At four pm, Lucky shows up drunk and slurring his words at a local cafe in downtown Yuppieville (I hate their coffee, and the last time I was there, I had a first date with a dog walker who had a kid and an ex-girlfriend in another state, and also claimed that he had no interest in college or reading or...). He leans over to me, and says, "I went to grammar school with that guy, and he's a model."
I look over my shoulder, and saw the only guy who would closely resemble being a model. He was typing on his keyboard, and had his earbuds in. Handsome, of course.
Lucky leans in again. I get a sharp smell, an almost taste, of his booze. "He's a model and a doctor." He nodds at me carefully.
"A model and a doctor?" I laugh lightly.
Eventually, said model notices Lucky, and greets him cheerfully. They give each other half-hugs. Lucky goes over to make conversation. They talk for a few minutes. They decide to exchange phone numbers.
I'm wondering what I'm supposed to be doing since it's not polite to eavesdrop. I go back to working on a blog entry.
Yes, Lucky introduces me, and I notice model/doctor has a wedding ring on his hand.
Shit.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" Lucky says as he returns to our table.
I thought, maybe, he would actually want to go on a walk. You know, to talk and shit.
Lucky holds my hand as we walk down the street. He stops, and says, "Let's make out."
"No," I say. He draws me in closer anyway. "No," I repeat. I push on his chest.
He lets go of me. "Why not?"
"Because making out leads to having sex."
"So?" He responds like I'm a fucking idiot. Perhaps the same idiot I was when I was twenty and still a virgin.
"So..." I can't remember what I said next, something along the lines of--I haven't seen you for over a year, you're just in town for a month, we were in a relationship, etc.
"It's been a long time," Lucky says, referring to the fact that he hasn't had sex in a while.
I want to tell him to hire a prostitute (seriously), but I keep my mouth shut. "I don't want a guy who only wants to have sex with me because 'it's been a while.' "
He doesn't have a good response to that, and just stares at me.
If he was sober or maybe made some kind of effort to woo me, I might have been slightly more inclined.
"What did you think we were going to do?" He asks.
"I don't know, I just thought we were going to have a nice conversation...I tell you what, if you really want to have sex, then let's get together a couple of times and see how it goes."
"I don't have time for that."
"You're going to be here for a month."
"It's not enough time."
Honestly, I don't want to have sex with him, I don't even especially want to have sex with the model/doctor, although I might perhaps be swayed if model/doctor explained to me that he liked "plus-size girls," and we only had sex in the missionary position where my stomach looks the flattest. Even then, I would probably have to be drunk to undress in front of anyone.
Obviously, I'm a low hanging fruit for Lucky, so--no, I'm not convinced that he is even attracted to me. He just wants to stick it in something warm, and then thrust a few times before cuming on my leg. Lucky is bored, lonely, and horny--exactly the same conditions under which Morpheus contacts me.
In the end, I kissed Lucky on his ruddy, unshaven cheek, and told him goodbye. I got into my Mazda, and drove to the gym.
Later, I wonder if I could get at least a couple hundred dollars from Lucky if I let him try.
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