Standing On A Chair

Telling it like I see it…

Stories from the Chair: The Dinner Party – Part 4

We passed on the hard stuff.  Quite frankly, we were both so shit-faced, the only reason we were still upright was because we had also stuffed ourselves with fantastic food. 

Nobody seemed to notice us passing those two silver trays on to the next person without having partaken, simply because people were completely engaged in each other and themselves. 

So we decided to just hang out at the table to watch and enjoy these people for a while.  Voices seemed suddenly to have reached a new decibel.  Everyone was really into talking.  Which would normally be a good thing, except nobody was listening.  I remember Marcus and I laughing because we thought the scene was hilarious.

Marcus and I started talking quietly about leaving the party so we could go home and have our own.  We were so into each other at this point, we couldn’t wait to be alone. 

Until suddenly we noticed the mood of the room had abruptly changed.  People were speaking now in lower tones.  Then they began to leave the table: some drifting out toward the living room, some to the bathrooms, some disappearing altogether.  Marcus and I were left alone at the table, huddled close together, sipping on the remnants of wine still left in our glasses.

Tranquil and cozy in our own world, we probably spent another fifteen or twenty minutes together at that long, empty table, but the time finally came when we stood up to go look for our clothes. 

As we left the dining area, the sudden awareness of what had been going on around us washed over our brains like a tidal wave. 

People were having sex.  In two’s.  In three’s.  On the floor.  On the furniture.  There was no more music.  There were shouts.  There were moans.  And laughter.  The sound of skin on skin, slap slap slap.  I swear to God I will never forget it.  The scene is seared into the eyes of my mind to this day.

Someone came up behind me, touched my back, Marcus pulled me close.

“Where are our clothes?” he whispered.

“On that wing-back chair over there,” I whispered.

“There are people fucking in that chair, Jill,” he whispered again.

“I know.  On top of our clothes.”

Then we just cracked up.  We broke down and belly laughed our asses off.  I swear to God.

And not one person noticed.

We had to roll the coital couple out of that chair and onto the floor.  They never blinked or broke stride.  Then we had to put those clothes on.  If we hadn’t been laughing so hard, we probably would have been really grossed out.

We tried to use the bathrooms, but they were otherwise “occupied.”

As was the hallway.

So we left.

And everybody was just so busy, we never even got to say goodbye.

I mean, who ever heard of leaving a dinner party without seeking out the host and hostess to say thank you?

My mother would be appalled if she knew I ever did that.


January 24, 2012 - Posted by | Nudity | , , , , ,


  1. I certainly hope you sent a written thank you note the next morning! Flowers would have been a nice touch, too. I’ve see a lot of wild things in my time, but I never got invited to a dinner party like that, Jill. Not sure how I would have handled it, I’ve always been kind of a prude about nudity. Not everyone else’ just mine. Other naked people don’t bother me at all. I’ve just never wanted to be the naked one.

    Comment by Linda Wines Stokes | January 24, 2012 | Reply

  2. You wild woman, you! Loved your ending comment. I’m sure that is what your mom would have been most concerned about – you leaving without thanking the naked, screwing hostess. HA!!

    Comment by Abbie | January 24, 2012 | Reply

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