"Eric, my boy, I see some talent here tonight," Darren excitedly observed as we entered the swanky new nightclub with the promising name, Eden. Thanks to an inside connection we were able to bypass the staggering line of frustrated individuals fidgeting behind the velvet rope. We both gave a regal glance back to the peasants, as we shook hands with our inside connection, Alex, a bouncer and regular steroid abuser. All muscle and no brain I matched his crushing shake with an equal amount of macho intensity. It would have been easier to just whip our dicks out and compare size, but civility prevailed, my grip passed his test and he ushered us through with a friendly, but heavy, pat on the shoulder.
After dropping a guest special five for the cover, we were greeted by the thumping bass of the typical techno-club garbage blasting from the massive new speaker system sucking us in like spiders down a drain. Nearly deaf, our skills of sight were magnified in their Herculean task of sizing up the bounty of scantily clad beauties, seemingly countless in variety and perfection. "Some talent, this place is a gold mine," I responded, a huge grin on my face, my eyes devotedly following each pair of legs that walked by. Of course our sophisticated drooling technique led each lady to turn the other way, the standard model like bored look gracing each of their eyes. It must be tough being so gorgeous.
Experienced, Darren quickly assumed the cool reassurance of the crowd around us, an assorted arrangement of the aforementioned beauties, older money men, and calmly prowling young studs, like ourselves, looking for the right opportunity to flash a smile and drop a familiar line.
For ten o'clock the place was already pretty jumping, go-go dancers in their cages gyrating scandalously to the music spun by the always world famous DJ you've never heard of. This was supposed to become "The Place" in Santa Barbara, where young coeds could frolic with vacationing celebrities and wealthy professionals. It appeared to be living up to the hype, although I don't know how many of the more attractive attendees would be there in a couple of months. Clubs in Santa Barbara have the tendency of fizzling out.
"Aren't you glad I dragged you out," Darren shouted in my ear over the music, an exact reason why he had to drag me out.
"My eyes are," I shouted back. I usually can't stand these clubs. I hate the music, the dancing, the pretentiousness of the patrons, and the outrageous prices they charge for the drinks required either to bait a girl into a conversation or to swallow enough liquid courage to try your luck out on the dance floor.
Darren had dragged me rather than his closer friend, Steve, purely for aesthetic reasons. Despite my lack of game and general timidness, I am more than mildly attractive, even better looking than Darren himself, in my own, not quite so humble opinion.
Darren is my workout buddy so we share the same chiseled frame, he's a bit taller, a blonde hair, blue eyed California boy, while I carried off the tall, dark, and handsome routine. Our basic operating procedure is that I play Goose to his Maverick, attaching myself to the friend of his attraction. Not that I grumble at this duty, it suits me reasonably well, except of course, in the rare instances where the second dish fails to qualify for even my most generous of standards.
We had a couple of drinks at the bar, Darren starting up conversations with the various women in our proximity. I was friendly, but neither liberal enough with my cash nor charismatic enough with my conversation, to hold any wandering eye's attention.
Young beauties like these, in a place like this, are looking for a little bit more than a penny less undergrad with zip zero more than the bulge in his off the rack slacks to ply their flexible young legs open with. There were plenty of fat wallets out there auditioning for just the right touch from a gold digging petitioner. Understanding the game I felt only the slightest rejection when each one inevitably turned away from me, and gave the polite, but hope dashing, "It was nice meeting you," good-bye.
Darren, always working an angle, had latched on to a girl next door type blonde, not the model he was looking for, but a relatively cute female whom he escorted onto the dance floor. Knowing Darren, he was either using her to display some of his personally, highly touted dance moves, or getting close to the lesser so he could hit on the better looking friend. As bastardly as it sounds, it is surprisingly effective, so much for female unity.
I really wasn't feeling the vibe of the place, or it wasn't feeling me, so I headed upstairs to the second floor, where I could lean over the railing and marvel at the mating ritual unfolding below me. The second floor was much more laid back. People lounged on the plush couches, sipping their drinks, still scanning the room, but without the eagerness, or desperation depending on your spin, that characterized the wandering eyes below.
As I walked over to the bar I noticed an especially attractive blonde coming out of the VIP area. She clearly was a model. Tall, all legs, a beautiful face, and a body to match. I couldn't get over her legs, which seemed to be avoiding land mines with each poised step. Of course the four-inch heels probably helped, as did the short silver dress, cut high, above mid-thigh, that adorned her delicate body. Our eyes met, or rather she caught me staring. She gave me a quick smile, not inviting, but narcisstic, before turning away from me to lean back into the VIP
"One hell of a night," I mumbled to myself as I stepped up to the bar. I ordered a red bull and vodka in hopes of breathing some life into to my night. Drink in hand I turned from the bar. I saw my model and her equally gorgeous dark haired friend talking, or rather from the pleasant, but impatient, smiles on their faces, being pestered by three eager young men.
"What a bunch of pricks," I thought to myself, annoyed not by the overly confident young professionals, with their designer suits, and expensive watches, but by the balls they had to approach two women obviously out of their league, although I don't know who's league they would be in. Maybe someone with deep pockets, that never seems to fail to equalize any physical differences between goddess and mortal. I approached the group heading towards the stairs so I could pick up the leftovers from Darren; the blonde was pretty cute.
Glancing over I was instantly struck by how familiar her friend looked. Glowing olive skin, not white, not latin, not asian, almost a mix of all three. Whatever she was, she was gorgeous. When she swept her rich dark hair from her face I could see her stunning facial features, mysterious almond eyes, carefully crafted eyebrows, a small narrow nose, parted lips, and a tiny beauty mark on her right cheek. Her face was enough to stop me in my tracks, but her body, her small slender body of breathtaking curves. If her friend was a model, she was a princess, "Jesus, I'm already gushing," I thought to myself.
I was caught staring again by her friend, who surprisingly winked at me as I approached. To my further surprise she turned to greet me, "Hey honey, thanks for the drink," she casually brought me into her circle, a look in her eyes letting me know to play along as she reached for the drink and took it from my obliging hand.
"Oh, I'm sorry man I didn't know she was with you," said the middle suitor in a condescending manner, "my name is Mark, these are my friends Kyle and Rick." I shook each of their hands with equal disdain, as if I was allowing them a privilege, not even giving my name in return.
"How about you let me buy you guys a round of drinks," offered Mark.
"Thanks, but we were about to leave," replied the blonde putting her hand on my lower back, "it was nice meeting you."
"But you can't leave yet, its barely twelve o'clock, have at least one drink with us," Kyle stepped up this time with the offer.
"I'm afraid the car is outside waiting," I replied seemlessly assuming the role offered to me.
"It can wait five minutes can't it?" replied Rick this time, not looking at us, but at the stunning brunette, "C'mon Brooke, its only a drink."
That's when it hit me that I did know this girl. I can't believe it took me so long to recognize Brooke Burke, its not like I ever watched her show for the travel tips.
"Sorry boys, gotta go," replied Burke backing away with the blonde and me. I remained cool as we walked away keeping my arm hooked around the blonde's, neither too eager nor too meek. I continued to play my role.
"Thank you, so much. I hate it when I'm approached that aggressively," said the blonde as she leaned against me.
"No problem. The shocked look on their faces was enough for me," I calmly replied as we gingerly descended the stairs.
"No kidding, like they had a chance with me anyways," she snobbishly answered back, "and you responded perfectly, not even giving your name."
"Just remembering every prick I've ever met."
"You must have met some of Janice's boyfriends then," chimed in Brooke exchanging a playful two way look with the blonde.
"Anyways," the blonde smiled as she shifted subjects quickly, "what is your name handsome?" she asked once we reached the bottom of the staircase.
"Eric, and yours?".
"I'm Janice and this is Brooke."
"Its nice to meet both of you, I thought I recognized your face. You do that show on "E", right?".
