If you have been following me on Twitter, this one is NOT of the flight attendant who was the embodiment of my perfect girl, the type I used to fantasise about when I was in high school.
This is of the girl whom I met 4 nights before her.
The setting was Saturday night in my hometown in Asia. I was back for a two-month holiday.
Daygame was poor, and so I did a total of two sessions in 8 weeks. There just weren’t sets in the shopping malls.
Nightgame however, was completely different. Thankfully so.
My wing Capt. JC and I had already been out for nine nightgame sessions in the past four weeks. Each session would begin around 9pm and end at around 3am. Gruelling for guys who don’t usually do nightgame.
To know more about Capt. JC, you can read his story in this post under the section SMV Arbitrage In Favour of Asian Guys.
The girls in my hometown are beautiful in nightgame, far surpassing anything the United Kingdom could ever muster.
Slim, sexy girls with excellent fashion sense who dress femininely and sensually but never in a grotesquely slutty and over-exposed manner (I mean, it’s Asia – there’s still *some* sense of the traditional, thank goodness!), with sweet easy smiles as you approach them and even sweeter, feminine personalities to match, who with the sensuality of the perfectly rhythmic movements of their lithe and supple bodies whilst dancing, make me truly love nightgaming in my hometown.
If one is attracted to Asian girls, our country would be a genuinely enriching experience. Too bad I can’t say which country it is for fear of giving away my secret Clark Kent identity.
Capt. JC, myself and two non-game friends were in a new bar which had recently opened in my hometown. This bar is to me perfect for pickup as it had a sexy interior design and a layout which afforded intimacy when isolation is required. With dark wooden panelling, dim lights, a live jazz band, and a bar at which one could perch or sit on leather-backed barstools, this bar felt more like an American-style lounge – think of the bar in which Ryan Gosling teaches Steve Carell how to pick up women in Crazy Stupid Love, or where Will Smith’s character meets Eva Mendes’ for the first time in Hitch, but with a more old-money & debonair vibe and design.
If I am to be perfectly honest, I had wanted to do zero nightgame by this point as I was burnt out by our previous sessions.
This is in spite of having just said to Capt. JC two nights previously that our total number of nightgame sessions so far is simply a warm-up and calibration period before our finest game can be displayed, especially considering we do so little nightgame throughout the year.
Nevertheless, I agreed to come out with these guys tonight on the condition that I would NOT be doing game, and that I would go home at midnight to watch the football.
Hearing this, Capt. JC sighed. He smirked, and then said to me, “You know that’s not going to happen – we’ll be dressed nice, and the girls will be dressed nice, then you’ll see them, and you won’t be able to help yourself; you’ll go and speak to them. Then I’ll join you. And the game will begin again.”
He knows me too well, the motherfucker.
As we got to the bar, a cursory look around gave me hope – there were actually no approachable girls for once! So for the first hour or so, the four of us just sat around chatting like
normal people old friends.
I was so set on not making a night of this that I was drinking the PUA’s cocktail i.e. water with ice and a slice of lemon.
I went to the bar to get another glass. Another glance around, and still there were no sets to be approached.
Ah, a relaxed night of no game or girls. I was really looking forward to the football by now.
It was just as I finished these thoughts that I heard a female voice say over my shoulder, “Excuse me, may I get into my seat please?”.
Melissa could not access her bar stool as I was in the way and it was a busy bar.
I hadn’t seen her previously, though I’m pretty sure she had a good look at my ass as she tried and evidently failed to squeeze her lithe figure past it to get to her barstool.
She was 31, petite, had long dark hair, was wearing a black silk dress and had attractive Chinese features.
In my country, there are many of Chinese descent but who are extremely localised after generations, and who are very un-Chinese in terms of culture & mannerisms. She was indeed of this demographic.
I usually am not attracted to girls with oriental features, but I was to Melissa.
Besides fitting the profile written above of girls from my hometown, she was also highly articulate and had traveled the world working from her laptop.
She mentioned quite quickly that she was from our hometown but had only recently moved back after a decade of living in various countries, and had just a few hours ago left a wedding dinner where she couldn’t stand everyone talking about marriage and children.
She had come to the bar by herself.
The words of Capt. JC resurfaced in my mind as I proceeded to ease myself into a newly empty barstool beside her. The voice in my mind that said them was somewhat smug.
I was very amused at it all.
The conversation was flowing from the start – we connected on the fact that we had lived away from home for so long, how things were the same yet different each time we came home, and over our shared love of travelling.
At one point, we were even speaking (broken) Spanish to each other since she brought up having lived in Medellin, Colombia for a few months.
She was already attracted to me by the time I had sat down beside her – whilst game i.e. disqualification and qualification did play a part in this, SMV arbitrage was also at work here. For an elaboration on this concept, please see Part 1 and Part 2 of my posts on this topic.
She cheekily but semi-probingly suggested that I was married or taken.
With complete seriousness, I told her, “Yeah, my wife is right behind you.”
Her eyes went wide, with her mouth wide-opened.
I nearly fell off my barstool in laughter.
She was adorably flustered after realising the joke was on her, and slapped my thigh in equal delight and indignation.
Throughout the night she would continue to suggest that I had a girlfriend or was married.
This occurrence was quite common, even on the nights we didn’t pull or make-out with girls. It’s interesting that girls in my hometown kept wanting to know if we were pre-selected, and that this question is never asked to me by Western girls I’ve slept with. A feature of the differences in the culture(s) of seduction, or of levels of attraction? My guess is a bit of both. (Update: I recently discovered that girls ask this question a lot because many men and women cheat on their partners in my city. Underneath the veneer of virtue and nobility in a traditional Asian society, illicitness & debauchery run rife – proof that we cannot escape our primal instincts.)
Know how to answer when girls ask if or suggest that you are taken i.e. pre-selected.
Agree & amplify e.g. “Yes, I have wives for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…you can be Sunday.”
Alternatively, disagree & amplify e.g. “No, I’m a shy innocent virgin – I’ve never even kissed a girl before.”
Finally, what I did a lot during my time back home was hold the frame by saying, “That’s the wrong question. Don’t ask that.”
Remember that all of these should be said with cheekiness/flirtatiousness, not with seriousness or a serial-killer vibe.
The live bands in most of the bars in my hometown are of the highest quality. The Asian stereotype of being forced to do music from a young age has clearly had a wider societal (and nightgame-related) benefit.
I had been looking for a band who could do a jazz rendition of Drake’s Hold On, We’re Going Home for the whole of my holiday up to now, but none of the bands could fulfil my wish – until I saw the one playing in this bar.
When they read my request out loud on stage (as is the norm) the first night I requested it, not only did they begin to play it, but the rendition they performed was absolutely sensational – with the exact groove, soul and sensuality that I had previously conjured in my mind.
Furthermore, the band did not just play the song I requested – they then went on to medley it with a 90’s classic which I love: Let Me Love You by Mario. It was a phenomenal musical experience. I was absolutely euphoric.
That night, after the band had finished their set, I had a conversation with them. A big surprise was that the bassist was an old friend of mine from childhood who I’d not seen in ten years!
It was easy to get to know the band members, they were all extremely cool & down-to-earth people.
Returning to the night I met Melissa, I requested that song/medley again. By the time it was played – with equal brilliance as the first time I heard it played – Melissa and I had clearly decided that we both liked each other. One could say the “We” frame was established.
The medley simply made me love life a bit more when it was played, and deepened the “We” frame as it turned out she too thoroughly enjoyed this piece of music.
Soon after, the band’s set ended. My friend the bassist, and the percussionist-cum-vocalist came over to say hello, which gave me some good social proof with Melissa.
I was impressed with Melissa’s social skills. She was confident and eloquent, yet very polite and value-giving, which is a combination I find is a rarity nowadays unfortunately.
My city has recently seemed to have undergone a period of revitalisation in terms of nightlife venues, a good example being the bar in which I met Melissa.
Furthermore, a string of excellent and sexy speakeasy bars, which are also good nightgame venues, have opened.
Yet more impressive, however, have been the many rooftop bars that have newly emerged in my city.
As my city is located by the seaside, and affords breathtaking sunset views which are enjoyed by both locals and tourists the world over, the emergence of the numerous new rooftop bars in my city is, in my opinion, the highest achievement of the potential my city possesses. Now everyone can enjoy the immense natural, scenic beauty of my city in genuine elegance and vibrance.
It is to one of these rooftop bars which I suggested going with Melissa, a brand new one atop a hotel belonging to a prominent global hotel chain.
She agreed eagerly.
On the way out of the bar, I introduced her to my friends who, being highly socially competent, gave me even more social proof.
Social proof is what spices are to Asian food: when added, it skyrockets the quality, especially when done correctly – which in the context of game is when your friends are genuinely cool people, or when people of value display a genuine relationship or warm association with you e.g. the band members in this story.
As we took an Uber ride across the city to the rooftop bar, the conversation was just very normal. No fireworks, because none was needed since the “We” frame had already been established. The only thing of note during the car ride was being aware of not allowing the sexual tension already built up to diminish – by maintaining the silences (once she is already into you) and not excessively over-escalating in a place or situation where she could feel watched or judged.
Once we arrived at the rooftop bar, we realised that the bar was closed. The bar itself and the large outdoor area overlooking the sea and city was entirely deserted.
As it was late, around 1 am (which is considered late in our city), this was not unusual.
However, a sliding door leading to the outdoor area was left unlocked, and so we slipped outside.
We sat on a sofa-like seat which required us to recline and stretch our legs out. Very cosy, especially if chilling out to watch the sunset.
It was a balmy night, but not too hot as there was a nice sea breeze since we were up high.
Before I could escalate the interaction further, Melissa asked me, “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”. She asked me this in a low, slow voice which hinted at naughtiness.
This was a rare occurrence; it had been awhile since a girl did the escalation for us on the date.
In escalation, you & her are both on the same team. After all, as 60 Years of Challenge once wrote, “Escalation is attractive.“
As I was telling one of the usual true stories I have in response to Melissa’s question (I regularly ask girls this question myself, and they usually ask it in return) and was drawing a map on her thigh to explain it further, two staff members of the bar appeared and told us to leave as they were closed.
Unworried at the interruption, I took her downstairs to the expansive hotel lobby. We found a hidden, isolated corner and eased ourselves onto a sofa.
I finished my story of the craziest thing I had ever done, ending with my hand on her upper-inner thigh, and without her flinching or becoming uncomfortable.
She then told me her craziest experience. As she said this, the vibe between us became extremely steamy.
I grabbed the back of her hair and made out with her.
As we made out, I encircled her neck with my hands, squeezing her carotid region slowly and sensually, which made her moan earnestly.
I pulled away soon after and said nothing.
She then asked about my sexual experiences, and I asked her the same in return.
We made out again as I pulled her hair, but this time I ran my hand up her thigh and under her skirt until I reached her pussy.
Her underwear was soaked. I rubbed her pussy over it.
As she began moaning even harder, I stopped.
I looked into her eyes – they were sparkling at this point.
We spoke in whispers.
I said to her, “Let’s do something crazy right now,” a reference to our crazy stories which we had just told each other.
She nodded, then I said, “Do you know where the toilets in this place are?”.
She said, “Yes.”
I responded, “Good. You go into them and see if anyone’s in there. If there isn’t, I’ll come in after you.”
She replied, “Ok, but you’re coming in the ladies!”
Indeed, there was one lady I intended on cumming in tonight.
Up she got, and off she went. I followed her at a non-suspicious distance.
At this point, it is worth pointing out that we did not get a room at this hotel because it would have been way too expensive.
As I got to the corridor leading to the toilets, I saw her walking back towards me. The toilets were closed – they were locked.
I didn’t panic as I knew there were also well-hidden toilets on the top floor of the hotel, the same floor as the rooftop bar we came from.
But as we turned to head to the lifts, out walk my friends from the lift area! And yes, normally my trusted and reliable wingman Capt. JC was with them as well.
I was furious!
The only reason they would have come out of those lifts was to go to the rooftop bar, and the only reason to go to the rooftop bar was to look for me & very weirdly observe me “seducing” Melissa, as the bar is usually near-empty – what more at this time of night – since it was brand new and not yet well-known. Capt. JC as good as confirmed this when I spoke to him a few days later.
This was a disgraceful display of beta-behaviour. They would rather have been part of my ongoing and so far successful interaction by stalking us & likely spying on us (which was fucking creepy – not to mention unacceptable) instead of speaking to girls themselves or just enjoying their bloody night.
To me, this seemed like the lame high school cliché of the loser kid trying to tag along with the cool ones in a sad attempt to grasp onto feelings of being accepted.
What they should’ve done instead was allow me to get on with it, and let me tell them the story of what happened after I had finished my time with Melissa.
Until today, I still do not understand why Capt. JC went with them. This was strangely out of character.
To his credit, he did see why I was repulsed by their intentions that night and understood why it was paramount that this would not ever repeat itself.
Returning to the story, at least my friends were very normal and non-awkward about meeting us (again), which normalised the situation.
the fuckers my friends left us very quickly. (We are still good friends; one is even likely to begin daygaming soon).
I suggested getting a (much cheaper) room at a hotel nearby, but Melissa said she needed another drink. Her buying temperature had dropped – understandably. But as she decided to continue the night, it was a sign that she still wanted to fuck – all she needed was a bit more plausible deniability.
As the hotel happened to be 100m away from the nightlife area, I walked Melissa over to find a quiet, sexy bar.
Nearly all the bars were noisy and raucous, and we were both worried that we would meet people we knew.
As it turned out, I saw my friends again! Although in fairness, they had arrived in that part of the nightlife area before we did. To their credit this time, they had the good sense to leave and go somewhere else.
We finally found a quiet, dimly lit bar on the relatively less busy side of the nightlife area.
They were showing the football, but without sound.
This was perfect – I could do exactly what I wanted to at the start of the night i.e. watch the football while a hot girl who wanted to fuck me was drinking herself ready to do just that right beside me!
Everyone talks about ensuring a win-win outcome when doing game, but if there ever was one, this was it.
I kissed her in the bar again, and she said that she should get home.
This was purely token resistance.
I told her I wanted to show her the poolside in our apartment block, after which I would place in an Uber and wave her goodbye. She said yes.
After another Uber ride, I did indeed show her my poolside. It was as deserted as expected for 2am.
Despite the hour, the tropical heat and humidity here was relentless.
The security guards on duty knew not to come around on their routine patrol as they knew from previous times what I was up to. It was all very nudge-wink between me and them.
I would not have taken her up to my apartment as I do not live alone, and to do so would be to invite the whole fury of hell upon me.
So it was by the poolside that we sat and talked, but it was all insignificant.
I had my hand running up her thigh again within minutes. We made out heavily.
She got up to use the toilet.
After a minute, I went and stood outside the toilet door.
As she exited, I shoved her back in, and locked the door behind us.
We instantly and furiously, almost violently, came at each other – tongue-in-throat, hands-on-neck, her hands tugging at my belt buckle.
The accumulation of the various episodes of the night, teasing us that much more each time, clearly made us impatient – and very, VERY hot. Clothes came off in an animalistic rush.
This, however, still didn’t help at all with the heat.
Melissa’s body was as slim as I expected, and despite being 31 had a young suppleness which really inflamed my raw desire to fuck her until sitting down was impossible. The only drawback were her extremely small tits.
I sat down on a bench in the toilet, turned her around and pulled her down onto my dick.
She was so small that I barely felt her crashing her ass down on me again and again while I encouraged her with some force as I held on to her hips.
It was still a somewhat public toilet, so we didn’t dare make too much noise. We tried to stifle ourselves, panting hard & gutturally. This was an extreme turn-on.
I began to notice the sweat streaming down her back to her ass. It was hot, and hot.
She reached upwards to hold her hair up, presumably due to the heat. She began grinding on me like this – it felt like sexual reggaeton.
I tried to swipe away the sweat on my chest.
I felt the bench getting sticky and uncomfortable from my sweat.
I wrapped my arms around Melissa as I got up, my dick still inside her, and bent her forward as she braced herself against the wall with her arms.
I pulled her hair with one hand and reached around to grab her neck with the other as I pounded her harder and harder like the fucking dirty bitch she was.
I slapped her ass violently, although not as much much as I wanted as I wasn’t sure how loud or far the sound would travel.
I suddenly became really aware of how drenched I was from my hair to my feet.
Melissa’s body was glistening and slippery from sweat – my hand was wet as I let go of her body.
“Wait,” she gasped, and pushed me off.
We were both out of breath. She began fanning herself furiously with her hands.
It was the heat.
I looked around us and realised there were small puddles of what could only have been sweat on the floor.
Her previously silky hair was now in streaks due to being wet.
She said she couldn’t continue, it was way too hot. I hadn’t even cum, but I wasn’t hard anymore due to the heat and the disgustingly sticky sweating so I agreed.
We got dressed quickly and went back outside.
Despite the abrupt and tropical heat-induced end to our fucking, we had a little amused laugh about the events over the whole night.
We called an Uber, and she left.
We stayed in touch for a few days – I was leaving my hometown in a week – but didn’t meet up again.
This was only my third ever Same Night Lay.
It was certainly my first ever lay to be abruptly cut short due to excessive heat and sweating, although in less extreme and tropical circumstances that would have been arousing.
I suppose this was an anti-climax, though I’m not entirely certain since there wasn’t actually any climax of any sort – at least not by me.
What a night. I love my hometown.