Saturday Night at the Opal Hotel's Blue Note Bar & Lounge
"Cock size," Mia said, unflinching as if she had just ordered a Coke.
The guy seated across from her wearing the suede vest and grey tam –what was up with that, by the way?-- sputtered his water back into his glass. Wiping the dribble from the bottom of his lip, he coughed, "I...what? Seriously?"
Mia shrugged her shoulder and popped her eyebrow. "Yeah, of course."
The guy blinked. He asked, "Cock size? Just like that? That's what you have to say is what's most important to you in a life partner?"
"More like ON a life partner," she explained, "Wouldn't make sense if it was IN him now, would it?"
He sat back in his chair, shaking his head slightly, shooing away the fly of disbelief.
Mia leaned forward, poking up her eyeglasses and narrowing her lids around her round, dark eyes. "Look...uh," she squinted at the tag on the guy's vest, "Number 12?"
"Arye," he offered.
"Arye," she nodded, easing herself back in the chair, "That's what all these girls want."
The two of them paused to scan all the women seated in the lounge.
When she was sure their eyes had reconnected, Mia held up her hands about a foot apart. "We all want a big, thick, long, black cock to suck on," she declared, accentuating every adjective through a lurid little sneer on her ruby lips.
"Really?" Arye responded flatly, incredulous.
"Oh yeah. Oh yeah," Mia nodded in the affirmative, taking up her cocktail glass and having a sip.
"Well, I guess I can't really help you with the 'black' part," he sighed, unconsciously giving his pale, pink cheek a little scratch.
Mia arched her left brow sharply high above her eyeglasses. She eyed him and said, "Really? Are you saying you fulfill the other criteria?"
"What?" Arye said, caught off guard again, "No. I mean...look, I'm just a bit surprised you would be so...uh,"
"Shallow?" Mia grinned.
"No," Arye corrected, holding up his hands as he back-pedaled, "I wasn't going to say that."
He was going to say that.
Mia could see a tiny little bead of sweat appear underneath the lid of that silly tam of his.
"I was going to say," he spoke slowly, "I wasn't expecting you to be so upfront about something like that. You don't look like a person who would be so..."
"Whorish?"
"Abrupt."
Mia closed her eyes and sighed. She checked her watch, then looked at him like a frontline nurse consoling an injured soldier. She took a deep breath, peered over the rim of her glasses, then said, "Arye, that's the nature of this soiree, isn't? 8 minutes. That's not much time at all. So many guys here, so much potential, but only 8 minutes with each of them. It's all about speed and efficiency." She slapped the back of one hand into the palm of the other. "Speed and efficiency."
After another quick breath she continued, "A girl has to get her priorities in order and out there. You asked me what I want in a...'life partner'. Thank you for getting right down to the nitty-gritty. So for life, Arye? I want a big cock...for life. My life partner may eventually become a wrinkled carcass of a vegetable sucking porridge trough a straw in a hospital bed, but as long as I can spit out my dentures and get my pink gums around his meaty length of Oktoberfest sausage, I will be a happy woman. Oh, and a healthy inheritance, of course. I need to be well kept."
Mia settled once more against the back of her chair. Arye replied by turning into a mannequin.
She took a moment to look behind him, to another couple at a table across the floor of the lounge. The woman at that table didn't break away from her conversation but did manage to make eye contact with Mia and give her a wink and broadened her smile.
Well, at least her friend seemed to be enjoying herself.
Mia returned her attention to Arye, still a flabbergasted mess. She cocked her head. Damn. Maybe she broke him.
As she was about to snap him out of it, the angelic chime of a porter bell interrupted the room.
"Time's up once again, ladies and gentlemen," an energetic, attractive red-head declared as she strode to the center of the room. She spun on her stilettos and clasped her hands together. "Believe it or not, we've reached half-time already. Let's take 20 minutes to reset and refresh. Gentlemen, readjust your collars, and ladies, powder your noses. Grab yourselves another drink. Then it's on to Round 2!"
A gentle but steady murmur rose through the dark cocktail lounge as 12 couples got up, some more readily than others.
Mia brushed the skirt of her black dress back towards her knees and then picked up her purse and her 'dance card'. She held out her hand as she got up. "It was really nice talking with you, Arye," she said.
"Oh, yeah. Me too," he said, still in his chair. They shook hands. His was a bit clammy.
Speaking with a genuine and softer voice, Mia added, "I think you're a nice guy, Arye. Well, from what I can tell in 8 minutes, anyway. I hope you'll find a nice 'life partner'. Good luck. Oh, but lose the cap."
Those were the only truthful words she had said to him in the 8 minutes they shared. What stunned her was how straight a face she had maintained while doing so. She was sure she was pushing it when she quickly tacked on the old 'inheritance' schtick. Yet after six 8-minute 'speed dates' so far, it wasn't surprising to her how easily the lies came to keep herself amused.
She walked directly to the bar, polished off her cocktail, then promptly asked for another. God bless half-off ladies night.
As she leaned against the bar rail, another bare arm brushed up against hers. It was Sylvie, her sometimes good friend. Right now, she had a tickling urge to dunk her freckled, pixie face into a toilet.
"Hello Number 7," she said, tilting her chin towards her name tag.
"Hey! How's it going?" Sylvie asked, so giddy she was almost breathless.
Mia took a hard swig from her glass, gulped and replied, "Oh Lord! I am having the BEST time. I just can't stand it. Bartender, keep them coming!"
Sylvie, the decidedly shorter of the two, rolled her eyes. "Oh, dear," she exclaimed, slightly deflated, "It's not going well, is it? I'm sorry I dragged you along."
Mia shook her head. "This night's not about me, it's about you. I'm here for you."
Sylvie smiled and gave her a hug, pressing her cheek against Mia's smooth shoulder. "Thanks, Mia," she cooed.
Giving Sylvie a reassuring pat on her head, Mia said, "I'm here for you...and dinner at Portabello's next Friday."
Sylvie gave her an extra squeeze and the two of them shared a laugh.
"So, any potential Mr.Right's?" Mia asked.
"Maybe. I don't know." Sylvie's face twisted into a frown. "It's so hard. Only 8 minutes to talk to a guy. It's crazy."
"Tell me about it," Mia concurred, "How's a girl supposed to get a guy's bank account number in that time?"
It was the first time either them had tried a speed dating night. Really, it was Sylvie's idea. Mia came to support her and for the half-price drinks.
Mia picked up Sylvie's 'dance card' from the counter. Each person marked down the numbers of people with whom they would like to continue contact. At THE END
"Cock size," Mia said, unflinching as if she had just ordered a Coke.
The guy seated across from her wearing the suede vest and grey tam –what was up with that, by the way?-- sputtered his water back into his glass. Wiping the dribble from the bottom of his lip, he coughed, "I...what? Seriously?"
Mia shrugged her shoulder and popped her eyebrow. "Yeah, of course."
The guy blinked. He asked, "Cock size? Just like that? That's what you have to say is what's most important to you in a life partner?"
"More like ON a life partner," she explained, "Wouldn't make sense if it was IN him now, would it?"
He sat back in his chair, shaking his head slightly, shooing away the fly of disbelief.
Mia leaned forward, poking up her eyeglasses and narrowing her lids around her round, dark eyes. "Look...uh," she squinted at the tag on the guy's vest, "Number 12?"
"Arye," he offered.
"Arye," she nodded, easing herself back in the chair, "That's what all these girls want."
The two of them paused to scan all the women seated in the lounge.
When she was sure their eyes had reconnected, Mia held up her hands about a foot apart. "We all want a big, thick, long, black cock to suck on," she declared, accentuating every adjective through a lurid little sneer on her ruby lips.
"Really?" Arye responded flatly, incredulous.
"Oh yeah. Oh yeah," Mia nodded in the affirmative, taking up her cocktail glass and having a sip.
"Well, I guess I can't really help you with the 'black' part," he sighed, unconsciously giving his pale, pink cheek a little scratch.
Mia arched her left brow sharply high above her eyeglasses. She eyed him and said, "Really? Are you saying you fulfill the other criteria?"
"What?" Arye said, caught off guard again, "No. I mean...look, I'm just a bit surprised you would be so...uh,"
"Shallow?" Mia grinned.
"No," Arye corrected, holding up his hands as he back-pedaled, "I wasn't going to say that."
He was going to say that.
Mia could see a tiny little bead of sweat appear underneath the lid of that silly tam of his.
"I was going to say," he spoke slowly, "I wasn't expecting you to be so upfront about something like that. You don't look like a person who would be so..."
"Whorish?"
"Abrupt."
Mia closed her eyes and sighed. She checked her watch, then looked at him like a frontline nurse consoling an injured soldier. She took a deep breath, peered over the rim of her glasses, then said, "Arye, that's the nature of this soiree, isn't? 8 minutes. That's not much time at all. So many guys here, so much potential, but only 8 minutes with each of them. It's all about speed and efficiency." She slapped the back of one hand into the palm of the other. "Speed and efficiency."
After another quick breath she continued, "A girl has to get her priorities in order and out there. You asked me what I want in a...'life partner'. Thank you for getting right down to the nitty-gritty. So for life, Arye? I want a big cock...for life. My life partner may eventually become a wrinkled carcass of a vegetable sucking porridge trough a straw in a hospital bed, but as long as I can spit out my dentures and get my pink gums around his meaty length of Oktoberfest sausage, I will be a happy woman. Oh, and a healthy inheritance, of course. I need to be well kept."
Mia settled once more against the back of her chair. Arye replied by turning into a mannequin.
She took a moment to look behind him, to another couple at a table across the floor of the lounge. The woman at that table didn't break away from her conversation but did manage to make eye contact with Mia and give her a wink and broadened her smile.
Well, at least her friend seemed to be enjoying herself.
Mia returned her attention to Arye, still a flabbergasted mess. She cocked her head. Damn. Maybe she broke him.
As she was about to snap him out of it, the angelic chime of a porter bell interrupted the room.
"Time's up once again, ladies and gentlemen," an energetic, attractive red-head declared as she strode to the center of the room. She spun on her stilettos and clasped her hands together. "Believe it or not, we've reached half-time already. Let's take 20 minutes to reset and refresh. Gentlemen, readjust your collars, and ladies, powder your noses. Grab yourselves another drink. Then it's on to Round 2!"
A gentle but steady murmur rose through the dark cocktail lounge as 12 couples got up, some more readily than others.
Mia brushed the skirt of her black dress back towards her knees and then picked up her purse and her 'dance card'. She held out her hand as she got up. "It was really nice talking with you, Arye," she said.
"Oh, yeah. Me too," he said, still in his chair. They shook hands. His was a bit clammy.
Speaking with a genuine and softer voice, Mia added, "I think you're a nice guy, Arye. Well, from what I can tell in 8 minutes, anyway. I hope you'll find a nice 'life partner'. Good luck. Oh, but lose the cap."
Those were the only truthful words she had said to him in the 8 minutes they shared. What stunned her was how straight a face she had maintained while doing so. She was sure she was pushing it when she quickly tacked on the old 'inheritance' schtick. Yet after six 8-minute 'speed dates' so far, it wasn't surprising to her how easily the lies came to keep herself amused.
She walked directly to the bar, polished off her cocktail, then promptly asked for another. God bless half-off ladies night.
As she leaned against the bar rail, another bare arm brushed up against hers. It was Sylvie, her sometimes good friend. Right now, she had a tickling urge to dunk her freckled, pixie face into a toilet.
"Hello Number 7," she said, tilting her chin towards her name tag.
"Hey! How's it going?" Sylvie asked, so giddy she was almost breathless.
Mia took a hard swig from her glass, gulped and replied, "Oh Lord! I am having the BEST time. I just can't stand it. Bartender, keep them coming!"
Sylvie, the decidedly shorter of the two, rolled her eyes. "Oh, dear," she exclaimed, slightly deflated, "It's not going well, is it? I'm sorry I dragged you along."
Mia shook her head. "This night's not about me, it's about you. I'm here for you."
Sylvie smiled and gave her a hug, pressing her cheek against Mia's smooth shoulder. "Thanks, Mia," she cooed.
Giving Sylvie a reassuring pat on her head, Mia said, "I'm here for you...and dinner at Portabello's next Friday."
Sylvie gave her an extra squeeze and the two of them shared a laugh.
"So, any potential Mr.Right's?" Mia asked.
"Maybe. I don't know." Sylvie's face twisted into a frown. "It's so hard. Only 8 minutes to talk to a guy. It's crazy."
"Tell me about it," Mia concurred, "How's a girl supposed to get a guy's bank account number in that time?"
It was the first time either them had tried a speed dating night. Really, it was Sylvie's idea. Mia came to support her and for the half-price drinks.
Mia picked up Sylvie's 'dance card' from the counter. Each person marked down the numbers of people with whom they would like to continue contact. At THE END
