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Years ago I had a girlfriend who house-sat. Not as a profession or anything, she just got called when these friends of her parents were out of town. It was a sweet gig. The houses were amazing – two different childless married couples with all sorts of fancy food and booze and tech stuff. I would stay over and pretend I wasn’t having to work three part-time jobs to stay afloat. Nope, those days were far, far behind me. I was a respected member of the community. A gentleman with a taste for the finer things in life. Hey, I worked hard, I wanted to appreciate the fruits of my labor.

Some weekends she’d have to work, and I’d hang out in these houses alone. I’d turn on their expensive stereo and play my crappy records (one of their speakers probably cost more than the entire recording budget of most of the records I played over them), take a lap in the pool, then relax in the hot tub while drinking a gin and tonic. This was really living, I’d think, as a Misfits bootleg screeched over the outside speakers. Sure, I should be listening to that one Mozart song they always play to denote class, but I didn’t want to forget my roots. No matter how awesome my home here was, I was still a punk rocker at heart.

Maybe after another couple laps I’d watch Dolemite on the wide-screen.

One night while cooking dinner my girlfriend casually mentioned something about her friend finding the owners' porn stash.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s tons of it over there by the TV.”

How the hell did I miss that? Was that whole pile of videotapes porn? This was like a Pharaoh’s collection of dirty movies.

“You want to watch some? They're kind of weird.”

Wow. Watching porn with the girlfriend. No way could this end up as anything but awesome. And it’s weird porno! This night just got awesome.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, hoping I’d put just the right amount of casualness in my voice. Man, this was gonna be great!

I put the first tape in. This fat, bearded biker guy was spanking this skinny methed out looking girl with a riding crop in the back of a limo. It didn’t look like anyone was really having a good time. I fast-forwarded a bit. Nope, still a bearded guy spanking this girl all bored, while she just sort of squirmed around a little.

“I dunno, let’s try another one.”

Next tape was a different fat bearded biker guy spanking a different skinny methed out girl, this time in a crappy motel room.

Next one was another fat bearded biker guy distractedly spanking another skinny methed out girl. I forget the location.

Same with the next one. My fun, sexy night was taking a nosedive, fast.
Who were these people? Were they friends of the homeowners? Was this stuff legal? Could the FBI tell that we watched it?

“Hey, you know what,” I said. “I think I’m done.”

“Yeah, I told you they were weird.”

We probably watched Dolemite after that and went to bed.

Couple weekends later I investigated the porno pile a bit more thoroughly on my own. They couldn’t all be homemade biker spanking videos, right? Bingo! After some investigation, I found a good one, one where attractive people looked like they were having a good sexy time and were all excited and everything. Alright, now we’re talking!

I put the tape in and started to watch. Well, almost. I was really distracted.

“I wonder if this is a trap,” I thought. “What if they have cameras hidden here somewhere? Would they send out some biker guy to lazily spank me in the back of a limo to punish me for watching their porn? I really don’t want that.”

I put the tape back into the mountain of videos and went outside to take a couple laps. Maybe I’d watch Dolemite again. Yeah, nice, safe Dolemite. He wouldn’t let some biker spank me.