Linking up with a female is never a problem for Australian immigrant Argo Ballard. It continues to surprise him that some people have problems finding another person for recreational purposes.
Argo's advice – and he frequently gives this advice to friends and acquaintances – is to keep it simple.
I know Argo well as he's my neighbour and we often drink and shoot pool together and over the years I've learned pearls of wisdom from him.
According to Argo, the quickest way to get a date for Saturday night is to continue asking prospects for a date for Saturday night and until you score with one of them.
Sounds simple, doesn't it?
"I'm shy speaking to women," I said.
"If you think you've already made difficult for yourself. Try imagining walking into the movies and you spot just one empty seat; accept that filling that space is the challenge you face but consider you can handle it. You are good looking, have money, I think you have charm – now get off your ass and go asking politely is that seat is available."
Well, I decided to keep it simple and not bother with trying for someone with Princess status. I tried the first person I saw.
Argo's mom was flattered that I should ask her to the movies, patted my cheek and told me to ask someone closer to my own age.
But Mrs Ballard, a former beauty from Eastern Europe was a real brick, calling to me as I slunk away.
"Gus if you can't get a date I'll go with you."
The next person I asked accepted and I was over the moon.
Argo was in his workshop behind the house and I gave him my great news. He grinned, congratulated me for taking the first step and then scowled.
"Gus, if I find you hit on my sister for the full monty [slang for the full works] I'll beat the crap out of you; she's only eighteen."
I shook in my shoes because at college Argo was the best brawler in our group. I was relieved his mom had not accepted my offer as he may have imagined me trying it on with his mom and his reaction to that would have been ruinous to my delicate face.
The date started on a downslide.
"I've never been on a date with an older man," said Argo's sister Tiffany, but she took my 26-year-old arm possessively. Apparently she was either trained for cinema attendance or else bored with the film because she unzipped me and dropped on to the floor on her knees, oblivious to everyone around us, and gave me one of the best blow jobs I've had in a year.
She was eighteen, for fuck's sake, I thought in my expanding glow. By the time she reached the age of thirty she'd be a living legend.
There was no mess as she swallowed the lot.
Only after she'd regained her seat and yanked my left hand down inside her skirt did I remember her face-pulping brother. As my fingers snaked into her small, warm and damp orifice I replayed Argo's words: if he learned I'd hit heavy on his sister he'd beat the crap out of me.
Despite my alarm I chose intelligence over fear, believing that as Tiffany had been the instigator it was unlikely she'd confess her wantonness if interrogated by an overly protective brother.
After the movies Tiffany and I ate take-out pizza on a seat on the riverfront.
Tiffany pulled out one of her boobs and obviously I was expected to squeeze and suck it, which I did.
She then began moaning and moved into pelvic thrusting.
Tiffany jumped up and led me into a narrow alley that looked just wide enough for one of those Italian mini cars to traverse.
"Fuck me."
That was a reasonable request, but where's the bed or sofa. Was I missing something?
While I hesitated, Tiffany bent over and hooked off her panties with her foot, picked them up, put them into her handbag and in the same movement extracted a condom which she handed to me, saying she did not allow a guy to go bareback on a first date.
Tiffany backed into the wall, lifted the hem of her amazingly short dress over his hips, lifted herself up by her toes and said, "What are we waiting for?"
The brat was expecting me to hump her standing up!
"Oooh, do you think my pussy will be able take that?" she cooed, eyeing my half-mast dick.
So sensually did she say that, acting coy, that I was at 100% extension within one-tenth of a second.
I was not against becoming a-back-alley-wall-operator, but hesitated and she groaned and became even more proactive. Tiffany ripped open my shirt, shedding buttons in all directions and bit into my right nipple drawing blood.
"Yikes, what are you doing?" I screamed and she pulled me forward with her mouth opened wide and drooled while my dick apparently on auto slid up her chute in one fluid movement and our pelvic bones slammed together.
The answer was obvious – she wanted action on eight cylinders rather than me proceeding gingerly as if I were dealing with a virgin.
I arrived home absolutely rooted.
Tiffany had clamped her muscles around my dick and milked most of my discharge into the condom. She then sank to her knees, ripped off the rubber and sucked me until the next thing coming out of my dick would have been internal membrane.
"How was that," I croaked.
The 18-year-old petite beauty, with innocent blue eyes, calmly told me – "I'd rate you six out of ten but you haven't had my butt yet."
Half-horrified picturing that disgusting sequel, I pleaded exhaustion.
Next evening when Argo and I met at the bar for a drink he complimented me for being so charming to his sister.
"Tiffany said you behaved like a perfect gentleman and that pissed off mom as she wants Tiffany to get sexually experienced and mom reckons you'd be a good instructor."
"There's nothing I could teach Tiffany," I mumbled.
When Argo asked what I had just said, I replied she was still too young and innocent to be subjected to such heartless education.
Argo slapped me on the back and said an absurd thing: "No girl has to be nervous of you because you're pussy shy."
Argo then said a most amazing thing.
"I've been called away to the Motor Cross Race Team for a couple of weeks to fill in for the chief mechanic who has to get married as the baby's coming early.
Lizzy's getting her modelling diploma on Saturday night at a dinner-ball so you've got to stand in for me, I mean it Gus."
I said no problem, knowing that Elizabeth May Sutton-Fitzgerald would reject me outright. She just manages to tolerate me being near her because Argo insists I'm his best mate. Well, I did save him from drowning when we were eleven, and since then no one has done that much for him, not even his mom and dad.
Argo is dark and handsome (so my mom says) and is six-three on just one 210lbs, whereas I'm what he calls 'a short-arse' at five-eleven at 178lbs. Lizzy (Elizabeth) is also five-eleven and was 178lbs before preparing for the modelling course and it pisses her off that I eat anything and everything and my weight doesn't vary on ounce, whereas she has one burger and then has to go on a diet.
It also pisses Lizzy off that I'm way smarter that Argo, but that's not my fault, and that my income as a junior public relations consultant is way more than what he clears personally from his tiny motor cycle sales and repair shop.
On top of that I usually beat them at cards, pool and tennis – I don't know why, it just happens.
Lizzy also thinks I'm a closet homosexual because the three times she's organized a date for us to go out as a foursome her chosen girlfriend complained that I kept my fingers to myself and the only kiss they received was a goodnight dab on side of her face.
