The Game

the color to a tiny purple pea that contained all the power and intensity of the pleasure she was feeling. I had her place the imaginary pea in my hand. Then I traced my hand all along her body, first at a distance and then lightly touching it.
    “Notice how my touch can become like a paintbrush, transferring those colors and that sensation up your wrist, through your arm, and to the surface of the face.”
    To be honest, I had no idea whether this was turning her on or not. She was listening, and she seemed to be enjoying it, but she didn’t start sucking my fingers like the girl in Grimble’s story. In fact, I felt not only a little stupid but also lecherous using the pretext of hypnosis to touch her. I didn’t like these forbidden patterns. I got into the game to learn confidence, not mind control.
    I stopped and asked her what she thought. “It felt good,” she said, andsmiled her ferret smile. I couldn’t tell whether she was humoring me or not, but I suppose most people are willing to try something new if it seems safe.
    I folded the piece of paper, put it in my pocket, and drove her back to her hotel. But instead of dropping her off, I pulled into the garage. We climbed out of the car, and I followed her to her room. I was too scared to say a word, afraid she might suddenly turn on me and ask, “Why are you following me?” But she seemed to have mentally consented: It looked like we were going to have sex tonight. I couldn’t believe my luck. After all that practice, I was finally getting results.
    According to Mystery, it takes roughly seven hours for a woman to be comfortably led from meet to sex. These seven hours can take place all in one night, or over several days: approaching and talking for an hour; speaking on the phone for an hour; meeting for drinks for two hours; talking on the phone for another hour; and then, on the next meeting, hanging out for two more hours before going to bed together.
    Waiting seven hours or more is what Mystery calls solid game. But occasionally a woman either goes out with the specific intention of taking someone home, or can be easily led to sex in a shorter amount of time. Mystery calls this fool’s mate. I had spent an hour with this girl at La Salsa and two hours at the bar. I was about to experience my first fool’s mate.
    She put the card key in the lock of her room and the green light appeared—an omen, I felt, of the night of passion to come. She opened the door, and I followed her inside. She sat on the foot of the bed—just like in the movies—and pulled her shoes off. First the left, then the right. She was wearing white socks, which I found rather endearing. She flexed the toes of both feet upward, then curled them downward as she collapsed backward on the bed.
    I took a step toward her, prepared to fall on her in an embrace. But suddenly the foulest smell I have ever encountered assailed my nostrils. It literally pushed me backward. It was the exact rancid-cheese smell that homeless alcoholics on New York subways have. The kind that clears the whole subway car. No matter how many steps back I took, the intensity of the smell did not diminish. It filled the entire room, every available space.
    I looked at her, lying back on the bed, wanton, oblivious. It was her feet. Her feet were stinking up the room.
    I had to get out of there.

Every night after outings and dates, seduction students and masters post online breakdowns of their experiences, called field reports. The goals in chronicling their adventures vary: Some want help with mistakes, others want to share new techniques, and a few just want to brag.
    The day after my misadventure with the stinky-footed comedian, Extramask posted afield report online. Evidently, he had experienced his own odd adventure that same night. His time in the seduction community had already paid off. He could pee in toilet stalls next to other men; he could masturbate without hurting himself; and, now, at the age of twenty-six, he had finally lost his virginity—though not in the way he expected.

    MSN GROUP: Mystery’s Lounge
    SUBJECT: Field Report—I F-closed a Girl!
    AUTHOR: Extramask

    I, Extramask, have f-closed a girl for the first time—eliminating my virgin status (even though I didn’t blow my load). I’ll start from the beginning.
    On Monday, I went sarging with Vision. We went to this three-story club that had about fifteen rooms, each with its own individual bar. We pretty much sarged the whole