Mr. OB and The Champagne Bath

I tweeted yesterday that I was going to have an interactive post today. I had a really dope idea, but then WordPress slapped me in the face and said, “You can’t do that, lol sry”.

Instead, and to make up for the intended dopeness, I will give you another sexy story straight from Mr. OB  himself. This one doesn’t include cat S&M, but there will be ducks. This is probably the first story he ever told me that crossed the line of what is considered to be a normal conversation between two bar guests of a forty-year age difference. Or, more accurately, the moment when too much information lost all meaning and an atypical friendship was born:

Less normalcy, more figurines!

Sitting in our usual positions at the restaurant bar.

Mr OB: “Where are you going tonight?”

Me: “No where. Home.”

Mr. OB: “Yeah, sure. You’ll be at [secret bar name] smoking all those cigarettes.”

Me: “No really. I am going home to relax, may even take a bath.”

Mr. OB: “You got any champagne?”

Me: “Uh… you’re not invited.”

Mr. OB: “It’s not for me. It’s for the champagne bath.”

Me: “What the fuck is a champagne bath OB?”