The Game

I was so lost in the seduction that I forgot I was wearing a fake lip ring. Worried that it would fall out (or, even worse, end up on her lip), I pulled back, looked at her again, and then nibbled on her lower lip.
    Her tongue darted out of her mouth. “Hey, not so fast,” I told her, as if she were the one hitting on me. The key to physical escalation, David DeAngelo had said in his seminar, is always two steps forward, one step back.
    We made out carefully, and then I returned her to Rebekah at the bar. I had a workshop to wing, so I told them both that it was a pleasure meeting them and I should rejoin my friends. We confirmed our plans to spend a weekend together, and I left with my heart singing.
    The Matador of Love was the first person to run up to me. He took my hand in his and kissed it. “In India, we put ourselves prostrate before people like you,” he said, flapping his arms excitedly. “You’ve given me a new meaning on life. It was like watching John Elway do the two-minute drive. You knew he had game before, but in that moment he really proved it. You got the Super Bowl ring.”
    For the rest of the night, I was on fire. Women who hadn’t even seen me with the platinum non-sisters were opening me. They could smell it.
    When I ran into Heather again, I asked her, “You’re not a thief, are you?”
    “No,” she said.
    I removed my necklace and very slowly put it around her neck. “This is still mine,” I whispered, kissing her lightly. “It’s something to remember tonight by. But I want it back next time I see you. It’s very special to me.”
    As I walked away, I knew I’d just made her night.
    It didn’t even matter whether I got laid or not, because this was the game artfully played. It was exactly what I’d been working so hard for. I just didn’t realize that I’d ever be able to pull it off so smoothly or that, in the process, I was creating a hunger that could never be satiated.

After another two months of workshops, I flew back to Los Angeles for a break. But I grew restless sitting at home alone. There were clubs and bars full of sets to be opened, each one a potential new adventure. The compulsion to sarge consumed my body like a fever.
    Fortunately, I received a call from Grimble. He was at the Whiskey Bar and had started talking to Heidi Fleiss, the former Hollywood madam who’d recently been released from jail for pandering and tax evasion. She wanted to meet me.
    I slipped into a custom-made suit I had recently bought, threw my prop bag over my shoulder, and dabbed a different cologne on each wrist. I had a feeling this was not a casual call.
    When I arrived, Grimble was standing next to her at the bar. He was wearing the exact same floral-print button-down shirt I had met him in, except the silver had faded to gray from so many washings. Three buttons were open, and his hairless chest was thrust further out than ever. Like a baseball player, he seemed to believe it was his lucky shirt.
    “This is Style,” Grimble told her, flashing a shady smile that was a little unnerving to a friend, but to a certain type of girl was no doubt a turn on. “The guy I was telling you about.”
    Heidi was attractive but hard, like only women who’ve had to fend for themselves in Los Angeles can be. I wondered if he was trying to set me up with her. She seemed like an odd choice. I try to avoid women who’ve served time.
    She reached out and shook my hand firmly. “So,” she said. “Show me your stuff.”
    “What are you talking about?” I asked.
    “Grimble here says you’re a pickup artist. He was telling me about what you teach. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
    I flashed Grimble a dirty look. He’d sold me out. “Why don’t you show her?” I asked Grimble.
    “I have a girl here,” he said, flashing a cruel smile and nodding to a petite Hispanic woman in four-inch heels. “Besides, she can see me on Elimidate. ”
    Grimble had told me months ago that he was going to test his seduction skills by auditioning for the dating show Elimidate. I just didn’t realize he’d gone through with it—and actually been accepted.
    “When’s it airing?” I asked.
    “Tomorrow night.”
    “Who won?”
    “I’m not allowed to talk about it. You’ll have to watch.”
    I searched his face for a clue, but he betrayed nothing.
    “Well.” Heidi prodded. “Go pick up a girl. I bet I can get anyone you can.”
    It looked like I would be competing in my own Elimidate that night.