I enter the party and immediately hit the open bar. Tickets were not cheap to this thing so I figure I better get my money's worth! And boy do I get my money's worth. By the end of the night, I feel like Cinderella dancing at the ball with every handsome prince possible. All of a sudden, this gala has turned in to my gala, and I think "If you know who could see me now."
Suddenly...I black out.
In my splish splash of memories, I see scenes of me downing glasses of wine, a tongue in my mouth, and one of the earlier gay men appearing right before me as I am hailing a taxi. I ask if he's here to save me, since he is gay. He tells me he's not gay, but he will save me. He tells me I'm in no condition to go home, so he'll take me back to his apartment right around the block. Barely able to stand up, I hold on to his shoulders (hmm, nice shoulders), and stumble back to his apartment.
Along the way, I find out that he's a dentist. As the walk sobers me up, I get a good look at Mr. Dentist. He's not tall as I'm probably his height in heels. Tanned. Nice teeth...of course. He has one of those "old-young faces" where I know he's probably young, but I can already picture him old. He seems nice, but at this point, anyone will seem nice.
We get back to his apartment and all I want to do is makeout and pass out. Then, I wake up in the middle of the night with the incredible urge to have sex with him. I mean, I haven't had sex since Mr. Bartender whose floppy dick probably didn't count anyway! I wake up Mr. Dentist and have him drill me until I pass out again.
While doing my formal-wear walk of shame home the next morning in my gold stilettos, I make up my mind that Mr. Dentist is just what I needed to get my old self back. Fuck reinvention, I just want to be slutty again. Just as I hop into a cab, I get a text from an unknown number: "Hope you got home OK last night. I carried you down the stairs because you couldn't walk and we made out for a long time." Could this be my knight in shining armor?
Update:
Mr. Dentist and I end up going on a couple dates. I don't feel a spark, but I enjoy the companionship...until he gets a little too up in my grill and starts talking "couple" talk. That's when I cut that bitch loose. Besides, aren't all dentists fucked up anyway?
