Posts Tagged ‘night game’

Read Part 1

The layout of the club is confusing if you haven’t been there before. People have described it as a labyrinth. All though I know my way around it like the back of my hand now, when I first went there I kept getting lost. This causes HBGlasses to confuse the downstairs dance floor with the upstairs one where her friends are (it’s to do with downstairs being split level). “OMG my friends left me! How could they do that!”. I’m just about to correct her, telling her that we’re still downstairs, and her friends are upstairs. Then a light bulb goes off above my head, cartoon style, “Yeah that sucks of them. You’ll have to come home with me. I’ll look after you”.

She agrees, but wants to finish her drink first, so I sit in a booth running comfort on her as she has her drink. She tells me she has a bf back in the US, and so she hopes I won’t try and take advantage of her when I get her home. She’s delegating all responsibility for any sex that occurs to me at this point. I can live with that. “That’s cool, I understand” I say. “Besides it’s late. I’ll probably be asleep as soon as we get to mine”.

They call it the ‘game’ for a reason. This part, pretending there’s no forethought of sex before an extraction to the sex location seems crazy. You both know what’s happening. You know what she’s saying is bullshit. She knows what you are saying is bullshit. She knows you know what she’s saying is bullshit. You know she knows…you get the impression. The rules of this part of the game seem obvious to me, and it’s easily played. Despite this, I can’t help but imagine many a chode has fucked himself up at this stage, trying to logically and verbally agree that sex will take place at this stage. I don’t blame them, the situation is so absurd it often makes me actually laugh.

More comfort on the way back to mine in the taxi. When I say comfort, I mean she talks and I listen. In most sets getting the girl to talk is the challenge. This isn’t the case with American girls.

Taxi: £25.00, Total: £54.60

We arrive back at mine and settle in. We’re sat on the couch. It’s time to escalate but she won’t stop talking. American girls.  I cut her off mid sentence by taking off her glasses, telling her I want to see her eyes. We kiss passionately. My hand is up her skirt like a rat up a drain pipe and I’m going for the clit. Get her too fucking horny to object before she decides to object is my standard plan in these situations.

She know’s what game I’m playing and stops me sharpish. I think I’ve almost perfected the way I deal with having escalation attempts blocked. I just stop, but never actually acknowledge what happened. This is something I learned from60 Years of Challenge. Once you verbalise a rejection, it becomes official in a girl’s mind. Ignoring the rejection minimises it, and lessens the chance of her falling into the frame of rejecting you.

The two of us sit there in silence for a moment. She looks at me, her eyes burning with lust, “You’re just too damn cute” she says. 60 seconds later we’re in my bed fucking. She gives amazing head, and deep throats me. I’m starting to realise that American girls give better head than English girls. I’ve heard others say this too. God bless America.

As soon as we finish she freaks and wants to go home. I talk her out of it. Travelling all the way across London by bus at this time of night would be crazy. I promise her food and she calms down. We go out to the only takeaway open near my flat at 4am, a budget Southern Fried chicken joint. I think the word’s ‘budget’ and ‘southern fried chicken’ used together give you an idea of how bad the food is, but it all tastes suprisingly nice when a bit drunk.

Chicken: £7.20, Total: £61.80

After we’re done eating I fuck her again. In the morning I buy her an oyster card with some credit on it as promised, and send her home.

Oyster: £10.00, Total: £71.80

So it’s £30 vs £71.80. Still, preferable to actually paying for sex in my eyes.

———————————————
Stats since 1st October:
1 number closes
1 kiss close
2 f closes

Cost of a hooker in Soho, London: £30 (So I’m told…).

It’s a Friday night and the sky looks miserable, but it’s hot. Like tropical hot. The air is thick with water vapor, hinting at a future downpour and makes doing anything physical seem like a big effort. Given this I’m not surprised the bar is dead. I’m just polishing of my first beer.

Beer: £3.70, Total: £3.70

Me and a couple of wings are hitting on girls in a quiet corridor that connects two parts of the bar to one another. The responses are luke warm. We could probably do something with this but the heat and the fact the venue is so dead just seems to be making us lethargic. I’m about to call it an early night when one of my wings suggests a bounce to a club. I don’t like the idea because I’ll have to pay the cover, but I agree to go along just to have a look through the window.

Arriving at the club and looking through the window it isn’t very busy. Probably less than 50% capacity. Despite this, the hotties I see through the window in their short skirts shaking their asses convince me to part with the £10 for the cover charge. I head inside with my two wings.

Cover charge: £10, Total: £13.70

The club’s owners appear not to have heard of air conditioning. It’s sweltering and the dance floors all stink of sweat. I get myself a bottle of beer.

Beer: £4.70, Total: £18.40

I chill out for a bit. I’m really not in the mood tonight. I can’t bring myself to open a single set. I see a girl on the edge of the dance floor dancing and grinding her hips. She looks like an HB6. We’ll call her HBGlasses. The way she moves her body attracts me. I’d like to fuck her, but I’m not sure if the dancing is a DTF indicator or attention whoring.

It’s not quite AA, but I can’t bring myself to approach. This is what I’m like in clubs recently. I don’t have a hardcore fear of approaching, it’s more like an apathy. I almost can’t be bothered to approach. There’s still some anxiety,. it’s just not the full on, stomach churning fear it used to be.

Some time passes. I try hitting on a few girls by standing between the bar and the girls’ toilets and poking or grabbing them as they go by. I try about 3/4 girls but nothing hooks well. More time passes and I find myself on a half empty dance floor. I notice HBGlasses out of the corner of my eye. I make eye contact and smile. She smiles back. It’s on.

“Hello”, I say as I approach. She says hi back, her American accent obvious over the loud music. “Buy me a drink and I’ll dance with you!”, she offers. I laugh, “Dance with me an I’ll buy you a drink”. We dance for a couple of minutes, during which time she refuses the k-close, then she asks me to get her a drink again. I decide she’s only after a free drink and this is going nowhere. I tell her no, and walk away. She comes over to me, “Well I’m going to get a drink, do you want to come with me?”. Now I’m curious as to where this might lead. I agree and take her by the hand and lead her to the bar.

The bar is rammed. Looks like a 15 minute wait for drinks. We chit chat about the differences between clubs in the UK and US for a minute, then I decide we’ll get served quicker at the other bar. I grab her hand and lead her there. She’s a bit drunk and not quite sure where I’m taking her. I tell her it’s OK and she seems happy for me to take the lead.

We bump into one of her friends on our way downstairs. I explain where I’m taking her, and her friend goes upstairs to be with her other friends.

The bar queue downstairs is much shorter, as I knew it would be at this time. She grinds against me as we wait to be served. She orders her drink then asks me what I want. I go for a Jack and Coke. She is sort of making out at this stage that she is going to buy the drinks. Score. My cocks really throbbing by now, this girl can move her ass. American girls can grind much better than other girls. God bless America.

Then the barmaid tells us the cost of the drinks. HBGlasses motions that I’m paying. Cheeky bitch I think. “Cheeky bitch”, I say. “You’ve got the dick, you pay the bill”, she retorts. The fact that I have a huge stiffy and am honestly starting to believe that this girl is DTF leads me to agree and pay the bill. I may say I was right to do this instead of calling her out and refusing to pay because I sensed it was on, but that could be me backward rationalizing a mistake which happened by chance to lead to a good thing. I still wonder whether buying the drinks was a good or bad move in the long term.

Drinks: £11.20, Total: £29.60

We dance and drink for a while. “I have to get back to my friends” she says. She’s off now she’s got the drink. Fuck that. Not on my watch. Not with the size of this erection.

I drag her into a corner and grind her hard, “Wait till you’ve finished your drink, then go back to them”. I get the kiss close moments later. I just know at this stage that I have a good chance of fucking her tonight, so I probe for logistics. Turns out her apartment is all the way over in East London.

Me: Shit, that’s a long way. How are you getting home?

Her: I don’t know, I lost my Oyster card (card for paying for travel on London’s public transport).

Me: I live close by. Just 20 minutes by taxi. You’ll have to come home with me. It’ll be for the best.

Her: I don’t know, I have to find my friends…

Me: Look, I would just take your number but my phone’s out of battery (the truth lol).

Her: That’s a shame

Me: I know. So what we need to do, is go back to my flat so I can charge my phone and we can swap numbers.

She thinks about it intensely for a few moments.

Her: Ok.

Epic.

Her: But I have to find my friends first. I’ll need to tell them.

Fail.

I know if she finds her friends my chances of a lay will plummet. She seemed to be with a fairly large group, so at least one of them will cock block, especially since she’s a little drunk. This girl’s hind brain wants to fuck me so she’s allowing any fuzzy logic that gives her plausible deniability that she’s coming to mine to fuck me to win over her fore brain. Her friends won’t be so easily convinced. We wander off to find her friends. I’m not hopeful.

It’s then that dumb luck intervenes…

To be continued.

———————————————
Stats since 1st September:
1 number closes
3 kiss closes
1 f closes

“Fuck off”.

I feel like simply getting told to fuck off as a blow out is a milestone for me. The opener was simply, “Excuse me. Are you ginger?”. My wing told me calling someone ginger was offensive. Thinking about it I can see how many people would find being called ginger rude, hence the rude blow out. Many readers to my blog may wonder how on earth I wouldn’t realise this and start to question my level of social calibration. You have to bare in mind that I adore red heads and frequent the ginger subreddit (NSFW), so for me the opener was almost a compliment opener.

Obviously this only applies to women. Ginger men are freaks.

———————————————
Stats since 1st September:
1 number closes
3 kiss closes
1 f closes

HBSexyLilDancer

Posted: September 15, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

As usual myself and one wing (only my second time out with this guy) arrive at the club just before 9 to avoid paying the cover charge or hassle getting in. It’s already fairly busy at this time, so I have a feeling it’s going to be a good night.

We kick back and have a beer. My wing is young and eager to get going. I tell him I’m not going to bother opening sets until 10pm. Approaching and running a set can sap your energy, an I don’t want to burn out before prime time (11:30 – 1:30 IMO). I’ve seen so many wings arrive before 9, run around like mad things opening sets for a couple of hours, then bail before midnight because they get tired. This can get you some telephone numbers, but won’t get you an SNL.

My wing opens a passing 2 set as we’re stood by the bar by calling them over. There’s a tall blonde and a short brunette. I take the short brunette. We banter for a bit, and she seems interested with some IOIs coming my way, but I fuck up my response to a shit test and it dies:

Her: We’re in the White Room

Me: Posh. Do you have a big ice bucket full of champagne? That’s what they usually have in there.

Her: Yeah, but I don’t like it. I prefer vodka.

Me: I was just going to say I bet you prefer vodka. I can tell.

Her: So are you saying I’m not sophisticated?

I gave her what was supposed to be a faux guilty look, but I may have just looked like she had caught me out, therefore failing the shit test. In retrospect I should have ignored her question, grabbed her hand saying, “Show me how you move”, then spun her round, pulling her in for the lock in. Bit gamey but would pass the shit test and take the set forward at the same time.

The girls make their excuses and rejoin their friends. At this point a group of girls enters the club. One of them, an HB6 is dancing in a very sexual way as she walks by. We lock eyes for a couple of seconds. She is DTF and attracted to me, so I should definitely open her. I decide the time isn’t right yet. It’s still too early, so I let her walk on by. We’ll call her HBSexyLilDancer. I have a feeling (in my loins) that I’ll be seeing her later.

My wing opens another set in the smoking area which doesn’t come to much. Back in the club, and fast approaching 10pm I decide it’s time to open my first set, so I’m keeping my eyes open. At this time the clubs still only at 1/3rd capacity, so there isn’t much around. We’re going up some stairs as an HB9 is coming up. She’s the hottest girl I’ve seen so far so I open her. I go direct by telling her she looks gorgeous, then I ask her name. Turns out she’s here for her 19th birthday party. 10 years younger than me… Anway, the set doesn’t really hook so I let her go.

In the future I’ll open with what Rob Judge uses, “You’re adorable. I wanted to meet you.”. Although what you open with doesn’t really matter, that opener’s clever from a psychological point of view. I’ll right an entire post on it another time explaining why.

Later my wing and I are standing with our backs to the back of a booth in the golden spot. The golden spot is the spot in any bar / club which is equidistant from both the bar an the girl’s toilets. It’s a high traffic spot that’s perfect for grabbing girls on their own or in pairs as they go past.

My wing has a set that almost hooks, but not quite. I explain to him how locking the girl in against the back of the both can help in hooking sets, as it makes the girl feel like she’s having a conversation with you, rather than feeling like she’s just about to walk off.

I open  an English HB8 that’s walking by with something like, “Hey, I need to talk to you right now. It’s really important. You’re cute, what’s your name?”. It hooks moderately well, but I realise I need to lock her in if this is going to go anywhere.

The banter’s going quite well, but my wing keeps interrupting and breaking my flow. He’s trying to get her to hold his glass. He doesn’t seem to realise dominance should come via finesse, not just barking orders at a girl. Eventually the girl makes her excuses and goes back to her friends. I raise the issue of not interrupting when I’m one one one with a girl to my wing. He told me he was trying to help me lock the girl in. He told him thanks, but no help needed. I explain to him about the bubble of love (from RSD’s Tim) which exists around a guy and a girl before a pull, and how having a third person stops that bubble existing.

After some more drinks, we hit the dance floor. The English girl is there and recognizes me. My wing says I should go for it. I disagree. She’s there pulling silly dance moves with a large group of her girlfriends. And that’s what she wants to do at the moment, have fun with her friends. When she’s done that for a while and had a couple more drinks, then she’ll be ready for having fun with men instead of her girls. So much of it is about being in the right place at the right time. In retrospect I would have danced with her for a bit without any escalation, then left her. This would have created a strong possibility of reopening and easily closing later in the night.

So I’m busting my (terrible, frankly) moves on the dance floor. The place is starting to get busy. There are a reasonable number of decent girls on the dance floor at this point. As I’m browsing this vagina buffet for a target I notice HBSexyLilDancer from earlier. She can really move her body. They say that dancing is the first stage in the human mating ritual, where people dance to attract a mate. Watching her dance now this seems very true.

A quick aside on girls dancing sexy. I’ve started to notice that these fall into two categories:

  1. The attention whore
  2. The girl whose DTF

It’s hard to explain how to spot the difference between the two types, it’s just an experience thing. I can tell HBSexyLilDancer falls firmly into the DTF camp. She’s dancing like she’s the only girl in the world and no ones watching. She’s grinding her hips back and forth just for her, because she’s horny and wants to feel the music in her body, not because she wants to put a display on for the chodes.

I realise that my wing has already made his move; he’s kiss closing HBSexyLilDancer’s friend. He introduces me to her. I turn to HBSexyLilDancer.

Me: Is this your friend?

Her: Yes

Me: Cool. What’s you’re name?

Her: HBSexyLilDancer

Me: That accent…. eastern Europe?

Her: Slovakia… I’m from Slovakia. You?

Me: I’m English. I come from near London.

I take both of her hands and make strong eye contact.

Me: How long has the little Slovakian girl been in London?

Her: Two months.

Me: How many English men have you kissed since you’ve been in London?

Her: None. I have never kissed an English man.

Me: No? That’s so sad.

I move my head towards hers.

Me: You really should try it while you’re here.

I don’t even get to finish moving in for the kiss… She quickly and aggressively bridges the rest of the distance herself and we kiss. Her friend runs off and leaves my wing on his own.

We spend 5 minutes going for it on the dance floor. My hands on her tits, her hands on my cock. Girls often seem to put guys they pull on the dance floor into a box labeled, “Random Dance floor Pull”. They never answer when guys in this box call them the next day. They rarely go home with guys in this box. Obviously, you don’t want to be in this box, and this means getting them of the dance floor ASAP.

I grab her hand and start to lead her hand and start to lead her off the dance floor.

Her: Where are we going

Me: Don’t worry, just down stairs to the restaurant. It’s quiet there, and we need to talk.

Her: OK

I lead her to the restaurant where we sit in a booth and talk. Standard rapport building stuff. I have to admit, building comfort is a weak point of mine. This is especially true with non anglosphere girls. This is bad as there is plenty of girls in London who fall into this category. I just find it hard getting either wide or deep rapport with a girl who’s from somewhere like Europe or South America. I think it’s partly a language thing, partly a culture thing.

After I bit of chat we start to make out again. I put her hand on my cock and she rubs it, but stops me putting my hand up her skirt. I ask her to come home with me, she says no, because she’s not that type of girl. She asks me what I think of that type of girl, and I respond truthfully, “I think the decision to go home with a guy on the first night is down to a girl’s views on sex. I don’t think a girl’s view on sex reflects in any way on the rest of her personality, how how quality she is. In other words I don’t, unlike many guys, believe that a girl’s quality is determined by how quickly she jumps into bed with a man”. I don’t have the whole Madonna / Whore issue going on like many (even community) guys do. In retrospect, a better answer would have been, “That’s just what happens in London. People go home together the first night they meet all of the time”.

I put her hand back on my cock as I make out with her passionately. She gets really into it, and gives me a hand job under the table as I suck on her tits. After this I number close her. An important point to note here is that I didn’t ring her number to make sure I’d got it right till later in the night. Turns out I had entered it wrong the first time. Lesson learned: always ring them when you number close them to confirm the number’s been entered correctly. I tell her I’m going to take her for cocktails in Covent Garden.

After we’re done with all that my wing shows up, and we all go to smoke then I get some drinks in. We talk more and look for her friends, but she can’t find them. After a bit more dancing I’m hungry, so we leave the club and go to a Chinese restaurant. I consider bouncing her back to my flat from here, but she’s still worried about finding her friends, and when she tells me her coat is still at the club that idea is ruined.

She calls one of her friends and it turns out she’s gone to the London Eye with some men. This makes no sense, as it’ll obviously be closed at this time, but it’s random and makes me laugh. Her friend says she will get a bus home from there. This is good news for me, but there are still two of her friends left in the club. It would be preferable to me if she didn’t find them, then I can play the whole, “You’ll have to come home with me” card. We go return to the club.

As soon as we get there we hit the dance floor. She starts touching my cock again. I get turned on so drag her to a table where she wanks me off again. Then back on the dance floor for the rest of the night.

The night is drawing to an end at this point, and back in the club her sexual dancing is attracting the desperate men who haven’t managed to pull.  Despite the fact I’m obviously with her a chode crystal forms around us on the dance floor. Guys try to pull her in multiple ways: eye fucking her as she dances, booty bumping her, trying to grind her. When I’m leading her off the dance floor at the end, I feel resistance. I look back and some cheeky fucker who’d been circling us on the dance floor for the last 20 minutes has actually grabbed her hand and is trying to pull her in. Horniness will make guys bold. I tell him promptly to fuck off. He backs off. If she hadn’t of tossed me off twice already which made me more chilled out, I may well have hit the guy at that point.

As the club kicks out she gets a text. Turns out her other two friends have left. “You’ll have to come home with me then. I’m worried about the thought of you getting the bus on your own”. She’s having none of it.

At that point a fight breaks out. Some guy gets knocked out on the street right near the club, his head hitting the ground with a large cracking sound on the way down. This sends the girl into floods of tears as I ring for an ambulance. Am hoping the guys blood comes out of the white shirt I was wearing when I wash it. Certainly a dramatic end to the night.

I ring her the next evening. We arrange to have cocktails in Covent Garden in a couple of days time. She says she may have to cancel due to work. The next day she cancels via text. I ask her when she’s free, and she tells me she’s very busy this week but will let me know. That was a couple of days ago, and I haven’t text back. That last text wasn’t a good sign. The whole, “I’ll let you know when I’m free” line from a girl usually means they don’t want to see you, but that isn’t always the case. I’ll text her on Saturday and try and set something up for next week if she hasn’t contacted me. I’d say it’s 50/50 for the fclose at this point.

Looking back, the only thing I’d do differently is to make more attempts to put my hand up her skirt. I think I only made one. If I could get some fingers inside her, chances are she’d have been coming home with me so I could finish her off.

———————————————
Stats since 1st September:
1 number closes
3 kiss closes
1 f closes