| An Adventure in Predatory Club Life |
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| Written by Gavin Bellour |
| Tuesday, 13 January 2009 04:57 |
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How low can you go? Fade in: Zouk dance club... Singapore. So many levels of bars and dance floors, about a thousand or so people... but the pickings are slim. ![]() Suddenly I spot a possible target from across the discotheque floor. She's giving me the eye... subtly though. Her Bambi lashes flicker away quickly as our eyes meet. She's cute. Black hair pulled back tight, nose ring, fair skin, and funky threads. Her body is on the tasty side of thick... and unlike most of the folks on the floor, she's got rhythm. Further reconnaissance provides encouraging information: Male companion: negative Butt: firm Rating: 7 to 8.75: Defcon 4 I decide to play it safe until my intelligence information is confirmed... but I need a closer look. According to the principals of Stealth Mode, I skillfully make the necessary manoeuvres, giving no indication that there was an intention on my part to end up near her. She adjusts to incorporate me into her space - Defcon 3 Peripheral vision picks up another look from her... I pull a smooth spin and stop right as the beat cuts out... I mouth the words... I look dope. The DJ screws around for a few seconds and then the beat drops. We are now facing each other. She turns and shakes the booty. Yummy. - Defcon 2 I tease with a few steps toward and feign a proper grind. I step back as she leans into it... not just yet sweetie. I spin again and when I come around we are face to face. Behind the quickly changing shadows I see smooth skin, nice features... and those eyes. I smack my lips. The games proceed and soon the General and his two Assistants are planning engagement proceedings... Defcon 1 is near. Then I see it. At first I thought it was another once of those shadows... but then a second blast of light confirms initial reports: She has a large, black, mole on the tip of her nose. In any other location or any other color, this would probably be a minor point deficit (-.5 to 1 depending on size and texture). But this is placed so well as to completely demerit all good qualities... even good rhythm. Shields up! ABORT ABORT ABORT!!! Moves are made... I hit the bar and briefly mourn my lack of moral fiber. But then my beer comes and I suck it down... filling the deep, dark vacuum of my predatory soul. On to the next room... |
| Last Updated on Wednesday, 14 January 2009 03:29 |
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