A Good Night at the Bar
Who Am I kidding here?
I suck at picking up women.
This was my second night of a four day trip away from my apartment in Spokane, Washington. If I were in Spokane, I would be content in siting in my living room and feeling sorry for myself. But hanging around in a motel room is just not the same as hanging around a living room in your home. At least at home I could find a decent movie on cable and pop some popcorn. But here I am out of town headed into what I was assured was the very best place in town to pick up a piece of ass.
At 7:30, relatively early for a singles bar on a Saturday night in Leavenworth, Washington, it was easy to find a parking place near the lounge door. I entered and took a seat at the bar. It was one of those horseshoe shaped bars, and my seat was at the back of the bar, from where I had a clear view of the entry and most of the chairs in the joint. The bartender came over and asked, "Get you something friend?"
I looked at her very carefully and then I asked, "mind answering a couple of questions before I decide what I want to order now?"
"As long as you understand that if the question is about you and me, the answer now and at closing time will be no. As long as you understand that, go ahead and ask away."
"Don't take this wrong, but you're too young and too good looking and too classy for a mid-thirties fossil like me to pick up in a bar, especially a bar where the young, cute, classy lady is working. So now that we have established that I am one smart SOB, here is the first question. Supposing that just because the guy was smart doesn't mean he wouldn't be interested in a good looking classy lady do the twist and the waltz and the mattress boogie with, and figuring that in your profession you know what kind of business you guys are expecting tonight, what is likely to be the mix of men to women and in the women, local women and tourists?"
"I'm Debbie, and it will be pretty slow for the next hour, so we can talk about this. Just so we can be on the same page, here is what I understand is going on. You more or less agreed not to hit on me, but you want my help in finding some poor lost soul that will go back to your place and drop her panties. Would that be accurate?"
"More or less. And it is a technicality, but I did not agree not to hit on you. I did not promise I would never hit on you. I promised not to hit on you tonight here in the bar. There is a difference. But since we have got past that little disclaimer, yes, I am trying to do my homework before I spend my hard earned expense account dollars on some lost cause."
"So if we are going to have a conversation, you have the advantage of me. You know my name, and I don't know yours."
"Sorry, Debbie, I forgot my manners. I'm Dave. My name is David, but I'm Dave. So what is tonight likely to be like?"
"First, tell me one thing. Who approves you putting a bar charge on your expense account? Most business travelers are always asking me if we can include their bar tab on their restaurant bill. Who approves your expense account?"
"Well, I am somewhat lucky. The policy of my company is that when one of our managers is out of town, particularly on weekends, we understand that simply hanging around their motel room and watching television can be very bad for the corporate morale. And believe me, we want our managers to be happy."
She laughed as she asked, "how do you find a boss that gullible?"
"Well, to be honest with you, be self-employed."
"You're serious, aren't you? You don't really have an expense account; you just work for yourself."
"Yes, I work for myself. I mean, I do have a real job, I work in sales in the communications industry in Spokane. Additionally, I run a speaking, training and consulting business on the side, and I am here because of that business. But for tax purposes, the expense account is real, and the documentation about what is allowed is spelled out in my employee handbook. And unlike ninety nine percent of other people in my shoes, my expense account expenditures will stand up to an IRS audit. So how do I spend my money wisely tonight?"
"This might turn out to be a good night for you. We have a convention in town that is one of those sleepers, the Washington State Society of Legal Transcriptionists. The name of the group doesn't say women, but the convention attendance is over eighty percent female."
"Why would that make a difference in my competition?" I asked.
She smiled as she replied, "since we are the closest nice place to the convention center that has live music and dancing, we end up getting a lot of traffic from people who attend those meetings. These are people who are out of town and somewhat anonymous. We also have about ten or twelve guys around here that watch the local paper to see what conventions are in town, and if the name of the group includes the word women, those parasites descend on us like a plague of locusts. Most of them are okay, but there is a group of four married guys who play poker together, and they will tell their wives that they are playing in a poker tournament at one of the other bars here in town, but they are in here working like a tag team to bag a piece of ass. But they are not smart enough to know this is a women's group, so you might find yourself in what we say is a target rich environment."
"Next question, what time to things usually start to pick up?"
"Eight thirty, nine or so. Local rules make us shut down at midnight on Saturday, so closing time comes early. Make your move by eleven so that if your first choice chickens out you will have some shot at a second pick."
"Can I get a burger and fries served at the bar?"
"You bet," she said as she handed me a bar menu.
I looked it over and said "give me your classic cheeseburger, a small fries and a cup of black coffee, if you would please. And then after you have placed the order, come back over here and help me scope out my competition for the night. Looks like there are a few basic hard dicks hanging around here. The smart ones and the desperate ones always get there early."
She walked the ten steps from the bar to the kitchen window and hung an order slip on the carousel. Then she looked around the restaurant and the bar and walked back to where I was seated. "Dave, can I ask you a question before I pimp you out to these convention sluts and local bar flies?"
"Ask away. As long as you understand that if the question is about you and me, the answer now and at closing time will likely be yes. As long as you understand that, then ask away."
"Dave," Debbie looked me right in the eye and smiled as she said, "everyone likes a little ass, but no one likes a smart ass. My question was going to be, since you said you would never hit on me in this bar, just out of curiosity, where would you hit on me?"
"I'm going to give you a really serious answer just so you will get an idea of what my brain works like. I've seen enough and heard enough to understand that there is more to you than a pussy and a mouth. You work hard, you would score a 9.5 or higher on any sane person's ten point rating scale for looks, you can carry on a decent conversation, you have a good insight into the human psyche, and a guy that focuses on a fling with you might just ought to think that you might be long term partner material. And if I were local, I would just keep listening to you during the evening. Sooner or later you are going to says something that gives me a clue to the Debbie outside this place, and I would follow up on that clue until I find you away from here. And then I would ask you for a date to go to a movie or to dinner or something like that where we could talk without the interruptions that come here. Speaking of which, here come a couple of my competitors. Competitors for the ladies that will be in here and competition for your attention right now."
As she left to get their orders, one of the waitresses got her attention and pointed to a tray in the service window. Debbie pointed to me and the waitress brought me my burger, fries and coffee. I had taken about three bites when Debbie came back and asked, "how's the burger?"
"Not bad, actually. Better than the average bar burger. So how much competition are they?"
"Unless we get the situation where some woman comes in here with the intention that she is going to fuck the first guy that asks her to dance and one of them gets to her first, I doubt they are any threat to you."
"You mean some women come in and leave with the first guy that talks to them? Why would they do that?"
"Two main reasons, Dave. First, they may just be lonely. They are locked into a life where they have to be so circumspect back home that they feel they can't have a social life, or they have been burned in a relationship and finally decide to break loose. Or the second reason is revenge. They just found out that their husband is fooling around on them, or he has spent a lot of money in a way that she thinks he cares more about himself than he does about her or about their relationship. One lady from Seattle comes in here at least a month, and I got to know her because she sometimes sits at the bar, and people talk to bar tenders. She wanted her husband to take her to Europe on vacation this summer, instead he spent twenty two thousand dollars on a fishing boat that he will take out three or four times a year, and she decided to get even instead of getting mad. Her business gives her excuses to be here at least once a month, she has to be in Vancouver BC at least twice a month and Salt Lake City once a month. She decided that she was better looking and surely as good in bed as some of those high class call girls that make the news occasionally. One story said their rates were a thousand and up, so she figures that she is entitled to fuck twenty two guys. The last time I talked to her she was on number seventeen. And by the way, the revenge girls are the best fucks and the most dangerous."
"Oh really!! Would you explain that to me?"
"A woman out for revenge wants to feel something. She is seeking both vindication for the transgression and verification, verification of herself as a desirable woman. The shy little prudish housewife back home, who would never put a man's dick in mouth will suck off the first guy who has enough whatever it is some guys have to get her to make out with him on the dance floor. But that brings up the dangerous part. Most really nice guys that find some decent looking chick who will suck his dick think that such a woman would deserve for him to go down on her. What he fails to understand is that if she is not blowing her husband, he is probably not doing much orally with her either. First decent pussy eater she encounters will blow her out of the water and she will fall in head over heels in love with him. Dangerous when she tells her husband that she is now in love with someone else, dangerous if the guy has a wife back home who he sort of forgot about during that moment, and the new little girl shows up on his porch with her suitcase."
"Never a dull moment in your job, is there?"
"Dave, the job is usually pretty dull, the people I deal with include the best and the worst of humanity. But every once in a while I get to meet someone like you, a man that under different circumstances would be worth dropping those hints about ways to connect outside of work. But tonight, I get to be your wing man, as my brother the Air Force fighter pilot calls it.
Lesson number one. See those three women who just walked in? They are local. You didn't notice it, but they came in the back door. Each of them have their cars parked out back, usually backed into the parking place so they can just drive away quickly. They come in together, they let guys buy them drinks all night long, they rub all up against the guys on the dance floor, and then just before closing time they will tell their dates they have to use the restroom and then they leave the guys hanging while they wait for those surefire sluts who never come back. They drink a lot, they never buy their own drinks, and think they are so cool. If you want someone who will rub her pussy all over you, just dance with one of them. But be careful about buying any of them a drink."
I nodded and then I looked around the room. "How about the two guys sitting at the end of the bar? They act like they are both here alone, but they walked in at the same time and they were talking about something when they came in, so they are not strangers."
"Give the man a cigar," Debbie said. "They are attorneys here in town, and they are brothers. They leave the local girls alone, but they fall all over themselves to dance the first dance with new women. And every once in a while one of them gets lucky and gets a revenge fuck. But they are really low class. Even after one of them has gotten a woman back to their place, they continue to pour alcohol into her, and if she gets drunk enough, they will convince her that it would be so erotic to have two men at once, and since she is out of town, no one will ever know about it. So I have a real problem with that."
"With a girl doing a gang bang?"
"No, that's not the issue. To me what they do is only just a shade better than the guys who use the date rape drugs. Hell, if a girl wants to let two or three or twelve guys unload in her sequentially, that should be her business. But not if she had diminished capacity to make that decision. Hey, enough of the downer stuff. See the two guys at the table to the left in the back? They are nice guys who have no clue. They almost always both go home alone. The older guy in the center in the back, on the other hand, is a different story. His name is George, and I call him grabby hands. He ignores the under thirty women, and he will ask any woman over thirty, even those who look to be sixty or even older to dance. He is a good dancer, but he can't keep his hands off a woman's ass. Overall, he connects perhaps one week out of three, but a lot of time it is with someone who is a little older or a little chubby or both."
"Debbie, there could be a country music song in there somewhere. All women are beautiful at closing time."
By now, a few people were starting to come in, so Debbie got busy. She motioned for me to change to a seat closer to her station at the bar and I did. "This way we can talk easier if you don't mind. Keep your eyes open and let me know when you see someone you want me to scope out for you."
"Jet black hair, red dress at the two top on the other side of the bar. Been here five minutes, you just filled her drink order."
"Not anyone I remember ever being here before. Just watch, there are about four guys fixing to descend on her. She is out of their league."
"Why would you say that?"
"There are no rings on her hands, which is not absolute proof she is not married, but at one time someone wanted her all to himself. See the way that necklace on she has on reflects the light off the candle at her table. That's a couple thousand worth of jewelry there, and whoever gave it to her was marking his territory. Normally a woman doesn't wear that unless she is with the man it links her to, so this should be interesting. You interested?"
"Depends. Let the bar dogs sniff her our first, don't want to get into anything with someone who is crazy. For me, she is really good looking, even before I have had anything to drink. I do think I will move to the other side of the bar where I have a better change of hearing what is said when men talk to her. When I get seated, bring me my usual."
"This is the first time you have been here. How would I know your usual?"
"No shaved ice. On the rocks okay?"
"You bet," I said as I moved to a stool near her table. As Debbie sat my Scotch down, I had my back to the black headed girl's table, but if I turned as if I was watching the band, it was clearly in view. I could hear most conversation quite clearly. Shortly, one of the attorney brothers approached her table and asked ir he could buy her a drink.
She smiled as she replied, "you can sit and talk to me, but I buy my own drinks, okay?"
"Liberated woman, huh?" he said as he sat down. "My name is Paul, Paul Bonner. And you are?"
"Paul, I'm Connie, and if you think that buying my own drinks makes me a liberated woman, then I am relatively sure that you would be terribly uncomfortable with the things I would want you to do if you succeeded in getting me back to your place for tonight. I'm sure you are a really nice man, but trust me, I'm not your type."
I laughed under my breath and watched. As Paul stood to leave, the band began to play. He had been gone no more than a minute when a man I had not noticed before came and ask her to dance. She got up from the table and danced with him. They danced to two songs in a row, one a fast song and the other a slow dance. I watched them on the dance floor, and it was obvious that he wanted to continue dancing, but she was firm about leaving the dance floor. They returned to her table and he sat down across from her. I could hear him saying "Connie, let me buy you a drink and we can talk."
"You said your name was Martin?" she asked. He nodded and she continued, "Martin, give me our hands." She held out her hands and he gave her his. She ran her right index finger down his left hand ring finger. "You can take off the ring, you can even put some makeup on it to hide the little tan line that a wedding ring makes, but Martin, you can't hide the softness of skin that is totally protected from the sun. Too bad you feel you have to deceive people. I have had some fun with a few married men. I even knew a couple of them were married and went ahead anyway. But you can buy me drinks all night and you will just have less money when you leave tonight. So no, I won't let you buy me a drink."
As Martin slunk away, a few more men asked her to dance. She danced with two other men, again saying no to their request to buy her a drink. Then I looked up and grabby hands George approached her table. He used a more direct approach. "Hi, I'm George and I would be honored if you would dance with me." He held out his hand to her and she took it and followed him to the dance floor. The band was playing a slow number, and I got a kick out of watching him put his hand on her ass and her moving it up. The second time she moved it up again, and the third time, she simply said something to him and walked off the dance floor and back to her table. George sat down on the far side of the bar, and I could see he was still watching her. Nothing creepy, but he was still interested.
I felt it was time for me to have some fun. I stood up from the bar, turned toward her table, and said, "if I promise not to make the same mistake that last guy did would you dance with me?"
"Depends, what mistake do you think he made?"
"To me," I replied, "you look like the kind of woman that you need to kiss before you grab her ass. I promise you I won't grab your butt until after we have kissed and only then if you have kissed back. So you want to dance?"
"I hate to dance with strangers, and I don't know you," she said.
"Hello, gorgeous, my name is David Jensen. If you will tell me your name, then we will have been introduced."
She smiled at me as she said, "my name is Connie. Connie West. Pleased to meet you, Mr. David Jensen."
"Well, Ms. Connie West, may I have the honor of being your dance partner for tonight?"
"I would be delighted," she said. Suddenly the smile on her face gave way to a serious expression. "Wait a minute. Did you say for tonight? What happened to may I have this dance?"
"Yes, Connie, I did say for tonight."
"Why. What causes you to want to monopolize my time tonight?
"Connie, do you think you could keep on open mind if I give you an honest answer?" She nodded, and I continued. "Now, when old grabby hands put his hands on your butt the third time you clearly demonstrated that you could walk away from a dance partner. But fact is, I am drawn to you for two reasons. First, you are clearly the best looking woman in the place tonight. Second, your demeanor says you are one classy lady. If I get lucky tonight, I don't want to be screwing some second rate bar slut. Tonight, if everything goes right, I want to be making love to a classy lady."