The Time I Got Naughty with a Miss at Miss Villeray

This happened to a friend of a friend of mine.

Note that, technically speaking, I am one of my friends’ friends.

So is this my story? Someone else’s? We’ll never know.

Before I start, it’s (perhaps) important to mention that I identify as female, consider myself curiosexual, and am 25 years old.

The story begins:

I always knew that I was attracted to girls. When I was younger, a friend and I “practiced” kissing together. We spent entire evenings hanging out and experimenting in each other’s parents’ basements (shout out to our parents, by the way 👋) just to see what it would be like when we’d finally be dating our first “real” boyfriends.

Even back then, during our mouth-to-mouth-to-tongue practice sessions, butterflies (or fireworks?) in my lower abdomen were energetically fluttering (exploding?), a bit like the final scene in A Bug’s Life.

Even though I hadn’t yet explored my body’s every nook and cranny, that sex was terra incognita, and that my first orgasm wasn’t going to happen for few more leap years, I suspected that I didn’t hate making out with a girl.

Years passed and my friend and I stopped exchanging fluids; she had found a boyfriend, the lucky bitch.

As for me, I only met my first boyfriend 3 years later. It was with him that I perfected the art of kissing, and practiced everything else too. At that time, my memories of basement make out sessions felt so far away in a distant past.

But sadly, life is not a Disney movie, and things between us went south.

So, at the age of 24, I found myself in the same situation as Tila Tequila: single and bi (without knowing it), with a better, but not that much better, knowledge of my body.

All my single gal pals were freaking out…

“WE’LL GO OUT ALL THE TIME!”

“DOWNLOAD TINDER!!!”

“DO YOU HAVE ANY HAVE SEX TOYS?”

“YOU’LL BE ABLE TO TRY OUT ALL THE FANTASIES THAT LOUIS DIDN’T WANT TO TRY.”

(My friends are pretty loud).

Meh.

Did I even have fantasies?

A few adult websites later, my lewdness awakened and my body titillated, I quickly realized that, yes, I did have some. Plenty, actually.

Doing it in public? Yes, sir.

Trying anal? Why not?

Threesomes? You don’t say…

So, with the support of my partnered friends who were living my single life vicariously (they all do that), and under the supervision of my amazing single friends, I downloaded Tinder.

Diving into the dating world when you have just been in a relationship for 6 years and haven’t experienced much else is a bit like throwing an innocent gazelle to the lions (and tigers, and bears)… except that Miss Gazelle, in this case, developed a taste for it.

When I was in a relationship with Louis, we loved “True Crime Fridays” on TV. Getting the weekend started with gruesome murder stories was actually relaxing for us.

Newly single, I had to slightly change that tradition.

My friends and I instead decided to create what we called “Great Vulva Fridays”; we would end the week with a bang (literally!) by going on the prowl for (more or less) alpha males to do our lady bits – and of course, our self-esteem – some good.

We didn’t always succeed, of course, but 3 times out of 4 – with the aid of lots of self-confidence, alcohol, Bumble matches, and flirty eyes – we ended up walking away with a good loot: a musician in a Montreal alt-rock band, the kid of rich New Yorkers who came to Montreal for the bachelor party of his friend-who’s-getting-married-so-why-not-cheat-on-his-girlfriend-in-a-city-where-he-doesn’t-know-anybody-just-before-the-big-day, and yep, even a guy my friend had already slept with (#DickSisters).

For three months, I ended up with a different, and always interesting specimen on most Friday nights until the night when, sipping our stouts at the very luxurious Miss Villeray bar, a brunette approached my friend and I with a pitcher in her hand and two guys by her side:

“Hi! You two are hot and my friends here are single, so… why not?”

She put down the pitcher and, just before she left to join the rest of her friends at the bar, declared the real purpose of her scheme: “Oh and no matter how things go down, I bet that I’ll end up making out with her before the night is over”, she says, pointing at me.

(Little did I know that, 20 minutes later, I’d indeed be finding myself with said brunette in the washroom sharing much more than each other’s tongues).

At the time, when Miss Villeray’s miss offered us the pitcher and confessed her make out plan, we burst out laughing.

“If she thinks that’s how it’ll go down, she’s only fooling herself. I don’t want to kiss her.” I said, even though something inside me suddenly sparked as soon as she had said it…

“You know what we should do to make her leave you alone?” says my good friend Zoé, “We should make out, the two of us. That way, she’ll think we’re together and that she has no chance with you.”

At that moment, it sounded like the best idea in the world.

Without thinking twice, Zoé and I started dancing and laughing together, and eventually, we kissed each other, full on the lips.

Now, I won’t lie. Zoé and I had started doing this when we went out together. In our minds – the minds of girls who want to find a guy to end the night with – we thought it was a good way to get noticed and to excite boys who were on the prowl.

We left, and I never saw Laurie again.

But the story doesn’t end there. I thought it would be selfish not to show Zoé what Miss Villeray had taught me that night. Not just so we could take our make out sessions to the next level… but so that we could guarantee that our Great Vulva Fridays were always successful.

… Now whether this happened to me or a “friend of a friend” is up to you to decide. 😉