Lodo Grdzak's Japanese Story--Part 8* (*Scroll down for Parts 1-7):

You wouldn't smother my friend with a pillow would you?




NYC Hilton:

"..and tons of chick crap that I'd never see at my apartment."

Like a fighter who knows its the last round, I left it all on the Pacha dance-floor. Propelled myself ‘round the girls in circles: arms outstretched, eyes closed. Then I’d approach and stroke their soft hair; rub it against my cheek before I’d throw myself back out into wider orbit.

I really got caught up in the moment, but when I began to bump into other dancers the girls simultaneously corralled me into a corner. I felt their combined weight press me against the wall as I held them close by the waist. Nyoko pointed at her Swatch.

“Look!” she said mischievously.

It read 5:15.

The girls laughed. Slapped my chest. Squeezed my bicep. Lifted my shirt and rubbed my abs.

Until somehow I was making out with Aiko. I don’t remember how we started, just like I can’t tell you which of the Polish girls I met first. Or remember the first time I met my man Catfish. I just remember I was making out with Aiko; and then Nyoko and I were making out; and then the three of us were in the cab to the hotel where Aiko and I were really making out while Nyoko watched and commented aloud in Japanese.

By the time we got to the Hilton my dick was so hard I was embarrassed to get out the cab. I had to adjust my pants before I could exit, and sandwiched myself between the girls for concealment as we walked thru the lobby to their room.

Just outside their door, Nyoko turned ‘round for an evaluative look into my eyes. You’d never smother my girlfriend with a pillow would you? her exotic eyes seemed to suggest, though no words were actually expressed.

And no, I’d never smother anyone with a pillow. Not unless they asked me to. Nyoko could see that. She hurriedly unlocked the door; threw it open with impatience, then pulled Aiko and me into their cluttered room of open suitcases and store bags and mirrors and tons of chick crap that I never see at my apartment.


* NOTE: In the spirit of keeping things moving, I'm gonna split this into another installment. Thanks for reading!

**NOTE: All pics (with the exception of me in my apt.) were stolen off Google. They have no actual relation to me or this story. They're also probably copyrighted--particularly the top pic. The guy who took that might be real sensitive.

All rights reserved in regards to the photo of me in The Green Room.