Challenge #3
Roleplay challenge:
Pretend you are strangers, and pick each other up in a bar or coffee shop where it's plausible. Do this exercise in a place neither of you have ever been to so that no-one knows you are already a couple.
"How, and when, do you want to do this?" Gloria and I had been clients, then lab subjects for the semi-celebrity sex therapist Dr. Cheryl Coleman. We had a wonderful time fulfilling the first two of her weekly sex challenges, and had been looking forward to opening this one.
"How about on a weeknight, after work, we'll find a singles bar someplace?"
"That sounds fun. Do you know about the Blue Parrot?" Gloria had heard the suburban Jimmy Buffet-themed bar was a notorious pick-up joint on weekends.
"It's kind of far away -- and I want to get you drunk and horny."
"Far away is good. That fits the nobody-knows-you requirement. If we Uber back home, we can drink irresponsibly." Sensible Gloria would of course be responsible about planning irresponsibility.
"I can take the bus there from work to the park-and-ride at the mall, you drive but park where you can leave the car. Try to get there before five-thirty, so I can find you."
"I'll be sitting at the bar, if there's a spot."
That Friday neither of them were super focused at work. Gloria left early, went home, and changed. She had chosen her lightest, laciest strapless bra and the matching thong that had been part of an anniversary present to Dan. Unwrapping her from it had been the other part of the present.
Over that she wore her favorite LBD, a spaghetti-strap black dress that showed off her cleavage and clung, maybe a hair more tightly than when she'd bought it, to her hips and backside.
Checking herself out in the mirror, she saw that leaning forward and hunching her shoulders a little, as one might sitting at a bar, would let Dan see the edges of the lace and plenty of cleavage, but that she looked perfectly respectable when she stood up straight. Gloria declared herself hot enough to attract the attention of strange men. She used her favorite perfume, a pricey scent that Dan had given her for Christmas a few years ago. With fondness, she recalled the card he'd written to accompany it: "I got you something to wear to bed", with a winking smiley-face. And, she recalled, she had worn it to bed more than once, usually with nothing else.
Dan powered off his computer and got up from his cubicle desk. As he walked out, exchanging "Have a great weekend" and "You too" with co-workers, he was thinking, "If only they knew..."
The commuter bus dropped Dan at the mall park-and-ride lot at about quarter of six, and he spotted Gloria's car as he walked the few hundred yards to the Blue Parrot.
There were plenty of cars there already, but it wasn't as crammed as it would be later in the evening when the serious Friday night meat-market customers started piling in. This was mostly the "let's go for a drink after work" crowd, or the people coming in for a bite and a beer before going to the movies at the mall multiplex.
Dan entered the Blue Parrot, under the plastic imitation-thatch awning, and paused to adjust to the dimness. He spotted Gloria, with her back to him, perched at the bar with a signature blue margarita in front of her. He tempered his instinct to go and greet her immediately, instead sitting several spaces away around the curving bar to watch, out of eavesdropping range but close enough to hear if Gloria raised her voice. She was wearing that slinky black dress and heels, as if she was out to flirt around. A rather good-looking guy was trying to hit on her, and Gloria's body language was noncommittal.
~~~~~~~~~~
Gloria had parked in the mall's park-and-ride and sat in her car steeling herself. She had been partners with Dan for thirteen years, first dating, then sharing an apartment in college, and married for ten. She had never had to hunt for a man, but tonight she'd have to pretend she was. And bag Dan for a trophy. On the other hand, she knew she was still sexy at thirty-two. She would be the hunter, but it would be like one of those sea creatures that camouflages itself as a piece of debris or a kelp leaf, waiting for the prey to approach.
It was time to get in position. She found a fairly empty section of the bar, and parked her butt on a stool, making sure to give it a wiggle as she settled in. She knew there were several guys checking her out, and if she could bait one of them into buying her a drink, so much the better.
She ordered the house specialty Parrot Margarita, a blue curacao/tequila/crushed ice blend, served in a tall hurricane glass and garnished by a plastic mermaid impaling fresh pineapple chunks on her spear. It was a gimmick of the place that if anybody ordered a second one, they had to surrender their car keys to the bouncer.
No sooner had the bartender turned to bring it to her than a pretty handsome guy strode up and said, "That's on me, if you don't mind, barkeep." Gloria's first thought was that anyone who used the term "barkeep" had better have a British accent, or it was minus one on the asshole count. That irritated her her even more than the presumptuousness of speaking to the bartender before he'd even spoken to her, the inherent assumption that her opinion was irrelevant.
He swung and missed again when he tipped fifty cents, leaving a twenty for a tab of $19.50. It was a damn expensive drink, but Gloria was pretty sure someone would try to pick it up. She also thought she would be pissed with management for pricing the drink so that, with tax, it came to an amount that made shitty tips too easy. Still, it was very profitable for the bar. Gloria wondered what fraction of their sales were men buying for women. Probably at least a third.
Her benefactor sat next to her and ordered an expensive scotch, neat. Thirty dollars for a two-finger pour. Asshole was clearly showing off. Gloria took her revenge by leaving two twenties on the bar, telling the bartender, "Returning the favor", and turning away. A ten-dollar tip would put his cheapskate ways in sharp relief, and wind up being a decent 20% on the total.
As she turned, she spotted Dan halfway around the big oval bar, maybe ten seats away, and flicked past, pretending she didn't see him as any different from the other patrons.
"Um, usually when a guy buys a pretty girl a drink, it's a sign he'd like to talk with her."
"I'd heard of that. And thanks, but no thanks. Can I give you some tips so you'll have a better chance of impressing women?"
Realizing he was striking out, at least this lounge lizard had the grace to nod in acknowledgment. "I guess -- I mean, you bought me a drink too."
"Okay. First of all, don't buy someone a drink without asking her first. It was disrespectful that you spoke to the bartender before you spoke to me. Don't be a shitty tipper. You tipped the bartender fifty cents when five bucks would have made a lot of difference both to the bartender and to whoever you're trying to impress. Women notice how men treat other people. And unless you really do like the stuff, buying the most expensive scotch on offer isn't going to impress anybody who would order a Parrot Margarita. And finally, there are no girls in this joint, only women. The bouncer was pretty strict about checking IDs."
"Thanks. Too bad I made a bad first impression, and I actually ordered scotch because I hate it, so one glass lasts me all night."
"See, ordering a seven dollar mass market blended scotch and leaving a three dollar tip would have been a more impressive, and more cost-efficient, gesture." I patted his hand. "Don't feel bad. You're a good looking guy. Whether you're after a one-night stand or marriage and family, some other woman might get lucky."
"Okay. I am going to take my foolishly expensive vanity drink to that booth, while it's still empty. I'm still open to talking, but I respect your advice enough that I am going to ponder it while I lick my wounds."
"Better luck next time."
Dan saw the man get up, wearing a wry smile. He offered Gloria a handshake. They exchanged names, then he strode over to the vacant booth with an air of confidence that he put on like it was a raincoat. His head was already swiveling around for the next prospect.
Gloria turned and faced idly ahead, sipping her blue drink and looking at the various forms of sports on the many TVs hanging in the center, over the bar counter. She decided on a surfing competition taking place in Hawaii, which was showing on a screen closer to where Dan was sitting. After craning her neck at the TV until she was sure Dan had noticed, and was also watching, she got up and moved to the vacant spot.
Dan ignored her until the two people between them had left. He slid over a couple seats, bringing his half-finished beer with him. "I don't know anything about competitive surfing, but this is spectacular."
Gloria responded as non-committal as possible. "And it seems more appropriate for this bar than auto racing highlights."
"Oh, yeah, the tropical theme. I see you got the house margarita. I just stopped in for a Friday-after-work beer. How is it?"
"They're pretty good, if you like margaritas. The curacao flavor makes an interesting substitute for lime, and the sweet pineapple complements the very slight bitterness. Ordinary tequila, unless you want an upcharge."
"Wow, a good description. It's pretty big, too."
"Big can be good, but really it's all about the bartender's skill." Gloria fired the first signal flare of interest.
Dan played it cool, looking back up at the TV. "Do you surf?" He was going to wait for a bigger salvo, having watched her body language as she smoothly rebuffed the first guy to hit on her.
"Never been. Body surfing at the beach, sure. But I haven't tried board surfing. Wow, look at that guy!" On the screen, a surfer was riding inside a curl that had to be twenty feet high. He exited the watery cave as the curl tightened, and hopped off the board to bob as the wave passed him. Dan and Gloria both thought it was impressive, but the announcers were criticizing him for ending his run too soon. An ad break came on, and the show returned with a native Hawaiian who was last year's silver medalist in the women's Australian Invitational. The announcers were making a big point that she had a point to prove, and this was basically "home field advantage" for her. The cheering crowd on the beach certainly thought so.
Gloria puckered her lips to suck on the extra-long straw, then picked up the mermaid skewer. She licked the pineapple as suggestively as she could, then put it back in the glass. If the first signal flare was missed, she'd fire a bigger one. "Wow, look at her. She's got to have abs of steel!" The competitor was wearing a black two-piece bathing suit that complemented her hair and skin tones, but was cut for function like a sports bra. Her torso showed, not washboard-cut abs like on most of the men surfers, but a shape that implied them, under a smoother feminine softness.
In other words, she looked a lot like a somewhat younger Gloria in body, just different facial features and considerably more suntanned. Gloria wanted to draw Dan's attention to a body that looked like what he remembered. She hoped that would get him going. Dan's eyes flicked down to her black dress. The prey was beginning to circle an interesting kelp leaf.
Gloria drained her Parrot Margarita, ate the pineapple, and set the empty glass on the bar. Time for the next test.
