"At least he made you come," says Sam.
"Yes. Several times, too."
"So what's the problem, then?"
Sam takes the pasta of the stove and pours the water out into the sink. He has invited Ellenor over for dinner, and he has made his specialty, 'tagliatelle con funghi e spinacchi'.
"I guess there IS no problem," says Ellenor. "I got what I wanted. So why am I disappointed?"
Sam ponders the question while he fills two plates with sauce and pasta.
"What where you looking for when you went out?" he asks.
"To meet a nice, good-looking guy and fuck with him."
"Which is what you got. Well, sort of. You got orgasms, but no fucking. But is that REALLY what you wanted? Remember you told me that you wanted a nice, normal guy with a big dick, who wanted to have sex in a bed, preferably one who was good with his tongue? You forgot to say that you wanted him to actually be able to fuck you, too!"
Ellenor laughs.
"And if I had remembered to specify that, I might have met someone like that, except he wouldn't have wanted to fuck me, because I forgot to add that he must also WANT to fuck me," she says. "I get it. You never get exactly what you want, only what you ask for."
"Exactly," says Sam. "Be careful what you wish for – you just might get it!"
They leave the subject of men while they're eating, and instead they discuss Sam's excellent cooking, his last trip top Italy, and the food in Toscana. Not until Sam serves them both tea, does he bring up the topic of men again.
"Perhaps you're going to the wrong places," he says. "I mean, Chamber, The Golden Ring, Fastlane... they're for teenagers – and for men in their 40s – perhaps you should try some place more sophisticated?"
"I'm not very sophisticated, myself," she protests.
"Oh, yes, you are! You may not be Jackie O, but you're classy and stylish, and you know how to use a knife and fork – trust me, honey, that's all there is to it, really!"
"And you think I wouldn't risk finding a man with a small dick or a man who comes too soon in a sophisticated place?"
"Of course you might. But honestly, dear – is that REALLY what's bothering you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you're just looking for sex, why do you get so disappointed when the guy turns out to have a flaw?"
"Are you playing Freud on me?"
"You're not looking for a lover, you're looking for a boyfriend."
She pours herself another cup of tea, and tries to give her feelings an honest evaluation.
"I wouldn't say that I'm LOOKING FOR a boyfriend," she says. "But I wouldn't mind having one. You know... if the chemistry was right."
"I knew it," says Sam, and curls up in a corner of the sofa, folding his long legs to the side. "You're just not the type of woman who flutters through life, going from one man to the other. You're the type who gets married!"
She threatens to throw a pillow on him.
"So, if you're gonna find anyone who'll last a little longer than merely one night, I suggest you abandon the kiddy clubs, and try something a bit more... adult."
That makes Ellenor think of 'Timewarp' and the clubs around that neighborhood. She doubts that she would find any suitable man around there. Interesting men in abundance, absolutely, but not interesting as in potential lovers for herself!
"What do you suggest?" she says.
Deciding to upscale her choice of men, she decides to go to a club in the more expensive parts of town. With a little help from Sam, she has also updated her wardrobe to include a simple black linen dress that costs almost half her paycheck, even though it looks so simple.
"It's featured in Vogue," says Sam. "Trust me, darling, the rich kids will know what it is. This little thing is your ticket into the Big Boys' Party!"
And, as usual, Sam is right, He's a guru of style, and Vogue is his bible. The doorman throws one glance at her, and lets her pass the crowd of wannabes outside the club. This club is obviously decorated by an interior architect, but she doubts that Mark has had anything to do with this. The whole place is a tribute to money. Not in the flashing of money, but in the things that money can – and can't buy. The furniture and the walls are functional and basic, almost primitively so, but they breathe craftsmanship and quality, of tranquility and serenity. A longing for some peace and quiet in a busy world, perhaps? She orders an overpriced glass of mineral water, and starts to mingle. The music's different as well. No rap or hip-hop, no hit list songs. There are two dance floors, one with a live jazzband on stage, one with a DJ playing classic rock n' roll from the 80'ies, which makes the crowd of people ages 25-35 go "awwww – THIS one!" every 3 minutes. Ellenor sticks to the latter. Jazz really isn't her thing. She dances alone in a corner, enjoying the beat of yesteryears, trying not to think of how long it has really been since these songs were brand new. She's only 27; it's way too soon to think of the rushing of time. She's out to have fun, damned it! And fun she has. She has serious trouble ever getting off the dance floor, as the DJ keep playing all her favorite tunes. She just has to dwell on the memory of her first kiss, by Robbie Hayes, in the 7th grade, who let her listen to "Heaven Is A Place On Earth" on his walkman. She has to sink down in bittersweet memory about her first real boyfriend, Garrett, who danced with her at every school dance in Senior High, humming "Time, Love & Tenderness" by Michael Bolton. The music changes into "Eternal Flame," and people pair up to slow-dance. Finally, a chance to get something to drink! She's about to leave the floor when someone puts a hand on her arm and asks her to dance. She gladly accepts. He's really handsome; tall and strong, wide shoulders, and a well-groomed goatee. He doesn't talk while they're dancing, he doesn't sing along or hum or try to cup a feel; he just holds her in his strong arms and they float over the floor. He's a good dancer, and she's rather disappointed when the nice tune is replaced by the theme from 'Ghostbusters'.
"Care for a drink?" says her dance partner.
"A glass of water would be nice," she says.
He escorts her to the bar, and orders a martini for himself and another glass of mineral water for her.
"You don't drink?" he asks. "Not at all?"
