- Joined
- Nov 30, 2019
- Messages
- 35
Jan 5th, 2024.
It’s a hot summer afternoon in Santiago, Chile, and I’ve just finished hiking Cerro San Cristobal, the third highest peak in the city. I’m dressed in faded blue shorts, a stained turquoise shirt, and well-worn gray sneakers. Clothes for hiking.
“Hard to imagine pulling a hot girl dressed like this, much less after a hike. And what are the chances on a Friday, when most people have plans?”
I let the thoughts pass, knowing they’re remnants of old limiting beliefs. I’ve seen time and again that these perceptions often exist more in my head than in reality. I think back to a night years ago when I went out with a fresh black eye, thinking that it’d be impossible to seduce, and yet still pulled and closed. The girl never even brought up the eye.
It’s my fifth day in Santiago, which I’ve been exploring by visiting tourist attractions and doing cold approaches. My AirBnB is about an hour’s walk away from Cerro San Cristobal, and I figure that I’ll shoot my shots along the walk back, if opportunities arise.
About halfway through my walk back, I begin to cross through a park, Parque Bustamante. That’s when I see her, “Leopard Leggings.” She’s got a thick bubble butt… the type that turns heads, the type that awakens an animal instinct in me, the type that I’d write a love poem about, if only I knew how. In short: She’s got a full moon. She’s walking along the sidewalk adjacent to the park at a brisk pace, but a pace that I can catch up to.
As I begin to walk in her direction, I think about the logistics of how to open. One option is to cross to the sidewalk now, catch up to her, then open her over my shoulder as I pass by (as in “Opening Smooth”, from Bacchus.) Or, I can get ahead of her path by walking quickly through the park, then cross to the sidewalk, and finally open her when she begins to pass by me. I decide to go with the latter. I figure it’ll be smoother – will feel more incidental – since she’ll be entering into my space when I “notice” her.
Fast forward to a couple minutes later, and I’m in the position I want to be in – walking on the sidewalk about 15 feet in front of Leopard Leggings’s path. I now slow down my pace so that she’ll catch up to me. A few seconds later, out of the corner of my eye, I notice her beginning to pass. As she begins to overtake me, I open with my go-to, “Sabes a quien te pareces?” (“You know who you look like?”).
Because of the logistics of how I’ve opened, it’s the first time that I’m truly seeing her face. So, as I’m saying these words, I have absolutely no idea who she looks like. But having used this opener for years, I have a few go-to actresses in my mind that are easy to reference on the spot, and I hardly ever get any pushback about the comparisons, especially when I sell them (“your hair/eyes are just like hers,” or “you’re like the latina version of her.”)
Leopard Leggings is brunette, with brown eyes, and I go with Nina Dobrev from Vampire Diaries.
Her energy is receptive and open, and we start chatting. Because of my accent, it’s obvious that I’m not Chilean, so she asks me where I’m from, how long I’m visiting, etc. All good signs of her investing in the conversation. We keep walking and talking like this for a few minutes. Nothing super electric vibe-wise, but a pleasant, comfortable energy back and forth.
Eventually we get to an intersection, and she says that she’s heading to the left. We say our goodbyes, but as she starts to drift off, I casually throw out that I’m about to get ice cream, if she’d like to come.
She hesitates for a second.
“Hmm… okay. But I have to go to an appointment right now. It’ll take only 10 minutes, so if you want, you can come with me and wait, and then we can go.”
“Sure, let’s do it.”
We cross the road together, and after another few minutes of walking we stop at a health clinic for her appointment. We make small talk as we wait in line for her to check in. The dynamic feels a little awkward, but internally I’m amused – a few minutes ago I was just strolling home, and now I’m in some health clinic with a Chilean PAWG. The random adventures of pickup.
We sit down in the waiting room, and Leopard Leggings gets called almost immediately to her appointment. There’s one older man in the waiting room, and he’s overheard me talking with this girl in my non-native Spanish. He asks me where I’m from, we chat for a few minutes, and then he asks me something about the girl. I tell him that I don’t know anything about her – that I just met her a few minutes ago. He gives a small grin. A few minutes later, the girl finishes with her appointment, and we head out.
She asks where I want to get ice cream. We’re now in “Barrio Italia,” a touristy neighborhood with a lot of food spots, so I say let’s just wander around and see what we find.
As we’re walking, she asks me what I do for a living that allows me to travel and work remotely.
I respond, straight-faced, with my stock answer to this question: “OnlyFans.”
When I say this, most girls laugh and go “Really?!?!”
Leopard Leggings takes it at face value, though, and immediately says that she does the Chilean version of OnlyFans. She’s being serious, so I tell her that I don’t actually do it, that I was just joking.
But, as it turns out, she still seems to believe that I might.
Eventually we find an ice cream place and sit at a table. I want to gently steer the conversation towards more stimulating topics, like love and sex, so I ask her what the dating culture is like in Chile. I tell her about the dating culture in my home city, where a lot of people complain that it’s hard to find something deeper, because the city attracts many transitory people, and because its dating pool is so large.
She tells me that her parents embody almost the opposite of that culture – they’ve been together since a really young age, and she knows they’ll always be together, even though they’re not truly happy with each other. She says that she doesn’t identify with her parents’ mentality, that she’s at a stage where she’s not looking for anything that serious.
I say that it’s good for people to give themselves the time and freedom to explore before committing to relationships, so that they can know better both what makes them happy and what gives them pleasure. How sometimes we can learn these things only by being with different people. She agrees.
Fast forward about 30 minutes, and the dynamic between us isn’t bad – the conversation is pleasant enough – but Leopard Leggings also doesn’t seem very “immersed.” The vibe between us feels neutral, without much sexual tension or emotional charge. I try to get myself into a sexual state a few times – while she’s talking at various points, I imagine fucking her – but I’m not really feeling it. I think partly it’s because I’m not feeling any sensual energy from her. Though I’m always open to it, the eye contact she reciprocates isn’t prolonged or deep, and every 10 minutes or so she gets absorbed in her phone.
Eventually, we hit on a topic that does absorb her: live music. I tell her the story of the first time that I listened to live jazz in the West Village of New York City.
“So there’s this historic jazz club in NYC, the Village Vanguard, where all of the greats like John Coltrane and Miles Davis used to play. One night, a friend and I decided to see a show there. I had no expectations because I had never really enjoyed jazz music before. We had a table right by the stage, and eventually the headlining saxophonist got up on stage and started playing. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but I looked him up later, and it turns out he’s a minor legend in the jazz scene. Anyways, he starts to play this song, and he’s pouring his heart and soul into every single note. And I remember just being transported to a different place, away from all of my thoughts and cares of that day, and just listening to the story that this man was communicating through his instrument. And it was during that song that I realized how powerful music can be for expressing emotions that words alone sometimes can’t capture.”
She hangs on to every word as I describe this.
As we continue to talk, she mentions that she likes to do graffiti. She says that she carries a graffiti marker around and marks things up when no one’s looking. She likes how it feels to do this and not get caught, to express herself, and to walk by her graffiti days later and see that her mark is still there.
The more we talk, the more I realize how important creativity and self-expression are to her. It makes sense why she was enrapt by the jazz story.
We finish our ice cream and start strolling down the street. I know that the next move is to bounce to another spot, but – with the slightly detached energy I’m getting from her overall – it feels like a coin toss as to whether she’ll be down. I’d usually suggest drinks at this point, but she had mentioned earlier that she doesn’t like how most dates rely on alcohol. So, I look on Google Maps for a hookah spot, and I see that there’s a couple good places nearby. I ask if she likes hookah, and she says that she’s never tried it. I invite her, saying there’s a really good spot close by that we can check out.
“Bueno, vamos.”
A pleasant surprise. At the end of the day, compliance is the ultimate IOI.
As we’re walking to the hookah spot, we start talking about our favorite shows. She’s seen Game of Thrones twice, so I ask her who she’d marry, kill, and fuck (Bacchus/Gun’s routine). She says that she’d marry Jon Snow, and I ask her why.
“Because he’s hot.”
Funny answer, and, at this point, I begin to think that maybe this girl is sexually liberated and DTF but just doesn’t show her sexual energy much outwardly. The clues: There’s the OnlyFans work. There’s her not wanting a deeper relationship right now. And there’s this, albeit just a joke, of prioritizing hotness in a marriage.
We eventually get to the hookah spot and sit down at an outside table. It’s early evening now, and the buzz of the approaching night is starting to build. The hookah spot is crowded with groups of 20 and 30-somethings ramping up for a night out.
As we wait for our hookah, I ask Leopard Leggings about her love languages. This is another way I like to nudge conversations towards seduction-oriented topics. Explaining the “Five Love Languages” can also be a good routine in itself if the girl hasn’t heard of them. She’s familiar with them, though, and talks about the significance of gifts to her – how it’s not about the material items themselves as much as the meanings behind them.
As we share the hookah, I notice that there’s more of a vibe between us. She holds eye contact slightly longer than at the ice cream spot. There’s not much sexual tension, still, but there’s hints and glimmers of it. Still, I have my inner doubts about the strength of the emotional and sexual connection. She’s still periodically getting lost in her phone and getting distracted looking at people as they pass by.
The themes of self-expression and creativity eventually come up again, and, given her reaction to the jazz story, I use this as an opportunity to tell her the story of my college application essay.
“That reminds me, my most creative moment in life came when I was applying to college. I wanted to write a really original college application essay, something that’d truly express my personality and stand out among all of the thousands of essays that colleges would read. I spent months thinking of how to write my essay, but every idea I came up with felt forced and inauthentic. I felt so frustrated, thinking that I'd have to end up writing some cookie-cutter paper despite all of my effort. Until one day, I was taking a shower, and out of nowhere, I had this Eureka moment. It was like a lightning bolt hit me, and I knew immediately how I’d write my essay. I jumped out of that shower jumping for joy, like I had never felt so excited in my life. As I wrote, re-wrote, and polished that 500-word essay over the next few weeks, I felt like I was capturing my entire personality on a single piece of paper. It felt so meaningful and satisfying to be able to deeply express myself in that way.”
Leopard Leggings has the same reaction that she had with the jazz story – glued to each word.
We also talk about how the languages we speak affect our expressivity. How I had always talked with my Dad in English, but when I learned and began speaking to him in Spanish, his native language, I immediately saw another side of him, a side that seemed more carefree, humorous, uninhibited. She finds this really interesting.
At some point, she brings up OnlyFans and asks me whether I actually do it or not. I’ve noticed this happens a lot – even after I’ve told a woman that I’m only joking about OnlyFans, she’s often not sure whether I truly am. It’s a fun energy to play with. So, when she brings it up, I roll with it, saying that maybe I do.
She asks me to show her my account, another common follow-up.
“I don’t show my photos or videos for free… but if you want to see my content, you can subscribe. Since it’s the New Year, I’m actually offering a discount of 69% off for new subscribers.”
Most girls laugh and let it go if and when it gets to this point, but Leopard Leggings proceeds to ask me for my OnlyFans account name. So, I make something up: “Bloom6969.” She takes out her phone and types it into the OnlyFans website to try to pull up the account. Of course, nothing shows up.
“Ah, damn, they must’ve suspended my account for the videos I posted on there last week.”
“What’d you post that would get you suspended?!”
“I can’t even talk about it… but I guess it must’ve violated OnlyFans’s rules for acceptability.”
Tongue-and-cheek like this, fucking with her.
After about an hour and a half, we finish our hookah and drinks and get the check. We get up to leave and start walking down the street. It’s dark by now, and I know that it’s time to go for the pull. I’m doubtful that she’ll be down, given the seeming lack of both immersion and typical IOIs. But this is also one of my favorite moments in any pickup: throwing the final invitation out there, feeling that moment of truth.
I casually and lightly high-note her, telling her that it’s been fun, that she’s got an interesting perspective on things. And then I throw it out:
“And I’ve enjoyed the convo. I’m gonna head back home, but you’re welcome to join me and we can keep hanging over some wine and music.”
She gives a small shrug. “Sure, let’s go.”
Boom, so it’s on. The dopamine rush hits. I live for these moments of discovery, when the gap between my perceptions of a social dynamic and the reality of that dynamic comes to light. Especially when I see that my perceptions were only weighing me down.
We walk to the subway station and make small talk during the train ride back to where I’m staying. It’s a quick trip, just 15 minutes.
When we get to my AirBnB, it’s the typical routine. Pour out wine, put on Masego’s music videos on the TV, take things slow.
This particular apartment doesn’t have a couch – just a bed with the TV in front of it. We sit on the edge of the bed, side by side, by the TV. Small talk a little more. The sexual energy now is palpable, for the first time since we met.
It doesn’t feel very comfortable sitting on the edge of the bed, so after a few minutes, I scooch back to the headboard and tell her to come sit with me. She scoots back to me, and I put my arm around her. She rests her body on mine. Small talk a little more, our faces only a few inches away. After a few minutes, we start making out.
The standard progression. Kiss her neck, behind her ears, her stomach. Her shirt and bra come off. It’s the first time I see nipple tattoos IRL – she’s got tattoos of small arrows pointed towards each nipple, making a concentric circle around each one. Yeah, sexually liberated.
A few minutes later, the leopard leggings that instigated this whole lustful adventure come off. They end up on the floor, in a pile with my old hiking clothes.
It’s a hot summer afternoon in Santiago, Chile, and I’ve just finished hiking Cerro San Cristobal, the third highest peak in the city. I’m dressed in faded blue shorts, a stained turquoise shirt, and well-worn gray sneakers. Clothes for hiking.
“Hard to imagine pulling a hot girl dressed like this, much less after a hike. And what are the chances on a Friday, when most people have plans?”
I let the thoughts pass, knowing they’re remnants of old limiting beliefs. I’ve seen time and again that these perceptions often exist more in my head than in reality. I think back to a night years ago when I went out with a fresh black eye, thinking that it’d be impossible to seduce, and yet still pulled and closed. The girl never even brought up the eye.
It’s my fifth day in Santiago, which I’ve been exploring by visiting tourist attractions and doing cold approaches. My AirBnB is about an hour’s walk away from Cerro San Cristobal, and I figure that I’ll shoot my shots along the walk back, if opportunities arise.
About halfway through my walk back, I begin to cross through a park, Parque Bustamante. That’s when I see her, “Leopard Leggings.” She’s got a thick bubble butt… the type that turns heads, the type that awakens an animal instinct in me, the type that I’d write a love poem about, if only I knew how. In short: She’s got a full moon. She’s walking along the sidewalk adjacent to the park at a brisk pace, but a pace that I can catch up to.
As I begin to walk in her direction, I think about the logistics of how to open. One option is to cross to the sidewalk now, catch up to her, then open her over my shoulder as I pass by (as in “Opening Smooth”, from Bacchus.) Or, I can get ahead of her path by walking quickly through the park, then cross to the sidewalk, and finally open her when she begins to pass by me. I decide to go with the latter. I figure it’ll be smoother – will feel more incidental – since she’ll be entering into my space when I “notice” her.
Fast forward to a couple minutes later, and I’m in the position I want to be in – walking on the sidewalk about 15 feet in front of Leopard Leggings’s path. I now slow down my pace so that she’ll catch up to me. A few seconds later, out of the corner of my eye, I notice her beginning to pass. As she begins to overtake me, I open with my go-to, “Sabes a quien te pareces?” (“You know who you look like?”).
Because of the logistics of how I’ve opened, it’s the first time that I’m truly seeing her face. So, as I’m saying these words, I have absolutely no idea who she looks like. But having used this opener for years, I have a few go-to actresses in my mind that are easy to reference on the spot, and I hardly ever get any pushback about the comparisons, especially when I sell them (“your hair/eyes are just like hers,” or “you’re like the latina version of her.”)
Leopard Leggings is brunette, with brown eyes, and I go with Nina Dobrev from Vampire Diaries.
Her energy is receptive and open, and we start chatting. Because of my accent, it’s obvious that I’m not Chilean, so she asks me where I’m from, how long I’m visiting, etc. All good signs of her investing in the conversation. We keep walking and talking like this for a few minutes. Nothing super electric vibe-wise, but a pleasant, comfortable energy back and forth.
Eventually we get to an intersection, and she says that she’s heading to the left. We say our goodbyes, but as she starts to drift off, I casually throw out that I’m about to get ice cream, if she’d like to come.
She hesitates for a second.
“Hmm… okay. But I have to go to an appointment right now. It’ll take only 10 minutes, so if you want, you can come with me and wait, and then we can go.”
“Sure, let’s do it.”
We cross the road together, and after another few minutes of walking we stop at a health clinic for her appointment. We make small talk as we wait in line for her to check in. The dynamic feels a little awkward, but internally I’m amused – a few minutes ago I was just strolling home, and now I’m in some health clinic with a Chilean PAWG. The random adventures of pickup.
We sit down in the waiting room, and Leopard Leggings gets called almost immediately to her appointment. There’s one older man in the waiting room, and he’s overheard me talking with this girl in my non-native Spanish. He asks me where I’m from, we chat for a few minutes, and then he asks me something about the girl. I tell him that I don’t know anything about her – that I just met her a few minutes ago. He gives a small grin. A few minutes later, the girl finishes with her appointment, and we head out.
She asks where I want to get ice cream. We’re now in “Barrio Italia,” a touristy neighborhood with a lot of food spots, so I say let’s just wander around and see what we find.
As we’re walking, she asks me what I do for a living that allows me to travel and work remotely.
I respond, straight-faced, with my stock answer to this question: “OnlyFans.”
When I say this, most girls laugh and go “Really?!?!”
Leopard Leggings takes it at face value, though, and immediately says that she does the Chilean version of OnlyFans. She’s being serious, so I tell her that I don’t actually do it, that I was just joking.
But, as it turns out, she still seems to believe that I might.
Eventually we find an ice cream place and sit at a table. I want to gently steer the conversation towards more stimulating topics, like love and sex, so I ask her what the dating culture is like in Chile. I tell her about the dating culture in my home city, where a lot of people complain that it’s hard to find something deeper, because the city attracts many transitory people, and because its dating pool is so large.
She tells me that her parents embody almost the opposite of that culture – they’ve been together since a really young age, and she knows they’ll always be together, even though they’re not truly happy with each other. She says that she doesn’t identify with her parents’ mentality, that she’s at a stage where she’s not looking for anything that serious.
I say that it’s good for people to give themselves the time and freedom to explore before committing to relationships, so that they can know better both what makes them happy and what gives them pleasure. How sometimes we can learn these things only by being with different people. She agrees.
Fast forward about 30 minutes, and the dynamic between us isn’t bad – the conversation is pleasant enough – but Leopard Leggings also doesn’t seem very “immersed.” The vibe between us feels neutral, without much sexual tension or emotional charge. I try to get myself into a sexual state a few times – while she’s talking at various points, I imagine fucking her – but I’m not really feeling it. I think partly it’s because I’m not feeling any sensual energy from her. Though I’m always open to it, the eye contact she reciprocates isn’t prolonged or deep, and every 10 minutes or so she gets absorbed in her phone.
Eventually, we hit on a topic that does absorb her: live music. I tell her the story of the first time that I listened to live jazz in the West Village of New York City.
“So there’s this historic jazz club in NYC, the Village Vanguard, where all of the greats like John Coltrane and Miles Davis used to play. One night, a friend and I decided to see a show there. I had no expectations because I had never really enjoyed jazz music before. We had a table right by the stage, and eventually the headlining saxophonist got up on stage and started playing. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but I looked him up later, and it turns out he’s a minor legend in the jazz scene. Anyways, he starts to play this song, and he’s pouring his heart and soul into every single note. And I remember just being transported to a different place, away from all of my thoughts and cares of that day, and just listening to the story that this man was communicating through his instrument. And it was during that song that I realized how powerful music can be for expressing emotions that words alone sometimes can’t capture.”
She hangs on to every word as I describe this.
As we continue to talk, she mentions that she likes to do graffiti. She says that she carries a graffiti marker around and marks things up when no one’s looking. She likes how it feels to do this and not get caught, to express herself, and to walk by her graffiti days later and see that her mark is still there.
The more we talk, the more I realize how important creativity and self-expression are to her. It makes sense why she was enrapt by the jazz story.
We finish our ice cream and start strolling down the street. I know that the next move is to bounce to another spot, but – with the slightly detached energy I’m getting from her overall – it feels like a coin toss as to whether she’ll be down. I’d usually suggest drinks at this point, but she had mentioned earlier that she doesn’t like how most dates rely on alcohol. So, I look on Google Maps for a hookah spot, and I see that there’s a couple good places nearby. I ask if she likes hookah, and she says that she’s never tried it. I invite her, saying there’s a really good spot close by that we can check out.
“Bueno, vamos.”
A pleasant surprise. At the end of the day, compliance is the ultimate IOI.
As we’re walking to the hookah spot, we start talking about our favorite shows. She’s seen Game of Thrones twice, so I ask her who she’d marry, kill, and fuck (Bacchus/Gun’s routine). She says that she’d marry Jon Snow, and I ask her why.
“Because he’s hot.”
Funny answer, and, at this point, I begin to think that maybe this girl is sexually liberated and DTF but just doesn’t show her sexual energy much outwardly. The clues: There’s the OnlyFans work. There’s her not wanting a deeper relationship right now. And there’s this, albeit just a joke, of prioritizing hotness in a marriage.
We eventually get to the hookah spot and sit down at an outside table. It’s early evening now, and the buzz of the approaching night is starting to build. The hookah spot is crowded with groups of 20 and 30-somethings ramping up for a night out.
As we wait for our hookah, I ask Leopard Leggings about her love languages. This is another way I like to nudge conversations towards seduction-oriented topics. Explaining the “Five Love Languages” can also be a good routine in itself if the girl hasn’t heard of them. She’s familiar with them, though, and talks about the significance of gifts to her – how it’s not about the material items themselves as much as the meanings behind them.
As we share the hookah, I notice that there’s more of a vibe between us. She holds eye contact slightly longer than at the ice cream spot. There’s not much sexual tension, still, but there’s hints and glimmers of it. Still, I have my inner doubts about the strength of the emotional and sexual connection. She’s still periodically getting lost in her phone and getting distracted looking at people as they pass by.
The themes of self-expression and creativity eventually come up again, and, given her reaction to the jazz story, I use this as an opportunity to tell her the story of my college application essay.
“That reminds me, my most creative moment in life came when I was applying to college. I wanted to write a really original college application essay, something that’d truly express my personality and stand out among all of the thousands of essays that colleges would read. I spent months thinking of how to write my essay, but every idea I came up with felt forced and inauthentic. I felt so frustrated, thinking that I'd have to end up writing some cookie-cutter paper despite all of my effort. Until one day, I was taking a shower, and out of nowhere, I had this Eureka moment. It was like a lightning bolt hit me, and I knew immediately how I’d write my essay. I jumped out of that shower jumping for joy, like I had never felt so excited in my life. As I wrote, re-wrote, and polished that 500-word essay over the next few weeks, I felt like I was capturing my entire personality on a single piece of paper. It felt so meaningful and satisfying to be able to deeply express myself in that way.”
Leopard Leggings has the same reaction that she had with the jazz story – glued to each word.
We also talk about how the languages we speak affect our expressivity. How I had always talked with my Dad in English, but when I learned and began speaking to him in Spanish, his native language, I immediately saw another side of him, a side that seemed more carefree, humorous, uninhibited. She finds this really interesting.
At some point, she brings up OnlyFans and asks me whether I actually do it or not. I’ve noticed this happens a lot – even after I’ve told a woman that I’m only joking about OnlyFans, she’s often not sure whether I truly am. It’s a fun energy to play with. So, when she brings it up, I roll with it, saying that maybe I do.
She asks me to show her my account, another common follow-up.
“I don’t show my photos or videos for free… but if you want to see my content, you can subscribe. Since it’s the New Year, I’m actually offering a discount of 69% off for new subscribers.”
Most girls laugh and let it go if and when it gets to this point, but Leopard Leggings proceeds to ask me for my OnlyFans account name. So, I make something up: “Bloom6969.” She takes out her phone and types it into the OnlyFans website to try to pull up the account. Of course, nothing shows up.
“Ah, damn, they must’ve suspended my account for the videos I posted on there last week.”
“What’d you post that would get you suspended?!”
“I can’t even talk about it… but I guess it must’ve violated OnlyFans’s rules for acceptability.”
Tongue-and-cheek like this, fucking with her.
After about an hour and a half, we finish our hookah and drinks and get the check. We get up to leave and start walking down the street. It’s dark by now, and I know that it’s time to go for the pull. I’m doubtful that she’ll be down, given the seeming lack of both immersion and typical IOIs. But this is also one of my favorite moments in any pickup: throwing the final invitation out there, feeling that moment of truth.
I casually and lightly high-note her, telling her that it’s been fun, that she’s got an interesting perspective on things. And then I throw it out:
“And I’ve enjoyed the convo. I’m gonna head back home, but you’re welcome to join me and we can keep hanging over some wine and music.”
She gives a small shrug. “Sure, let’s go.”
Boom, so it’s on. The dopamine rush hits. I live for these moments of discovery, when the gap between my perceptions of a social dynamic and the reality of that dynamic comes to light. Especially when I see that my perceptions were only weighing me down.
We walk to the subway station and make small talk during the train ride back to where I’m staying. It’s a quick trip, just 15 minutes.
When we get to my AirBnB, it’s the typical routine. Pour out wine, put on Masego’s music videos on the TV, take things slow.
This particular apartment doesn’t have a couch – just a bed with the TV in front of it. We sit on the edge of the bed, side by side, by the TV. Small talk a little more. The sexual energy now is palpable, for the first time since we met.
It doesn’t feel very comfortable sitting on the edge of the bed, so after a few minutes, I scooch back to the headboard and tell her to come sit with me. She scoots back to me, and I put my arm around her. She rests her body on mine. Small talk a little more, our faces only a few inches away. After a few minutes, we start making out.
The standard progression. Kiss her neck, behind her ears, her stomach. Her shirt and bra come off. It’s the first time I see nipple tattoos IRL – she’s got tattoos of small arrows pointed towards each nipple, making a concentric circle around each one. Yeah, sexually liberated.
A few minutes later, the leopard leggings that instigated this whole lustful adventure come off. They end up on the floor, in a pile with my old hiking clothes.
