Hate Being a Chaperone

I took this beautiful girl out as a favor to a friend of mine. The girl was new to town, and my friend thought that I would be able to give her a good introduction to the town by showing her some of the more popular night clubs. I was supposed to pick her up at her house at 8:00pm. I arrived a little before 8:00pm, but it didn't matter because she was not even close to being ready. Finally, at 10:00pm, we left her house and went to the first club. Once we arrived, I asked her if she would care for a drink. She accepted, and I purchased one for her, as well as one for myself, even though I don't really drink. Well, after finishing her first drink (it took about 15 seconds), she asked if I could get her another drink. I, of course, did and this process went on until she had drunk about a dozen cocktails. Finally (!), about 1:00am, she decided she wanted to dance. We went to the dance floor and she started to dance on me, not with me! She was seriously grinding on me and, even for me, this was a little fast. However, just about this time, a guy walked up to her (since she had her back to me) and asked her if I was her "boyfriend". I answered the question by telling the guy that I was just out showing her the town and that if he wanted to dance with her to go ahead and do so. At this point, I turned to leave them on the dance floor, but while I was walking off the floor, I turned to look and saw them making out ... hard! I was thinking to myself, that's ok, because we weren't really on a date. However, later when I looked for her to take her home, I found her on the dance floor with four guys. Each guy had his hands on a different part of her body. She had her hands busy too, groping the guy's crotches, as well as kissing on one of them. Since everyone was staring at her and her "sex show", I thought I would go up and try to help save her dignity. I shooed the guys away long enough to ask her if she was ok and that I was getting ready to leave. She slurred that she was fine and that she wanted one of the guys she was "dancing" with to take her home. I then talked to the lucky(?) guy and gave him her ID (I was holding it for her) and her purse (it was in the car). I also asked him for his ID. Call me paranoid, but I wanted to at least know his name so that I would not be the "Person-Who-Saw-The-Victim-Alive-Last" guy. I have never seen that girl again and my friend who set the whole thing up has apologized repeatedly for inflicting this girl on me.

— Bill, 32

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