December 20, 2011

Dangerous times

Posted in life, sex tagged casual encounters, sex, theif at 7:07 pm by woodynyou

I know that overall I’ve been a lucky guy when it has come to casual encounters.  I have slept with strangers.  I’ve gone into some bad neighborhoods, not knowing what would be awaiting me when I arrived.  I have put trust in my fellow-man and have managed to avoid mishaps. 

Until now.

Last Wednesday I received an email from Farrah, a woman who had responded to a post I had written a month ago.  She asked if I would like to meet for a drink later that night and I agreed.

We met after my gig at 10:30 at a bar nearby my house.  Farrah was in her late 30s — a brunette who was attractive, full-figured, and large breasted.  We sat down and began some easy conversation. 

She, like myself, was separated and had three kids.  We talked about our ex-es, our children, and our lives in general.  I felt comfortable with her, and though there was not much of a personal or romantic connection, I was attracted to her.  I invited her back to my place.

We had sex.  We were at it for about an hour and a half and I thought it was good experience — especially since I hadn’t really had sex (except for that one recent, curtailed encounter) for a long time. 

After we had sex she fell asleep.  I couldn’t sleep with a stranger in my bed and I knew, since she had mentioned it earlier in the evening, that she could not stay the night. 

At three AM I decided to wake her.  She got up and I walked her to her car and said goodbye.  I thought it was a good experience, both the hanging out, and the sex, and I thought I would like to get together with her again sometime.

Two days later I was at the market and was about to pay for my groceries when I noticed that my credit card was missing.  At that point I also noticed some cash missing as well — as much as $60.00.  I was thinking that my son, who had borrowed my card two days earlier, might have forgotten to give it back, when suddenly a dark feeling came over me.  Could it have been Farrah?

I called my bank and alerted them.  When I checked my account there was no suspicious activity.  Still…I couldn’t help wondering.  All weekend I was hoping the card would turn up — hoping that this stranger that I slept with on a moment’s notice, was not a thief.

On Monday I went to my bank to cancel the card.  The teller was able to check activity that I couldn’t see online, and she saw that several purchases were attempted with my card over the weekend, all of which were denied.  One was from a market in Alameda.  Farrah had told me she lived in Alameda. 

How did she get into my wallet?  My apartment is tiny — she could not have gotten to my wallet without me having seen her.  Unless it happened when I went to the bathroom.  There was also one point where I got her a glass of water — it could have been then.

But why, if she had the money, did she have sex and go to sleep?  I didn’t think she was faking it — she really seemed to be enjoying it.  But then, just because she’s a thief doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy sex.  The two are not mutually exclusive.   On second thought, if she is stealthy enough to steal a credit card from a distance of six feet, then she probably has the ability to fake orgasms too.

Could she have stolen the money on her way out, right in front of me?  Magicians are known for misdirection — maybe she just stood up in front of my desk, shielding my vision, and pretended she was rummaging for her clothes.

The fact that it was done a few feet from me is more disturbing than the lost money.  I feel like a dupe and I feel way too gullible for a man of 51.  I also feel lucky because it could have been so much worse.  What if she had a gun?  I could have had more money — or she could have gotten away with the credit card charges.

There’s no easy answers.  I’m horny and I want sex, but I don’t want a relationship.  I want to feel a connection to someone but I don’t want to commit.  You can have joyless sex, you can have great sex, you can get rolled, and you can feel like an asshole.  All for five seconds of ecstasy.

Nothing is free.

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