Action

Mission 1. Hook up with someone as old as my mom (54)and as young as my sister (20) in a month.

Her blowjob number was lower. That was the first indication that I could have this woman. She fit the profile, a month away from her 22nd birthday, young, nimble,(no mustache). Well, actually the profile just had to be a warm 21-year-old body. The rest was just in the cards, I guess.

What do I mean by blowjob numbers? Well, whether a girl has performed more oral sex than intercourse tells a lot about her. Girls with a higher BJ number are more likely to take care of you orally and then put the brakes on. But really, at that point who are you to complain?

Girls that have a lower BJ number generally give it all up more easily. To them, a BJ isn’t a fantastic consolation prize, but a path to the grand prize.

Finding someone 21 was no problem. It was easier than in L.A. because I could just ask around. But once a friend leaked word out about my mission, no one wanted to help. I don’t really blame them. I didn’t want to be the guy who hopped on a plane then hopped on someone's friend. Yea, this was a bit trickier than I had anticipated, especially if I wanted to come out as a good guy.

“So I hear you’re looking for a young one, Mr. Rob Lowe?” I turned around and here was a gum-chewing, apple-martini-drinking youngster. I had no other recourse than to offer the truth, “busted,” I said.

“I’m 21,” she said as she held up the glass as proof.
“Great,” I answered apprehensively.
“Don’t you think I’m cute.”
“Well, if by cute you mean really, really drunk, then, yes, you are cute.”
“Huh?”
“Forget it, yes, you are cute. But, I’d rather not with my friend’s drunken younger sister.”

She walked away. If she had put up the slightest argument I would have caved. I might have won a mission and lost a friend--guys do stupid shit like that all the time.

Bottom line, a wedding’ s not as easy pickin’s as I thought. But as the garter was coming my way and I backed up to avoid the spectacle, I did notice a bright light. After my eyes adjusted, I had a great idea, why not the photographer?

It was a mother/daughter team (can you believe my luck?). They were both pretty hot, and I would have gladly taken the mother as fast as the daughter (I got the flava now for the mature ones now).

The daughter went to college nearby and helped her mom on weekends. Now, if it was just a week ago, I would have tried to tag the mom. But I already had the cougar on the wall. Now it was the cub's turn.

I was in the wedding party, so I had a bit more of an in with the photographer. But banging the help is a challenge in itself. I put this on par with picking up a bartender, waitress or a stripper. That shit doesn’t happen often. So, I decided to make the odds work in my favor and meet on neutral grounds. I invited her to meet a few of us for a beer or two and even offered a cab to take her. She agreed to the group thing and I showed up in front of her house an hour later. We talked and drove. I was pretty lit and slowly (and smoothly) worked in the BJ number question before we got to the bar. It then became my mission to lose.

We sat at the bar and then walked along the river, all the way back to my hotel. And as the sun rose over the NY skyline and Mission #1 was coming to a successful close, I realized that I was fast becoming the only Rob Lowe that really mattered to me.