Manhattan Passion by Antoinette Powell

Author:Antoinette Powell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780753524985
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

10

I HATE HAVING a plan. But that’s what I see women do at the club. It’s disgusting. It’s demeaning. It’s the lowest level of operating, but I see it every night. You see these women calculating which man they are going to take home. It’s a process of sizing up guys, which usually involves determining the least-ugly richest guy that you can sleep with that night. It’s a certain kind of woman who does this. She is usually past thirty and starting to look it – this gives her an air of desperation. She’ll wear a dress that’s three to five years out of date and that makes her look dowdy. Or she’ll try to be current and look like she’s trying too hard to be current, trying too hard not to look like an alcoholic.

They’ve staked out the likely men by about 1 or 2 a.m. They keep tabs on them geographically and circulate from candidate to candidate, trying to get the optimum one and get the timing right – a man will not leave the club if he feels he still has a chance of sleeping with someone better. It’s a kind of evening-long musical chairs, with 4 a.m. as the deadline – ‘musical beds’ might be the better term, or ‘musical cocks’.

These are not sensitive women. They are schemers, and the men know it. They are not even subtle in their scheming, but the men play along with the game because they do want to fuck the women and they are attractive enough even at 35 or 40. By 4 a.m., when a man has known for hours that he had no hope of having the 22-year-old model wearing the mere film of an outfit and not a hint of a visible panty line – she left hours ago with a younger, prettier, richer man – he is ready for the leftovers, the twice-divorced, middle-aged, scheming women, who might now be too drunk to execute their own scheme properly.

I got so sick of watching this night after night that I finally asked one of these women, ‘Have you got your plan in place?’ She looked at me horrified, like I was crazy. She was about 15 pounds overweight, had had a boob job and wore a bright blue gauzy dress that was the wrong colour, and its waistline was too high for her body, making her look even thicker than she was. Feigning incomprehension, she rushed by me and across the thinning dance floor. A couple of her prospective men had slipped away, with other scheming women, and now she was down to two choices – she looked back and forth between the two with the mortified desperation of a woman who’d just had her purse snatched. She chose one of the guys and left with him.

As I said, I never plan. I went on a blow-job jag for a couple of weeks. I felt like I wanted to explore cocks and would give five or six blow-jobs a night in a dark corner downstairs in the Willard Room.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.