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“As in I have that many one-night stands?” Her face reddens. “Jesus, I’m not a twenty-year-old kid anymore who can’t control it.” We both laugh.
“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just thought you might have friends with benefits type arrangements.”
“No offense taken. I did have an arrangement, but I’ve just been busy and unmotivated, I guess.”
The bartender approaches with our drinks, saving me from having to expound on that conversation. I take a drink of the whiskey, savoring the burn before I turn to face her.
“I have an idea. Why don’t I be your wingman?”
“My friends already offered, but I’m happy to let you step in as well when we get back.”
“I mean right now, tonight.”
“I’m not trying to hook up with a stranger in Vegas.” Her eyes are big and round.
“I don’t mean hook up. Just show me your moves. Maybe I can help you analyze why you feel like you’re not attracting the kind of man you want.”
She thinks about it for a second. “Okay, Casanova,” she says with a little giggle that might be coming from the martini she’s sipping on. “So, where will you be?”
“I’ll be right here. My back toward you, a space down so I can hear.”
“Oh God, I’m nervous now.” She looks up at me as I stand up from the stool. I look down at her full, pouty lips, reaching my hand out to gently grab the base of her chin with my thumb and forefinger.
“Don’t be. You flirted just fine with me the night we met. Had me interested.”
She blushes, then her eyes morph from scared to narrow. “Wait, if I managed to get your attention that night, then why are we doing this? You’ve seen my pickup game.”
I chuckle. I was waiting for her to bring that up.
“Yeah, but Brontë, I told you that my thoughts that night weren’t about getting to know you; my thoughts were only about taking you home and getting to know your sweet little pussy.” I see her throat constrict as she swallows, her eyes fixated on mine.
“So unless you want to fuck the next man who buys you a drink, try to be on the lookout for their intentions. I’m not saying they won’t want to fuck you—every man in here does—but see if they can get past it and not end the conversation with their room number or yours. It’s not that you’re putting out the one-night-stand aura; it’s that you can’t see through most of these guys’ bullshit, including mine.” I reach my thumb up and rub it across her bottom lip.
She lets out a nervous breath as I release her chin and give her a wink before turning away from her and stepping a few seats down the bar. I’m far enough away I don’t seem like I’m with her, but close enough I’ll hear her conversations.
Not even two minutes later the first guy approaches.
“Hey, you come here often?”
Strike one. Cheesy pickup line. Next.
Within two minutes she’s made it clear to him she’s not interested after he asks her for her number before even asking her name.
Contestant two is quick on that guy’s heels. I’m guessing they know each other and had a bet on who could get her number first.
“That guy seemed like a tool,” the second guy says, shaking his head as he sits down next to her. “Terry, pleasure to meet you,” he says, reaching his hand toward her.
“Brontë, nice to meet you.”
Okay, good start. Seems to be going well.
“So, I gotta ask because you are just incredibly beautiful. What are you doing here alone?”
She smiles coyly and thanks him for the compliment but says she’s in town on business and just looking to relax tonight.
“Well, you’re in luck because I happen to give the most amazing massages and my room has an incredible view.”
Didn’t last long. Next.
