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I
live each day as if I am about to get laid at any given moment.
I dress
each morning for sexcess. I am not a prostitute, a player or
nymphomaniac. Most times I won’t even get off. Sex is what
I know and do best. I make it work in my favour. Anyone can
do it. There is no right or wrong way to go about working the circuit.
However, you must have your own style and stick to the program.
You feed off vibes and body language and eventually become a walking
streak of sex. All eyes on you. That’s why I do it.
It has nothing to do with the free drinks and bottomless champagne or
the coke buffet and lavish meals of which you never see the check.
It’s your guarantee of a good time. Your dirty little secret.
Here is how I do it.
I never go to the same bar more than twice in two weeks. You must
maintain a sense of mystery. Overtime you become a familiar face
but never ever a barfly – the girl who frequents the same place for
security and spends two hours chatting up the bartender who in-turn
responds only because he is thinking of his tip. You become the
girl everyone thinks they’ve seen before, but can’t pin down exactly
where or when.
I talk to anyone and everyone because I do not harbour a nervous bone in
my body. I scream my order for a cosmo over the music, stare my
match in the face and tell him he’s paying for it. I don’t say
hello, I say, “Are you buying me a drink or what?”
In the beginning it is important to look approachable. You draw
him in because he is comfortable and you appear to be non-threatening.
A few drinks later he can’t believe his luck. This is when you
throw the cards on the table – let him know who he’s dealin’ with.
You are not the girl-next-door he initially thought….
You’re the girl who’s going to sit on his face. Moan down his
throat. Break the headboard. And you are never going to call
him again. Ever.
It is not of proper etiquette to ask whether or not the guy is
married/committed. The last thing you want is to wind up talking
about his love-crisis for the remainder of the evening. You can
touch briefly upon the subject, be sympathetic, then re-direct the flow
of conversation to the
nape of your neck.
Never take him back to your apartment. We don’t want another
stalker to add to the list. When you go ‘round to his place
it’s you who does the leaving, and he must be well aware that it is
possible you may leave him at any point and THIS is why he likes you.
He is not sure if he wants a one-nite stand with you or a several
month-long fling. He is confused and this again, works in your favour. If it is not possible for you to go to his place, suggest a
hotel. If he cheaps out on the idea, this is where you say
goodbye. Goodbye.
When you bump into one of your Johns again - don’t panic. He is
on YOUR territory, where YOU feel most comfortable. In fact, he
thought he’d never see you again. You walk over, martini
in-hand, smile, pretend to be interested in the conversation running
between him and his friend, get him to light your cigarette, wink, then
leave. The second you are out of earshot he’s blabbing to his
pal about how you were the first girl to ever fuck-and-bail on him.
This guy respects you so you have no reason to feel intimidated by him.
You don’t have to worry about a guy reacting to your coldness in a
threatening manner because you have the intuitiveness to suss the
psychopaths out from the harmless Johns in the first place.
Try not to push the envelope too much in the party scene. You
never become the drunken party slut and you do not want to get all
burnt-out and have psychological issues afterward. Fucking around
is not for everyone. Given that, don’t make yourself into something
you know in your gut, you can’t handle being. Playing this game
should come off as easy and as naturally as breathing. Think of
“working the circuit” as being the hostess of a party – if done
right, the outcome works itself into being mutually satisfying for you
AND your John.
And no one gets hurt.
:: Email
Raymi :: Return to
rocketpack.org ::
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