its very hard to respectfully and politely get the attention of 75 people who are talking amongst themselves and grieving. No public speaking class can teach you what that is like.

If I had know how truly large the party was going to be, I might not have made it out of the house alone.

As it were, I was on the guest list for +1, and I thought I’d check in with some friends to see what they were doing, though it was short notice. I got in touch with Michael, and then Axe, who were both busy already. It was after that that I hemmed and hawed about trying to get in touch with Sebastian. There was a good chance he wouldn’t even answer, what with his track record in the past, but I happened to see him online. I pinged him, asking if he was free, and his response was to ask for my number and ask if he could call me.

This was both annoying and ominous. Annoying, because why the fuck was he asking for my number? He already had it. I know he had it. He’s called me before, all by himself with no prompting. Ominous, because if it the answer were a no, why not say so? Why call?

I gave it to him, and he immediately called. As it turns out, he was already going, and going with a date of some sort. The reason he called, which he seemed unable to articulate, as I had to do it for him, was to ask me to behave. To behave!

Of all the brass balls. What the fuck does he think I’m going to do? Fist him on the dance floor? I’m pretty sure I can’t do that anywhere with a liquor license, anyway. Not mention anal sex? Hey buddy, one of the authors is Tristan Taromino. She’s *kind* of into the buttsex. Just a little. She’s only just totally my anal idol.

As if I can’t behave myself in public around someone I slept with who is out with someone else. All he needed to have said was ‘I’m going with a date’ and I would have know. I’m not going to hit on someone who’s out on a date with someone else, unless I know that is ok. Granted, he’s only interacted with me alone, or in groups of perverts who know our predilections and relationship, and we’re all sort of naked anyway, but believe it or not, I know how to interact with people with out their dick in my mouth. Hell, I haven’t even taken my clothing off in public since college, and I’ve had much better reasons since then!

Now, I’m already annoyed at all this. Annoyed that he had apparently ‘lost’ my number. Annoyed that he was now off the market, what with a girlfriend and a date (who wasn’t his girlfriend) and all. I was not annoyed out of jealousy, by the way, but more out of humiliation. Humiliation that since I didn’t know he was seeing someone, I’d still be sending him raunchy text messages that suddenly made me uncomfortable and embarrassed, since I’m sure they were unwanted. Annoyed, that despite his claims of friendship, for whatever reason, he didn’t feel like mentioning he had a girlfriend. I never wanted to date him. He knew this. I would have been nothing but happy for him had he told me. I like my friends to be happy, in whatever way is best for them.

I’m already feeling all this, plus some nervousness about going to the party alone, when he drops another bomb. I nearly stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara wand at this one.

“So, you know, if it would make you feel uncomfortable to see me with another woman, I won’t go tonight.”

WHAT THE FUCK?

I was sure, at that point, that his ego had finally reached critical mass, and was going to blow up. Who the fuck do you think you are, that I’m going to be so upset that you’re with another woman that I would be so unable to deal with it that we couldn’t be at the same (very large) party.

Sorry buddy. You’re not that great.

We had awesome hot anal sex. We had a wonderful, amazing anal bond. Yes, I felt very intensely about it, and you. I’m an intense woman. Because the sex was unbelievable, in ways I hadn’t even known it could be. Because you have a gorgeous body, that is my physical ideal. Because I learned I could top on you.

I am so angry, and so humiliated writing this, that right now, I’m actually crying. That’s how upset I am.

We weren’t dating. I never loved you like that. You were not one of mine, nor did I want you to be. We had this conversation three goddamn times! You must think quite a bit of yourself, to think I’d be so devastated to see you with another girl.

I think this is why some other the situations with other males have been bothering me so much. I feel raw, and wounded. Everything has been scraping my temper the wrong way, making normal everyday things feel like slights, and making things that were already simply irritating me, upset me. I’ve been angry, and sad, and rather devalued. Not because he doesn’t want me anymore, but because he thought so little of me. It is hard to explain properly.

I was so furious after I hung up the phone. I was stomping around, half dressed, growling, when my roommate came home. I was actually considering not going, I was so mad. Nix talked me into it.

She said I should get all extra sexed up. I agreed. I figured, if I’m gonna go in, I’ll go in fierce.

So I found my prettiest, trampiest shirt, put it on, and made sure my make up was extra hot. I had a very nice mani/pedi to show off, my hair looked great, and I was all primped up, shaven, waxed and plucked.

I really wish I took some pictures. I’ll have to get a shot of this shirt at some point anyway. Its fucking hot. Its got open work metal and jewels on the front, and its a halter top that says, ‘Yeah, look at these tits, mother fucker!’

I went. I even splurged on a cab, because I wanted to make sure I got there earlier enough to get a gift bag. As I got there, I found Lolita, Ace of Hearts, and other people I knew, and went in with them.

Upstairs was packed, so we all headed downstairs, where I stayed for most of the party. I drank, found friends, talked to lots of people, and had good times. I saw Sebastian (How could I not? He towers over a crowd) but I didn’t approach him. I was too mad. I had all sorts of evil thoughts about not behaving just to piss him off. Doing something outlandish. However, he does have two of my books, that I want back. So, I behaved. (I wonder if he realizes that I will hunt him down for those books? I don’t let books go lightly.) We did talk eventually, and I doubt he realized how angry I was until he got home and read the email I shot off to him before I left for the party, chastising him for being a douchetard.

I was still pretty skittish, so I stuck close to people I knew, until I had a few drinks in me. Eventually, I wandered around a bit. One of my friends brought me over to the seating area that had been converted from shower stalls, and I ran into Jefferson there. We hadn’t spoken since February, and it was nice to catch up. I hope it made a bit of a positive change in the state of things. I need to pick his brain for his fried chicken recipe.

All in all, it was a fun party. I sadly did not win any of the raffles, but they were fun to watch and cheer on. I made plans to grab some nosh afterward with friends. I got my gift bag, which was filled with all sorts of things necessary for perverts. Lube, chap stick, mints, and alcohol. My favourite, however, was a shot glass that was promoting the company that makes promotional gift bags. I found it delightfully ironic.

The best part of the night, for me, was at the very end. I stopped to buy one of Tristan’s DVD’s. I sat next to her chatting a bit while she got ready to sign it. When she asked my name, and I told her, she said “Oh, *you’re* Wendy Blackheart?” in such a tone of surprise.

Holy shit. I nearly came right there. She knew who I was. I can’t explain how happy that made me. I’ve adored this woman since I was 16. She helped shape my love of ass!

Now, not only am I sitting right next to her (and oooh, she’s really pretty) but she’s aware of who I am!

That totally made my night. Really. Sebastian may have been a fucktard, I may have been nervous to be alone, but goddamn it, Tristan knows who I am.

When I was 16, I never thought I’d even get to meet Tristan Taromino, let alone go to her book release party! Hehe. It’s so cool!