My own DILFness being kind of watery by the most charitable of assessments.
Downright fraudulent by the more honest.
@cute_boy assured me I looked kind of DILFish.
As long as I didn't talk.
Use my hands.
Or move.
All of which were quite difficult to do.
Considering the influence of the music, the booze, and the single smuggled pill.
Oh yeah, that was another part of our strategy.
@cute_cousin and I, both equally fearful of apprehension upon arrival, had agreed that we would only be prepared to travel with one pill each.
So when that one was done, we were ready to leave.
Because the sudden reality of hanging out with a whole bunch of shirtless old men, in an old factory, in the western suburbs, was fairly unappealing.
So we ventured into the wilds that were the darkened abandoned streets, in search of safe passage home, our stretch Merc having only been hired for the first part of the night.
Ah the familiar comfort of Potts Point felt good.
Particularly when it housed an extra pill for both of us.
Which we popped on the rooftop, along with some more champagne.
Having revived our festive feelings, we once again headed vaguely westwards.
This time only so far as Taylor Square.
Where we stopped in at Hot Rod to dance with the Gen-Ys.
With whom we felt equally as out of place as with the DILFs.
Next stop: the Shift.
Where our DILF stamp gave us free entry to the upstairs club.
And where we seemed to re-experience the first part of the night.
Just in a different venue.
Only this time when my ecstasy subsided we had no reserves in stock.
@cute_cousin had been absorbed into a throng of heaving dancefloor hotties.
Whereas I had moved to that state where I'd started to feel a little bit antsy.
Kind of toey.
With a case of the wanders.
Which I treated by moving downstairs.
Sure the crowd upstairs was hot.
But they were all totally into the music.
And totally into each other.
I know my market.
And where I sit in it.
The guys downstairs are less good looking.
So I'm in with a better chance.
And they also have the good sense to line the walls.
One in hand in pocket.
The other with drink.
Not really talking to anybody.
But clearly saying: I'm totally up for it.
It's a process with which I'm well acquainted, and one in which I am most practised.
And one that really appeals to my laziness.
Because it works.
Really quickly...
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