As a New York City bartender I've seen a lot of strange things and heard a lot of crazy stories, but few compare to one night last summer when a couple from out of town wandered in one evening for a few drinks.
They were staying at a hotel down the street and I was charmed to see how in love they were and, the more they drank, impressed with their willingness to show their affection for each other. As we all moved deeper into the night their affection spilled over into passion and they were not at all shy about expressing their dirtiest thoughts at a volume sufficient for everyone in the bar to overhear. After several rounds she wandered off to the bathroom and he asked me for the check. As he slid a pile of cash across the bar he confided that she had asked him, this year, for their 10th wedding anniversary, for a wild, no holds barred trip to NYC, that she wanted to be particularly naughty, to ramp the dirty talk way, way up.
He seemed both excited and a little embarrassed about everything they had already said, but ensured me that he had a few gems saved up for the bedroom. Moments later she returned and they slipped out into the night. They were cute and in love and I was happy for them, having their naughty fun in the big city. I even thought to myself, "I hope I can find someone I can have that much fun with after all those years together." For the next few hours, in my mind, they were a kind of perfect couple. I told some of my regulars about them, about how cute the whole scene was. I probably would have thought about them that way forever, and carried that little hope, if he hadn't stumbled in a few minutes before I closed up, naked save two copies of the Village Voice, trembling over his naughty bits. He looked stunned and scared and humiliated. I didn't ask any questions, just tossed him a jacket from the lost and found, poured a couple rounds, toasted to love, and tossed them down. Poor bastard, must have taken that dirty talk a little too far.