The Vial
Sometimes he wished it was just a bit more difficult.
Looking in the mirror he contemplated both the night ahead of him and the head in front of him. It had been a good decision to shave everything off, he thought. The clean-shaven head and goatee made him look meaner, and he’d realized a while back that most girls thought the meaner a man looked, the more protection he offered. Girls’ errors in judgment were not his problem though. In fact, you could say that girls’ errors in judgment were his stock in trade.
He grabbed his toothbrush and set the timer for three minutes. While scrubbing viciously on his teeth he planned his movements. He knew which bars he was hitting first, and he knew where he’d probably end his evening. Any good thing that happened in between was just gravy. Last week had been very special and he was still riding that high.
He’d been nervous at first, the cute little blond looked so far out of his league he’d felt like he was batting for his nephew’s tee ball team. But then she’d seen him looking and she’d looked back, and he’d known he had a shot. He’d left that one crumpled in the last stall on the left in the bar’s dimly-lit bathroom. If she’d been conscious he was sure she’d have been smiling. She wouldn’t remember anything that happened, of course. She certainly wouldn’t remember him. He could probably walk up to her tonight and chat her up all over again. But then again, he doubted she’d be out this weekend. She was probably resting up.
Teeth clean and sparkling white and, according to the toothpaste tube, he was now graced with breath as fresh as an alpine breeze. How fresh was an alpine breeze anyway? Fresher than a mountain spring? Fresher than polar ice? He bet that polar ice got pretty rank from time to time; say if someone had just clubbed a baby seal to death on it, or a penguin took a big shit. That wouldn’t be too fresh. His breath was as fresh as just-brushed motherfucking teeth, he decided, and wondered if he’d missed his calling for writing ad copy.
He walked to the bedroom and contemplated his wardrobe. Not great. Things were looking a tad sparse. He took a clean black shirt out of its plastic wrapping and threw the bag to the floor of the closet, adding to the growing pile. Maybe he needed to go shopping, buy some new gear. He hated shopping though. What he really needed was a girl to go shopping with him, or maybe for him. He was crap at picking out things to wear, absolute crap. That wasn’t a straight guy’s forte though, was it? Dressing himself? Nah.
Now… wallet? Check. Keys? Check. Abundant cash? Check. Vial of what amounted to pure liquid love? That’s a big fat check right there, hombre.
Life before this little glass vial had been… problematic. Difficult. Never knowing how the night would end. Standing around uncomfortable, awkward, wearing a dorky outfit and a goofy grin as often as not. Now, life was easy, certain, sure. Every weekend he met the most extraordinary women, and they loved him so intensely he thought sometimes he’d die of it. Relaxed, comfortable women who were kind and smelled good and smiled gently at him through bleary, tear-filled eyes. He’d get them away from their pesky friends, he’d get a little privacy and then he’d… well, gentlemen didn’t kiss and tell, did they?
He climbed into his car and thought back to his first clumsy attempt at the routine that was now slick and glossy. Miranda. He pressed the middle syllable of her name against the roof of his mouth. Mi-raaaan-dah. She’d actually pulled a knife on him. Slurring, she called him a fucking creep and had fled behind the bar, where the bartender started giving him nasty looks as he listened to her story. He stayed well clear of that bar now. He stayed well clear of girls like Miranda, who looked like they knew what was up. He targeted the lonely, the out of place, the girls who looked persuadable. The girls whose friends weren’t paying attention, the girls who weren’t sure what bar they were in, or what neighborhood. Adding to their confusion hardly seemed a sin.
Swinging his car into the parking lot he smiled and checked his teeth in the mirror. White and gleaming, breath still minty-fucking-fresh. He was ready for another night out on the town.
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[...] to have your thoughts, critique, words of wisdom etc. Teaser below, check it out in its entirety here. Sometimes he wished it was just a bit more [...]
@Heidi Thx babe. Creeping people out – my specialty.
=)