Chelsea Handler - My Horizontal Life - A Collection of One-Night Stands

I would have been happy gambling into the wee hours of the morning if necessary and asked our dealer how late he was open. "For the next thirty hours," he said, "until we get back to California." That's when the Scott Wolf look-alike walked past our table. I hadn't had anything to drink yet, and his presence alone was reason enough to celebrate. He wasn't as cute as Scott Wolf, but neither was anyone else on this cruise. He had lighter hair and a rather stocky physique for someone not much taller than five-five. Dumb Dumb elbowed me. We both knew he was by far the best-looking guy on this boat, and his smooth, soft skin reminded me of myself a couple of months earlier.

"Don't even think about it," I said through a tight smile. "You can have Rico."

I looked over at the boy who was saving my New Year's and said, "Excuse me, would you mind coming over here a minute?"

"Sure," he said and walked over to us.

"Is your name Kevin?" I asked him. This was my new favorite pickup line.

"No," he said.

"Really? Do I look familiar to you?"

"A little bit," he told me. That meant he was interested.

"Well this is Dumb Dumb and I'm Single," I told him.

"Shut up, that is not my name," she said.

He was laughing now and I knew I would have sex with him. "Do you have any friends with you?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "A bunch of us will be at Club Paradise on the Upper Deck in about an hour. Would you like to join us?" I thought about reminding him that this was a cruise ship and if we did show up at Club Paradise it didn't necessarily mean we were joining him, but I kept my mouth shut.

"We'll meet you there," I said. He was very cute and I was elated. It turned out that, after all, showers would be necessary. "Let's go get ready," I told Dumb Dumb.

She was more excited than a chimpanzee holding a banana. "Oh, my gosh! This is amazing! Do you think his friends will be cute too? What should I wear? I'm so excited. I hope there's dancing."

I hoped there wasn't dancing, but I wasn't going to let that spoil my only chance of a hookup on New Year's. This would be my third New Year's in a row that I was single, and I wasn't going to let it go by without hooking up. If a fourth New Year's went by without any action I would be in an official slump.

We took showers with our flip-flops on in an effort to avoid direct contact with the carpet, and while we dressed, I drank three more plastic cups filled with vodka and switched to orange juice for some vitamin C. Having missed dinner on purpose in order to avoid another confrontation with John Ashcroft's wife, I downed a couple of Power Bars to ensure enough stamina on the dance floor. I looked hot and, most of all, skinny. I love the day after throwing up. I felt like a feather.

We went up to Club Paradise, which is an interesting name for anything on a ship that should have been sunk by a torpedo years earlier. I spotted my? version of Scott Wolf surrounded by a couple of other corpulent figures. They all had the same clean-cut college boy look going on, and they all seemed like they were in their early twenties. I was twenty-six at the time and figured I had to take what I could get at this point on my trip. It's not that my guy wasn't cute, but if we had been on land, his having a full set of teeth wouldn't have been an added bonus.

As usual, Dumb Dumb was clinging to me, so I made one of his friends ask her to dance. This gave me an opportunity to get my man alone. Plus, I don't like to make my moves in front of an audience.

His name was Les, which sounded like a child molester's name, but again I knew this was probably God testing me, and I had to take what was thrown my way. As soon as I saw Dumb Dumb start relaxing with her guy, I leaned in and asked Les if he had his own cabin.

"No, I'm sharing one," he said. "But my roommate is on the dance floor."

"Well, do you have bunk beds?" I asked him.

"Yeah, we do," he smiled in a cute, embarrassed way.

"You want to go back to your cabin and fool around?" I asked him.

"Absofuckinglutely," was his answer. I thought that was a pretty bold response for someone of such little stature. I was starting to like this guy more and more. I loved a man/ boy with confidence.

I told Dumb Dumb that Les wanted to show me his cabin and that I'd be back in an hour. She wasn't happy about it, so I gave her some food for thought. I explained that this cruise was going to be like a coming-out party for her and if she showed signs of maturing out of adolescence and into the beginning stages of adulthood, who knew how many more vacations together were in the cards for us. When that didn't seem to work, I promised her a year's subscription to Tiger Beat.

I was pretty buzzed from having almost nothing in my stomach and I needed some cardio. That's why when the door to Les's cabin hadn't even closed all the way and he had already thrown me onto the lower bunk bed, I showed no signs of a struggle. In fact, I was turned on by how forceful he was and could not imagine his penis being any smaller than a standard-sized lint brush. I was auditioning him for my New Year's Eve sex partner, and so far it looked like he was definitely getting a callback.

Boy, did I underestimate Les. Not only was his penis larger than average, he had the stamina of the Iraqi ground forces. He had the exact same physique as Serena Williams. Things were happening that even I couldn't keep up with. Before I knew it, not only were my clothes off, but somehow I was on the top bunk. Les launched into a vault across the room to the porthole, where he grabbed a condom and then triple saichowed back up to me. This guy belonged in the Olympics-and not the ones I would have qualified for. All of a sudden, he was on top of me. Just before we started having sex, he flipped me around and I was on all fours. I had never been manhandled like this before and was really enjoying myself. This cruise was turning out to be an episode of The Love Boat, after all; I would have to check tomorrow about availability for next year.

That's when Les hit me. Not a slap or a caress, just an open-handed full throttle strike against my right ass cheek. It was with such force that not only did I cough, I almost flew off the bed. In the couple of seconds it took me to remember his name, he hit me three more times, alternating ass cheeks.

"Hey! You! Stop that!" I managed to yell out.

"What's the matter?" he stopped to ask.

"Did you just hit me?" I turned to look at him so he wasn't staring at the back of my head.

"You don't like that?" he asked me in a soft voice. Now he was back to his original self.

"Well, I don't know, I guess… wasn't I doing good?" was the nonsense that left my mouth in the form of a question. Spanking was usually something you discuss beforehand. I felt a little violated and thought that after we were done I was going to be forced to make him a sandwich or something.

"You seem like you like it," he said breathing heavily. The truth was that I did kind of like it, but at the same time, it seemed so violent that I felt as if I should object. I was in a tailspin of confusion I hadn't experienced since the first time I heard George W. Bush speak. It wasn't that I didn't like confrontation. I did, but I had never had a disagreement during the act of sex before and I hadn't known Les long enough to have our first fight. I thought about hitting him back, but that seemed too manufactured. It was usually me calling the shots in bed, and I didn't know how to react to someone else taking the wheel. Especially when we were technically the same size.

"It's okay, I guess," I told him. And so it continued, for the next fifteen minutes until he climaxed which, coincidentally, also bordered on bearlike behavior.

"How old are you?" I asked him after we were done. I was lying on the top bunk and he had moved to the bottom. I was lonely and felt like making small talk. I had never been left so quickly after sex before, though I had done it many times to others. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, I began to realize what abandonment was all about.