My first submission so a bit of background. This is fiction and, as such, my work may not always be completely researched or factual. No, I'm not 6"5" and an ex Navy Seal trained to kill with only my bare hands. I'm not packing nine inches. Can't bring a woman to more than one orgasm with only my tongue - it gets too sore to be any fun. Still, I've never had any complaints from my lovers although I have some scepticism about any rave reviews. Olden times, the adage had been "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" but with the vast array of quality frozen or take-out foods that likely has little modern day basis. I have the sneaky suspicion the new age equivalent would be to tell your man he's the best you ever had and, when needed, fake the orgasms. Oh, and let him know his cock is just perfect. Could I use an editor? Probably but I like the way my story reads even if grammar and punctuation may be faulty. Hell, we're not trying here for a Pulitzer. All that declared, I hope you enjoy.
I suspect most of us, at one point or another, have had a poster touting the virtues of alcohol. My college dorm's was "Alcohol: What makes dumb ideas look possible" with a picture to "prove" the point. Even more of us would have our own story of something we had said or done while drunk. Many of these would be good for a few laughs when described later. Some, the opposite. Disasters did occur.
Alison and I had been together as a couple for seven years, married the last five and, with our careers and finances in good shape, headed towards making babies. Our best friends, Bruce and Sheila, were in town for the evening and we had gone to check out the city's hot new club. Looking over the crowd, we couldn't help but feel a bit out of step. Although not old compared to the average age, it was clear this was a major hook-up venue where we were a definite pair of couples. Not a stodgy old bunch, mind you, as the drinks were flowing and we were up on the dance floor as much as anyone else.
As I recall, later in the evening Bob had started the conversation which went something like this:
"Remember the days, Jeff, you and I would come to a place like this and have our pick of the ladies?"
"Do I? I wonder if I still have what it takes to charm the panties off some of these hotties" and, catching the look I was getting from the ladies, "Not that I'd ever try!"
Alison had practically asphyxiated on her drink before chiming in, "In your dreams big guy. My memory is you were never the Casanova and if I hadn't made the first move we would never have hooked up. Your pick-up talents wouldn't have a chance in a place like this!"
Bruce: "Jesus, Jeff. These girls don't understand why fathers take their sons fishing to learn life skills but leave the daughters at home."
That comment brought out three "Huh's?" as even I had no idea where this was going.
Bruce forged ahead undeterred, "For a guy, the first step to learn in fishing is to know where to go for the best catches. Sort of like this place. Then, you need to have the best tackle and bait for what you're after. You need to accept you might need to cast a few times before you get a nibble and need even more patience to set the hook and reel her in without the line being lost. To top it all off, once you finally have her landed you may see you have a prize catch or it might turn out to be one you just throw back in the pond. That doesn't even count the times you go home with nothing.
For girls, they get to fish with dynamite. Show up, light the fuse, throw it in, BOOM! All sorts of fish float up and they just point a dainty finger at the catch of the day!"
Alison was very much less than in agreement. "I can't believe I'm actually sitting with two such chauvinists. Ninety percent of the guys who come to a place like this are looking for one thing only and that's to get laid. Only a small number of the females come with that in mind and they've usually picked up a guy by this time of night and headed out somewhere. Last things they want is to wear him out dancing or have him drink too much and unable to perform. By now you're left with girls here simply to party or a larger number hoping to meet the man of their dreams. For that bunch, the number of Prince Charmings is limited and it takes real effort to catch those prizes. Every bit as much "fishing" as one of you guys hooking up with one of the girls still here.
Before I met you I had some pretty good moves myself and could land just about anyone you see here tonight. You and Bruce were never in my league."
Now, there are things you need to understand when it comes to Alison and me. We felt as in love after seven years as we were early in our relationship. One reason, we are both highly competitive individuals both mentally and physically and together we brought out our bests. And, usually, whether who runs their personal best half marathon or just who wins a game of cribbage, there was usually some wager depending on the outcome. And, now, Alison had not simply mocked whether I could fish but my basic masculinity. Pride and alcohol began to take over.
"So Alison, darling, you're telling me, with your female charms, tonight you could hook up with any guy in the place. Meanwhile, poor inadequate me would end up going home rejected by all and with nothing but my hand and some Vaseline to relieve my frustrations?"
"Jeff, darling, short of you slipping someone a date rape drug or getting her so drunk she couldn't give reasonable consent, there's no contest."
"And you could do all that, Alison sweetie, without saying 'Take me home and fuck me'?"
"That's about it, big guy. I'm willing to bet you I can pick up one of the hottest guys in this club using just my female charms before you can score with anyone but an obvious slut. Since you're so sure of yourself, let's make it the loser does everything the winner chooses for a month - cooks, cleans, laundry, personally pays all the bills, winner names it. Anything short of physically dangerous or illegal. You and Bruce can pic three guys you think I can't land while you just need Sheila to agree you didn't chose a slut. First one to get a timed picture texted or emailed doing the dirty wins and after 2AM it's all off."
Now, I should point out through most of this Bruce and Sheila were not just shocked but did remind us of the risk we were taking but, as the argument escalated, they became caught in the battle of the sexes. Before long, three of us were scanning the men to find a trio for Alison's conquest and debating the relative merits to ensure the maximal difficulty. At the same time, I was looking for the perfect target. My old predatory instincts were alive and I was looking for a single, lonesome "girl-next door" look. Not the hot girl next door males fantasize about but the rather plain version of reality who had dressed up tonight hoping for a partner but finding all the girls at her table were being hit on instead. By the time we had the three, I had my "perfect woman".
Alison seemed delighted with our choices, much to my surprise.
"The first guy is the best looking dude in the place and I'll go after him first. It's really just to get him out of the way as he's at a table with three guys none of whom are showing much interest in the available females. I bet you picked him thinking he's gay but he's so gorgeous I just need to test it out quickly. He is so much better than the rest - if he's hetero, I would do him right on this table.
Choice number two would be the one where there's two couples a lot like us. You probably thought I would go for the stud who obviously is here to get laid tonight as he can't keep his hands off all the young things that keep coming on to him. He's probably the school's quarterback and gets screwed every night but I'll bet banging some older married chick is something he would love and it would give him bragging rights for weeks to come. I'll go with him if things don't move along quickly with my second guy. Too easy though.
You all think, number two, he's here as a couple but that's not how I read it. The way they're interacting says this isn't a date. He's not at all toughy-feely with either girl like you'd expect if they had anything going. He keeps checking out the crowd and, when he gets up with either of his table mates, they dance without any heat. That guy is up for grabs and may even have been brought here by friends looking to hook him up to get over a failed romance. If I'm right, he's easy pickings and likely to be a lot more considerate and passionate than my 'last chance' guy.
Not too late for you to back out as you don't have a chance. If you quit now I'll even agree to cut your servitude to just two weeks to save you embarrassment."
"Fuck that!" I thought, pushed back my chair and headed off to ask the "girl next door" to dance.
Turned out her name was Denise, she indeed was a little lost and lonely and, although not there expecting or even really looking to get laid, she seemed to know sex was the one thing she might need to offer to catch someone. Her appreciation for any attention was endearing and, while I never lost sight of the prize, I found myself rather enjoying talking with her and more time went by than I had intended. Still, she needed a couple more drinks for bravery before working up the nerve to invite me back to her apartment.
Luckily, she lived just five minutes away and, being a bachelorette apartment, no roommate to worry about. Once her door closed I took her gently in my arms and we had our first kiss. It was soft and you could sense the shyness and even inexperience. There was no rejection, though, and so my hands slid down to her butt pulling her in tightly and putting a lot more heat into the second kiss. I know she could feel my erection pressing against her and she didn't try to pull back but she seemed to be more as accepting of her fate than an active - let alone, enthusiastic - participant. Maybe it was that, maybe I had begun to think of her as more as a person than a conquest and maybe (probably) it was my dropping blood alcohol level but that kiss told me just how stupid and wrong I was behaving. Stepping back I could see how vulnerable she was even though she would give herself to me if only for the night.
"Denise, I'm sorry. This is wrong and you don't deserve it. I'm just coming off a big argument with my girlfriend" I lied but not without some truth to it, "but you're much too nice for me to take advantage of just to feel some revenge. Please forgive me but I've gotta go."
