"Stroke" Of Luck

Life works in mysterious ways: Sometimes things roll your way; sometimes they take a swing for the worst. In my life, perhaps as in yours, the good and the bad take place in spurts, and currently I'm in a spurt that looks like it won't slow down any time soon.

Recently, my travels brought me to beautiful Los Angeles.  While I was there, you can sure has hell believe your boy Blue Steele was in full throttle.

However, I arrived there after a very bad few days. I started off the week 0-9 betting sports games, woke up naked on my mother's couch to my grandma and grandpa on Thanksgiving morning, and I even missed my flight out to Cali. You name it, it went wrong. Shit was flat-out not going my way!

But the second I touched down in L.A. is when the spurts-of-life gods decided that they had shit on me enough, and it was time for a change.  And they have been quite generous if I don’t say so myself. I won all of my money back on one bet (the Colts game; definitely shouldn’t have won that shit), and that was just the beginning.

The evening before my last night in town, my buddy's girlfriend came out with us. I used her as my Friend Zone weapon — as a way to score more ass — and boy-o-boy was she deadly! We had a blast. She got us into clubs, had me scooping up "Deal Or No Deal" models, and she even knew someone who delivered In-N-Out burgers to us after hours at the crib.

The following night, after a very adventurous few days of drinking and soaking up the sun, was unfortunately my last in L.A. And I was ready to go at it. Hard. My buddy’s new girl decided that I was a good guy and that she had a good girl she wanted me to meet. So, considering I was on a laycation and only in town for about fifteen more hours, I figured,Why the hell not?

The plan was for the girls to meet me and my buddy at the bar across from his house, a local joint called Maive, and then go out. Now, I’m definitely not the type of guy who’s shy or afraid to approach a girl, but being set up on a blind date is a little exciting and a little nerve racking.  I mean, I don't give a shit who you are, you have no control over what might walk through that door; you’re literally helpless. Plus, if you're a decent guy, no matter what you see coming toward you, I believe you’re obligated to at least try and get through the evening.

So, my friend and I were at the bar throwing back Jameson on the rocks like M&Ms when I looked over the rim of my glass and received the surprise of a lifetime: A tanned princess heading straight for me.  Straight up, this girl was perfect — 5’7", with the skin of a model, long brown hair, a beautiful smile and eyes that would make Angelina Jolie jealous.

I pull my share of attractive women, but this one was out of my league! I know what you’re thinking: "Blue Steele, man the fuck up! No one's ever out of your league!” But, seriously, she was the type of chick that could stop traffic during rush hour in midtown.

We all sat down, ordered a round and got to talking. Within two minutes, I realized that Blue Steele might have just met his kryptonite! She told me that she's 29 (yeah, I like 'em a little older), a psychiatrist for children in need, and lives on a beach. Not only that, she also laughed at everything I said. I can't even say for sure if I was funny, but judging by her reactions I felt like Kat Williams (before he started hitting the pipe and robbing homes, that is). We had a great night — talked for hours, and before I knew it we had closed the bar.

So, what happened next?

Well, we decided a late night joint and a few more laughs couldn’t hurt. So, we skipped across the street, sparked up a J and enjoyed the cool breeze on my boy’s porch. And that's when the evening really got interesting!

My boy and his girl sneaked off to his room, leaving me and my newfound love sitting on the couch. We talked for a bit and then I went into the bathroom to freshen up. I was hoping to come back to one hell of a fuck-fest or, at the very least, a good ol’ fashion make-out session. But I got neither! I returned to find my princess passed out on the couch in a weed-induced coma.

Being the respectable guy that I am, I laid down next to her and masturbated. Just Kidding! I covered her with a blanket and put a pillow under her head. Then I got on the floor, put my rolled-up sweatshirt under my head, pulled a nice hand towel over my body and tried to fall asleep.

If you're thinking that my spurt of luck was over, think again!

My girl woke up in the middle of the night, saw me freezing my ass off, leaned over me and whispered, “Wanna join me on the couch?”

Before I could answer her, my cock spoke up: Yes I, um, would wood!

I was wearing what had to be the smallest mesh shorts ever made, so I couldn't exactly hide my enthusiasm. But, as it turned out, I didn't have to. Within 10 minutes of asking the question, she gave me the best sorry-for-passing-out-on-you-sex that my ass (or yours) could ever imagine.

(I don’t know about you, but I think that fucking on a couch is way more fun then fucking in a bed.  Sitting up and getting ridden like a bull is just straight-up entertaining and it allows for deeper penetration and better grinding ability. It's just physics! But before this turns into a porn article, let me get back to the topic at hand.)

That fuck-fest took place right before I had to depart for the airport. So we exchanged contact info, and then, just as I was about to leave, my dumb-ass buddy lost his car keys. I thought for sure that meant I would miss my flight. We ransacked his apartment like kids looking for hidden gifts the week before Christmas. Eventually, we found his keys, and rushed to the airport where, being that I’m currently in the good-luck spurt of a lifetime, I discovered that my plane was delayed and I still had 30 minutes left until boarding!

So, I sat, closed my eyes, and tried to recoup from what had been one hell of a trip. About five minutes later, I woke up to find an extremely attractive girl sitting right next to me.

Another one? I thought. Like, seriously?

We said hello to one another, and then were immediately called to board. "If you are in rows 1-14, please board from the front," we heard. "If you're seated in rows 15-25, you may board from the rear of the plane.”

Being that my ticket read 'Row 14' and I always do things ass-backward, I decided I would board from the rear. So, we smiled, say good-bye and got in different lines.

Well, whom the hell do you think I walked directly into when I reached the 14th row?  My new friend! We laughed and started talking. She told me that her plan was to stay with friends that live 15 blocks from my house. Seriously. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Anyway, we talked for the first two hours of the flight, and then she fell asleep until we landed.

Considering that I looked like an absolute shit-show and wanted to go straight home, I smiled, told her it was great to meet her, and got off the plane. Well, before I could make it 5 feet out the gate, she grabbed my shoulder and said, “Hey, aren't you going to ask for my number?”

At that point, I was debating asking her to go to the bathroom for a quick fuck. I mean, I was on a roll, right? But instead we exchanged numbers and promised to call one another.

On the ride home from the airport, I thought about everything that had happened and realized that no matter how shitty things get, bad luck never lasts. The spurts-of-life gods will eventually bless me and say, “Fuck it! Let's let this kid have some luck for awhile.”

So, the next time things aren't going your way, don't worry — you might be only a few good drinks away from a what could be an adventurous spurt of luck! And, before I forget, you better believe that if I hook-up with that cutie I met on the plane, I'll sure as hell tell you all about it!