An Erotic Story

For three months, I had been walking a standard poodle for a rich lady on The Upper West Side. I needed the money, and Sassy had plenty of it. She was middle aged, beautiful, and her Dakota penthouse faced the park, and each time I walked Fifi, she would pay me fifty dollars plus a tip. Whenever I arrived, she would always give me a bottle of Evian, and when I returned, she would offer me fruit or a sandwich. She was that nice. She liked to laugh and make small talk, so all in all, it was a pleasant situation. However, one day she sent me a text, which forever changed our relationship.

“Hey sweetie. The Ides of March are fast approaching, and I’m planning the same festivities as last year, same six women, same six men, four newbies, and Pete Davison. Cum at eight and don’t be late. The password is “Fidelio.” I can’t wait to see that beautiful body of yours.”

“Holy Guacamole!” I said, and said it so loud that my dog stood up to bark at me.

For a moment, I couldn’t move or think, but after a deep breath, I realized two things: one, the message had been sent in error (the part about the beautiful body tipped me off to that) and second, I realized that I was going to attend this orgy, come hell or high water.

When March 15th arrived, I took the elevator up to Sassy’s penthouse. It opened into a private foyer, and when I knocked, an exotic young woman from Cleveland answered and asked me for the password.

“The password is Fidelio,” I said, and did the wink and gun-finger thing.

“Please give me your clothes,” she said, and I nearly fainted.

Through diet and exercise, I had lost ten pounds for this occasion, but this tuxedo girl was not impressed, and when I stepped inside, I completely understood why. The room was filled with the gorgeously nude. They walked around with flutes of champagne and wore nothing but smiles. I recognized Pete Davidson. Before long I met with Sassy, who was equally naked, and despite her niceness, she greeted me with surprise, and horror.

“What the fuck are you doing here!” she said.

“Why Sassy, you invited me. Don’t you remember?”

I showed her the text, and she frowned so hard she almost sprained her forehead.

“Now I understand. My assistant told me Brad Pitt came by to walk Fifi, but I didn’t piece it together…”

I guess Brad got my message, and I got Brad’s. Well, too bad for Brad.

Sassy forced a polite smile. She tried to laugh politely, but it sounded more like the gurgle a hobo might make before vomiting. I knew she was too nice to ask me to leave, but she quickly walked away, and I worried that she would talk to her people and have me removed, but instead, a handsome Latino — who I believe was a famous fashion model — came over and started kissing Sassy, and moments later, a minor celebrity joined them to form a trio.

“Holy Guacamole!” I said.

And said it so loud, that several people turned to look at me, and from their expressions, I realized that just because you get invited to an orgy, doesn’t mean you’re going to have sex at the orgy. Soon everybody was kissing and grouping together, but when I tried to join, I was told not to. “Forget about it, buddy” was the exact wording used, so I had no choice but to watch at the sidelines.

I felt indignant, and extremely disappointed. I had been looking forward to this for weeks. I had lost ten pounds! I noticed a few other men who had also been rejected, and who were pleasuring themselves from a distance. It was disgusting! It was degrading, and I wondered if this was a regular occurrence at orgies, if some people were deliberately invited just to be left out, because the cruelty adds to the hedonism. Well it wasn’t fair. I was going to Google, “how to become a socialist”, but I was distracted by the on-goings around me. From the thick of things, a beautiful Asian model winked in my general direction. She was on her hands and knees, and before long, I was debasing myself with the other rejects.

Three tuxedo girls came around with porcelain platters and placed one before each masturbator so we wouldn’t stain the carpet. After I was done, I tried to carry my platter into the kitchen, you know, just to be helpful, but one of the servers stopped me.

“Just leave it on the floor, sir,” she said, and spoke with a tone that made me feel dumb for offering.

I had enough of these people. On the way to the door, I passed a buffet so I grabbed a handful of deviled quail eggs and took the whole tray of tuna sashimi. The tuna was delicious. It helped to raise my spirits, and by the time I exited the lobby, I began to look at things in a brighter light. “After all,” I said to myself, “I got to watch the most beautiful people on the planet having sex with each other, and just because I didn’t get to participate — just because I didn’t get the best of what was being offered — was no reason to feel bad about myself, and no reason to think poorly of the extraordinary things I had just witnessed.”

Before long, I had developed this thinking into a philosophy to live by, and the next day, I tried to carry the lesson with me when I showed up to walk Fifi. I guess the orgy lasted until the early morning, because Sassy answered the door looking disheveled and hung-over. She was wearing pajamas and a robe now, but when she saw me, she tried to hide behind the door as if still naked.

“Hi Sassy!” I said with a cheerful tone.

“Listen Royal, don’t say anything to anybody, because if you do, I might have to hire men? And they might have to break your legs?”

She was so nice, she said lots of things as if they were questions.

“I won’t say anything, Sassy.”

“And please, don’t come back here. Ever!”

“But — but what about the Ides of March next year?”

She furiously squinted at me before slamming the door shut.

“What about Fifi?” I shouted. “What about the Evian water!”

The door stayed shut and I marched off in a huff. For Christ’s sake, I wasn’t even good enough to be a rejected masturbator at her orgy. It was depressing. I knew I had been thinking positive thoughts just a moment ago, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what they were.