There, we hooked up with Deb, Jake, Anat, and Anat's date, Max. Whew. That was some linkage. I haven't even gotten to the other bands yet.

Molly asked why I hadn't warned her that Anat is so fucking hot, or let her know that Jake can be a big goof (everybody already knows she's hot). I told her I'd assumed she knew Anat was a sexy goddess because Anat doesn't really keep the fact that she's a sexy girl exactly hidden. I told her Jake's goofiness was Rancho Lesbiano's little secret. (As if Jake's Commuter Song weren't a dead giveaway.)

I tell ya, we had a marvelous time. Jake and I were all hangin' on to our girls. In fact, Jake was having fun getting mock-huffy when I'd casually touch Deb or blow her a kiss. At one point, Deb was threading her way through the crowd toward us.

Bad: Here comes my honey.
Jake: *bristle*
Bad: Sorry. Your honey.

As I surveyed the crowd, I couldn't help but comment to Molly that, from the looks of them, I felt like I should know half of them. They were all so lesbian-y. Lots of different types, but all unmistakably lesbian. And it turns out that I did know a few people there.

Of course, I know Angela (buy the cd). And as I've said before, we've all wanted Angela (buy the cd) as long as we've known her. I would flip in a hearbeat for that woman. But we didn't know what kind of relationship status she's in currently, so Deb was going to go ask her when she finished tuning up and looked like she was headed to the bar. Then Deb came back saying she wasn't going to ambush her while she was waiting in line for the bathroom. The rest of us told her that was the BEST time, so I went to do the recon. Still with the same girlfriend. Still monogamous. Dammit. At least she was duly apologetic about it. That made it easier to take when she was singing the end of "Is it a boy is it a girl" and growled, "I'm your daddy." Ungh. Not a dry crotch in the house after that. (buy the cd)

Then I saw an old roommate. One of the few I was never hitched to. Then Deb pointed out Marie, a very sweet FtoM tranny we've known for several years. Her old girlfriend (another FtoM), she says she heard, is living as a man again and has a Russian mail-order bride. You know how on South Park (no, I haven't watched it in a couple years either) Kyle's Mom goes, "Wha wha wha wha WHAT?" That was my reaction to that news. And the old roommate and the tranny were apparently there together. Yes, we do live in Smallworldville.

And toward the end of the night, I was working my way to the bathroom for about the fifth time, and who's right there but my original newspaper boss, Chris. Holy shit. I have always loved and respected Chris. She was a great boss. As far as I knew, she was still living in Florida with her girlfriend, Fay. But, I learned within about two minutes of seeing her, she and Fay have broken up, and she's moved back to Atlanta. Well, hot damn. She'd come to the club�are you ready for the six degrees of lesbian bacon day connection?�to see Angela (buy the cd), who she used to date before she got together with Fay. Unfortunately, Angela had finished her set long ago and gone home.

Chris: "Is Angela still wearing those things in her nose? [A septum piercing in which she wears little horns�shut up, I'm willing to overlook it in her case.]
Bad: yep.
Chris: I'm going to snatch those things right out of there. It's not a good look."

Chris is pretty formidable, always has been, and she's in her early to mid-50s now I think, so if she told me she was going to snatch something off MY face, I would be scared. Be careful, Bucky.

Let me just note here that Molly has not had much sleep the night before, got up early, has completed a hella-long flight from Seattle to Atlanta, and I've taken her directly from the airport to a club where we've been standing up for three hours. Pretty impressive.

The last act we watched was Halcyon. Excellent duo if you've never heard them. (Buy a Halcyon cd. Tip: Deb says they're much better in person than the CDs she's heard, so maybe the live double-album is the way to go.) First let me say that the pictures of the Halcyon girls in the bio section of their website suck and do not do them justice at all. And they were pretty damn funny. They sang one song and then made the audience wait for the next one until they'd downed four YouthPride Benefit Jello shooters and thrown one to a girl in the audience.

A couple songs later, Deborah lured a chick up onto stage to "help" with a song by promising to let the girl play with her tits. The chick comes up and Deborah says, "No. I was just kidding. You can't play with my tits." So they're trying to introduce this young thing who's wearing lesbian-version-of-a-rapper big baggy clothes, complete with knit cap, and explaining that she just got dumped. Chick, who looks like an adorable kicked puppy, lays her head way down of the bosomy area of Deborah's chest. Deborah (bouncing chick's head away with a chest thrust): "Hey! What'd I say about that." Doesn't really faze the young chick and she's trying it again soon.

So they keep explaining how pitiful their guest is, and how awful it is to be a loser (there's a tie-in with the song they're about to play, but hell if I can remember what the song was), which is when they point out that the audience chick is drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, the official loser beer. From that point on, the audience chick will only identify herself as PBR Loser. Won't give her name. The Halcyon chicks are begging anyone to buy PBR Loser a real beer.

They hand her a tambourine and start the song. PBR Loser does not do well with the tambourine. Deborah gives her a shaker thing. PBR Loser likes that better. As the song progresses, PBR Loser's stage presence starts to come out. She gets behind Stephanie and starts shaking her groove thing in a very bump-and-grindy, Dirty-Dancing-style, suggestive way. But when either of the Halcyoners turns to see what the audience is responding so well to, PBR Loser reverts to musically clueless, stand-in-one-spot-with-a-pitiful-look-on-her-face girl, shaking her shaker thing ineptly. The Halcyoners would turn their attention back to the audience as they sang, and PBR Loser would go back to grinding her groin behind Stephanie or Deborah, at one point shaking the shaker thing in a jack-off motion. I would've passed her my number if I hadn't been with both my wife and a date.

It was a wonderful time. The PRB Loser Show was shortly before I ran into Chris, and it wasn't long after that that I took Molly home.

Dang. Now I'm all typed out and don't have anything left for the Date Report. Ahhh, I'm just kidding.

First, Sara:

So even the best of polyamorists, which of the four of us would definitely be Sara, needs to be made to feel special before their girlfriend goes off and gets excited about playing with somebody new. That's where Sara was after reading my diary entry on Thursday. We thought about and half-planned on having a little date time on Thursday night, but cooler heads (Jake's head) prevailed. Sara is still getting over the cold, and she was going to work that night, and the urge for some Bad-time had calmed down, so she rested.

But that didn't stop us last night.

I got Sara after I came home from work last night. She went up to the attic while I took care of the dog, and when I came up, she was lying on the futon in nothing but a thong. She's been replaying our Halloween date in her head for about a week now, so she's been in an evil vampire mood. We did a vampire/rape scene.

I cast her as a doctor who makes a living on the talk show and lecture circuit refuting the existence of vampires. I was there to prove our existence. Sara can fight without actually hurting me (which wouldn't be hard to do) really well.

Casualties: one bed pad, one towel. We put on fresh sheets for Molly's impending stay.

Date Report, part two: Molly, the red-headed west coast slut

I had a lot of fun at the club, putting my hands on Molly's hips, or running a finger up under her shirt, or trailing my fingertips down the front of her jeans and hearing her whimper in my ear. She's been holding off on doing anything for herself for a week, and right now she's like a big, tightly wrapped package of sexual energy that's about to split at the seams.

Two or three times she leaned in and kissed my neck, which I love and my regular girls do not do nearly often enough. Neck kisses just go right to my clit and warm me up. And Molly's hair is really soft.

I took Molly home and showed her to the attic where she'll be sleeping. She was very chatty in a bursting-with-nervous-energy kind of way until I just started moving closer and closer to her and finally pulled her head down to kiss her.

It may be a side-effect of the holding off, but the girl was kissing about 20 miles per hour faster than I was. I'm getting old and slow, you know. So we'd kiss, and she'd get ahead of me, and I'd pull her head back by the hair, make her wait, and then ease her back into it. That was pretty fun. I'm telling you, she's like a drop of water dancing on a hot oiled skillet, and I'm not kidding.

I had her shirt and bra off and was working on her tits in pretty short order. This segued well into hot tub time. Deb got home as we were robing up but opted to go to bed. I introduced Molly to the Rancho tub. Let me just say that Molly floating naked in a big vat of steamy water is the definition of lush. She sucked my fingers. I kept teasing her. I wouldn't say I fucked her. I'd call it just enough vaginal opening penetration to drive her crazy.

And speaking of a gnawing hunger, it's time to wake her up now and head to Waffle House.