Sloppy GIrl

A girl kicks my shin and calls me a creep. She yells it so loud that everyone can hear it, even over the excessively loud club beats. Around me, people are dancing and grinding to the latest club remix. People are drinking and shouting and laughing under the dim neon lights. All around me, people are having fun, except for a small crowd, who are watching me get beat up, and booing me at as it happens.

Someone throws a drink on me.

How cliché.

The bouncer grabs me by the collar and tells me there’s no room here for rapists.

I start to say something in my defense but he pinches my neck and I choke briefly.

“You’re a fucking sicko,” he tells me. “Look at that girl, she looks like she’s been beat up, thrown in the toilet, puked on, and fucked... possibly in that order.”

I nod. There’s more truth to that than he knows.

This is probably a bad place to start my story, but I like a challenge.

I get dragged across the club. Most people don’t know what’s going on. Most people are still moving to the beats, grinding with their girls, drinking their drinks, and just enjoying themselves. But as this steroid-popping beast of a man drags me across the club with my own crowd of hissing girls trailing behind, some people start staring, gawking, and laughing.

I get hit again, I think by the bouncer. Someone knees me. My collar rips a bit.

I’m not a rapist. I should probably get that out right now. This isn’t a story about that. It’s a story about alleged rape. It’s a story about dirty club make outs and guys in the girl’s washroom. It’s a story about bouncers being douche bags, and about being caught... in the wrong place at the wrong time that is.

I get tossed out of the club, literally. I fly a few feet, and land on the pavement, hard. I land on my arm. I roll over and clench it as I grimace in pain. I try to get up, but quickly collapse. I just need to rest. I lay down and something about the cool pavement on my skin relaxes me.

My nose is bloody, my eye hurts, my shirt is ripped, and I’m lying there on the edge of the sidewalk in front of the club, looking up at the stars, unable or unwilling to move.

This is the story about me being screwed over. Every decent, caring, compassionate person out there can sympathize with me on this one.

“Fuck girls,” I mumble to myself.

And most of all, this is the story about the dirtiest, skankiest, sluttiest girl I’ve ever met.

It starts with a friend trying to set me up.


It was a regular dry spell. It’d been months since I last went on a date. So long in fact, that masturbation had become a regular part of my daily schedule. At the low point, I would actually research porn shorts online during the day to figure out what I’d masturbate to, later in the evening. The cute naive Asian being fingered by her lesbian gym teacher? Or maybe the randy red headed housewife fucked by her son’s best friend one day after school? Or the always classic, lipstick lesbian orgy in the middle of the living room at some random college frat party?

Choice paralysis occurs when you have too many options and not enough criteria with which to rule out alternatives. But I digress.

It had been a while since I got any action. And when a guy’s not getting any, most people can figure out pretty quick. My friends did anyway, and their response was to try and set me up.

“She’s funny, and fun. She’s cute, and loves animals. She likes action movies. She is easy to talk to. She dresses well. She takes care of herself. She works out. She’s easy going. She’s perfect. You’re going to love her.”

Friends will say just about anything to get you to meet their homely single friends. I tell that to Lise, the friend trying to set me up. She just retorts, “What do you think we’re telling her about you?”


That Friday, we all go out to a local club, and I meet Potential Girl. She’s cute. Blond hair, blue eyes, fit, in a short dress. The short dress always does it. It’s just so sexual. Like burglar seeing a screen door flapping open in the breeze, all I can think is “easy access”.

The night is fun, but a bit awkward. We dance, do shots, chat a bit, flirt, play. The whole time though, the friends who set us up are watching and goading us on. I feel a bit like a captive panda being introduced to his scientifically selected mate, with all the onlookers eagerly watching to see if we copulate. I think she does too.

After a while I take a washroom break, so does Potential Girl. When I come out, I’m surprised to find her waiting for me in the hall. We talk a bit, and start to walk back to the dance floor, but then I do something unexpected, I lean over and kiss her. I push her up against the wall and she grabs my head, and we make out.

There’s something highly sexual about making out with a girl in a short skirt against a wall, with people walking past, and the distant beat of dance music in the background. I pull back, she smiles and tells me she’s surprised I did that.

I shrug that I am too. Honestly... it just sort of came out of nowhere.

She gives my ass a quick grab and we head back to the dance floor. When we return, Lise asks me why I’m smiling so much.

“Tonight’s a good night,” I tell her. She gives me a devious nod. She knows what I mean.

So far the night is turning out great. Potential Girl is turning out to be, well, a good potential. Everyone’s enjoying themselves. And I got my ass grabbed.

At some point after we do another shot Lise asks me if I want to grab a booth for a minute and sit. I shrug, “Sure.”

We’re both fanning ourselves as we hunt for a table. Clubs are always so damn hot and sweaty.

Potential Girl grabs my arm and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Come find me in 10 minutes,” she winks.

I just smirk and nod. Potential Girl disappears back into the crowd.

“What was that?” Lise asks.

I just smirk and nod.

She shakes her head and smiles.

Around the club, there are very few empty seats. I notice an empty booth and give Lise a poke with my elbow. She nods and we head to the booth.

As we sit down however, we realize there is a girl passed out on the opposite side of the booth. She’s tanned and slim, with long black hair. I can tell she has a hot body, but as for her face, I can only assume, as she’s laying face down on the bench with one arm hanging off the side.

We look at each other, shrug, and sit on the empty side of the booth.

We both sip waters we got from the bar, make a few jokes, and then Lise then proceeds to talk to me some more about Potential Girl. It feels very sisterly. I tell Lise not to worry, we’re just having fun. She smiles and then tells me just to be careful, Potential Girl has trust issues since her last boyfriend cheated on her.

I just nod casually, “I’m no cheater.”

Lise pats my leg, finishes her drink then turns to me as she gets up, “I’m heading back. You coming?”

“In a minute,” I say. “Just going to rest a bit longer.”

Exit Lise.

I’m sitting and resting for no more than a minute when I hear someone groan behind me. I turn around to the sloppy girl passed out in the booth. I notice that she’s hiked her dress up a little high, and her ass is facing the crowd. She looks like she needs to be taken home, and she sounds really sick.

But really, she’s not my problem, so I turn my back to her, so as not to be tempted to staring at her ass, and chill.

Another minute goes by, then suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder.

I turn around to see a big, bald, black bouncer staring at me, holding a flashlight at my face. “This yours?” he asks, as his beam of light moves to the sloppy girl passed out on the bench.

“Uh, no,” I say.

“Where are her friends?” he asks.

I shrug.

“You have no idea?”

“Nope,” I tell him.

He looks around in the crowd a bit, beaming his light in random directions, perhaps looking for her would-be friends. Then he looks back at me.

“For the rest of this night, this girl is your responsibility.”


“Anything happens to her,” he tells me. “And I’m going to come looking for you.”


“You take care of her okay?”

“I...” I start, but he cuts me off.

More stern this time, “Okay?!”

“Uh... okay,” I comply reluctantly.

“See if she needs water,” he pats me on the back, and then he turns and continues off into the crowd.

I look back at Sloppy Girl who’s mumbling to herself face down. I wonder if maybe she’s a butter-face (i.e., “Everything is nice about her, but-her-face.”)

I watch the power-mad bouncer leave. Then Sloppy Girl says something and then starts flopping around like a drunk fish out of water. She angles herself and squints at me. Definitely not a butter face. She’s got a hot Lucy Liu look to her. Her lips are glistening, her cheeks are rosy, her eyes are immaculately exaggerated with make-up. She kind of reminds me of a porn star I’ve seen recently. Fuck... I’ve got to stop watching so much porn.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” she says.

I shake my head. Do I really need to watch her? I get up. Maybe I can just leave.

However, before I can take a step I spot the bouncer leaning up against a wall, watching me. He motions at his eyes with his two fingers then he points at me and mouths, “I’m watching you.” Super.

I turn back to Sloppy Girl.

“Do you need water or anything?” I ask half-heartedly.

“No,” she slurs.

Thank god...

“Travis,” she continues, she flops back down on the bench. Face now back buried in the seat, she continues “come sit with me.”


“I’m not Travis,” I tell her.

“Fuck! Come sit with me!” she slams her hand down on the bench beside her, motioning for me to come sit. “Travis...”

I have no idea who Travis is.

“I’m not...” I start.

“Travis!” she shouts. She sits up again. “Get over here now!” she orders.

“Coming, coming,” I say meekly.

I sit down beside her and she repositions herself, throws her head in my lap, and starts to pass out again.

Just great...

You know I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing to help take care of this girl, but let’s be honest, this is super awkward. I don’t know this girl. I don’t know her friends or who this Travis character is that she thinks I am. And worse, this could kill my chances with Potential Girl. If she sees me with some Asian chick’s head in my lap, I mean, it just looks bad. Yet I’m stuck doing it.

As she lays there, head buried in my groin, I look around to see if maybe I can spot her friends. Maybe I can spot some random people in a crowd occasionally looking back to check on her. Some random strangers who could free me from my plight. But I can’t see anyone.

As minutes and minutes tick by, I start to think that maybe I should just pull a random passer-by over and ask him to watch my girlfriend for a second. Then she’d be his problem.

But a nagging little voice in the back of my head, the nice guy, reminds me that it’s probably safer if I watch her. The bouncer may have been a dick for sticking her with me, but a girl this drunk you could probably get away with a lot of things, and lucky for her I wasn’t that type of guy.

She sneezes in my crotch.



I look at my watch, I’m supposed to try and find Potential Girl. For what? I have no idea. But from her suggestive kiss on the cheek when she told me to find her soon, I can only imagine it would be a sexy what. It would be a fun what. It would be a what worth my time.

I look down at the now drooling and apparently sleeping Sloppy Girl in my lap.

All right, enough of this.

I gently try and lift Sloppy Girl’s head off of my crotch, but to my dismay, I end up just waking her. She sits up, leans over, throws her arms around me, buries her head in my neck and starts giving me small peck kisses.

They tickle, so I laugh.

“Okay I’m not Travis,” I say. “You have to stop.” I try to push her off but she protests.

“I’m going to puke,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” I say. “Probably.”

She burps and gurgles.

“Oh, you mean right now,” I unenthusiastically add.

She reaches up and covers her mouth.

I jump up and find that bouncer. He’s leaned up against a wall with another steroid-enhanced security guy and they’re laughing.

“Dude that girl you told me to watch is going to puke,” I tell him.

“So?” he asks. He looks a bit perturbed that I interrupted his conversation.

“So...? Man you said to take care of her. I’m telling you that she’s going to puke.”

“So take her to the fucking washroom Einstein!” he orders.

“What?!” I exclaim.

“Look,” he leans in. “You take her... or else.”

I kind of want to ask him “Or else what?” but the look in his beady little bouncer eyes makes me think it involves violence. So I grudgingly head back to get Sloppy Girl.

Don’t girls usually get thrown out for being as sick as she is? Bouncers have too much fucking power.

I debate whether I should take Sloppy Girl into the girl’s or boy’s washroom. I think that me entering the girl’s washroom would probably make some girls very uncomfortable. But then, I think that taking a girl this hot and this drunk into the boy’s washroom could get very creepy, so I opt to take one for the team, and let every girl in the club think I am a creep. I take Sloppy Girl into the girl’s washroom.

I sincerely hope that Potential Girl doesn’t see me carrying a hoe-bag into the washroom.


I’m practically pulling Sloppy Girl into the bathroom. She’s clearly not walking, her legs are just dragging on the ground. Her shoes have fallen off, lost somewhere in the bar I’m sure. Girls in the bathroom give me weird and dirty looks. One of them scoffs at me.

“Don’t worry,” I smirk. “If I were here to date rape her I’d have taken her to the alley.”

The girl doesn’t laugh. Guess rape is a not so funny topic after all.

“Travis... I’m going to puke,” Sloppy Girl mumbles.

“Don’t worry honey,” I tell her. “Travis will get you to a crapper.” I figure I might as well play the part since she won’t stop calling me Travis.

She tries to murmur something else but it comes out as gurgles.

I push my way to the front of the line. Why the hell is there always a line in girls’ washrooms? I figure that a girl on the verge of puking all over herself warrants a free pass. A hot brunette girl steps out of a stall and I quickly step in.

A few people in line protest, but most don’t. They know this girl is about to explode like an overstuffed bag of oatmeal.

I shut the stall door and kneel her down in front of the toilet. She puts her face in the bowl and starts to pull at her dress.

“What are you doing?” I ask, as if expecting a somewhat coherent response.

I grab at her dress and try to pull it back down but she slaps my hand away and makes an annoyed sound. You know that ghetto teeth sucking noise? Yeah, that’s the sound.

She continues to paw drunkenly at her dress, eventually lifting it up above her ass, as if she’s trying to take it off.

Now, as fucked up as this all was, and this was fucked up, I’ve got to admit, I could not help but stare at her perfect naked ass. Fuck, she didn’t even wear panties. I mean here was this hot Asian chick just flashing her naked ass at me—perfectly round and tan—this was something straight out of a porn!

I briefly forget where I am and what I’m doing. But then the non-rapist in me snaps me back to reality... oh yeah, I’m in a public washroom of a club with a girl I don’t know who is about to pass out.

“Okay you’re not shitting,” I say. I try to pull her dress back down but she slaps my hand away again.

“Hold my hair!” she barks.

I reach over and pull her hair up. I sigh at my own incompetence, I should’ve done this at the start. Half her hair was sitting in the toilet by the time I grab it. As I pull her hair out toilet water drips all over both of us. I notice that the toilet has not been flushed yet from the previous user. I gag a bit.

“Don’t finger me while I puke,” she tells me, in a pleading voice.


“Just hold my hair and please don’t finger me while I puke,” she repeats.

“I won’t...” I assure her. I didn’t think that was the type of thing you needed to promise when you held someone’s hair in the bathroom. But apparently I was mistaken.

Who the fuck was this girl... who the fuck was this Travis guy? Why does he finger her while she pukes?!


She starts to puke, violently. Snot and vomit and spit and shit and piss. I close my eyes and try not to wonder how much urine and feces are on my hands right now from her toilet hair.

She pukes, and pukes, and pukes.

In the midst of all this puking, she keeps raising her ass at me, and spreading her legs, more and more. Fuck, this girl needs to wear underwear.

Shocking as it may be, in that most disgusting of moments, with everything going on, I remember that I am a guy, and her naked, tanned ass and widespread pussy get the better of me. I get a fucking boner.

Man, maybe she did need to make me promise not to finger her.

After a few more heaves, she seems t be done. She gropes the toilet bowl and rests her head on the side. Her ass remains aimed at me however, and her legs spread.

“Fuck me,” she mumbles, as she wipes some puke from her cheek.

At first I think of it as a rhetorical statement. You know, like an exclamation when something bad happens, people shout out, “Aw... fuck me!” Kind of like, “Aw... damn it!” But no, she repeats herself.

“Fuck me.”

“What?” I ask in disbelief.

“Get out your dick and fuck me,” she orders.


“Give me your cock!” she slurs. “Give me your cock...”

I don’t respond. I’m in awe, and still holding her toilet hair.

She’s still mumbling, “Give me your cock... give me your cock...” She reaches back with one of her hands and sloppily grabs my dick. Even with jeans on, it’s dead obvious I’m hard.

“Someone is happy,” she coos, eyes still closed, head still resting on the toilet bowl.

“Holy shit,” I gasp to myself.

Suddenly, she comes to life, and jumps me like some horny sewer monster from a science fiction B-flick. She jams her tongue down my throat and starts making out with me viciously. She scrambles to get my belt off. She pulls one of my hands to her naked ass. She’s grinding into me, hard!

I am in a fucking porno.

If this was a normal, clean girl, who hadn’t just puked and who was making out with me in any other place than the floor of a washroom, this would be awesome! But she’s not, and it’s not. It’s horrible. It’s a horrible, horrible experience.

This is an awful porno.

All I can taste is vomit. Her vomit and snot are rubbing all over my face. Her piss-stained hair is getting all over me. The floor of that washroom smells disgusting, and I can see out under the stall at all the girls who have hunched down and are watching me make out with this fucking disgusting skank.

The whole scene is too much, I start to gag myself.

I push Sloppy Girl off me, into the corner of the stall and hunch over the toilet for my own vomit session.

It takes a few minutes to get it all out myself. I wipe my face, and I feel oddly cleaner. But then I look at the mess laying in the corner of the stall, now fully passed out and asleep. She’s pissed all over the floor, and my shoes and leg.


When I eventually exit the girl’s washroom, carrying an unconscious Sloppy Girl in my arms, we look like we’ve just come from some kind of body fluids war. The only thing missing is semen.

I decide that enough is enough. I don’t even know this girl and she’s ruined my night. I clearly cannot stay out like this. If Potential Girl sees me covered in piss and shit and smelling like vomit I’ll obviously never get a real date with her.

Fuck it!

I take Sloppy Girl back to the booth where I found her and toss her on the seat.

“I don’t need to puke anymore,” she mumbles in her sleep.

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re welcome for that.”

Fuck the bouncer. He can take care of her. I look around. He’s not even in sight anyway.

My plan is to sneak out of the club as fast as possible, grab a cab, and then text my friends from the safety of the cab. I don’t want to risk contacting them until I’m on my way home. I really don’t want anyone to see me like this.

Of course, exactly because I don’t want to run into my friends is why I only get about 10 paces before running into them.

“JD!” Lise waves.

The rest of my friends are waving too. I pretend like I don’t see them and try to just keep going, but Lise grabs my arm and pulls me in.

“JD where have you been?!” she exclaims.

“Well,” I start.

“What’s that smell?!” one of my friends coughs.

Lise looks me up and down and suddenly let’s go in disgust. “Holy shit! What the fuck happened to you?!”

I just shrug, “It’s a long disgusting story. I just need to go.”

Potential Girl sees me talking to Lise and comes over too. Exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she smiles as she puts her arm around me and gives me a quick kiss. Almost immediately she coughs and gags. “Oh my god! Did you puke?!”

“No! Look, trust me,” I tell her, “there was a huge accident in the washroom. I need to go home, I know this is super gross.”

Potential Girl, realizing now the full extent of my filth and the fact that she just kissed me, has a disgusted look on her face, like the look of someone badly in need of mouth wash. I can tell that she may never kiss me again.

“What happened?” Lise asks.

I’m about to respond when I hear a voice behind me shout, “That’s the guy! That’s the son of a bitch who fingered me while I was puking!”

I turn around, shocked, to see Sloppy Girl being propped up by two of her friends, as she’s still unable to stand under her own power, accusing me, of all people, of raping her.

“Excuse me?!” I shout defensively. “I was in there helping you.”

“Is that what you call it?!” her friend shouts.

“Whoa hold on,” I defend. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What the fuck is going on...?” Lise asks calm yet confused voice.

“Oh my god! You raped her?!” ex-Potential Girl exclaims. There’s no way she’s still a potential now.

“Look I didn’t...” I start.

“I saw them making out in the bathroom!” I hear a voice shout from the crowd. It’s one of the random girls who was watching me get puke-kissed on the bathroom floor.


“He told me he wanted to rape her in the alley!” another voice shouts.

I knew I shouldn’t have made that joke...

“He’s a disgusting pig,” Sloppy Girl mumbles between burps.

Ex-Potential Girl pushes me from behind and storms off.

Lise is giving me a disgusted look. “You made out with her on the bathroom floor...?”

“Lise...” I say. “I didn’t... I mean... okay she made out with me first!”

“JD!” Lise exclaims. “Look at her, it looks like you dunked her in a toilet!”

“Actually she dunked herself,” I smirk.

Lise gives me a totally shocked and disgusted look and storms off too. I’ve got to learn better timing for these jokes.

I quickly realize that a crowd of girls has formed to confront me about my abysmal behaviour. They’re all shouting and yelling at me. I think I’m fucked. They start to circle me, and then some guy from the crowd approaches me, looking ready to knock me out.

“You’re sick man,” he tells me.

“Dude... who are you?” I respond.

I’m about to tell him to mind his own business when he shouts, “I’m Travis!”


“Oh,” I say. “Dude you’ve got to stop fingering her while she pukes...”

He pushes me, “Fuck you!”

I’m about to push Travis back when a hand grabs me from behind. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse... the grabber is the bouncer.

“You’re in trouble now,” he whispers in my ear in a terribly frightening voice.

“I uh...” I stammer.

“I told you to look after her man. Looks like you fucking raped the shit out of her.”

This is about where you came in.


I get choked, I get drinks thrown on me, kneed, and kicked, and hit. Girls are yelling at me, bar patrons are gawking at this spectacle that is my life. People are laughing and watching in awe.

Someone yells something about raping girls. I get pulled through the club, hissed and booed as I go. I’m hit some more. Then I’m literally tossed out the front door and land at the edge of the sidewalk.

I lay there, staring up at the sky, unable or unwilling to move. As I do, someone approaches and calmly puts my glasses back on my face. I don’t even remember them being taken off. Awfully nice of someone to hold them while I got my ass kicked.

“Thanks,” I say, without ever moving my gaze from the night sky.

In the background I hear the occasional girl leaving the club and whispering about me. I can tell they’re talking about me because, though I cannot make out the bulk of their conversation, I hear the occasional “pig” and “fucker” in the mix.

I wonder for a moment if they’d let me back in to claim my coat from coat check. I dismiss it though. I stare up at the stars and wonder, whether some unlucky alien guy on some weird alien planet was getting beat up right now for helping some skanky alien hoe puke in some space club’s women’s toilet.

Forgive all the space stuff, but I’m pretty sure at this point I’ve got a concussion.

Thankfully, I still have my wallet, cell phone, and keys with me. That means I can go home tonight. I start to try and work up the will power to get up and hail a cab when someone else approaches me.

I prepare to be spat on or kicked in the nuts. But instead they cover me in a blanket.

Wait, not a blanket, a coat.

I sit up. It’s Lise and my friends. They have my coat. I smile. They smile back.

“Thanks,” I say.

They help me up. They give me my coat. They ask me what the hell happened. I explain it to them. They can’t believe it. They try not to laugh at me, because it’s so fucked up and because I’m legitimately injured. But it’s one of those stories that you can’t help but laugh at.

As we’re all trying to hail a cab, trying to go home and put all of this night behind us, I turn to Lise and ask, “Do you think I still have a chance with Potential Girl?”

Lise just shakes her head, smiles, and continues to wave at cabs.

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