avoid men in red g-strings

So one of my coworkers invited me to a "naughty girl" party last weekend; apparently it was the third annual such event that she's hosted. She's a single woman in her late forties, rather serious, very by-the-book at work, so this was something of a surprise. I'd never been to one of these parties before and thought it would be something along the lines of a Tupperware party, but with vibrators.

I was partially right. There were toys aplenty, courtesy of my friend Lisa, who was only too happy to offer her expert opinion on ALL of the items she was selling, having thoroughly tested each model (strictly market research, according to her). Most alarming by far was an offering known as "The Scorpion". You know how a scorpion has a tail that curves up and over its body? Picture the body fitting in one hole, and the tail... well, let's just say that an object modeled after a deadly insect wreaking havoc in a rather sensitive part of the body doesn't do it for me. But on the plus side, after a careful perusal of the goods for sale, my friend Angie now has a heck of a gift coming her way at her moving-away party this weekend.

There was food, there were games (do you know how difficult it is to put a condom on a cucumber without using your hands AT ALL? I do.) And, inevitably, there was entertainment.

My friends and I left between the first and second performers, mostly out of fear after seeing the first guy in action. The last time I was in the presence of a stripper, it was at my friend Julie's bachelorette party. Nice looking guy, gave the bride-to-be a little lap dance, stayed and had some drinks with us afterwards - harmless enough. This was something else entirely. I had no idea the women I worked with were quite so flexible.

The good thing about being the photographer in this situation is that I was able to hide behind the camera and avoid becoming better acquainted with the gentleman in red. My friends, who were not as lucky as I, are still recovering nearly a week later. Call me a prude, but I doubt that there is enough alcohol in the Western Hemisphere, let alone at that party, to make me comfortable with having a strange man's head in my crotch in front of my coworkers.

But it was still a good time. And you should see the lollipop I got as a prize for participating in (alas, not winning) the cucumber game! My compliments to whomever was the model.