I see you driving your rich fancy cars, only care for me when I walk down the street of your posh suburb neighborhood, sidewalks of which you removed to maximize property values. You think I'm out of place, but really, all I'm doing is survival.
It takes a little time, but I befriend your woman as a matter of surveillance and positioning. I only go after the ones that I like. The ones who look feisty, bored and up for some games. You can see their man has put obligations between him and her, and she's just looking for a fantasy that puts her outside his domain. I provide this.
My overall cover is that of international travel writer, which lends a favorable air to my pursuits. Adventurous, but not dangerous. Intelligent, but not boring. More-so, a convenient excuse for changing apartments every 6 months or so.
Those beige boxes that serve as a stopping point out of the house for many of your teenagers, Glen Apartments, are where I conduct my business and ply my trade.
I am certain to have an apartment aside from the general traffic flow of the complex. It takes a little research and effort to accomplish this, but I need a place where I can bring several different women during the week without arising undue suspicion.
Pay me, they do. For all the things they want that you can't do for them. Some of these things you've never even heard about. And you never hear about them. Unless things go wrong, and as affairs go, sometimes mine inevitably go fuck all.
That's ok though. I always fuck with a rubber, I got myself snipped long ago, just to avoid the genetic evidence in the form of child. I practice a variant of Tantric sex. Acknowledging my feelings of pleasure from the act of intercourse, so I can control my physical, and more important, emotional response to the situation.
You see, falling in love would be a terrible career move. I can't get involved with any of these woman's lives. I am a play thing, here for a few nights of fun. This is the only vocation I've ever known.
And I do quite well, by conventional standards. True, I don't have a car except for a large non-descriptive van that I use to find interesting women. And I still only have an apartment and a modest wardrobe. But I need to move quickly in case of disaster.
It's happened before, a beautiful women, she had white hair, and a very youthful and vibrant face. She was an artist feeling trapped by her business-hippee husband. She never got the encouragement, space and praise to pursue her craft. He just used her for his own purposes, which she was far too willing to give, in the name of love.
Lust was left by the wayside. That carnal, animal pleasure that you adore about her did not go away, you simply chose to ignore it. Don't worry, it's still there, I found it.
I look at this as a form of therapy, because usually in serious relationships people don't truly want to leave the other, they're just sexually frustrated with the situation.
Indeed, you should be happy that I talk your woman through the pleasures of her own body. She often returns with greater love in her heart and a renewed enthusiasm from being somewhere exotic.
At least, that's the way it's supposed to work.
And then there are the times it goes terribly wrong.
My MO is this. I seduce a woman by finding the single external interest she has, be it yoga, gardening, or music, and participating with her in it in some way. You can't be there because that's HER thing. It's usually easy to tell, she walks to the car with her yoga mat or there's some other external evidence of something. If not, they're probably kind of boring anyway.
