Free Text to Speech Service Online
Listen any English Text with Natural Sounding Voices
Enter text you want to listen
Afterwards we laid on one of the poolside lounge chairs, wrapped in towels just snuggling. We didn’t say much; we were just so happy to be together. I knew that Taylor and I would spend the rest of our lives together. Chapter Twenty-Eight Ted It felt good to get out and party. With all the stress I’d been dealing with lately, letting loose some steam with some good friends and beautiful women was the best thing for me. I’d actually planned on spending the quiet evening at home, but when my friends Bart and Troy asked me to go to the club with them that night, I had to say yes. It had been probably a month or so since I’d felt social enough to want to go out and get into some mayhem. That was usually what happened. I’d been kicked out of so many clubs in the city that it was almost hard to find new ones to go to. It wasn’t my fault that people saw me and there was instant jealousy by guys whose girlfriends started paying attention to me. I was a bit of a celebrity in the area, but for no other reason than I was richer than shit. That’s the way things were sometimes. If you were rich enough, fame was often a nicely added side effect. People just gravitated towards success. And I was happy to be there when it happened. I was in The Cairo Club with my friends who had also brought along a few hot lady friends, and those lady friends had invited some of their friends. So when all was said and done it was us three guys with a bevy of beautiful women hanging out with us. And it was a blast. I figured the likelihood that I was going to get lucky tonight was almost certain, especially after we got enough drinks in these ladies. And it was apparent right after we arrived at the club that these women had already done some pre-gaming at home and were decently buzzed. The girl I was most interested in was named Sasha. She was a hot blonde with an amazing rack and she was just the right amount of ditzy. Plus, she loved to party. That was enough for me. I set my sights for her and made it clear to the other fellas that she was mine. They agreed. What other choice did they have? None of them could afford to party the way we were; the tab was all on me tonight. I didn’t mind, though. Hell, I volunteered it. When my friends initially called they were suggesting we go to another place that didn’t have near as much hype or popularity. It was a sad scene and they would have bought the cheapest beer they could and that would have been the evening. I was used to the good life. “So, do you want to dance?” Sasha asked me after her third vodka soda. I couldn’t hide the laughter. The poor girl was already about half sloshed. In fact, she might have been too drunk to take home. I’d learned my lesson over the years with very drunk women. While they were fun for a bit, you often had to deal with the aftermath of a drunk woman. Which meant a very “messy” bathroom from their hangover they would invariably wake up with. Even though I had people to clean for me, I didn’t want to be awakened by it. It was no bother; I would probably just get her number and call her tomorrow. She seemed like a sweet girl. “No,” I said. “I have this thing about dancing.” “What thing?” “I don’t do it,” I laughed. “Nah, seriously. I’m not much of a dancer. It’s never been my thing. I much more enjoy good conversation.” “Oh, ok. Why don’t you dance?” “Well, I’m not good at it, besides I feel like everyone is watching me and I only like to do things I know I do well in front of other people. It might sound a bit immature, but that’s only scratching the surface of what makes me tick.” Sasha seemed confused by my answer, but I didn’t care. I’d always hated dancing. On the rare occasion that I had to do it (like my wedding) it made me want to cringe. I was not blessed with the gift of rhythm; I could admit that. But I was not going to pretend that I had it or that it didn’t matter. It was even worse now that I was a bit of a local celebrity; people were always looking for a reason to make fun of you and throw shit on your fame. That’s how tabloids work. “So, what do you do, Sasha?” I asked trying to make conversation. I hoped this girl could stay sober enough to do that for a while at least.
Go Back to Original Site