I Aim to Please

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               People crave all sorts of things. Love, acceptance, admiration, money, women. Personally, I favor the last choice. Money? Well of course that’s nice. Admiration? Lovely, I like women admiring my body, but I’d rather do more than that. Acceptance? I’ve got friends who like me well enough, and if not these friends, I’d have other ones. Acceptance is in the crowd you are with. It’s sort of a given, I don’t need more than I have though, so not really a craving. Love? Now that was a fool’s game. I’d played it of course, and I’d lost pretty badly. I didn’t believe in love. I believed in tolerance of another person for a while.

                Lust?

                I believed in lust.

                I was 19, In college for about a year. Culinary, baking and pastries. So, being a 19 year old, I did the usual thing. I had a fake ID and would drink a few beers at the bar before finding a woman to take home. Don’t worry, if I had too much, it was a cab ride home. I was stupid, but I wasn’t suicidal or willing to kill someone else.

                That’s where I was tonight actually. Some gay bar in the giant city of Seattle not too far from my apartment. I had a beer on the edge of the pool table and a twenty under it, just in case I lost. I was lining up a shot when I saw someone lean on the table in the spot next to me. I heard the balls clack together and I looked up to see woman standing there with a smirk playing along her lips.

                She had long blonde hair and blue eyes. Nice, if you liked that sort of thing. I guess light switches were made for ignoring what you didn’t want to see. The rest of her wasn’t so bad, not so much a dyke as a tomboy. She had on a baseball cap and a flannel shirt with a pair of loose jeans. Me? I was considered soft butch. Couple inches of hair pushed into a faux hawk and a button up shirt that was loose, but still showed off some feminine curves I possessed, a pair of loose jeans and sneakers.

                I straightened up, took a swig of the beer on the table and said, “Hey.”

                “Hey to you too.” She kept that smirk on her face and then said, “I’m actually not over here to flirt with you, although I wouldn’t mind it one bit.” Her eyes scanned my body and I smiled a little more.

                “Really? Well, what can I help you with? I aim to please.” I said, smirking right back at her.

                “Well, my friend is new to the bar scene, and she just got out of some weird relationship with some girl. We took her out for some fun, a couple drinks and all that, and then going home. I don’t think she’s stopped staring at you for more than five minutes, and some of us were wondering if maybe you’d wanna talk for a bit.” Playing wingman, but to who?

                “Where is she?”

                I followed her gaze to a table on the other side of the room to see a girl go bright red and look down in into the bottle she had in front of her. I took another drink as I looked her over. Dark brown hair that trailed down her back in loose, lazy curls, lightly tanned skin, nothing really special, except there was something special. Have you ever looked at someone, and you can’t really say what it is, but there’s something just insanely attractive about them? It’s not the hair or the face or anything, it’s just that they’re really fucking hot? I think she had that quality.

                I smiled and walked over to my opponent and pressed the twenty in her hand. “I’ve got to go talk to a girl.”

                “Heartbreaker Devon is on a mission again!” She chuckled.

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