Scenario: You’ve been dating a girl for a month and she takes you out to a party at a local pub which lasts to the wee hours. There, she introduces you to some of her girl friends, a couple of whom you have met before.
People are drinking, but no one gets blitzed. The atmosphere is just tipsy enough for guards to be let down and bitch shields to lower. One of her friends, a caustic playette who is just as cute as your date but with bigger tits, spends an inordinate amount of time chatting you up. Other men in the venue are angling for her attention, but she always manages to slip away for precious moments of titillating conversation with you. Your date does not notice anything untoward.
Later, the playette tells everyone she is leaving. (Extrovert playettes absolutely must let everyone know the details of their comings and goings.) As she is wrapping up to leave, she prances (yes, prances) over to you, arms outstretched as if anticipating a big hug. Instead, she throws her arms over your shoulders and swoops in for a kiss, ostensibly aimed for one of your cheeks. Her vector is off and you don’t know which cheek she is aiming for, so your head does a little bobbing and weaving, which makes you feel retarded. Your head dancing is to no avail anyhow, because in the noisy confusion and the cramped space of the crowd her puckered mouth lands right smack on your lips. The kiss is firm, unhesitant. She pulls back almost immediately, blushes and makes a half-twirl, and says “Oh, wow, woops!”
She is turning to walk out the pub, smiling like a schoolgirl on a snow day. Your date is in the bathroom and saw nothing. You can’t be sure, but you think the kiss lingered a split second longer than would have been the case had it been an accidental smooch. You reflect for a bit and conclude that her kiss was no accident.
As a frequent guest of the Chateau, you have no moral scruples in the arena of love and sex. You pursue pleasure unapologetically and unremittingly. If a friend of your date has come-on to you, and you suspect a chance exists to convert subversive flirting into full-blown fornication at some later date, you will scheme accordingly. You understand that the loss of your date is a possible consequence, but the clarion call of the game sings to you like a choir of devilish imps.
What do you do?
Don’t bother with what you’ll do a week or a month later. What do you do beginning with the moment after the kiss is consummated? How do you advantage yourself so that the odds of a bang at some future date go up considerably, assuming you cannot get the bang that very night? (You’re not such a cad that you’ll leave your date alone in the pub.) Each second matters, so think quickly.