Hitori: Social Status / Women Explained

A WORD OF WARNING: I'm a chick, so this is posted in Playettes. If I were a
guy, I would post it in Advanced, because if you're not getting laid already
this WILL NOT HELP YOU. Knowing how an airplane works doesn't mean you can fly
it.
With that said:
Chick logic makes sense.

THE BASIC PRINCIPLE
Chicks act at all times to _gain_ and _maintain_ social status. This is more
important to them than getting laid.

QUALITIES OF HIGH STATUS PEOPLE

-They are admired and desirable.
All manner of people fit into this category, and _to a certain extent_ it's
cyclical; if you have high social value you're admired, and if you're admired
you have high social value. On the other hand, there are all kinds of ways to
be desirable and admired; hot chicks fit into this category, but so do
politicians, rocket scientists, rockstars, PUAs, and rich men.
In this category HBs have the upper hand. Evolution has engineered men to pick
partners for health and beauty, so a nice set of tits WILL take you further in
this world than a nice set of pecs. Go figure.

-They are relaxed and confident
Confidence is VITAL to high social status. It doesn't matter whether you're
confident because you graduated from the school of hard knocks or because
you've had everything you ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter; if
you're confident, you are relaxed in the knowledge that you can handle whatever
life throws at you, and succeed at whatever you undertake.
You'll vibe this confidence at the people around you, and it will be a powerful
positive experience for them. HSE people will appreciate you, and LSE people
will desire or envy you.
Relaxation and confidence also means you're NOT NEEDY. This is good because
needy men tend to come across as either pathetic or dangerous.

-They behave naturally
This is what it means to 'be yourself', in the classic dating-advice sense. It
doesn't mean burp and fart and be depressing if you feel like it. It means
DON'T BE TRYHARD. I cannot stress this enough. Fake it till you make it, of
course, by all means, but for God's sake MAKE IT. Socially intelligent people
can -tell- when you are incongruent, and for women it's not just weird; it can
actually be alarming.
It implies that you're hiding something - possibly one of the more dangerous
low-social-status traits like fear, volatility, or disdain for the
unattainable.

-Their time and energy has value
If you have high social value, you recognize that your time and energy ALSO
have value. This means you're willing to cut off boring threads of conversation
- even with desirable people - and that you spend your time doing things that
are ultimately productive, either in fun-value or in other ways.
If some HB wanders off 'to the bathroom' or 'to go dance' on you, you have run
out of fun-value. Sorry, tiger.

-They are socially intelligent
If you are socially intelligent, you know the score. You can tell who is
tryhard and who is not, who gets laid and who doesn't, what it means when two
chicks eyecode each other, etc etc ad infinitum. You understand, intuitively,
who has social status and who doesn't, and what's going on when two people
flirt, and all manner of other things.
THIS MEANS YOU DO NOT HAVE TO VERBALIZE IT. FEELING YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT
AS IT HAPPENS SHOWS YOU ARE *NOT* SOCIALLY INTELLIGENT. FIGHT THE URGE.
This means no "You're flirting with me, aren't you?!"s, no "Your pupils are
dilated... They say that means women are turned on...".
HANDLE THESE PRONOUNCEMENTS WITH THE UTMOST CARE. People who recognize this
shit with regularity _do not need to talk about it_. When you go to a football
game with your buddies, do you all sit around going, "Look at that... He kicked
the ball into the endzone! That means a goal, right? Awesome! He made a goal!"
NO! YOU DO NOT. You know the score.
The bad news about social intelligence is that if you are a guy most chicks, by
and large, will have more of it than you. The good news is that it's an easy
skill to acquire; all it takes is a willingness to observe people interacting
and to TRUST the things you perceive this way. Most guys I know see many of the
same things that women do, but because they don't (at first glance) have a
clear logical framework to put them in, they ignore them as untrustworthy.

QUALITIES OF LOW STATUS PEOPLE
-They seek approval and acceptance
People with low social status suffer from a deficit of validation. Sometimes
they legitimately don't get the recognition they deserve, and suffer from
unwillingness or inability to reframe; other times it's because they're
neurotic and LSE and no amount of validation will ever be enough. Unable to
validate themselves, they seek approval and acceptance from other people.

-They are volatile and anxious
The world is a frightening place when you don't know what's going to happen
next and you don't know if you'll be able to deal with it, whatever it is.
People without confidence react to this great, frightening unknown with a level
of perpetual anxiety that they vibe at others. Driven by their own percieved
helplessness and rage, they will explode with fits of anger, or display
disproportionate fear; of women, of change, etc.

-They try to buy what they can't earn
In terms of social status, this is very important. People who don't understand
how to DHV will try to BUY approval. On ASF, this is known as supplication. It
DOES NOT increase your social status or make you desirable to women. If it's
clear you're trying to buy appproval, you will LOSE VALUE. A chick's reaction
to a man she does not already find desirable supplicating for approval is about
the same as YOUR reaction when you stop at a red light and some hobo goes to
squeejee your windshield for dollars. Maybe you'll give him your spare change,
sure - but what if he was asking for sex? Would you bang him?
I thought not.

-They disdain what they can't have
People with low social status disdain what they can't have. Helpless to attain
what they desire, they reject it pre-emptively instead.
This means men who hate hot women.
This means women who hate hot women.
This means UGs who hate the idea of anyone getting laid.
This means men who hate confident, competent men.

-They are NOT socially intelligent
People with low social status are not socially intelligent. If you misuse or
DON'T use kino, this is you. If you can't recognize an AI when it whacks you
upside the head, this is you. If you don't know when to escalate, this is you.

TRANSFER OF STATUS

These are general principles of things that will increase your social status.
If you don't have any in the first place, these -will not work-, I repeat,
-will not work-. They require a steady foundation of at least moderate
coolness. With that said...

YOU GAIN STATUS WHEN:
-Your worth is recognized and appreciated
The higher the social status of the person appreciating you, the more status
you gain. This is key. KEY KEY KEY KEY. Get out a highlighter, use it on your
computer monitor if you have to. Remember this.
THIS IS WHY SOCIAL PROOF WORKS.
Not only that; if you establish high value, women WILL RISK LOSING VALUE to
gain your approval. They'll gamble. They'll chase you.
This is also why, in those instances when you overqualify and DHV the fuck out
of some poor HB7 until she locks up, you MUST qualify her. If you do not
qualify her, you are obviously not recognizing and appreciating her genuine
merit - there is NO REASON for someone as cool as you to take a legit interest
in her. You are using her as a blow-up doll that moans.
The higher your social value, the more women will want you to recognize and
appreciate them. If you're a sufficiently cool PUA, women will try to snag you
for an LTR _even if they're not looking for an LTR otherwise_, just for the
implicit social proof you provide. This is purely social reflex. More to the
point, of course, they'll hook up with you.

-People seek your approval
When people qualify themselves to you, or visibly try to impress you, they are
being TRYHARD. But what this says to someone who knows the score is that you
have social value. You are worth impressing; more, to LookAtMeLikeMeDude, you
are worth losing status to impress.

-You display competence naturally
When you DHV without being tryhard, you gain cool-points. This isn't rocket
science, and should not require explanation.

-You cement someone's position beneath you
There are, essentially, three ways of cementing someone's position beneath you;
you can give them the carrot, give them the stick, or give them both at once.
For any of these to work, you must have the social status to back them up. This
doesn't create something from nothing; it broadens the divide that already
exists.
It's possible to display higher value than someone by being nice; if they seek
your approval and you grant it, or call them 'cute' or other
nice-but-diminutive-nicknames, or act - more generally - in a parental sort of
way. Also included here is genuinely helpful advice, on fashion or food or PU.
It's possible to display higher value than someone by being cruel; you can call
them out on their flaws or their low-status behaviors easily enough. There is a
danger, here, of seeming to snub because you envy. Envy implies uncoolness.
Finally, there exists the backhanded compliment or subtle snub. You out-AMOG
some guy like he's one of your best pals, and on the surface it's all in good
fun, but his value plummets and yours soars. Likewise, if you neg some chick or
use TD's Elastic Snapband Effect, her value -insta-drops- and because women are
-driven- to maintain social status, she will immediately hop-to to get it back
up. It's not about getting laid; the IOI, in this case, is all about value.

-You IMPLICITLY display social intelligence
IMPLICITLY. In other words, you THINK LIKE A CHICK. You eyecode. You
AMOG-destroy. You are part of the 'Secret Society'.
Here I'm going to back up on everything I've implied so far and say the
reverse; it's possible to explicitly display your social intelligence and make
it work. HANDLE WITH CARE, though. This is DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. If you don't
have the value to pull it off, you'll look like a creepy presumptuous loser.
If some chick is clearly trying to qualify herself to you, or transparently
DHVing, or even just struggling for your attention, you can neg-qualify her in
the following manner, playfully:
"It's okay, you don't have to (do that/try hard/whatever) to get my attention.
See?" Throw an arm around her, kinohug her. The first time a guy did this to
me, it hit me like a -bomb- of insta-hotness. By doing this, you simultaneously
A) drop her value relative to yours, B) grant her attention from a position of
power, and C) show you know the score.

-You screen
If you screen people who are attracted to you, you increase your relative
value. This is why women maintain that NO WOMAN EVER DELIBERATELY GETS LAID
with a man who is not wildly attractive and high-status. But WE know that of
course women get laid on purpose! It's not like that HB8 you did over the
weekend tripped, fell, and landed on your dick. If someone CHASES you, their
status is lower than yours. This is why you say, "Want to come over and look at
my stamp collection?" rather than, "Want to come over and have sex?". SLUTS
CHASE. Chicks with value are accustomed to screening. It's important for her to
maintain the illusion that she did not INTEND to fuck you, in order to maintain
her social value.
A good way to display social intelligence is to understand and accommodate
this. This is why explicitly acknowledging the seduction process is dangerous:
if it's out on the table, out loud, that you're trying to fuck her and she
-goes along with it anyway- she LOSES FACE because she's been UNMASKED as a
co-conspirator in your getting laid.
This is where chick logic comes from. I'll write another post on it, sometime.

YOU LOSE STATUS WHEN:
-You show outcome-dependence
When you show that you are outcome-dependent, you LOSE FACE. By demonstrating
outcome-dependence, you make it clear that you aren't having fun (which
high-status people do, remember) - instead you are gambling your time and
status in the hopes of pay-off in the form of sex with this chick who you
clearly regard as COOLER THAN YOURSELF. You are acknowledging her value. She is
the prize. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200 dollars.

-You try to buy approval
You supplicate. You imply that you don't know how to legitimately display your
own worth, so you need to resort to trying to buy the approval of those you are
implicitly acknowledging as being higher-value than yourself. If she wasn't
cooler than you, why would you care what she thought?

-Your position is cemented as below someone
You are out-amog'd. You are treated in a diminutive way. Some chick gives you
bad relationship advice and you eat it up without critical thinking. This is
all explained above, in the 'gaining status' section.

-You chase
Chasing is a _gamble_. Chasing is aggressive pursuit. It can succeed, sure -
but it allows the other person, the higher-status person, the chas-ee- the
ability to screen. They choose, you don't.
SLUTS CHASE. Women will avoid being labelled 'sluts' at all costs because they
are at the BOTTOM of the social totem-pole, with the WBAFCs. Sluts in the
traditional sense are women whose need for validation is so great that they
have gambled away all their buying power trying to fill it.
A woman who is perceived as slutty has a hard time finding quality ass because
quality ass is likely to screen _her_. She is a LAST RESORT FUCK.
Not only that, but other women (and men) on their way up the social ladder will
step on her, on the way. They will use her to reinforce their own superiority.
The 'slut' is a lightning-rod for the 'cement someone's position as below you'
method of gaining status.
Sad, but true.

WHAT THIS MEANS FOR THE PUA

For the PUA, this is GREAT. This is WONDERFUL. Why is this great for the PUA?
Because the PUA has -worked- for his social status, and he knows how he got it.
It was not delivered by the stork along with a nice set of tits, or trim and
shapely thighs and a button nose; no, he's invested field work and sweat and
other bodily fluids in getting good, and he is -good-.
Thus he can work women in ways that women are not equipped to work him.
Consider the following analogy; who's better off, a self-made millionare or a
lotto winnner? The self-made man! Why? Because he knows the value of his money,
and how to invest it and make it grow.
Some of this seems ruthless; be aware that women aren't thinking about it, when
they do it. For most women, this is all pure instinct.

as seen on Fast Seduction

GoneSavage: LR pt 3: Montreal: Flipping the Sexual Script

“Try not to become a man of success, but rather a man of value.” –Einstein

The next day HBfashiondesign sends an email. It’s rather neutral, but, hey, she sent it the very next day. And she’s making an effort at sustaining our friendship:

”I hope everything is going well for you...I'm actually at my mother's house and I was so tired from my day of work that I ended up sleeping till 4 pm this afternoon. I fell asleep outside on my terrace under the sun...and I just woke right now in my messy room. I don't work tomorrow so if you have something in mind, just call me. I would love to go kayaking near Tremblant on the lake...but I need to find the number...well we’ll see! Anyway, call me, alright?”

I call her and she tells me about a couple nice things: When she went to work, everyone noticed her smiling and her positive energy. Her roommates and friends commented that she seemed particularly happy and joyful. And her parents noted that, for whatever reason, she really seemed to exhibit an exuberant joie de vivre. How nice. We talked about getting together, but she was swamped with work and family commitments or whatever. Okay, no problem. We’re friends, and I think pursing a get-together at this point would broadcast a more-than-friends expectation.

I didn’t hear from her for six days. I don’t think I called her at all. If I did call, then I didn’t catch her and I know I didn’t leave a message. Didn’t send her any emails. Anyway, this was the week that I hit my remarkable sexual streak. Things truly exploded for me (as I am still documenting). I get an email on Sunday, July 31st:

”I keep wondering where you are because I didn't get any message from you or anything. I hope you're doing pretty fine....discovering the wonderful city of ours. The thing is: I'm an expert on every beautiful aspect and detail of Montreal, so you might consider giving me a call tomorrow during the day because I would love to see you for dinner or at night I suppose. Please leave me a message telling me when you are going to call me so I can make sure to be there when you do. Otherwise, you'll miss a beautiful night with me, with everything that comes with it. I don't work Tuesday and I’m going to be in Montreal for sure. I have to catch some sleep now (even though I'm supposed to go out again...) so that's it for me for tonight. Sleep tight, and you know what? I did go kayaking yesterday....it was surreal!”

I’m playing this LJBF thing cool, but fuck me if that “everything that comes with it” statement doesn’t look like an SOI. Okay, she’s Quebecoise, so I’m sure something’s lost in translation. Not going to read into things. So I call her Monday night and we make plans to meet in the Old Port on Tuesday.

Day3A

I almost missed her again. I picked a statue that I thought was the most obvious central landmark in the area. Of course, she’s at a different statue of which I had no knowledge. I wait like thirty minutes, call it a loss, and wander off to do my thing. Apparently she did the same. We run into each other in an area several bocks away, sort out the statue mishap, and walk together for several blocks. She’s with her friend—one of the initial girls from the bar.

They take me to this hotel that displays some poems of the city’s most well known poet. They’ve done a couple fashion shows here. I take some time to explore her interest in fashion design and learn that she is very passionate and driven to succeed in this area. I’m playing the ‘friend’ role and I’m not doing anything flirtatious except for maybe very casual kino, like a brush against her arm or a playful tap. My approach is about the same with the other girl, which I guess is a little flirty, since we have not established a friendship. I lead them to the terrace of this hotel, which they had never checked out.

Leaving, we get caught in a rainstorm. My girl starts dancing in the rain and kicking puddles for show. I love this zest and zeal that she has now. Very attractive. I walk the girls to their car. My girl invites me for dinner at her place later. She describes the pasta that she makes. Me: “That sounds cool, but I kinda have a date, so I’ll have to see how that goes. I think she might be making me dinner.”

Well, she’s not even shocked. She smiles and probes a little bit asking her name and how we met. (BTW, I did indeed have a date. It was the Day2 with the Italian girl that I lost on Day3. So sad.) She tells me to call her anyway to let her know if I would be coming for dinner or not. I agree. We hug each other and part.

Well, that date went rather well. That girl had to part for work or something. I call HBfashiondesign. Of course, she asks about the date. I don’t give too many details (for example I took her to the same area that we were at earlier) and I say: “Well, this girl is gorgeous and really energetic. Great girl. But… have you ever had someone that is interested in you just a little bit more than you’re interested in them?” Haha…

So we arrange a time and place to meet so I can come to her place and we’ll make dinner, again it is late. Instead of getting uptown and driving, I take the Metro from where I am with the expectation that she will drive me across town. Or, more likely, I will stay at her place.

Day3B

She picks me up at the station. There’s a slight riff because I won’t buy a bottle of wine. She’s like, “I’m cooking you dinner that I paid for, and you won’t even get us some wine.” Honestly, I wasn’t carrying enough money. I gave her $2 and she put the wine on daddy’s credit card. She drives me to her place and I make fun of her horrible music…raggaeton or francophone pop…um, they both suck.

I cut up tomatoes and she cooks this pasta with pesto and fromage. The roommate eats with us. All conversation is neutral. I’m really impressed by all that they have organized and presented as far as fashion shows in the last two years. I insist that we have candles and that the three of us toast. Chin-chin!

Then they take me to their school, which is walking distance. My girl brings the bottle of wine. Protective buzz, maybe? The roommate has none. I have a bit, but didn’t feel tipsy or anything. We find a shopping cart on the street and push each other around. Good times. We get to their campus and they tell me the story of how they met. Stories about classes and fashion show fun and Montreal in the winter. Brrr… We walk back, and HBfashiondesign and I are singing horribly as loud as possible. Wait, to her credit, she actually has a beautiful voice.

The roommate goes to bed. We sit on the terrace. Conversation turns to sex. Can’t remember all the threads, but I know she asks this:

HB: “When’s the last time you had sex?”
GS: “Honestly…yesterday. Wait, technically it was today, like 4am.” (Not the answer she wanted to hear, but I was being honest, and I’m playing the LJBF thing to the hilt. BTW, it was HBelectrique.)
GS: “It was just a random physical thing. I’ve been worked up over someone and I needed to let the tension out. How about you? Last time?” (I noted by her physiology that she caught the ‘worked up over *you*’ bit, then I quickly threw the question back on her.)
HB: “Saturday night. He’s an ex-boyfriend back home. I’m not allowing myself to have sex with anyone new right now….”
GS: “Why is that?”

Well, the floodgate of revelation is open now. I’m kinda aloof and detached from all that she tells me. Just a listening, caring friend. Most the time I’m not even making eye contact, just gazing over the balcony as she speaks.

Well, she tells me that she’s has sex with quite a few guys (including some football player, a male stripper, etc) and she always feels empty and cheated. Like she’s not been able to say ‘no,’ she describes. Like they pursue her and she gives in, but it has never really felt like it was her choice. She always felt powerless. And it was always kinda the same. Just physical, not really emotional. Not caring, not passionate, not putting her needs first. And it was always unprotected and she gets paranoid and worried afterwards.

It’s a cinch from here. I’ll describe my sexual style in as tantalizing and as arrogant of a way as I want. Pull back. Have her chase. Have her beg. She’s obviously curious. She’s obviously looking for something that is not what she is used to. If I can put her in a trance and leave her smiling for days using only my voice, she knows I can fuck.

Notice how I am reframing her final issues while pulling back themes from our previous encounters. I also do a ‘she/you’ shift by starting out talking about the girl from last night. Damn this is good:

“I think we’re really different…I think we approach sex differently. The girl I was with last night was unusual for me. Because we didn’t share this emotional connection. But even so, I know that it was the best sex of her life. In fact, she told me so…. And I don’t regret it because I was able to give her something she was missing. I filled this void like no other man could. And it was amazing. The decision was mutual. I didn’t feel like I was getting more out of the experience than her. And she didn’t feel like she was getting more out of the experience than me. We both knew that it would be our only night together, so we didn’t have expectations. We just enjoyed the moment for what it was…all the pleasure and passion that two people can bring one another….

And we had protected sex. It shows proper respect not only for your partner, but for yourself. For me to ever have sex with a woman, she must understand this. And for me to make love with a woman she must also be aware of one more thing….My role is to bring you pleasure beyond anything you are used to, beyond anything you have ever experienced…to bring you absolute passion beyond anything you have even imagined. With every touch…every caress…every kiss…every look deep into your eyes…every penetrating word…my role is to make you come…over and over again…to the conclusion…that this is exactly what you need…and deserve…right now…”

Goddamn that’s a gem! This is why I’m a pick-up artist…to say shit like that and get the girl wet, wet, wet…

HB: “Do you want to make love to me?” (Said in a tone that is asking for reassurance.)
GS: “I haven’t decided yet… I am definitely attracted to you and very turned on right now. But I am not sure that you have understood completely what I am about. Do you understand that what I cannot offer you is a sense of future, but I will give you all I can until I have to leave?”
HB: “Yes.”
GS: “Do you understand that we will be using protection?”
HB: “Yes”
GS: “Do you understand how intense and incredible this will be?”
HB: “Yes.”
GS: “Do you want to make love to me?”
HB: “Yes.”

I can’t remember who led whom into the bedroom. But I know it was she who lit the candles. Usually when you think about a seduction, there’s a good period of time that elapses between that first kiss and the moment you’re in bed together. Not here. Something I like about this one—after that very first kiss (which had been delayed and delayed)—she’s suddenly ripping at my jeans! Naturally I slow her down and get her to enjoy being pampered and teased and savored. By the time I insert my finger, she is soaked and bucking wildly. But it just wouldn’t be complete without one little instance of LMR…

“We can’t…I can’t let you. You just had sex. It’s not fair…you can’t have two women, two days in a row…”

I continue fingering her and kissing her all over and I say, “You’re right…it’s not fair…that you’re getting all this attention and affection…being pampered and pleased…kissed and touched…exactly the way you like it…”

And we were set for the whole night and morning. The next (and last) time we got together we had sex in the planetarium (see Pt 1).

Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage

PS….just as an indicator of how she is hooked, here is the email she sent after the planetarium escapade:

”I can't seem to realize you are really gone, it's weird. The bar was closed yesterday so we changed our plans...I was so looking for you everywhere in the city in case you were walking around...I hoped I'd see you. Well, now I know where you are, well, not exactly but...anyway, it's a bad morning, I was 1 hour late to my job. I missed you so much but now I know you were gone, I'm kind of sad I must say...please, if you can, try to call me tonight, I wanna say real goodbyes. I finish working at 12pm, so if you have time in the afternoon, please ask a guy for a cell phone...or something like that. I miss you. It's not fair you left...”

GoneSavage: LR pt 2: Montreal: Flipping the Sexual Script

Did you ever stop to think why Congress voted in 1970 to outlaw the use of sound to sell tobacco? Did you ever wonder why you could repeat what the teacher had just said when she stopped and asked, “Are you listening?” even though you hadn’t been listening? Did you ever consider why eyewitnesses can always agree on precisely what they heard, but none can recall with clarity quite what they saw?

So I’ve flaked on them twice. Then HBfashiondesign and her roommate walk to where they thought I was staying. Of course, I’m not there. So it’s almost like a third failed attempt at meeting. What’s next?

The next day I’m at Tam-Tams with KitKatMan. He’s witness to this crazy phone call. Basically I call her and explain that I attempted to meet, but I was late because of traffic and not knowing the city. I sincerely apologize. Then, assuming I still have her interest, I try to structure a new Day2 that will actually put me closer to her. In other words, not a neutral meeting place, but I will come straight to her home. Why? Because clearly I am unreliable, I have flaked twice already, and I’d hate for her to invest more time or resources on someone, not even knowing if he’ll be there or not. This way, she assumes no risk. The risk is all on me. (How’s that for reframing?)

It’s a fun conversation. She’s painting her living room. I talk about how I would not normally volunteer myself for work, especially since I am on vacation, but I feel bad about flaking and I would be willing to come help paint to make it up to her. I describe that it might actually be fun and we’d get into a paint fight and then make dinner together. Well, she bites—but she wants to finish the paining herself. Go ahead. The time we’ll meet is yet-to-be-determined, as I am set to call her back, I think at 9pm. I tell her that’s too late for dinner, but she should have some popsicles (she was eating one on the phone) and red wine ready when I get there.

I call later and catch her and finally—third day in a row at attempting this Day2—we’re set to meet at a particular Metro station. And we were set to meet late, like 10pm. I drove to the location and I’m looking for her to show in a red Turcel. Quickly I realize how many people in Montreal drive little red cars. And she’s late, getting later.

I’m thinking karma. I’ve flaked on her twice and now she’s getting me back. I call the house and get her roommate. She says that HBfashiondesign left to pick me up. Perhaps we have miss-communicated on the location (again). I tell the roommate specifically where I am and that I will stay there in case she calls or comes back—send her out again!

So I wait and wait and I sit there outside the Metro writing up another LR. And she finally shows…but look who’s with her…the roommate that I had been seducing on the phone…we finally meet…and she’s cute as can be. Not gorgeous like my girl, but adorably cute with ravenous eyes. Me likes.

And you see what had happened. There had been some kind of mix-up with the meet-up and my girl indeed went home, got my message (and the roommate) and came back out to find me. So it’s like eleven and here they BOTH are. I agree to follow in my vehicle. And you know what I’m thinking. Look at this continued doubled pursuit, look at the attraction and intrigue I have build with both, look at the email how the original girl is protective of and ‘loves’ the roommate, look how sexy they are, look at the time…is this really headed where I think?

So we get to their place and they are inseparable. Not affectionate with each other by any means, but neither will leave my company. I’m playing it by ear. They give me a tour and show me the rooms they have painted. They have good tastes, and we put on some chill music. I find out that they have known each other for a year, from school, and my girl studies fashion design and the other girl fashion marketing at a local reputable college. At nineteen, they are both very involved in the Montreal fashion-scene and putting together shows, etc.

No wine. We have some cookies. We’re in the kitchen. I introduce them both to The Cube. They love it. Things correlate easily with the ladder. The horse looks the same—easy to paint it as me without explicitly saying such. The horse is prancing around the bottom of my girl’s cube and running past the cube of the roommate. I’m trying to think how to escalate. I suggest a movie. They don’t have anything they haven’t seen, it’s late, etc etc.

My girl brings up handwriting analysis. I must have mentioned it at the club. Haven’t done this in a long time, but not a problem, I can show them the basics. For fun, I have them write in French. By the way, both girls are well educated and truly bilingual. It’s nice. They love the analysis and I show them the different traits in a teaching frame. My girl is much more inquisitive, but the other girl will not stop looking at me with this sly smile. I still can’t figure out the dynamic here.

I figure I need to give them time to speak to each other. I walk off to my girl’s bedroom and say, “When you get a minute, I’ll show you something really amazing.” I figure I’ll improvise some kind of dual massage. They exchange a few words in French, but it’s not long until they are both in the room. I instruct them to sit on the bed. My girl has to go to the bathroom.

While she’s gone, the roommate lies across the bed. I lay across her with my head on her abs and I start to show her how to give a hand massage. I believe I could have kissed her, but I did not want my initial girl to walk in on that. If this wasn’t going into threesome territory, my loyalty is still toward the original girl. Good call.

HBfashiondesign comes back and sees me lounging on her roommate with her hand in mine. She maintains her smile, but initiates conversation (in French, of course) with the roommate. They are both smiling and laughing and it is clear they are talking about me. Playfully, I’m like, “Okay okay, let me in on the joke, let’s practice English, what are you two saying about me?”

Well, my girl speaks, and I get slammed. As directly and clearly as can be, she says: “You’re in my bed and you’re touching my roommate. I believe that you know these things, that you learn pop psychology, to make women comfortable around you. So you can sleep with them. In fact, I don’t think you even care which one of us. ”

Damn. Looks like this wasn’t going to be a threesome after all. Maybe ‘taking everything as an IOI’ has nipped me in the ass. In retrospect, I actually wonder to what degree they had communicated ahead of time to keep things ambiguous and a little flirty, especially with the second girl. These girls are definitely socially savvy.

So it was a test, of sorts. Some guys would say a heavy ‘shit-test.’ Big deal. Most of the ‘shit-test’ stuff I just roll with instead of debating or deflecting. Sort of an acceptance then a reframe; pacing and leading. Okay, cool, let’s reframe this. And it goes a little something like this….

“I’m really amazed by how perceptive you are. You’re a little off in your analysis, but I love the way you observe and interpret things. And I appreciate you ability to just come forward and bluntly tell me your impression. I value directness and honest opinions. You’re right…I love to be around beautiful women. I love the company of attractive women, but that is not enough. For me to be truly comfortable opening up, I need to know that you also have other qualities. If a girl is genuine and real, and intelligent, and perceptive, and has a positive energy and a great outlook on life, then that is when I really consider taking things physically. And that’s why I study things that you call ‘pop psychology’ because they help me screen out people that I don’t match with. So I don’t waste my time. Sex as a physical act is mere athletics, stuff like The Cube and handwriting analysis help me find those rare women that are compatible emotionally. We’re at a crossroads here because I truly find you both attractive and compatible. I would be lying if I told you otherwise. It’s a strange circumstance because I’m on a path to certain adventure and a connection like you have never imagined and it looks like only one of you can join me. If you think about the things I have shown you tonight, then we all know whom.”

Yes, I said this as a monologue. I delivered this calmly and matter-of-factly, more slowly, and probably with even more words. Yes, they both sat quietly and listened.

I’m intentionally ambiguous, especially there at the end. During this little monologue I was looking back and forth at them both, probably a bit more at HBfashiondesign who seemed to be devouring my words with her eyes. The other girl sits peacefully with an unchanging smile. But when I feel like I’ve said enough (perhaps too much I’m thinking), I turn away. It works. Without any verbal exchange, I hear someone, one girl, leave the room. I turn back and I’m face-to-face with HBfashiondesign.

I say, “I’m here for you. And I’m here for a reason.” And she literally explodes in tears and embraces me. I just hold her tight and let her cry. Finally she asks me to let her roommate know that she is okay. Sure.

I go into the other girl’s room and she’s just changed into a nightgown. I say, “Remember how your horse was just kinda running past you and how [HBfashiondesign] saw the same horse but he was behaving much differently? Well, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you and the attraction here is unmistakable, but, um, it looks like I’m here for her. She has something bothering her, I don’t know if you know about it, but I’m going to help her.” She nods and says nothing. I give her a big hug and say goodnight.

I go back to HBfashiondesign and I just have this convincing attitude that I can help her. I’m not thinking about sex, just that vague concept of “leave them better than you found them.” And I have this conviction that I can do something profound and leave her feeling great. I take on this healer frame that is incredibly empowering and I say “I can help you. I can make you feel amazing.” She starts to tell me that she has a feeling of emptiness, this ‘void’ inside her. She cries a lot for no reason. I tell her that I do not need details or specifics to make her feel great.

At this point she tells me that she’s not going to have sex with me. She’s not ready. Okay. But she further states that she’s not attracted to me ‘that way’ and can never be. Ouch, that hurts a little. Yeah, I got LJBF’ed. I’ve got that voice that’s saying “You went from being a pop-psychology entertainer to a friend with no benefits, do not become her therapist!” But what I can’t convey is this strange sense of purpose that I had anyway. I was going to do it; I was going to try my best to make her feel great without even thinking of sex.

First I said something to her that kinda seemed to me like I was flip-flopping at the time. But as I look back, I think it was a strong thing to say to get her chasing. I said: “I really want to help you, but my role is not as a therapist. We all have different roles in our lives…you’re a daughter, a sister, a roommate, a best friend, a student…but the role I’m interested in is you as a woman. I know that we are meant to be more than friends. But I have to leave soon, so I can accept not having you as a lover. And I want to give you this experience, because I know it will make you feel remarkable inside and allow you to move into the future full of hope and passion.”

So I was careful of several things. I reiterated that I’m not a therapist—I just know how to communicate in ways that make people feel good. Absolutely everything I said was positive. I made it a point for her not to tell me specifically of any traumatic ‘instances.’ I was not ‘healing’ her, just giving her a new perspective. I knew I could do this just based on my conviction and self-confidence and the other ‘inner’ attributes that we talk about. It’s all the same.

I had her close her eyes and hold my hands as we sat across from each other on the bed. I first drew her awareness to tangible sensations (being aware of noises in the room, temperatures and textures, breathing, the sound of my voice) and then led her more and more into feelings (like feeling complete, feeling whole, having a sense of purpose, a sense of certainty, hope, assurance, sureness, confidence, etc etc) Then I led her on this relaxing guided visualization journey that was utterly pleasing and vivid. Nothing really involved, just leading her imagination. Just using the power of my voice and carefully chosen words to bring her a pleasant and positive experience.

Afterwards, she tells me how good it felt and I explain to her that whenever she feels something negative or she feels that ‘void’ creeping in, she’ll remember this experience and all those wonderful positive sensations. I describe to her how I watched her physiology change and how she would melt or smile or grip my hands. It was fun. I left at like 5:30 in the morning. She had to work so early (she is a physical trainer at a gym) and said she’d just stay up. I left her on a really upbeat note and I hugged her and reminded her that I didn‘t know how long I would be staying, but I value our friendship and I hope we both make an effort to get together and do something, you know as friends.

And I leave with that mentality. I’m comfortable with being just friends. Actually, honestly, I’m kinda thinking this—you know it’s too bad that I am leaving because I bet she would be really cool to have as a friend. And well, since we’d just be friends, I bet I could get in easily will all her hot fiends! Haha, I’m only a man. But yeah, other than that thought, I’m really cool with just being friends. The point is, I really left feeling like I made a positive impact on her life and I did not need to pursue her sexually.

Now if she pursues me…that’s a different story. Right?

Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage

GoneSavage: LR pt 1: Montreal: Flipping the Sexual Script

Back in the USA now. I was in Montreal for one month, having left on the 11th of August. As a measure of how incredible I found the city, consider that the most time I had spent on the PUA-Tour in any other city was one week. But of course, I had a travel deadline in Montreal, so I had to keep moving toward that destination. It’s also interesting to note that I never closed in Montreal until the tenth day (LRx3). Then things kind of exploded for me. I hope to get all the stories recorded soon, as they are all exceptional and exciting.

So for my last day, I treated myself to the pleasure of two women (though not at the same time): HBfashiondesign and HBdaycare. The rendezvous with HBfashiondesign was one of the most thrilling and exhilarating encounters on my sexual resume. Damn hot.

Wednesday she took me out for lunch and then suggested we go to the Planetarium. She bought our tickets and on the way in she says, “I intend to be touched.” Just like that. Of course, I had been fingering her earlier at the park, and I knew she was still worked up. We’re in the theater with like ten field trip groups—hundreds of little kids filling the place. There’s a small section of other visitors. But by no means are we secluded. We’ve got about four seats to our left and to our right that are empty. Couples are at both ends of our isle. No one is directly in front of us. No one is directly behind us, but the isle is occupied two seats down diagonally.

The show starts and it is not long until ours does too. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that she’s wearing a skirt. I’m touching her and she’s got her knees on the seats in front of us. She’s squirming madly. I maintain my composure and let her lose control. She says, “This is too much, you have to stop teasing me. I want you in me so bad.” Hmmm…

I keep her arousal high and she’s got my cock out and is stroking it hard. She says, “This is too much. I just want to climb on top of you. Is there any way to do this?” I tell her that I don’t think so. She looks disappointed. But I’m thinking. Bathroom? Now? Too obvious. Too much of a disturbance. Maybe after the show? It will be swarmed with kids. We’re still working each other heavily. “I want you now. I don’t care who sees us.”

In a slight commotion, I get her to position her right leg behind me on my seat. We have an unmoving arm-rest to deal with. I pull her left leg on top of me and against my chest. Her knee is basically at my chin. She’s got her arms around me and we’re facing each other, but we have just enough mobility to face foreword when necessary. After putting a condom on, I pull her panties to the side and I slide in. Really fucking exciting.

Don’t know the last time you’ve been to a Planetarium, but it’s a lot more risky than a typical theater. First of all, it’s not always completely dark; images are projected illuminating the room for brief periods. Second, the ceiling-screen is a curved dome, so the entire audience could be looking right over your head if the narrator draws attention to that area. And here we are fucking under the stars. And I keep up this erotic embrace for the entire show. Hitting it hard with lots of movement during the darkest moments. Playing it slow and sensual when the room is more lit. Was anyone aware? Probably. I know people were giving us looks when we walked out. I think we both avoided eye-contact with folks until we got outside where we shared a good laugh and held each other tight.

Anyway, that was our second and (unfortunately) our last fuck. Pretty intense way to go. So how did it all start with HBfashiondesign?

This is her story. It’s an interesting tale that involves a foolish misinterpretation, dramatic let’s-just-befriending, and larger-than-life frame control. And in the end, I get the girl…wrapped around my finger. Overall, the dominant theme and key to this lay is reframing….

Note: This LR is dense with actual email correspondence from HBfashiondesign.

Oh yeah… One more thing that I became aware of in Montreal (especially from hanging with Papi Chulo, KitKatMan, Tarzan, AtoZ, and Hyunghu) is that I have become quite effective at conveying what it is that I do. Right now, I’m pretty good at explaining and teaching my mindsets, beliefs, and techniques. It’s good fun. In fact, as a rare gesture, I’ll meet up with and give a tight infield workshop to anyone able to put new tires on the purple-n-green love machine. That’s all I need to keep moving. I’m about to be in a dire situation as my tires are as bald as HBfashiondesign’s muff. Haha. Anyway, email me offlist….

I met her on July 19th at Club Loft. For some reason this club has a huge draw on Tuesdays. Mostly what I remember about the place is that it was the hottest club I had ever been to (temperature-wise) with no AC and I was absolutely drenched with sweat. Like everyone else in the place. There was a rooftop terrace and a huge line of people waiting to get to the top. The other thing that I remember is that my game was going nowhere in the lower level. Loud, bad music, way too hot. Very francophone crowd that would sooner walk away than even attempt to speak English with me. So I get in line to go to the terrace where it will be cooler and quieter and hopefully communication will go further.

She was in a group consisting of three other women. All were remarkably attractive. They had their own table and a pitcher of beer. They looked like a group of close friends happily making their own fun. I pull up a chair and join them at their table. They’re shocked. I immediately start talking about my impression of the club and of Montreal.

I get the ‘where are you from’ stuff out of the way and I tell them that I’ve been given my own Canadian province to populate. Then I start a future-projection role-playing scenario in which I tell them the positions that I need filled and we help each other determine who’s right for each. So the girl who knows the most about the city is my tour guide. The girl who responds the most when I ask what words are in French becomes my French teacher. The third girl is my cook. I tell her that I expect more than maple syrup, Canadian bacon, and putine and I tell her all the cuisines she must master.

I’ve saved my target for last. She’s not only the most beautiful, but she also has the most dominant energy of the group. We could match wits all night, for real. But largely, until now, I have been ignoring her and not acknowledging her questions and interjections while I talked with the other girls. I wanted to make them laugh and get them to be comfortable and accepting of my presence. Done.

So now I have the attention of primarily my girl and the second-hottest girl. The second girl is quite flirty. My girl tells me that this one is drunk. And to not mess with her. I shake my head in agreement. I compliment my girl’s leadership and protective qualities. I then assign her as my ‘spiritual advisor’ and I describe how she is going to read my horoscope daily, be my motivation coach, and overwhelm me with positivism and optimism. I tell her that I need her to be open, adventurous, intelligent, and trustworthy. I quickly give her a version of the trust test, framed as screening her for trustworthiness.

By now, the friends want to go dance. She wants to go with the friends. We’re all standing and we’re directly in front of each other now. I say, “It was fun messing around with your friends and sharing laughs with them, but to get to know you was the reason I came and sat down. I found you attractive, and now I see that you are more than just a pretty face. I have a feeling that if we spent time together one-on-one we would totally ‘click’ and who knows how we might enhance each other’s lives.”

And I go into my ‘cell-phone doesn’t work here’ close. Neither of us has a pen for her to take my email. The friends claim not to have pens and they are nagging her to dance. She says, “Just remember my phone number.” Skeptically, I tell her that there is no way I’m going to remember it, but I will try because I know that she will benefit so much by hanging out with me again. They head off downstairs. I find someone with a pen and write down the number I’ve been repeating. Funny thing, I did actually memorize the number. Of all the girls I dealt with in Montreal, this is the only number I had memorized, and it’s still stuck in my head. Sneaky girl.

So the next day, I call her from the Marriott and leave a message telling her that I’m easier to keep in touch with by email and I leave my email address. I wait two days before I call again, as she has not written. I return to the Marriott (found a phone I use to make free local calls) and I call the number and my girl’s not there, but I get her roommate on the phone….

This is intense. The roommate sounds hella cute. And she’s working as an intern designing underwear! How fun. I kept talking to the roommate and I was playing heavy on themes of once in a lifetime opportunities and seizing the moment, etc, etc. I’m trying to get this girl to come out and meet me that night, blind-date style. I tell a story of perfect lovers who leave things up to ‘fate’ to meet again and when they finally do, they don’t recognize each other. We’re given one chance and that we have to take advantage, NOW. Isn’t it exciting…come meet me. Anyway, she lives so far away, etc etc. I get her to agree to meet me the next day after work.

Man, this girl sounded so sweet. Two nineteen year old roommates. What am I to do? I’m thinking that, if nothing else, I have introduced a little competition. And what do you know, that night the initial girl sends me an email. So, it looks like she did get the earlier message after all when I left my email address. Here it is:

“I heard you met [my roommate] tonight. It's really strange that you connected with her as well. I can understand though because she's pretty much at the same level as I am. I must warn you though….I'm not afraid of people, not even of you. I must admit that we don't meet a lot of people of your kind. So, like I said the night we met, I trust people, I trust you, but if you mess with me or [my roommate], I will be so mad you can't imagine. Take care of her, don't mess with her.....I love her. I'm sorry to tell you that so early, but I want to be clear. My friends didn't see right through you that night and they told me to be careful…so as I like my friends and myself, I will be on my guard just a little bit. I have no problem meeting you...as long as you’re polite, friendly and deep. I'm not in a really good place right now, so maybe that's why we connected. You see, I felt what you had to give me, and if you can help me just to let go....that would be great. I won’t tell you more because I'm tired, like always, and I need to get some rest. I work tomorrow till 10 pm, and then, as soon as I’m finished, I will be getting home where you can call me. I will probably be there around 11 pm or 11.30 pm. So call me if you're interested. By the way, I'm pretty impressed that you remembered my phone number…really impressed!”

So…they were talking about me. Interest now seems high with both. The email is pretty revealing. The next day, Friday, was my triple-lay day (LRx3: Trois beautées en une seule journée), which took some careful orchestrating, so I flaked on meeting the roommate. That night I call and I get the original girl on the phone. Check this out…it turns out that they were BOTH at the meeting spot, set to see me. Hmmm…. Well, I keep chatting with this girl and we set up a time to meet the next night. But again, we set up a time and place that I would be meeting them BOTH. Interesting.

Well, I’m an asshole. I flake AGAIN. I actually tried to make it, but I was driving downtown on a Saturday night and I never anticipated so much traffic. I did show up, but I was like forty minutes late. Didn’t see them, although there is some confusion as to whether we even came to the same spot. Oh well. I go off and do my thing-thing, and when I check my email in the morning, I read this:

“You poor guy, you missed us twice in two days...fate is against you. Ok, its 2:06 in the morning...we are at the Marriot hotel, we are waiting down stairs. I hope you get the message tonight. We need your last name to get to your room. Leave us your room number so we can get in touch.”

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? What might have happened if I had gotten this email? Why are they BOTH so determined to meet? (It’s funny that they assume I stay at the Marriott because I call from there.) How were they able to send an email from the hotel? What did they do between the time we were set to meet and 2am? How long did they wait in the hotel lobby for me? How can I turn this around after flaking TWICE? What’s next?


To be continued… Trust me, it gets better. I will post PART 2 when I get twenty or so unique responders….

Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage

GoneSavage: LR: Montreal: Crazy Francophone Sex

Saturday July 30th… This post details my first SDL in Montreal. The experience was both very challenging and very rewarding. We’ll call this 22 year old HBfrancofolies. The prevalent theme here is persistence.

I’ve encountered a couple people that assert that Québécois (French-Canadian) girls are “easy.” In my experience so far, I disagree. I’ve had plenty of girls not open up whatsoever and I’ve lost plenty due to ASD or bad logistics. However, I offer the following observations on Montreal:

--PDA (including girl-girl PDA) seems a little more socially permissible.
--I’ve noticed a disproportionate amount of hot chicks with ugly guys.
--Prostitution and ‘contact’ strip bars and sex shops are commonplace.
--The city is huge; there’s a lot of intermingled cultures and festivals every summer night.

It really appears to be a laid-back chill kinda place that seems remarkably socially tolerant. One of the first things I tell new people I meet is that everyone I have met so far has been really kind, open, receptive, and responsive. I believe it sets the stage for them to be the same. A few more observations:

--Québécoise girls respond to me in spite of the fact that I am American, certainly not because of it.
--Francophone girls respond to me in spite of the fact that I speak no French, not because of it. (In fact, it downright annoys some to have to speak English.)
--Speaking English in addition to French is a matter of attaining a proper education. It has been explained to me by several people that the francophone have resentment for going to a poor school or for having not done well in school to be truly bilingual.
--Quebec has its own sense of regional pride. The Québécoise express disdain for the United States, as well as other Canadian province, especially Ontario. And also the “from-France” French.
--Quebec has its own laws (including those enforced by “language police”), customs, music, cuisine etc, etc.
--Virtually no one can tell you how many states are in the US or how many provinces are in Canada. No one cares.
--Monday, one day shy of three weeks in Montreal, I officially lost my tourist-aura; three people asked me for directions. As such, my stories as a visitor are much less potent.

So what about the fucking lay report?!? Onward…

I’m at this street festival called FrancoFolies. It’s a huge free event that features seven stages of francophone musicians. Very diverse crowd. Very crowded. Very loud.

I’m watching this French hip-hop group end their set. I pass behind the stage (it’s in the street) to avoid the crowd at the front and make my way to a different area. I notice that there are actually young teenage girls with little autograph books waiting. A few meters away there is a really cute blonde standing alone at the side of the stage. Average height, average attire, fit body, but her face is really super beautiful. I notice she has a laminate around her neck.

“Hey are you waiting to get an autograph? Are you a groupie?” She misunderstands. She’s telling me to go behind the stage if I want an autograph. I drop the thread. “Hey what’s this for?” I grab her laminate. “What’s your role in all this?” She tells me to speak French. I tell her that it’s International English Day and everyone worldwide is speaking English today and she can go back to French tomorrow.

You know how Mystery says that the most important state to be in is talkative? And Juggler says that you have to be willing to carry 90% of the conversation in the beginning? Well, it’s not always the case. But with the francophone, I think it’s mostly necessary—and I just keep talking. I’m telling her how much I like the city and how nice everyone is and how it’s so nice to have stumbled upon this festival and how I need a tour guide and a French teacher.

Finally she asks where I am from. Finally she tells me that she works for the record label that handles the rap group that we just saw. So you do know some English, you bad girl. She tells me that she has to go meet someone at another stage. I’m like, “Cool. What band? Are they any good? I’ll go with you. What a beautiful night…” Blah blah blah…

We walk to the other stage. She asks my name and we shake hands. I tell her to spin and she’s reluctant. I tell her to lighten up and smile.

HB: “Look, I’ll hang out with you. But this isn’t going to go where you want it to go. I have a boyfriend.”
GS: “Cool. Don’t make assumptions. I’m just here to smile and laugh and enjoy the moment. That’s it. Be nice and I’ll treat you to the captivating company of a perfect stranger. Hey, you going to the fireworks competition? I was about to go to the Old Port…”
HB: “I know a better spot. We’ll have to take the Metro though.”
GS: “Okay, but if we miss the fireworks, I’ll be so disappointed and I’ll go find a new best friend. Hey, what’s ‘fireworks’ in French?”

Honestly, at this point, I think it’s a loss. She’s really standoffish with her arms crossed and such. I figured we would separate once we got to the vicinity of the fireworks, where I wanted to mingle anyway. But I still get this oh-so-slight vibe of interest even though her demeanor changes not at all. Damn she’s cute. And this poker face is so alluring.

And she asks me if I have ever had a Queque de Castor (Beaver’s Tail). It’s a flat deep-fiend pastry topped with cinnamon and lemon juice (or other confections). I have not had one, but they have been recommended to me. She tells me that she is addicted to them. So we stop walking and I thought she was going to order one and give me a bite. But she orders two. Cool. I thank her for being such a sweetie and I give her a big hug.

We eat our snack and head to the Metro. On the train, I just keep conversation light and playful and I continue smiling at her. I ask her words in French, which gives her a chance to correct me and make fun of me. We get to Papineau and “it looks like everyone knows about your secret spot.” The sortie for the station is so densely packed with everyone coming to watch the last night of the Fireworks Competition.

I extend my hand to her. She shakes her head and says, “No.” I grab her hand and lean in and say, “So we don’t get separated.” I’m holding her hand and I initiate a little light finger rubbing. It is not returned. But she continues to hold my hand after we are out of the crowd. The whole area is chockablock. I casually let her hand fall.

We sit and chat a little. She’s frustrated that I can’t speak any French. The fireworks begin and the crowd falls silent. It’s a half hour show. At one point I take her hand and put it on my knee. She pulls it away, “Why is it so important to you?” I say, “Because it’s fun and it makes you feel good. This isn’t going anywhere, so we might as well be close for the few minutes that we are together. Just pretend.” I take her hand again and give her a big grin.

I hold her hand between both of mine. I look to the sky, not at her. The show is amazing. I start, ever so lightly, rubbing my finger in circles across her hand. Slowly building in pressure and variance. When I stop--what do you know--she’s ever-so-lightly rubbing my hand.

After the show, I spin her and hug her and thank her for showing me such a wonderful spot. We walk to a Depanneur to get some water. “What next?” I ask if she wants to get a beer or a coffee. She says she just wants to sit and talk. It’s Saturday night and people are everywhere and she wants to get out of the crowd. I ask if she knows of a little park. We walk to one she knows of and it is blocked off for the night. I lead her to this concrete railing big enough for us to sit upon.

Oh yeah, right before this, there was another point where I almost walked away:

HB: “Don’t touch me. I told you I have a boyfriend.”
GS: “Sure, okay. I only have a couple days to enjoy the excitement and energy of this city. You seem pretty cool and I’d like for you to just relax and show a little enthusiasm in these moments that we have together. There is nothing that I expect from you except that we just show each other mutual respect and, you know, smile and laugh. Like this!”
HB: “I don’t really care. I could be all like this flirty tour guide of yours and say ‘Look at this! Look at this!’ but I don’t feel like it. I don’t feel comfortable with you.”
GS: “No problem. I’m sure you are tired, we can talk, or maybe I should go off and find someone with a littler more enthusiasm and energy. I rather enjoy your company and your perspective on things, but I’m only here a couple more days…maybe we can do something tomorrow. Do you have email?”
HB: “This isn’t fun anymore. I have to go.”
GS: “Sure, let’s just sit down and talk for a minute…”

So we sit on the concrete railing and talk. I tell her that she seems a lot different than me and that we butt heads too much. Bu if we had like a whole day to just focus on getting to know each other we’d be the kind of people who align their energies and just “get” each other and we’d be best friends. “Hey let me show you this cool visualization exercise. Once I tell you the secret it will be something you’ll want to share with all your friends. Most of all it will let me know of you are the kind of person I’d really enjoy spending time with…” So I introduce her to The Cube. Spot on.

I love when you’re with a woman and you can see the transformation taking place. Like the walls, the barriers are just melting away. She’s laughing more, she more open and expressive, she’s more receptive to touch. I love that.

So we continue talking and I ask some fun questions. She’s comfortable holding my hand. I feel its time to kiss her. I go in and it is eagerly accepted. Devoured.

Suddenly things are comfortable and fun. I spin her and tickle her and we kiss some more. We talk about getting a drink or bungee jumping off the Olympic Stadium. We walk hand in hand. It’s midnight and the Metro will close soon. I find out that she can drive and that she has a car (kinda rare here). So I say, for us to hang out, we either have to get my car and drive downtown or go get your car and drive downtown. Or we’ll be stuck until the subway opens in the morning. We look at the Metro map and decide to get my car. We sit outside the Metro and hold each other and chat.

She’s close but she’s still telling me how she has a boyfriend and she lives with him and she can’t do anything with me and she knows she is passing up an opportunity. I just smile and nod. She goes on to tell me that she wishes it didn’t have to be that way…she wishes that we didn’t have to be so exclusive and monogamous. I say “It doesn’t have to be that way; you just ended up with someone who’s not me. I would have so much to teach someone as open and adventurous as you. It really is too bad I can’t let this happen.” (Notice that I act as if it is not going to happen for my reasons.)

So I talk about how I screen women for good energy and intelligence and high self esteem with The Cube and questions that I ask. I talk about how for the right woman, I provide fairytale romance. I put her on a pedestal and treat her like a queen. I tell her that even if out time together is short, she will be adored and fulfilled beyond her dreams. She tells me that she knows she is missing something, but she just can’t. Okay. She tells me that her relationship with her boyfriend was open and rewarding long ago, but now they are in a lease together and he’s the jealous type, etc. She also tells me that she has been with women and I ask her what she finds sexy about women.

I tell her that there is someone she has to meet. I tell her about this gorgeous and passionate woman that will just love her. And even though I will be gone and never get to see this, I will put them in touch because I know they will enjoy each other. I’m trying to get her to accept the idea of cheating—just not with me. (Another woman—that doesn’t count, right?) I borrow her phone and call HBcafe.

GS: “Hey sweetheart, I have someone I’d like you to meet…”
HB: “Is it a girl?”
GS: “Mmmhmmm…and she’s absolutely adorable. I could just eat her up she’s so gorgeous. You will like her. She’s so breathtaking and passionate and she’s am amazing kisser.”

Anyway, I’m storking HBfrancofolies face and kissing her while I talk to HBcafe. She tells me that she is already drinking, is going to get hammered, and can’t meet us. But she tells me to have fun and come see her one last time on Sunday. I agree. Meanwhile, HBfrancofolies reminds me that we have to rush and catch the last Metro. Okay.

So there was a minute of deliberation and she talked herself out of going to my station to get my vehicle. Okay, I’ll come with you. There’s still hesitation. “We’ll go get your car and drive back downtown and have a drink. All in casual fun. Don’t you have a CD that you want to give me?”

So we get to her place. Nice loft apartment, kinda messy. She gives me about ten promo CDs. We kiss a few times and share a Corona. She plays some music and shows me the hammock on her terrace. When I try to take things beyond kissing, she says, “No. I told you it wasn’t going to happen. I have to drive you home now.”

“Okay cool, what do you want to listen to on the ride? Pick out a good CD.” I know it seems like I got rejected. But somehow I’m thinking…she just doesn’t want it here; it’s his place too… when we get to my wheel estate, I have home-court advantage. It’s ON.

So we drive across the city. We’re just talking about music and travel and such. I have her park next to the van. I hop out and pull my computer out of the van and I tell her I am going to show her some pictures. I show her a few shots outside the van, and then, noticing that it is lightly raining, I invite her to come into the van.

Of course she thinks it is cozy. She divulges that for like a year she crashed at the apartments of different friends while all her belongings were kept in her car. A little different than my story, but relative. I like her openness now. So I show her a few pictures and close the computer with some Bonobo running.

I pull her close and we proceed to make out. She reminds me that she can’t do anything even though she really wants to. She says I am “cute” and that she knows it would be really amazing. Okay, cool. Now is the time that I break into sensual talk. Seemed wise to save it until I could get her close and in isolation. We’re lying down with our limbs intertwined. I’m whispering in her ear. Themes of sensuality and desire and arousal. I describe how aroused I know that I have her and how I can tell she is wet without touching her.

We’re kissing and caressing each other and I’m not blocked reaching into her jeans. Of course she is soaked and I tell her so. She reminds me of the boyfriend one more time. I say, “At this point there are only two options, either you leave him for more fulfilling options or you allow yourself this intense, passionate, juicy secret that you’ll remember and cherish for the rest of your life.” I slide my finger deep inside her and whispher, “I want to taste you…”

“Do you have a condom?” This was actually unexpected. I said, “Of course…I wouldn’t have you any other way…but, right now, I just want to taste you.” So we rip each other’s clothes off and I tease her while she is literally begging for cock. “I want you in me…I want you in me…now…”

She says, “Don’t you leave a trace of this on me.” And it was wild. Very intense, thrashing about kind of sex. She was quite verbal and obscene, which I like. “This is so fucking amazing…I love the way you fuck me…” alternating with a few French expressions.

When we were done, she dressed, then drove away with this devilish grin.

Love Life. GoneSavage

GoneSavage: LR pt 2: Montreal: Taking Two from Tam-Tams

Part II

We say goodbye to HBnurse and I turn to HBgraphicartist and say that I have only half-an-hour before a commitment. OK. We walk a couple blocks and tease each other about getting tattoos. I tell her that should get a unicorn or a dolphin to be ultra cliché.

I said, “I know what you want” and I walk toward this sex shop. She says, “I’m not going in there.” I said, “I know, but don’t you want this bling-bling rhinestone bra?” as I pointed toward the mannequin in the window. I tell her that I want to see her in an elegant black evening gown and we’ll go out for martinis. She says she prefers champagne. The real shit from the mother land. “Cool, but you have to wear heels.”

She tells me about this pub with vines along the walls and we go there. Cool. We share one drink, as I remind her that I have somewhere to be. We sit together on a couch and I break into the heavy statements of intent.

The powerful SOIs and seductive talk:

I like you, you’ve captured my attention because you are unique and fantastic and empathetic and authentic. (Etc, etc). And I have a lot to teach and show a woman like you. But I want you to feel like you deserve a man like me and you believe in true romance. Too many women live romance vicariously (books, movies, soaps, etc) and never feel like they truly deserve or are capable of real-life romance. Do you want this? Do you deserve this?

Okay, because I am intense and passionate and I deliver experience that you will remember and cherish for the rest of your life. And I’m emotionally high maintenance…I expect back rubs and breakfast in bed and love notes in French.

She laughs. I have her massage my hand. I tell her I am going to ask her three questions and she has to get two out of three right to win. (Adapted from Juggler.) What’s the prize, she asks? Me, of course. She laughs…

The sensuality questions:

What’s a more sensual food? Strawberries, whip cream, or chocolate syrup?
(The right answer is strawberries and I riff on the theme of having this plump fresh juicy strawberry and how sensual the act of feeding it to your lover would be.)
What’s more sensual…a hot steamy bath or a warm inviting shower?
(The right answer is bath and I riff on themes of anticipation…waiting for the tub to fill…and having the steam travel up your body as you slowly insert that first toe, every molecule in your body filling with delight and pleasure.)
What is more sensual…soft tender kisses on your neck, or tiny light biting on your ear?
(This one is arbitrary, then I demonstrate each, saying…so you like this…better than…this?)

Anyway, she got them all wrong and I had to leave her.

Yeah right. When a girl gets them wrong I jut have her explain her point of view and then I seductively explain mine. HBgraphicartist is still all about the shower, and she says, “I’ll just have to show you.” (Did I mention it was ON?) We share our first proper French kiss after the bit about neck versus ear. Amazing kisser.

GS: “Well, it was nice connecting with you, but I really have to get going. Come hang out with me tomorrow evening.”
HB: “Um, actually I have a date tomorrow.”
GS: “That’s funny because I have a date too…right now.”
HB: (laughs)
GS: “But…I’ll cancel my date… if you agree to cancel yours. It looks like we’ve found something already.”
HB: (thinking) “…OK”

Fun exchange. Does she really have a date? Dunno. If so, is she really going to cancel? Dunno. All I know is I did indeed flake on the date that I genuinely had. And this girl is stunningly gorgeous. But so is the girl I am dealing with here. Wow. So I decide to pursue the woman at hand while her buying temperature is high. I’ll have to find a way to make it up to the other girl later.

Then I talk about how I love women, how I love nothing more than to please those that meet my criteria. How I happily put women on a pedestal, etc. Here is a gem:

“It’s kinda like this. You ever been to the Insectarium? Yeah? Cool, then you know what I’m talking about. You know how you get a little bit of cantaloupe or smashed banana on your finger and you can coax a butterfly onto your hand. Yeah. Fun, huh? So, you’ve got this beautiful creature, this amazing living thing right in front of you. (I hold my hand up to my eyes like I am looking at a butterfly.) And you just sit here and you look at it and it makes you smile. You don’t want to possess it, you don’t want to keep it, and you don’t want to hurt it. You just want to appreciate it and admire it for what it is. Just for being. Just for making you smile. And you realize that the whole time the butterfly has the ability to just…fly away. With me, it’s just like this with women. For as long as you choose to be with me, as long as you feel you deserve this, I will treat you to my attention and affection…absolutely adore you…and show you things that will make you feel extremely beautiful and appreciated as the amazing woman that you are.”

She says, “You’re very poetic.” I say, “Thanks. Maybe later I will share an actual poem with you, and then you can read me poetry in French. I’ll have no idea what you are saying, but you know I love the sound of your voice, especially when you speak French.” Predictably, she says something in French. I motion my eyes and my head to look as if I am melting. We laugh together and leave without even finishing the drink. I lead HBgraphicartist to the Metro and I pull out my map of the stations.

GS: “You won’t believe where I’m staying…all the way up here.”
HB: “Really. I’m right here. Same line.”
GS: “Cool. How many roommates do you have?”
HB: “None, I live alone.” (perfect…)
GS: “So, are you a good cook, you like cooking?”
HB: “Yes. I love to cook.”
GS: “Really…what’s your best dish?”
HB: “Um, I dunno…desserts, I like baking.”
GS: “Cool, well maybe I’ll cook and you can make dessert. You like spicy food, right? I can’t find anyone in Canada that likes spicy food. What’s in your fridge right now?”
HB: “Uh, nothing really.”
GS: “Sounds like you eat in Chinatown too much. Well, we’ll go to the store and start from scratch. It’ll be fun and a great chance to see how we work as a team.”

The end game:

We take the Metro to her stop. On the train ride I take the conversation away from sensuality and back to strengthening rapport. So I don’t get labeled as the guy with a one-track mind. I have her teaching me French and translating posters. Off the train, it’s a five minute walk to her pad. We hold hands and I keep the conversation on the surroundings. She tells me her apartment is messy and she wasn’t expecting company. Of course not. I greet her cat (already knew its name—tangent to the animal question.) I tell her to give me a tour.

Really fucking nice place. Spacious with great furniture and lots of stuff to look at. I admire her own paintings and drawings, which are really quite good. I browse her bookshelves. We share tastes in authors and artists and I let her know.

I’m exactly where I want to be. I’m with a gorgeous twenty-three year old woman who is smart, sensual, creative, and who seems to have her shit together career-wise. And it looks like this is all panning out off the first date. A date that I took her on with another woman! Good times.

Dinner never happened. I told her to put on her favorite movie (already knew what it was and that she owned it). I found some candles and we shared a single glass of red wine. We’re in the living room by candle light. We’ve both seen the movie and we start skipping ahead to watch her favorite scenes. Green light.

We kiss and make out on the couch. I kiss every area of her skin that is easily exposed. I give her some light massage. I tease her with my kisses and I playfully caress her. I stand up, extend my hands and pull her up. I grab one of the candles and I lead her to the bathroom. I turn on the shower (remembering her SOI to me). She says, “hold on,” and goes to get the other two candles.

What proceeded was the most passionate and intimate encounter of her life. It’s definitely the most sensual experience I’ve had on my trip. I probably spent half-an-hour just undressing her and kissing and caressing every part of her body. She undressed me just as slowly. I’m looking at her body and it’s absolutely flawless. Amazing. She has the prefect all-over tan and absolutely no scars or even birthmarks. She’s as fit as can be with super tight abs, her ass and breasts are supple yet firm, and I think she has probably the perfect hip-to-waste ratio. I’m just in awe at how impeccably gorgeous this woman is. I tell her that I think she is absolutely breathtaking and she melts in my arms and says “thank you.” I feel like we’re in a movie.

So I lead her into the shower and things get really hot. We give each other oral pleasure and it’s the most erotic thing by candle light with water cascading over our bodies. I’m eating her out and fingering her and she’s getting really worked up and she says, “Let’s take this somewhere else.” She turns the water off, hops out, throws me a towel and gets one for herself. She starts drying herself off.

I know there’s absolutely no reason to rush this. I take my towel and slowly and sensual dry her off instead of drying myself. I gaze into her eyes and gently kiss her all over. She returns the favor. I’m about to tie the towel around my waist and pick her up and carry her into the bedroom. She says, “Let’s do this” and she wraps a single towel tightly around both our waists and we shuffle and laugh our way into the bedroom. I run back for the candles.

I treat her to probably another hour’s worth of foreplay. Always building and increasing and intensifying the anticipation of how I will please her next. By the time I penetrated her, we had only been together about four-and-a-half hours, total, and there was absolutely no “last minute” or token resistance. The whole night was beautiful and magical. After we made love, we showered again (actually “cleaning” each other sensually), dried each other again, came to bed and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning, I kissed and caressed her, made the bed, and left her a cute note that she never saw me write. She’ll find it later and smile. Also sent her a positive email once I got a chance. The email is a compliment to her openness and passion. She sent this brief note in response:

Remember, my cube is a mirror... My passion was a reflection of yours.

Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage

as seen on Fast Seduction

GoneSavage: LR pt 1: Montreal: Taking Two from Tam-Tams

Part I

Wed July 27, 2005. I attempted my first “elimi-date” style meet. I invited two girls to meet me at the same place at the same time. Two girls who don’t know each other. Two girls who are not expecting to rendezvous within an entourage. (How’s that for French appreciation.)

It happened by accident. Tuesday I call up one of the girls and she answers. I say, “Maybe I’m mistaken, but weren’t you supposed to meet me today at 5:30?” No, we’re meeting tomorrow. “Uh…you’re sure.” Positive.

Fuck. My mistake. I’m double-booked. I sent identical emails and forgot to change the day of the meet. Two girls on Wednesday; same time same place. Let’s see what happens….

So, I’m committed to doing this. Could be fun. Could go sour. I’m so excited by the possibility of a dramatic crash-n-learn that I actually, early Wednesday, send out invites to THREE MORE women that I am pursuing. Just for fun. So potentially I could have had FIVE girls show. What was I thinking?

I was fairly certain that the two solid girls would show. And they did. But no others.

The players:

HBnurse—age 26, 5’9, cute brunette, Leo, best quality: “good listener”
HBgraphicartist—age 23, 5’5 stunning brunette, Capricorn, best quality: “empathy”
GoneSavage—international man of leisure, freelance flirt, and continental drifter

The first meet:

Every Sunday there's a spontaneous festival in Park Jeanne Mance, at the base of Mont Royal. It's called Tam-Tams, which is the Quebecois word for bongos. All the hippies and hipsters and twenty-something work-a-day folks come out the park and play drums and dance and get high. It’s a fun event with people sunning and throwing Frisbees and just mixing and mingling.

Both girls were met here on July 24th. In fact, I contact closed five girls that day. What seemed to be the most solid close (we were making out in the park)—this girl next’ed herself. The two girls that are set to meet were the next two most seemingly solid closes. The other two closes were made without gaining much rapport at the park, but I’ve got them all to email me at least once. We’ll see.

HBnurse was with a friend, both lying on a blanket. I plop myself right between them, deliver my signature opener, and go into Montreal stories. I talk about being there for this seminar on interpersonal philosophy and, since I drove, I’m able to hang around and check out Tam-Tams and the city sights. Then I showed her a visualization exercise known as The Cube and she says that she has done it before with her sister. She says her sister is studying psychology and that she should introduce us. I ask if her sister is as cute as her and she says “almost.” She says that I am probably closer to the age of her sister than her, another reason I should meet sis. I volunteer my age first and, haha, I’m the same age as her, whereas her sister is 21. At any rate, she’s more relaxed now. She has a guy friend show up and I talk to him a bit about the US, where he goes often for work. The other girl just keeps reading a book. I have my girl make a list of her favorite museums, parks, restaurants and bars, write down her contact info and I tell her that I will be in touch and we will explore the city. I talked to her for about twenty minutes tops.

HBgraphicartist was in the park solo reading a book. After I opened her and asked about the book, I told a couple stories of my time there so far and showed her The Cube. Fun girl, very smart. The interaction was similar to that with HBnurse, except I think I had this girl teaching me more French. Plus she was sitting in the shade, and I kept getting bitten by mosquitoes, so I moved her a few meters into the sunshine. At the time, she was dressed “down” very casually and I had not realized upon the first meet that she was quite so attractive. After I got her contact info, I had her stand up and spin so I could check her out and we hugged before I left. Twenty-five minutes contact, tops.

The good news is that both are professional women; creative, intelligent and truly bilingual—so none of this francophone miscommunication that I keep running into.

The Emails:

I sent them both the same email, as noted before. It is four sentences long. The structure is this:
1) Compliment/warm read. (Good to meet you, you seem x…)
2) Strong SOI. (I offer you respect, adoration, stimulating conversation, etc)
3) Time constraint. (My time here is limited, but we should make an effort…)
4) Call to action. (I’m going to be at x place at x time, hope to see you there)

In the email to HBnurse, I mentioned something about the sister she said I should meet. Couldn’t resist.

So from there, it is a matter of agreeing on a time and place and perhaps addressing any concerns she would have about meeting. In this case, as noted above, I accidentally booked them both on the same day: 5:30 at the fountain in front of the Place-des-Arts. (Plus I had another date that evening lined up at 8PM—I’ll get to that issue in a minute.)

HBgraphicartist:

“Hey guy from Georgia. You're fast.... not loosing time, eh? ;) Well it's exactly what I was going to propose you...museums are free on Wednesdays and I’m never going enough so... if you want to eat before I know the cheapest place in town, it's good and a kind-of exotic tiny hidden place.”

HBnurse:

I would like to accept your invitation. I do, however, work during the weekdays. Luckily, the MMFA is open until 9pm Wednesdays and I finish work by 5ish. Of course, I have decided that I don't want to introduce you to my sister, but would rather keep you to myself. I think I am deserving, mais non? Did you have fun last night?”

The Day2 meet with both women:

I show up about ten minutes late, expecting the women to be standing next to each other or something. I’m imagining this awkward pause where I have to decide whom to greet first. Or calling them both to me and the surprise they would each have when someone else came to me. Or like all five actually showing. Maybe next time.

It’s been raining all day. I see HBgraphicartist immediately. I scan to see if I recognize anyone else. Nope. I feel kind of relieved. Wow, she looks damn good. She’s got on this nice black shirt and her hair is done-up and she has the slightest bit of makeup around her eyes. She sees me too and smiles. I close my umbrella and give her a hug.

She reminds me that we should eat. “Oh yeah…you’re supposed to take me to this local exotic out-of-the-way place that you love. Let’s go.” So it’s already like 5:45 and we’re crossing the street and here comes HBnurse, straight at me. Wow, she looks damn good. She’s wearing this sophisticated tight blazer, her hair is nice, and she has on heels. Very attractive girl. I give her a hug and tell her that “We have company today. I’m double-booked.”

The expression on her face when I pointed to the other woman was priceless.

I introduce them and they seem amicable. You know, at first.

GoneSavage: “So, we’re about to get something to eat. Have you eaten?”
HBnurse: “I’m not hungry. I thought we were going to the museum.”
GoneSavage: “We will in a minute. She wants to show us this cool restaurant.”
HBnurse: “Fine. I’ll watch you guys eat.”
HBgraphicartist: “It’s this affordable place with great food. I love to go there and get a sandwich and sit in the park. It’s so nice.”
GoneSavage: “Well, it is wet and rainy. How about we get sandwiches and eat on the walk back to the museum. Cool?”
HBgraphicartist: “Yeah sure.”
GoneSavage: “Cool. Let’s roll…”
HBnurse: “So…HB…what do you do?”

Let the games begin! This was really fun. Personally I didn’t want them qualifying each other. My plan was to qualify them both, implicitly let them know this, and leave both open to be closed on Day3. This would involve careful calibration, throwing mixed signals, and leaving things artfully ambiguous.

I have to give HBgraphicartist credit for being really chill and just going with the flow. HBnurse was feistier and I complimented her on her “delightfully sassy nature.” I also complimented her attire and sense of style. I complimented HBgraphiccartist for knowing the cool spots in the city and leading us to new places. Called her the sexiest tour guide I could have asked for. The other girl laughed.

I’m trying to tell stories of stuff I had seen or done in Montreal to keep them both engaged with me and not each other. I try to walk between them both, but that is not always a constant. More likely I am walking with one and the other falls a little behind or walks a little ahead.

The restaurant is in Chinatown. We get to the friendship arch and I talk about the other friendship arches that I have seen including the one in Philly, which is the first built outside of China. Of course, HBnurse has a story about Philly. I say, I have to get a picture of you both.

HBnurse: “No way, I’m not photogenic. I’ll take a picture of you two.”

This was actually a good idea because it was the first chance I had to talk to them with a little bit of isolation, and with a little bit of kino. So I’m beside HBgraphicartist in front of the arch while the other girl takes the picture. “I really thought you were meeting me yesterday. This is all your fault.” Of course I say this jokingly, but she apologizes anyway. “But I like how you are so calm and composed.” We smile.

Switch. I’ve got my arm around HBnurse now and the other girl frames the shot. “She was supposed to meet me yesterday. It’s entirely my fault. But I like how you don’t let her phase you.” We smile.

We get to her favorite restaurant and it’s this little shop that sells mincemeat sandwiches. We’re looking at the pictures. They all look like crap. HBnurse tells us she is vegetarian. I tell HBnurse to order me the chicken one, same as her. At the register, I say, “You got me right.” HBgraphicartist rolls her eyes, but buys my sandwich. For whatever reason, I winked at HBnurse, like, haha, I got her to pay, or some silly shit.

So we walk back. HBgraphicartist is ahead of us munching on the sandwich that she loves so much. She asks how I like it, “It’s certainly different…interesting.” I think it tastes horrible. HBnurse and I have our little secret when I tell her the sandwich tastes like pickled squid and fermented olives. It’s like she’s one-uped just because she didn’t get me a shitty sandwich. Good times.

The Contemporary Art Museum:

I worked the museum like this. Basically we all three wandered separately. Although I’m aware that they both stay aware of where I am always. I would cycle between them to talk about the art, tell stories, and ask fun qualifying type questions. Most of the exhibits were absurdly laughable. Oh well.

My anxiety level was a little higher than normal and I couldn’t even think of good questions. I would not ask both girls the same question, except the ‘best quality’ one. I just like the feeling of having fresh convo with each woman. And if one wandered into my conversation with the other, it wouldn’t have this set-question interview feel.

The “qualifying” questions:

What’s your best quality or trait?
If you could go anywhere, and money is not an issue, where would you go?
If you could gain one skill without training or risk of failure, what skill would you pick?
What animal do you most relate to?
What’s your greatest passion in life?
What’s your favorite book, movie, type of music?

That was really it. Just had fun like normal situations with playful teasing and reflexive answers. Casually bounced back and forth. Talked about some of my own art projects and some projects I have seen elsewhere. Didn’t dwell on the fact that I was with two independent women or ever insist that we had to stick together or anything like that.

“Where’s whats-her-face?” HBnurse said at one point. After I had been beside her a couple minutes with my arm around her waist. She would really lighten up when she got 1:1 attention.

But of course, HBgraphicartist invited me to see this interactive exhibit. It s a silly tiny room that you go in and close the door and a chandelier lights up and music plays. We danced for a second and I kissed her in here. Just a quick kiss on the lips, nothing passionate.

So that was it. We’d seen it all. HBnurse calls it a day.

HBnurse: “I’m starving. I’m going to go eat.”
GoneSavage: “I have a sandwich for you…just kidding. Okay, you’re turn to lead. Which way to your favorite vegetarian restaurant?”
HBnurse: “Actually I’m going to get on the Metro and go home.”
GoneSavage: “Well, thanks for coming out with me. Give me a hug.” I pull her near and whisper, “I’m sorry if this was awkward for you, but I know we’ll be in touch.”

Stay tuned. To be cum-tinued….
Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage

as seen on Fast Seduction

GoneSavage: 3LR: Montreal: Trois beautées en une seule journée

Friday July 22, 2005. This day will live on in infamy as the first day that I
had sex with three women, each for the first time. Let me make the distinction
clear. Not only did I have sex with three women, but it was the first time
having sex with each! Okay, got it. Onward…

This post is a snapshot of where I have worked to take this artform and my
attitude. And it’s the culmination of ten days time spent in Montreal.
Developments include exhibiting potent sexual confidence, delivering powerful
statements of intent, persisting on Day2 and Day3 meets, and creatively
engineering good logistics. All three of these women were sexed on Day3
meets--which I’ve already noted was the same day!

This is going to take a whole day to write up—so I fully expect everyone that
reads this to appreciatively give me some kind of a response…

All three women were beautiful and I love them for the qualities that make them
unique. So it doesn’t get confusing, I’ll give them cutsie HB names based on
where I met them: HBcafe, HBmetro, HBfountain. Simple enough.

HBcafe—age 20, met 7-17, day2 7-20, closed 7-22 around 5:30AM
HBmetro—age 18, met 7-12, day2 7-21, closed 7-22 around 1PM
HBfountain—age 19, met 7-16, day2 7-19, closed 7-22 around 11:45PM

While pursing these girls this week I started thinking about how Day2 meets are
such a hassle. They frustrate me because it takes planning and scheduling and
precise logistics to arrange the meet and then show up. It takes a lot of
patience and persistence. I was noticing that even in transit (and in fact in
a hurry) to meet one of my girls, I passed like a dozen women that captured my
attention and that I would have liked to have met. Surely something with one
of them would have panned out ‘same day’ I was thinking.

But then I thought that it is actually a more admirable action to meet a girl
that intrigues you and pursue that same girl until she is yours. Rather than
abandoning her (and the impact that you had made thus far) for someone that
seemed more immediately attainable. Obviously there is a compromise. (Like
giving yourself enough time in transit to a “date” to contact-close the
beauties you pass along the way.)

Just wanted to note that feeling somewhere. This week I’ve transitioned from a
mentality of “With so many fish in the sea, what makes this particular woman so
worthy of my time and planning” toward a mentality that is more like “Damn,
this woman really is unique and special, and I’m going to make her mine.” Ya
dig?

HBcafe – Day1

HBcafe was the last of the three that I met, yet the first to meet the back of
the van. Sunday after the seminar, I hit the street with Papi Chulo and two
other PU artists (handles unknown). I tell them that I have to talk to this
lone girl sitting on the stoop in front of a very popular restaurant on
Crescent Street. She’s a stylish brunette with a slant toward the offbeat—one
tattoo, brow piercing, nose piercing, hip cloths. Turns out she works at the
restaurant and her shift had ended and she was waiting for a male coworker to
finish his shift and drive her home.

I initiated conversation neutrally by asking her the cool places we should go.
Leads to questions about where we are from and why we are in Montreal. I tell
her that we are here for a seminar on “Interpersonal philosophy—which is
basically how we relate to each other and connect on emotional levels. So we
are here learning about kinesics, body language, psychology, massage, guided
visualization, and techniques that bring us close together and make us feel
really good.”

She’s intrigued. I tell her, “I don’t know you and this is probably a little
early to be showing you something like this, but I just learned it and you know
how it is when you learn something new and exciting and you just want to share
it. Okay, check this out. This is really cool. Give me your hands…” and I
lead her through a demonstration. I did this exercise called Soul Gazing,
which I won’t go into, but it could have been The Cube or a massage technique
or just about anything because of the way I framed the seminar and my
fascination for learning and teaching.

I ask her “what’s your art?” and she looks at me in amazement. Turns out she
is an art student and big into painting and sculpture. I have her describe
some pieces and I tell her that it all sounds cool and that I’d love to get to
see them someday. We also talk about the city and how we should go to a museum
or go to the mountain together. I describe that my time there is limited and it
would be cool to hang out with someone so energetic and adventurous. The guy
that is to give her a ride comes out and she tells him to hold on and she
continues talking to me.

I also told a few Impressions of Montreal stories and we talked about half an
hour. I tell her that my phone doesn’t work in Canada but if she emails me
that night I will definitely check it in the morning and we’ll make plans. She
says that she will.

GS: “It’s nice to have met you…I really have to get back to my friends.”
HB: “Yeah, they kind of abandoned you, huh?”
GS: “No not really. When I saw you I said ‘Guys, I have to talk to this girl.
She’s completely my type and I have to find out more.’ I’m not the kind of
person to let opportunities slip by and be plagued by ‘what if’s.’ Now I see
that you’re really cool and you have a lot going for you, and I have a lot to
teach and share with someone like you. You’ll see. I have only to offer you
honesty, respect, adoration, and to show you things that will make you feel
absolutely beautiful.”
HB: “I’ve never met anyone like you…I’ll write you as soon as I get home!”

In her email she calls me “beautifully intriguing” and a “spontaneous,
fly-by-the-seam-of-your-pants kinda guy.” This makes me smile. (The complete
email is posted at my blog). I respond to her email telling her why I enjoyed
meeting her and I offer a time to meet and I suggest we go to the contemporary
art museum. She sends another email telling me all these places she wants to
take me and that I have an “exciting, exhilarating, enthralling energy…and it's
astoundingly refreshing.” Wow, I think we’re going to get along just fine.

But then she cancels. A flake? Turns out she had previously committed to the
beach with a friend before she ever met me. She’s very apologetic but decides
to go with the earliest commitment. She sends an email telling me that either
we were not meant to be, or she will do x, y, and z to make it up to me. She
also mentioned the time that she anticipated returning…

HBcafe – Day2

So Wednesday I headed down to the Old Port for the fireworks competition. I
called HBcafe from a pay phone and she was on her way back into town. I told
her to call my cell when she got into town and I could treat it as a pager and
go to a pay phone and call her back. Cool. Just before ten she calls me. By
this time, I was deep in a group of three girls. I borrow one of the girl’s
phones to call HBcafe. Good times.

But it’s an hour before I meet up with her. Trouble parking and such, and I
had to watch the fireworks with the other girls. Bummer. Finally I call her
and we navigate the crowd and meet. She’s wearing a red corset and has a gold
scarf in her hair. Gorgeous.

Long story short, we hung out the entire night. We actually pulled the same
scenario that I pulled solo the first night I was here—staying awake and
waiting until the Metro opened at 6am. The vibing, bonding, and sharing never
stopped. This girl is wonderful. We took turn applying lotion to each others
hands and I taught her how to give a proper hand massage. I prolonged that
first kiss until we just fell into it like it was the most natural and most
highly anticipated event in the world. I love how I can just look at a girl
and say, “You know, I think you are fantastic.” And have her look at me and
say, “Thank you, you’re fabulous.” What a great feeling.

HBmetro – Day1

I actually met HBmetro the first day I arrived. This was an intense day in
which I met and had fun with several women. The situation is humorous because
I got a lengthy email from HBmetro in French with the note “It's your turn to
have problems, use your dictionary if you think that it's worth it, if not,
goodbye!” (Entire email at my blog.) I was actually thinking the message was
from a different girl that I had given my email address to—one that I had
spent much more time with and suspected I had a greater impact upon.

In fact, I never realized who I was dealing with until after I had arranged a
meet with HBmetro through emails and showed up for our Day2!

But the actual girl had been noted in my journaling as such:

“When I got off the Subway I ended up pacing this French-Canadian blonde. I
just told her this was my first day here and some stories. Just walking and
talking and smiling. We get to some factory and she says, ‘This is where I
work. Bye.’ This was abrupt to me because the bonding was going well and I
didn’t even think about where we were going. She works 10PM until 6AM. Uhg.
I tell her that I would like to continue getting to know her and she says that
she has a boyfriend and I say that that’s OK, just write me anyway and I give
her my email and let her go work.”

So…now this girl has sent me an email in French that I had translated. It is
quite revealing. It says that she has a boyfriend but she has cheated on him
before. She asserts that she is not easy and she does not trust me as she
thinks that I want to only have sex with her and not get to know her or respect
her or remember her. Something like that. Funny thing is—I had only talked
with her for about twenty-five minutes and now I’m getting a pretty forward
email. And, as noted, I am picturing in my mind a totally different girl!

I respond to her email telling her that I have been busy and I did not have
time to research what she wrote in French. But I told her that I was
interested in learning more about her and that we would have fun if we met. I
have only to offer her honesty, respect, and to show her things that will make
her feel beautiful. I suggest a time and place to meet.

Well, I get another email in English telling me that my actions are
questionable, she’s not going to have a one night stand, if I am looking for
sex I should hire a prostitute, I have a one track mind, she has never had sex
with a guy for no reason, and she’s not going to hook up with me ever. Of
course, it is duly ON.

But yeah, she throws all that at me and she has only talked to me for about
twenty-five minutes and exchanged one more-or-less neutral email. Of course,
all this means that she wants me. I send a very brief email saying that my
mind is not on physical matters and my only agenda is to smile, laugh, and
enjoy the moment. I tell her that I am going to be at the fountain in front of
the Place-des-arts at 3:30 and I hope she comes too….

HBmetro – Day 2

Well, I get lost and I don’t show up until four o’clock. I’m looking for this
hot little red-head that I actually met at the same place. I walk around and I
do not see her. I make eye contact with this really cute natural blonde with a
tight tan that looks strangely familiar and I keep walking. I tell myself that
if this girl is a flake, I’ll just go talk to this blonde.

Ha! So that’s what I do and within about two minutes I realize why she looks
familiar. This is the girl that I have been emailing…and now I remembered
meeting her at the Metro station so many days ago! Good times.

She asks why I was half-an-hour late. Got lost. We’re having communication
problems. She tells me that she knows little English. I tell her that she
sure writes it well. She reveals that she actually had a friend compose the
emails to me. This is getting good.

I take her for a destination-less stroll. She’s really standoffish with her
body language and rejects my touch. I’m just keeping things light and playful
especially since I can barely talk to her. She likes to try to teach me French
and I let her call me the “American Idiot.”

No sweat, because I know it’s on. She tells me that she has actually broken up
with her boyfriend now. She tells me she just got her hair styled. We sit in a
field and I try to tickle her and she says, “Don’t touch me.”

I just stay interested. Stay a good listener and a good student and keep
things lively and playful. Gaining her trust and more comfort. I’m turned
away from the first two kiss attempts, but I know that I am getting to her.
Finally we fell into an actually kiss. Nice. The kiss broke her and she
quickly became this loveable cuddly French doll.

I lead her to a Metro station and I’m thinking I can get her on a subway to the
exit that I am parked at, which is the exit she works at anyway. Maybe I can
close the deal before she has to go to work. She says it is too early to go up
there and she has to go home first and change clothes. So we metro to the
Plateau, she buys me some putine and we cruise a couple shops. And she’s
adorable now. She will actually stop me and say, “Kiss me.” Which I like.

We’re arm-in-arm and hand-in-hand. We take the Metro to her home, I meet her
mom (who knows NO English whatsoever), she changes clothes, and we’re back on
the subway to Namur. She walks to this factory (won’t tell me what she makes
in there) and I walk to my wheel estate. I tell her to meet me at 6:30AM at
the hotel (I stay in the parking lot) right after her shift. She says she
will. We’ve spent about six hours together now, and I know she’s wrapped around
my finger. Good times.

HBfountain – Day1

HBfountain, another stylish and imaginative brunette, was discovered Saturday
night while I was out with Papi Chulo. The activities of the night are
documented in his field report “CliffSeminar wing with GoneSavage 2nd night.”
His report details opening, leading the interaction, venue changing to the
hotel, and ultimately loosing the girls for same-night play.

The interaction began similar to that with HBcafe. But we escalated more
quickly and much further. I open neutrally asking about their favorite
hangouts. I initially sat to the side of the non-target. I start leading a
fun role-playing scenario where we’re looking for a tour guide and a French
teacher. Isolation was made quickly and as Papi described.

Now I have my desired girl’s attention. I talk about my impressions of
Montreal. Leads to questions about where we are from, why we are here, and
talk about the seminar. Leads to demonstrations (IVDs). Leads to kiss. Leads
to massages and makeouts. Always building and increasing arousal. Varying the
tempo and escalating comfortably. I ask her questions about what she finds
sensual (food, part of body, bath or shower, kissing, biting, etc.) It’s like
90% physical now. But when I break escalation, I throw in statements about how
she makes me feel like I’m under a spell, how she makes me feel like I am the
shit, how I want to show her amazing things, how I want her to realize her
potential as a woman, how I want to taste her, how I want to turn her whole
body into one big blush.

Yes, I say these things. And there we were sitting on the steps and I’m rubbing
her pussy while she’s stroking my cock (outside pants). We’re like six feet
from her friend and Papi Chulo. Good times.

I stand up, pull her up, and bring back the conversation to talk about her
interests and passions and such. I lead her and the other couple follows. We
head toward the Marriot without me ever mentioning where we were going. We
walk arm-in-arm and talk mostly about stuff in the city. It’s on. And it
seems to be ON between Papi and her friend as well. Nice.

There is not even any objection to getting on the elevator and entering the
room. So HBfountain is with me in the same bed and under the sheets and I’m
caressing her tight body. We’re making fun of the Elimidate show and we kiss
passionately a few times. We makeout and dry-hump the two times that Papi
Chulo and the other girl leave the room. But they always come back. So sad.

The other girl decides that Papi is too much of a real man for her. So she
pulls my girl out of this absolutely blissful state and back to a day-to-day
reality complete with some kind of early responsibility. Meh. We hastily
exchange contact info. And they’re off.

I remember thinking, in retrospect, that I should have at least walked them to
the lobby. I think it was inconsiderate that we didn’t even inquire how they
were getting home and how far it was and to wish them a safe trip. At any
rate, it was a fun night…

HBfountain – Day2

The next day she sends an email presuming that I have already left. She tells
me that the time we spent together was “awesome” and that I made her feel
really good. She’s glad we met and she wishes I could stay longer.

Well, guess what. I’m still in town.

So we exchange a couple emails to secure a time to meet at the same place. She
tells me she can meet Wednesday, but the girl that she is looking for an
apartment with will be with her. Okay, no problem.

I drive downtown this time since it is after 9PM. I show up and walk up the
stairs toward the fountain and my girl smiles when she notices me. I say,
“Let’s do this again and this time you run up and jump in my arms.” So she got
it right on the third try. I’m affectionately high maintenance and I like to
set expectations for our liaisons. We give each other a long embrace and a
kiss.

She introduces me to the friend. I ask her if she had heard the passionate and
incredible story about how HBfountain and I met. The friend says “No.” My
girl says, “Yes, I told you!” I have already let her know that I expect our
dealings to be honest and open. It’s all about cooperation and mutual respect.
So the friend says, “OK, she told me. It’s hot.”

The three of us hung out maybe two hours together. The friend was kind of
annoying, a bit of a smart ass, but easy to befriend. We had musical taste in
common and she is a photography student so I invited her to see my pictures and
hold my camera. We three hike up to where I had parked. I show them a few
pictures and then we walk back down to the Metro. My girl and I are close, but
most of the talking is between me and the friend.

I wait in the Metro with them. They are set to go to the same station. The
train comes and the friend gets on and I’m giving HBfountain our parting kiss.
She whispers, “I can catch the next train.”

The look on her friend’s face when the door closed was priceless.

So I’m thinking, it’s ON. I tell her we should get something to eat and we can
go anywhere. She tells me that she really does have to catch the next train and
I decide any logical attempt to convince her otherwise would be
counterproductive.

I lift her up and sit down with her on my lap. I tell her how much I love
Montreal because it is the kind of place where you can really enjoy day-to-day
living. We have to want the present. The present moment is all we ever have.
I tell her that I am thinking about moving here.

GS: I want you to know that you are not the reason I would like to move here.
HB: (frown)
GS: But I want you to be comfortable realizing that if I do end up here, you
are going to be a part of my life. I make no promise of a future or anything
permanent. But for as long as we are together, I am going to enhance and
enrich your life in ways that you’ve never dreamed. I offer you affection and
adoration like you have never imagined and absolutely everything I say and do
is to make you feel beautiful.
HB: (all smiles)

We embrace and kiss and I leave her imagining wondrous things…

Culminating Event — Day 3

So this is how it went down. After spending all day Thursday with HBmetro, I
drove from uptown Montreal to downtown near the Marriot. I knew that I could
make free local calls there and I could park for free after 9PM. The subway
would close around midnight. And these girls all live with their parents. So,
I knew I would need my van accessible as the lay venue.

I called HBcafe who was finishing up at work. She asked me to swing by at
midnight. I told her that she had to jump in my arms when I walked in the
door. I show up and she runs to me and jumps in my arms and then she introduces
me to a couple people.

Then we’re off. I told her that I wanted to see the local campus because I
heard there were beautiful buildings and cool sculptures. We walk there. But
there is something a little off about our vibe. Not as talkative or energetic.
I figure it is because we have had little sleep after staying up all night
together. I want to get things physical to reestablish the sexual vibe.

So we lie in the grass and have amazing tickle fights that lead to unbelievable
makeout sessions. Very passionate and playful and we end up dry-humping on the
lawn with people walking by every once in awhile. It’s very heavy, very
intense. I say, “We have to stop. We’re going to get arrested. Let’s go to
the mountain.” OK. She starts telling me which way we would have to walk and
I say we’re driving instead. OK. We walk back to toward the Marriot and find
the van and I tell her to navigate. I tease her about not knowing how to drive
and I insist that I teach her.

On the way to Mont Royal, we came upon a smaller park with a pond. She’s never
been. I say that we should check it out and I parallel park flawlessly. We
walk around one time, sit and talk, makeout, and then I lead her back to the
van.

I tell her that I am going to show her some pictures. This is just to get her
comfortable being in the van lounging. Especially in an area where people are
walking past frequently. So I boot up the computer and hop in the back and
tell her to follow. We look at pictures that I took on the trek north for
about fifteen minutes until the battery dies. Then I start to kiss her and
caress her and treat her to lots of sensual foreplay.

There was no “last minute resistance” as I had invested about ten hours in her
already and it was clear that we were “pair bonded.” Sex was something we both
desired and the anticipation had been building extraordinarily.

And it was absolutely incredible. Our sexual energy and appetites were matched
completely. It was so hot and so extremely sweaty and we enjoyed each other
for a couple hours. By the time we were set to leave, it was after 5:30AM. Of
course I was scheduled to meet HBmetro at 6:30AM when her shift ended.

So I had just enough time to drive HBcafe home, say our goodbyes, and find my
way to the hotel that I told HBmetro to meet at. I checked the lobby and she
was not inside, so I figured either she is going to be late, or I have a flake.
Then I “transform” the van by putting all my clothes and shit in the front
seat. I then put the cushions, that are normally double-stacked, side-by-side
to accommodate two people. In case she needs sleep.

All the pillows and blankets are soaked with sweat. You have no idea, how hot
and wet the sex was with HBcafe. And here comes HBmetro now. I call her over
and ask her how her shift was. We hug and kiss. She tells me how tired she is
and I say, “Well come lay down.”

I open the door, hop in, and she basically falls in face first. And she’s out.
She’s asleep. That’s cool. I give her a few kisses on her head then I
eventually sleep too.

Around noon, I get her awake and we talk just a little. I start massaging her
legs and kissing her stomach and thighs. I’m getting no resistance. She’s
lying on her back and she pulls a pillow over her head. I’m caressing her
pussy outside her jeans and kissing her all over. I start kissing outside her
shorts and I work my fingers inside from the bottom. No resistance whatsoever.
I touch her and she’s soaking. I finger her and she’s moaning, really getting
into it. I caress her breast and undo her bra will my other hand. Then I pull
her shorts and panties off to reveal her completely shaven snatch.

I go for the eat-out and she’s still holding a pillow on her face. She hears
me taking off my pants and opening a condom while I’m still eating her out. I
move up to penetrate her and I remove the pillow, look deep into her eyes, kiss
her, and it’s on for the next hour.
She’s very tight and sexy, but not nearly as responsive or vigorous as HBcafe.

After we get dressed and kiss, she’s off to the Metro. I’m almost late for
another meeting. I meet up with KitKatMan (ASF) and tell him the events that
have just transpired. I tell him about how my attitude has changed since being
in the city, attending the seminar, and how other amazing things have recently
happened (like seducing the roommate of a girl that I originally called for and
convincing her to meet me blind-date style). So I get to shower all the sweat
of two women off of me. We have dinner and I tell him that I’m going to try to
get HBfountain the same day.

Back to the Marriott around 9:45. I get HBfountain on the phone. But this is
a challenge. She’s got other plans. I convince her to cancel those plans by
making some bold statements.

I basically tell her that whomever she is going to meet (it was a guy, but I
did not ask what kind of relationship she has with him) would still be in her
life tomorrow or the next day. I am leaving very soon, and if you come see me
it will be the most amazing and remarkable night of your life. You will be
pampered and adored and introduced to what it feels like to be with a real man
who knows how to treat a real woman who wants and deserves real romance.

I talk about how a lot of people don’t believe in real-life personal romance
and how they live romance vicariously. I promise her the night of her life and
to show her soul. I promised her an experience beyond anything she had ever
dreamed. I said I make this promise to you and I rarely ever make promises.
Not because I can’t keep them—if I do make a promise, you better believe I am
going to keep it—but because when I promise something people always come back
and want more. So for you to see this amazing opportunity and make it your
own… Etc, etc.

Well, she’s hooked. She says, “I know it will be amazing.” Plans cancelled.
Also, I hadn’t realized that she lived so far north and had to catch two buses
and a train. I tell her to meet me at the same fountain where we first met.
I’m sentimental like that.

I’m a few minutes late again, but there she is. She’s on her cellular when I
arrive, apparently with the friend that I met two days earlier. This girl was
already in the area and since I was late, she was coming over to meet
HBfountain too. We arrive at the same time. I’m polite, but still trying to
figure out how to prevent an annoying tagalong. She’s like, “Where are you two
going?” My girl looks to me and says, “Where are we going?” I say, “You and I
are driving to Hollywood just to touch the sign, wish you could come too, but
we didn’t give you time to pack.” She tells us some party she is supposed to
go to and she’s out.

So I start leading HBfountain toward the van parked near the Marriot. It’s a
decent walk and I don’t rush things. Just sharing stories, laughs, kisses, and
building sexual tension. As we get closer to the van, I tell her that I have
to introduce her to a couple bands that she will like. I also think that I
never clarified that I was not actually staying in the Marriott anymore, but
she still new that I had driven to Montreal, so arriving at the van was not a
surprise.

What was a little bit of a surprise was opening up the van door and inviting
her into a semi-cozy “bedroom.” Once she’s in, I play a couple songs for her
and leave some chill-out music playing on the computer. Of course the battery
doesn’t last long, but by that time we are deep into makeout mode. The van is
actually quite a comfortable place and logistically handy. I think that it
puts their logical minds at ease and doesn’t violate the “it just happened”
clause.

Third girl of the day brought to the van and, once again, no last minute
resistance. This one I had spent the most time with altogether. Remember she
was aroused to the point of being ready to fuck on the first meet, but
logistics were bad. So I played it easy with her, saved her for last, and got
her back into state. And once again it was outright amazing. Almost as
spiritually passionate as HBcafe, but perhaps she’s a little less experienced
in the art of sexual expression. But HBfountain is so incredibly tight and her
body quivers at the slightest touch. Such a beautiful and delicate woman.
Must have cum six times.

So I take HBfountain home. Later I sent her a short email expressing how
amazing it was to share such an intimate and passionate experience with such an
amazing woman. Before I had met HBfountain late at night, I had sent a similar
email to both HBcafe and HBmetro. This is to reinforce our connection, let
them know that I do not “fuck-n-dump,” and prevent them from getting buyer’s
remorse. And I really want to see them all again.

So there you go. I asked KitKat to help decide what to call this post. We had
to shorten his “Faire l'amour à trois beautées éclatantes en l'espace d'une
seule journée épatante.” Which would literally mean “To make love with three
stunning beauties within the confines of one great day.”

Bon moment. Aime la vie. GoneSavage

as seen on Fast Seduction