A black Polo Ralph Lauren Kimono Velour Robe

Who invented the night before the dreaded Monday? Honestly, I'd like to crack them. I suspect it wasn't God but some lonely work slave who couldn't wait to escape his pathetic weekend-blues from sitting in front of the television watching Mr. Bean over and over again as he had no friends to go visit. I think I need another weekend to forget about this one cause I'm feeling rather cranky after the Sunday afternoon I had.

Chris's mother invited my family to have lunch at their house yesterday. I was actually kind of excited to go because I knew this new girlfriend of Chris would be there and it always brings me immense pleasure to see how the High and Mighty (that's what I call Chris's mom, just H&M for short) interrogates the shit out of the next-possible-god-forbid-H&Ms. I've actually been in that terrifying situation myself when Chris and I just started becoming friends. She sees any and everything wearing something that even remotely resembles a skirt as a possible threat and like a weapon of mass destruction she zooms in on the innocent pray to destroy all and any fantasies about a future with her precious oldest son.

But my oh my, was I the one in for the fat surprise of the day! As it turns out I actually know Chris's girlfriend. In fact I know her very, very well as she's one of my good friends whom I went out with on Friday and held my hand while I was feeling a little, teeny, tiny bit sick from my good friend Jack Daniels in all his bitter glory on the bathroom floor of the pub. It would've been nice to know that she was dating my best friend before I had a little accident on her shoes as I would've aimed slightly higher to leave my mark on her strapless red dress she was showing off all night. If I really strained myself, I'm sure I could've made it all the way to her perfect, long, out-of-a-box black hair.

So there she was, almost sitting on top op my best friend clutching his hand like an eagle would claw a baby lamb he's about to devour. Well I have news for you, missy! I've been with Chris long before you were even considered important enough to glance at. Of course I've slept with Chris, friends. Once: in the in the pool, on the couch in the formal living room, on the pool table (but we had to stop after a few minutes at risk of not breaking the thing and some vital body parts in the process as well), on the kitchen counter, in the pantry (two words: chocolate sauce) on his uncle's robe (I'll explain later) and finally in the main bedroom on the bed like normal people. Does that count as once? I can never tell.

It all started when Chris had to do house sitting for his uncle that went on a business trip to Amsterdam. Obviously it was a great venue for a party as it had everything a good house party requires: a swimming pool, so much booze even an alcoholic wouldn't even be able to finish it, a great sound system and lots of food. Unfortunately the uncle's taste was limited to a few select cd's The Eagles and Elvis (you can only listen to Be my teddy bear so many times) and the rest of our friends decided to go to our favorite pub (but not after they have consumed enough alcohol to kill a school full of children). I didn't feel like killing anyone with my car and decided to just stay with Chris as I was still at varsity at that stage and being home for the weekend meant I was staying with my parents. But of course they trusted Chris! We've known each other since we started high school together.

That was it then: me and Chris all alone in the great big house with absolutely nothing to do. It was really hot and thus we decided to jump in the pool.

"I'm still hot," I complained when we were in the water.

"Take of your bikini then; you might be cooler with no clothes on."

Until this day I do not know if that was the worst version of a pick up line ever or if he was just drunk out of his mind. I prefer to think it was the latter: I really want to believe my friend has some kind of common sense even when he's a bit knackered.

I took his advice, took my bikini off and tossed both pieces in such away it accidentally hit him straight in the face. He looked at me as though it was the first time he had ever really seen me. I remember feeling goose bumps all over my body which was not from the cool water. The only thing I heard was the crickets hiding somewhere in the garden playing witness to this unique experience in the swimming pool and then Chris's heavy breathing as he walked through the water and stood in front of me. When he touched the back of my neck to draw me closer, it felt as though his hand was a burning flame and when he pushed up in me, I felt a sudden rush of excitement like something great was about to happen. It did. Over and over and over again. Somehow it was as though we couldn't get enough of each other. I spent the whole night discovering every single inch on his body with my hands, my tongue caressing every scar, my lips gliding over every little hair. The next morning I was gone before he woke up.

Oh! And the uncle's bathrobe?! He's H&M's brother and once told Chris he was a worthless, unambitious little spoiled rich boy that will always rely on Mommy's influence to try and get somewhere in the world, so just to bring him down to earth in our sick little way, we made time in our busy screwing-schedule to amp it up on his precious black Polo Ralph Lauren Kimono Velour Robe :-)

(I imagine this is what he looked like when he saw it)