Hooking Jörmungandr*
Some of you are looking for delicate characterization, bald emotion, interesting plot twists, and realism. Look no further, since you will find none of that here. You were warned.
Also, there is very little sex in this story, and yet I would certainly characterize it as a 'spank' story. But I guess I have different standards than most...
This story could have fit into many different categories, but since almost all of my writing has been in LW, my fans (All three: one in the bedroom, living room and kitchen) can find my writings easiest here. And there is infidelity.
*
"Excuse me?" I said disbelievingly.
"It's quite simple," the tall guy said to me. "You've danced with her twice now and offered to buy her a bunch of drinks. So here's my offer. I punch you in the mouth now, buy you a drink and we call it a day."
"Or?" I was beginning to not like this asshole.
"Or I let you hit on her..."
I looked him up and down again. He was tall, but he wasn't built. His face was sunburned and his hair was a bit long. He didn't look like a wife watcher but it takes all kinds. I fell back to my normal lines. "Dude...I don't know what you're saying. It's just a dance. I'm sorry you're feeling all insecure." It's important in situations like this to avoid smirking. It just causes bad blood.
He quirked an eyebrow at me and smiled. "Okay. I can see you're going to be that way. I'm going down the road to pick up some smokes, a soda bottle and a couple of things at Lowe's. Have fun." Then he walked off. The fucker just walked off!
***
When I'd driven up in my cobalt blue Mustang with 2 inch raised Cervini hood painted a contrasting glossy black, I'd seen him outside smoking a cigarette. Since he wasn't with a woman, I didn't waste any time with him, instead checking out the various couples heading into the club. All of them looked at me as I rumbled up to the valet parking. Yeah, valet costs extra, but what is the point of driving a pussy wagon if the pussy doesn't see you drive up? That's why I have a barely street legal exhaust system.** You have to be seen.
I checked out the couples but a lot of them greeted each other. Groups were bad news. A girl might wander off from just a boyfriend; particularly if he's new, but she's less likely to if she's in the midst of a bunch of mutual friends. One guy saying she's a skank can be covered up. Witnesses? Not so much. Women are very particular about their reputations.
I cased the place very thoroughly as I entered. It was a Friday, so there was no obvious Easy Money in the place. What is Easy Money? Professional married women with independent incomes. The latest studies showed that they were 40% more likely to screw around on their husbands than stay at homes since they didn't need to worry about their incomes facing the vagaries of the justice system. It made them feel secure. But because it was Friday, most of them were either at home or with their husbands. No joy there.
This was opposed to professional SINGLE women. Of course I'd do them to, but they already came with a few strikes against them. They were looking for something permanent, they expected to be catered to (i.e. paid for), and they generally were pretty arrogant in their accomplishments and independence. And then there were the market signals: If they were so great, why were they still single? If I wanted to pay for pussy, I'd hire an escort and get some professionalism, instead of paying a like amount for a 'not tonight, maybe another time'. You had to be careful about single women. James Bond had it right, single girls make things complicated.
You know, a lot of people speak poorly of the other man, but honestly, I think they are just jealous and don't want to make any effort. I mean, I'm at the gym every day. I'm keeping my Mustang, motorcycle and boat cleaned, waxed, and set for company at a moment's notice. I need to make sure I'm always properly groomed and then there is the 'school work'. I need to be conversant in half a dozen women's magazines, current events, and, if I have the opportunity, doing personal research on any particular target I get in sight. The game theory alone is pretty hectic.
Take for example that set of three women over in the back booth. Do you go with the prettiest one and hope to hit the jackpot, or do you go with the ugly duckling who should be begging for attention?
Wrong answer! It doesn't matter what you choose, they are both wrong. First off, hitting on a group of girls without assessing their interest is a loser's bet. If they are having a girl's night out, you say hello, maybe send over a drink to ping their radar, but you stay away! If they're on the pull, then you try to pick out the one with the most baggage. Why? See, you aren't thinking. You need to pass the judgment of three of the most skeptical bitches on the planet. The cynicism of women in bars is pushed up to eleven in general. But if you make a nice guy play for the crazy one, the other two, who KNOW she's crazy, might wonder if maybe a normal girl might have a shot. That way, you get to make your play to all three. And if it works out? All the better. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it.+
But I don't normally do one night stands. It's that reputation thing again. Girls care about theirs and they are very mindful of everyone else's. So you need to make sure yours is not bad. Generally, I find a married woman, make friends and we fuck as long as the guilt doesn't get to be too much for her, she moves, or I get bored. Generally, the guy never finds out. Women cheat smarter. They plan.
So I generally have one or two girls staked out, depending on their availability. A guy needs his 'down time' after all. Fucking four days or nights a week is plenty and still leaves me time for the guys.
I frowned. Not that I had too much of that anymore. See, I broke Rule One: don't shit where you eat. Wes' wife wasn't the hottest in the land, but she seemed lonely. Hell, it hardly took any effort at all! A lot of pent up passion. And I broke Rule Two: Never at her house. It had been a very slow week. Suffice to say, the guys I normally hung out with were not particularly happy with me. Didn't they understand the Man Code? Yeah, I felt bad, but it was free pussy! And I never liked Wes that much anyway, but I missed Phil and Hank.
Wes' wife was trying to fix things but she was staying at her mother's house, so she wouldn't be available. I've been in this racket a long time and if she's not in the same house, much less the same bed as hubby, she's toast. She just doesn't know it yet. I stirred my drink. Maybe in a couple months she'd be good for a few rebound fucks.
So my problem, and the reason I was cruising this club, was that those three assholes were running me down to everyone we knew. I needed to branch out. I was getting older and I really didn't like the looks I was getting from a lot of the people around here. Maybe it was time to move. I heard Cleveland was nice. Maybe Dayton. Lots of lonely military wives there.
It was then that I saw her. She was sort of hard to miss. She wasn't dressed flashily. She had on a tight sleeveless blue button top with a scoop neck and a matching skirt which came down to below her knees. Her flowing blonde hair whipped around as she danced.
And she danced a lot! Oh, she danced with the tall guy, but she was dancing with everyone. Abandon. That's it. She was dancing with abandon and fearlessly.
Yes, she was surrounded by girls in little satin nothings but she was...almost manic. I was getting hard just watching her. I had to join the queue. I had gotten in two dances when I was interrupted by tall, dark and stupid.
Now, I'm not stupid. I gave one buddy a high sign and asked him to see what the dummy was doing. I wasn't going to be lulled into a false sense of security. But Will came back and told me the guy just hopped in this Blue Chrysler and lit out of the place.
So...was he stupid? Was he trusting? Did he not care? What the fuck was up with that offer? Maybe he was in an open marriage? From his offer, he COULD be setting me up. I looked around the club. A bunch of guys were doing the stupid play with her, throwing lines and alcohol with abandon. She'd drink a gulp with a guy, dance once and wait for the next one. Considering she was almost dry humping them, they seemed pretty happy with the results so far. But she didn't seem to have a bunch of heavies or constant companions around. At one point, she looked around a little lost, holding her hand to her brow as she scanned the crowd, probably looking for dickhead.
That was my cue. I approached from behind so my words could give her a little jolt of adrenaline. "He abandoned you. And that's a crime in this state."
She flinched and then turned to me. "You again. My, you are persistent."
"Not persistent. Appreciative. You dance well. You have energy. Anyway, I heard that guy you were with...whoever...he was running out for some smokes or something. Which is just stupid because the barman keeps some hidden behind the bar for sale if you're a guy on the inside." It helps to make yourself look worldly wise.
She laughed. It was a full throated laugh. "I doubt they carry his brand. He has very specialized tastes."
Bingo. We were up to strike two at this point for limp dick. I hadn't seen her smoking so that was probably a wedge issue. Second was being a picky bastard. First it meant he wouldn't be back soon if he needed to run to a tobacconist to refill and second, she probably had some question why this guy had to buy 'one particular brand of crap'. Oh, women'll demand a specific bra, perfume, or brand of purse, but God help a guy if he gets fussy.
He seemed like a cocky son of a bitch, now that I thought of it, but I had the panties of the wives of better men then him in my drawer. And he was insulting. I probably couldn't bring it off, but I'd be damned if I didn't do a full court press.
"I hate to sound trite, but you're new here."
"And you'd know that how?" she asked archly.
"Because I run around this place a lot. I like the energy."
She picked up her drink with her left hand and took a slow sip, a wedding ring flashing in the light of the bar. "Oh? Do you cruise bars a lot?"
"I don't 'cruise' anywhere, unless it's by the lakeshore or down Myrtle Beach. Nah. I meet my friends. I'd meet my girl. Like I said, this place has good music and good dance energy. You have to go somewhere."
"And where is this girl?" she asked, scanning the room.
"Europe. She got a good job opportunity and she grabbed it." You always need to have at least been in a monogamous relationship. Europe gave me a cachet by proxy that I'd either been with a European woman, or was cosmopolitan enough to have attracted a cosmopolitan girl.
