The Night I Went Drinking With Veronica Belmont

I order the first round. Veronica Belmont is wearing the robot shirt she always wears when she asks me to go out drinking. I compliment her on her shirt and her face. The waiter comes back with our drinks. "Cheers," I say to Veronica. I am holding my glass waiting for her to chink my glass. "One second," she says. Out of her pocketbook she pulls out a peanut butter sandwich and a ceramic plate where she puts the peanut butter sandwich. "Before I start drinking, I want to line my stomach with this sandwich," she says. "I really hate when my liver just starts burning stored energy." It takes her a half hour to eat the sandwich. I am still holding my glass waiting for her to chink.

We finish our beers around the same time. She pulls out a glass of water from her pocketbook and rapidly drinks the water. I am staring at her because she is drinking the water really quickly and some of it is dripping onto her robots. "Don't stare at me like that!" she kids, but in a voice that means "you're gonna need to do a lot better than that to see these robots." I am thinking about her robots when all the sudden she hands me her empty beer glass. "Here," she says. "Pee into this glass." I tell her I do not have to pee, and also feel uncomfortable urinating in a public space such as the bar we are in. "Pee into the fucking glass," she demands. "Pee in it!" I pee into the glass. "Now give me the glass." She holds it up to the light, sort of like how wine experts will hold up their glasses before they drink the wine they drink. I am now really anxious she is going to start drinking my pee. She puts the glass down. "Good," she says. "Very good."

I am trying not to be presumptuous but am also hoping we are going to order another round of drinks. I bought the first round and feel like it is only fair that we buy another round of drinks and that she pay for this round. "I think I'd like another drink!" I say. I really want another drink. "I've got a better idea," she purrs. "Let's go into the bathroom. I've got something to show you." This is an amazing break I am catching, since after two drinks I am often subject to mild performance anxiety. Nothing that keeps me from getting it up, but I often have trouble finishing. Before we get up she fixes herself a box of crackers and some bagels. "I like crackers and bagels because they're bready," she says. The innuendo is through the roof. I do not know if I will even make it to the bathroom.

We lock the door. She pulls out a tiny medicine bottle and begins pouring its contents onto a flat ledge. She pours the whole thing out into a pile and nosedives into the pile and begins to sufflate. I think I am in love. "Here, you try," she says. Her nose is covered in powder. "It's Vitamin B6," she says. "Helps break down the acetaldehyde from the alcohol." While I am doing this she sits on the toilet and pees pretty much nonstop for three minutes. She has to flush in the middle of this session because, I think, the toilet bowl was filled to the brim with her urine. She stops peeing finally. Now her head is between her legs. She pulls it back up and sees me looking and she laughs. "That must have looked so weird to you!" she says. "Let me explain. I'm conducting a pee color test on myself. The darker the urine, the drunker I am. Here, look." I stick my head between her legs. At this point I have already had ten orgasms and am currently in the throes of my eleventh. "It's pretty clear, isn't it!" she shouts. Twelve orgasms. "I am going to get such a good restful night of sleep tonight."