Mallory: Comedy Club Night

Sometimes, when you live with faeries, you have to be careful what you wish for…

Sunday night, I got together with Mallory to go to a comedy club. I know this girl who works there and was able to get tickets to a VIP table. Mallory looked pretty hot, that night. She’d tied her hair in a French braid and was wearing a sexy black summer dress that didn’t cover much of her thighs. The whole outfit was completed with black pumps that gave her a lot more class than her normal clothes would suggest. To be honest, the old me would have been pretty intimidated, being with a girl like this. But knowing that she already liked me kind of gave me confidence I didn’t have before.

The show started and we laughed a lot. It turns out having a VIP table isn’t entirely a good thing. It means you’re in full view of the comedians, so they can make fun of you. All part of the price of admission, I guess. So the warm-up guy took a few pot shots at me, asking if I’d hired “her” (referring to Mallory) or if she was my sister. I laughed, har har, so very funny. I replied out loud, “No, it’s YOUR sister!” Double har har. The audience laughed. The comedian rolled with it. “I’m Corsican, buddy. Are you sure you like my sister?” When I hesitated, he faked pulling out a knife and waved it in my direction. “What? WHAT?!? You don’t like my sister?!?” More laughter.

The show went on. I’ll be honest, I was a bit more interested by Mallory’s long white legs than by the show and she eventually noticed. She winked at me and patted my thigh. Then she left her hand there, as if by accident. It wasn’t an accident, though. I could tell she was heating up a little. Finally, I thought. When the show stopped for the intermission, her hand was still in the same place. Heck, was I imagining this or had she kind of crept closer to my crotch?

“Hey, Mal,” I started. “Careful where you put those fingers, I normally charge for this, you know?”

“Your loss,” she said, laughing. Even I could tell it was the practiced laugh and smile of a player. She took her hand off my thigh and caressed the side of my face. She wasn’t buying my banter, that much was obvious, but it wasn’t turning her off. In fact, in an odd case of cognitive dissonance, it looked like she was getting hotter. Were those indentations I noticed on the front of her dress, where her nipples should be? I didn’t dare break eye contact to check, but I was pretty sure I was right. I put my hand over hers, trapping it against my cheek.

“Look, I gotta settle something.” I took a deep breath. “I’m kind of getting mixed signals, here…”

She blushed a little. This wasn’t practiced, this was real. She was getting very excited. About me. It was kind of flattering, too.

“Mixed signals, eh? You’re a fine one to talk…” Her flush deepened and she fanned herself with the drinks menu on our table. “You’re all about mixed signals. Obviously Brooke taught you well.”

I mulled that over for a second, slightly confused. I looked at her. There were no mixed signals now, that was for sure. I’d been using my faerie sight long enough to know when a girl was good and ready, and Mallory was as ready as they came. Then I had an epiphany.

“You think I’m playing you? That’s why you’re stalling? You think I’m a pick-up artist?”

She nodded. “Obviously. If Brooke called me in to stall you when you were hunting for phone numbers, that’s because you must be pretty good. He’s never called me for help before.

My jaw dropped. I had my first epiphany of the night (I’ll get to the second one in a moment). I’ve become a player. And if Mallory’s testimony is any indication, a pretty good one at that. Truth is, I don’t believe I am, but with the help of my faerie sight, I can see how someone would think that.

“Mal, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m just the reverse. Not even close to being a player, not one bit.”

She leaned in closer. There was molten fire in her eyes. And from the look of things, her eyes weren’t the only parts of her that were melting. She parted her lips and leaned further in to kiss me. Suddenly, everything was hot and vibrant. I lingered into the kiss for a long moment, until a tiny voice chirped into my ear.

“There,” Minx said. “She’s all good and ready for you. You can thank me later.”

The moment was shattered like a broken mirror. Damn that faerie!!! My eyes flew open and I pushed Mallory back a little. That took her by surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

I tried to recover quickly, looking for an explanation that would make sense. This must have been my lucky day because a comedian just stepped onto the stage at that very moment.

“Show’s restarting,” I said. “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves.”

And so the show went on while I sat next to a very, very hot girl who spent the next hour squirming onto her seat.

Damn those faeries!

–Jaycee
“I’m doing it.”

Mallory and Me…

I’ve known Brooke for at least ten years, now, but he never said anything about his cousin Mallory. I guess that shouldn’t be such a surprise. When you think about it, how many cousins of your friends do you know? Not many, I’m sure.

That other night when we went hunting for phone numbers, I have to admit I was pretty shocked when Brooke introduced her to me. But beyond the fact I’d never heard of her, I was surprised by how much in control she is. Thanks to my faerie sight, I can clearly tell she’s really into me, but in another way, I’m stunned at her ability to resist her impulses. I don’t need to nudge her, she’s already on my side. She’s playful, she’s funny, and she’s quite a tease at times, but I just can’t seem to get her over that threshold.

I’ll admit, I’ve given some thought to bringing Minx with me next time I go out, and ask her to make some magic happen, but part of me is resisting that urge. Mallory is a puzzle that I WANT to figure out on my own. Having some faerie help would just spoil that.

Anyway, we’ve been hanging out in town the last few nights. I’ll let you know how things progress.

–Jaycee
“I’m doing it.”

Nudge This!

Saturday night, Brooke and I went to a club to have a few drinks. Things have been a bit rough with Meghan lately and I think he wanted to talk. As I’ve discovered, she’s slowly becoming a very successful photographer and she’s getting more and more international contracts. This has meant a lot of work abroad in the last few months and it’s caused a strain in their relationship. Brooke says she keeps mentioning Manuel, a Spanish fashion magazine owner who keeps calling and texting her (even in the middle of the night). Brooke’s not a jealous guy, but he knows when someone is making a play for his girl.

So in order to help Brooke lighten up, I decided to challenge him to a pickup contest. I figured with my Nudge, I’d be able to keep up with him, maybe even win. I haven’t really practiced it, despite what you might think. With Morgan taking care of my sexual needs (and then some!), I haven’t been feeling any particular urge to fool around with female strangers.

The rules were pretty straightforward. We started the contest at 10:15PM. Each of us had 45 minutes to get as many phone numbers as we could. Loser would pay drinks for the rest of the evening. From previous experience, I knew I could get around one number every six minutes and change (yes, I did the math!). That meant I could do around seven numbers before the time was up. Maybe a little more if I pushed it (but I knew this would mean a headache). The things I do for friends.

So we went to work. We’ve done this before, and of course Brooke would always crush me. This time, though, I’d make him proud and return the favor. Things were off to a good start. I approached two girls, did some small talk, and learned they were BFFs with benefits. It’s amazing what you can get out of some girls with just a few good openings and a playful attitude (the openings alone don’t work). I barely had to do any nudging for BOTH of them to give me their numbers and invite me for some fun together later. Things kept rolling and after thirty minutes, I was up to eight numbers already–a pace below four minutes a girl. At this rate, I might be able to push a dozen before 11PM.

And then that girl happened. Tall girl, sexy smile, long red hair, good figure, wearing casual jeans, a t-shirt and a vest. She had–get this!–some beads and feathers in her hair, and was drinking beer straight from the bottle. There was a hippie vibe about her that reminded me a bit of Zuri’s free spirit. There was something very approachable about her and I thought this was going to be easy. She noticed me checking her out and raised her bottle in a silent toast to my health or something. So I approached her and got to work. I went for the Oh-I-thought-you-were-someone-else approach.

“Hey,” I started, “I was wondering where you–oh, you’re not Susan!”

“Nope,” she said, smiling and half-turning from me. She gulped down some beer and winked at me. “There’s no Susan, is there?”

Uh oh, I thought. She’s on to me, so I might as well drop the game and play it straight.

“Ah, no,” I said with a grin. “Well, there’s probably a Susan somewhere, but she looks nothing like you.”

She just smiled. “I should warn you, we’re not leaving together tonight.”

Well, that was direct. Then she turned to face me, wrapped her arms around my neck, drew me in and kissed me on the lips.

Wow.

That threw me off my game a little. A lot, actually. I got a little flustered and broke the kiss.

“Ah, for someone who’s not leaving with me tonight, I think you’re sending mixed signals.”

“Doesn’t mean we won’t ever leave together, just not tonight.” She stepped back, held up her beer bottle and shook it a little. Empty.

“Want another?” I asked. She nodded, so I motioned for a wandering waitress to bring us to more of what she was having.

We chatted for a while and, I’m embarrassed to say, I lost track of time. It was the weirdest thing, though. I could tell she really liked me, but no matter how much I nudged her, I couldn’t get her to give me her phone number. I tried the indirect approach, reverse psychology, and, out of moves, fell back on just plain asking for it. Nothing worked. I’d never encountered anyone who was so in control in this kind of situation (well, Brooke being the exception). Finally, with that thought, it finally dawned on me. The feathers in the hair were a dead give away, I just hadn’t picked up on it: this was a pick-up artist, female version. Just like Brooke.

And with that, it was 11PM and Brooke suddenly appeared near us, grinning victoriously.

“I got TEN!” he said, not even acknowledging the girl I was talking to. I just realized I didn’t even know her name!

“Ah,” I began, realizing I was still short. “I’m not… I don’t…” Feeling like a fool, I didn’t want her to know we were playing some game and she was part of it.

Brooke glanced at the girl and winked. “Thanks for the assist,” he said. She slipped by his side and put her arm around his waist. “No problem,” she said, grinning at me.

“Wait, you two KNOW each other?” I’d been played! Of COURSE they knew each other. She was a pick-up artist, just like Brooke. Probably one of his many wingmen (or wingwomen?)… It finally dawned on me that Brooke must have called her in to stall me. He knows about my Nudge so he needed someone to neutralize me while he got more phone numbers! What a bastard! (But a clever one, I have to admit.)

“Sure we do,” Brooke said. “This is my cousin Mallory. Taught me everything I know about women.”

So I think this warrants a DUN DUN DUUUUUN