Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Gaming - Track 1: PRESS PLAY

"Enough about you dude. How about some stories from fellow comrades of yours?"

Glad you asked.  I've decided to post this story from one of my buddies who has learned the tricks of the trade. Though the story ends with him finishing at the 1 yard line as opposed to a touchdown. Nevertheless, it is still a fantastic story.

Others can suggest limitations for us. But only we can impose them ...

Two thousand something. Me to my then-girlfriend, Asian: "I promise myself, before I die I will bury my face between a white girl's legs."

Present day. I have buried my face between a white girl's legs.

And long legs they are -- she's 5-9 in bare feet, a former model who used to get paid to tan.

We met a couple hours earlier at a party thrown by a mutual acquaintance. She made an immediate impression when she entered -- tall, outgoing, with strong bone structure and a stylish haircut.

In the first few minutes after she arrived, she managed to reveal to the room that she spoke French and had modeled in Europe for a long time.

At some point later in the evening, I suddenly found her at my shoulder. She was beaming. And indirectly asking about my relationship status: "So you've got a girlfriend -- she couldn't make it?", or something else transparent like that.

I recognized the indication of interest for what it was and kept my cool. Not only did I answer in a non-needy way, I was brutally honest -- our relationship had gone through the wringer, my heart was broken and so on. But I made clear that the split was definite, that I wasn't pining over her.

She gave me a similar story of her own. We proceeded to banter for 10 or 15 minutes about nothing consequential. Truth be told, I wasn't keeping track of conversation threads. I was gauging her interest by disqualifying myself ("What do you do?" "I'm unemployed."), putting on mini-vacuums, eye coding elsewhere in the room and varying the openness of my body language. She double- and triple-checked on the subject of whether I had a girlfriend, probably to test my congruence.

I concluded that I wasn't being nearly as interesting as her behavior made me seem. All systems go.

We'd exchange numbers, at the very least. Or that's what I figured until I suddenly saw her in the foyer, bundled up and ready to leave. She hadn't said goodbye to me, hadn't even looked in my direction.

Maybe her buying temperature had dropped. Maybe she got cold feet. Or maybe the social pressure was too high.

Only one way to know for sure.

I gave her a 10-second head start out the door, then said my own goodbyes, bundled up and left.

I was expecting to catch up with her outside. But I made it down only one flight of steps before I heard her voice, a floor below me. She had stopped on the landing.

"Are you following me?" she asked, coyly.

"No," I said when I reached her. "Are you waiting for me?"

She laughed and turned to continue down the steps.

And she reached back for my hand.

Game on.

As soon as we got outside, she put her arm in mine. She announced that she was drunk and that she didn't know where we were going (translation: "Take advantage of me!"), and I said the same, along with, "Are you kidnapping me?" Role reversal.

I noticed through all this that she was walking with purpose. And so was I.

She questioned me again about following her, and I teased her for waiting. After a couple rounds of this, she made her intentions known:

"I think you're really attractive."

That was all I needed to hear. I stopped her in her tracks, pulled her close and kissed her, tongue and all. No pullback.

Just as quickly, I pushed her away and killed the momentum by introducing everyday topics -- biographical info and the weather, for instance. I dropped in "Where do you live"? -- that oldie-but-goodie. We continued walking, and I stopped her intermittently to kiss her again.

"Let's have one more drink," she said. She needed a little more coaxing, apparently.

We passed a couple blocks without seeing a bar. Then her request changed:

"Take me to the subway. I'm going home."

Buzz-kill. I decided that if we did find a station nearby, I would send her off by herself. I wasn't up for pumping her buying temperature under the glare of fluorescent lights, with a Greek chorus of bums watching. (It was past midnight.)

But another couple blocks went by, and no subway station. She admitted that she didn't know where we were.

I took that as my cue to hail a cab. When we got inside, I kept my mouth shut. We hadn't said where we were going, so whatever directions she gave to the cabbie would be the final sexual IOI I was looking for.

To her place, she said.

The making-out resumed. Mind you, I hadn't even broached the topics of sex or going to her place at this point. But that's not my style. Some guys are dominant and highly sexual; I happen to be safe and comforting.

I have no problem with building sexual tension. But I save the explicit talk until the threshold of no return.

Sun Tzu:
The rush of water, to the point of tossing rocks about. This is shih.
The strike of a hawk, at the killing snap. This is the node.
Therefore, one skilled at battle --
His shih is steep.
His node is short.
She let loose with assorted Anti-Slut Defense phrases as the cab drove: "This is crazy!" "I just met you!" "I don't even know you!"

I said in return, "I didn't know you existed before tonight." My meaning: I'm no better off than you in this situation, and I'm not responsible for assuaging your anxiety.

The ride wore on. She went to telling me how sexy she thought I was, how much she liked my hair (amid grabbing handfuls of it).

Then she said what had to be one of the most beautiful phrases I've ever heard from a woman:

"I have an Asian fetish."

And a little later:

"I'm taking you home with me."

At her place, she was quick to get me on the couch and start stripping the both of us, with the lights full on. This woman knew what she wanted and wasn't shy about it.

After our first, unsuccessful attempt at sex, we agreed to try again in the morning. But suddenly there she was, sitting on the couch dressed in her nightie, staring past me and speaking solemnly.

"You're going to leave now. We're not going to have sex in the morning. It'll be some other morning. I would prefer that."

I may have responded verbally to this. I don't remember.

What I do remember is picking her up, to peals of laughter, and cavemanning her into the bedroom.

1 comment:

  1. Hi, I just found your blog. Interesting! I don't understand the story, though. Why did the both of you not manage to have sex, after all that? :o


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