Another amusing story had to do with the time I slept at Kim's apartment. To say that this place was tiny is a gross understatement. It was so small that you had to decide which way you wanted to face before you went inside. Well maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, and if I said it once I said it a million times, I don't exaggerate! [Cymbal Crash!]
Anyway, the place was [CENSORED] small. The next thing that you would notice upon entering was that the only window was in a closet sized area she referred to as her kitchen. The window faced a dreary looking courtyard of brick and grime. This room had a twenty-inch round table and two chairs and it was over-furnished.
The alcove or sleeping area had a small loveseat, which served as the living room. The opposite wall couldn’t have been more than six feet away. Hovering about five feet above the loveseat was the sleeping area or loft as she called it. Two walls, with a third wall mere feet away and a very low ceiling bordered it. The space between the mattress and the ceiling couldn’t have been more than three feet high. The only way to get around once you climbed up there was to crawl like an infantryman.
To get up to the bed you had to climb what I think may have been a short ship’s ladder, made to handle the maximum weight of a Barbie doll. Once there, if you sat up too fast while you were in bed, you would smash your forehead on the [CENSORED] ceiling! [CENSORED] doggie style was out of the question in this locale. In fact [CENSORED] any style was an amazing feat. The missionary position was interesting though, because on the up stroke, my [CENSORED] slammed into the ceiling and the down stroke bounced me back up again. [CENSORED] in that bed made me feel like I was living inside one of those annoying Pong video games. Blip...blip...blip...blip...blip...blip...blip. Was it good for you?
By the way, did I mention that the place wasn’t air-conditioned? Well, who needs air anyway? I figured I could survive breathing in the combination of both our liquor-tainted breath and the smell of the old man who must have died there before she moved in.
I guess out of both exhaustion and a limited supply of oxygen, I was finally able to get to sleep after what seemed like a lifetime of tossing and turning in this confined hell. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t claustrophobic. Yeah, right!
It must have been about four in the morning when I was awakened by a rather foul odor. I guess I forgot to mention that Kim and I had eaten at a local Tex/Mex restaurant that night and she had chili. Now I have had the opportunity to sample some rather noxious methane expulsions in my day but this was the mother of all mothers as far as girl [CENSORED] are concerned. I had never before and never since, experienced as repulsive a human odor as I did that horrible, confined night. What quietly eked out of her [CENSORED] while she was sleeping was the most nauseating, disgusting, ‘want to punch you in the head you [CENSORED] pig’, smell ever.
I also have to state that I am rather fastidious when it comes to bodily functions. I mean, I know girls [CENSORED] and [CENSORED], but if it takes place when I’m in the same state, I WANT TO KILL! This is probably a result of bad toilet training. Other than that, I’m a tolerant man.
Back to the Horror of Horrors! Here I was trapped against two and a half walls, under a three foot ceiling, in a room that on a good night smelled like a dead old man. An unconscious, naked woman with her [CENSORED] poised to blast again blocked my only escape route, the rickety ladder. The odor was indescribable. I thought I might puke and to prevent myself from doing so, I buried my face in the pillow, depriving myself of even more air. I prayed that I would either pass out or have a tornado whirl by and blow the roof off. In that dungeon, nobody heard my prayer. All through this, my hour of suffering, Kim was sleeping like a baby. That [CENSORED]!
I don’t know how, but I survived the night. All I can say is that it’s a good [CENSORED] thing she was beautiful! A lesser woman may have ended up with a pillow stuffed in her [CENSORED]. And the moral of the story: If you ever take a chick out for a chili dinner and you get that irresistible urge to do the horizontal Lombada, (a) make sure she’s beautiful, (b) bring a clothes pin for your nose, and (c) [CENSORED] her in the park on a windy night.
I eventually got over that experience and because I consider myself a gentleman, I never brought up the fact that she nearly killed me with her [CENSORED]. Instead, I returned my focus to simply enjoying it.
