The Nurse met me for a second date tonight. I couldn’t get her back to my place tonight either, but it was a very good experience with a really sweet, ripe young girl.
Our first date was lovely, a beautiful night. I was looking forward to seeing her again.
She worked today. And has work at 7 AM tomorrow at “the big hospital.” So I aimed for 6, but she said 7. Cool. Do I have a three hour window? Four? Is she going to skip sleep? Would I get her back to my place? She doesn’t seem wild and adventurous, but who knows.
It’s Saturday night in Shibuya. I have no idea if it will be hard to get a table for us at 7. And I can’t read Japanese websites, nor speak Japanese over the phone to set that up. So at lunch I set out on foot to score a reservation. For tonight with The Nurse, and also for tomorrow with the Business Girl.
My first choice restaurant is booked for tonight, but I locked down a table for tomorrow’s date. Very cool place. I ask them to make sure they seat us side by side. I march off too another super nice, but more conservative spot, and lock down the date for tonight. Logistics handled. Both dates will look pro, good logistics for a foreign guy.
Time comes and she is late, just getting off of work at 7, the time we’re to meet up. She is so “Sorry : (,” but I tell her not to worry, we’ll have a great night and I use the dead time to walk over to the restaurant to cancel our reservation — I love that place and don’t want a bad rep there. There are super cool, and my buddy — whom I have been making friends with more and more each time I go — says it’s no trouble and we’ll be fine for 8.
Cool.
She arrives, looking very cute. She put more into her look tonight, which is a good sign. Little boots. Black tights and a grey, fitting skirt hugging her lower half. Warm, respectable winter coat. Her smile was warm too. It was good to see her.
We are pretty comfortable right away together… I am good at being comfortable with girls I don’t know. We like each other already.
We arrive, get a nice table. It’s not crowded at all, it’s quiet and intimate. I push her over two seats so I can get on the same side of the table. This is unusual for everyone but me, and I don’t care. This is how it’s done.
I’ve done a good job charming the guy that works there over several visits this trip — which is my pleasure as he’s a nice guy — and he is extra attentive and friendly. I ask him to tell us some of his favorite things on the menu, and we order most of his choices. The food is amazing. The place is known for fresh vegetables. We have a delicious salad, seared tuna, and some rare beef roast. She is lovely, and serves my food onto the little plates that are common here.
Good deal. She loves it all, and so do I. It not super pricey at all, but a high quality experience.
We eat slow. She a mix of shy, attentive, polite, seductive and sexy — maybe equal parts of each. Just murdering me with the purist eye contact I’ve ever seen. It’s hard not to love this girl. A sexy, slow, k-selected one. More cute and beautiful, but precious all the same.
And now that we have her coat off, we have a better sense of her body. It’s glorious. As good as any healthy 23 year old, and better. And although she has every inch of skin covered, from her wrists to her toes back up to her pretty neck, all her clothes fit well and I can feel her through them. And her boobs are more full than I would have expected, a better match for her hips, which are very appropriate for her frame, but generous all the same. She is thin, but supple. With little fur-ball earnings that remind me of rabbit, and I accuse her of killing the little beast herself, and she laughs.
And I touch her all night. Always a hand on her back, up to the nape of her neck. Finger tips into the base of her closely cut hair. She leans against me slightly and she smells fantastic. I grab her around the arm all night, at the bicep, but high enough to feel the heat from under her arm — which makes me hot each time. And I put my hand on her thigh, under that table, fingers dipping between her legs, make a little show of it, so she knows it’s deliberate but so the staff cannot see. And I look at her, and tell her I would kiss her if we were alone. And she stares and stares.
And she takes all this with a mix of quietness and something like nervousness, while it is also obviously clear she is increasingly relaxed with me. I assume she has already decided she likes me. And she stares some more. A bit like my favorite, the Chinese Siren, but a little less dreamy, more down to earth, but still enchanting.
It is like that moment when you look at a child and get a flash of intelligence and depth that is unnerving. And then you blink and they are back to the innocent youth you to which you are more accustomed. Did you imagine all that? She is 20 years younger than I am. Hmmm.
They bring her a free drink at the end of dinner. A vinegar drink that is specific for girls. I think they brought us that drink… because they like us. And my buddy is helping me game because he likes me and knows what is going on here.
As we get up from the table, I feel a spot of come on my thigh. I don’t remember even getting hard, but I’m obviously hot for this girl in a visceral way. I get hard when girls aren’t around all the time. But I only “leak” like this when my body feels a real girl is nearby and ready. My CEO is wise.
As we pay and leave, I kiss her on the escalator. Her soft little mouth is still closed, but the kiss is much warmer than the first date. It feels like we are into each other. It is a solid connection.
It still amazes me that this can happen from cold approach. I don’t think I’m special. Nor she. I think humans are just simple animals. My game is not bad. But this is the magnetism of genes and the heat of the ages in our blood. My job is to facilitate that flow.
We go down to the sidewalk and the negotiation for what comes next begins. I open my playbook and run a familiar Cheesecake pattern. She is no pushover and runs a good defense. The crowd waits to see what will happen.
The language complicates things now, as the pressure is on and she knows it. She doesn’t understand everything I’m saying, but she knows what’s afoot. That soft, warm, wet spot between her legs — which I am quite sure is soaking wet after dinner — is on the line. She is a no. I push and prod some. She gets a little nervous, tightens up. I shake her loose. Connect again. We smile. Then try again. No again. Soft, feminine, but firm. I give her a look so she knows I am a wolf, that I mean business, and I hold that look, and the rabbit in her shivers… And then I shake us loose again. I give her a little kiss. The bubble resumes.
And no… she’s too full from dinner for desert in a more public spot, and she doesn’t have time for a drink, she has to go.
Game over. I lose. But it’s a sweet failure.
She wants it. It’s fucking on. She may turn out to be a time waster, but I wouldn’t bet on it. It is now 10 PM and she has to be at work at the hospital at 7 AM the next morning. That is part of the resistance. That, and all the other reasons we all know so we’ll. It was good game. But this is an old dance.
To her train. A series of soft, slow kisses. Her chin still tucked. But her lips crack more than last time and we exchange some heat from our mouths. I’m not sure if she wants to kiss me in public.
We talk about our next date. She seems serious and calm when she says it might be a week before we see each other again. I’m a little shocked (really?), but I don’t think I showed it too much. It is a reminder I need to work my other leads… And hit the sidewalk again soon to find fresh ones.
Game, in one form another, never ends.
And I want to add that Yohami is always trying to get me to see how girls really are… and I said in my other post about her that she just broke up with her BF last week. Maybe she is using this experience to fuck with him? Maybe she can’t see me, as she’s seeing him this week? Cute little girls run their own dark little games too. Yohami is always right.
Again, the answer is more leads. More girls. Don’t get attached. When a man pursues having options is his life it can sometimes be more Buddhist than horndog.
We eye-fuck there for a bit, at the busiest intersection in the world, and she moves onto the escalator and she is gone. Wow.
I’m happy. But horny. I’m a daygamer on the path. We shall see.
So I go home, catch my breath, and head out again. No rest for the wicked.
Scout two new bars in another part of town… One is a recommendation from Business Girl, and it is stuffy and sucks. But this is how we learn. Then I find a random lounge that is dark, quiet, with deep couches. That’s a score. I have a date planned for that spot on Wednesday.
And then I party until five AM, or 29:00, as we say here. It’s a wild, high-end gaijin club (which in this case means 80% Japanese, 20% foreigners). I know how to work this place, even though I claim no skill at nightgame. I have a great night, but my nightgame would not impress you. I don’t make out. I don’t take numbers.
I drink too much, as I over tip the Australian hotshot bartender, who knows me from last week, and then he kills me with strong drinks, including a free round, complete with a tap water (no ice) and a bottled water that I slip into my back pocket. He knows what I like. We’ll be best friends before I leave. He ruined me several times on my last trip here, with rounds of shots for me and anyone I was talking to on the house several times. He doesn’t remember all that, but I do.
And the people at the club are great to me, I make friends with some guys, flirt and touch some girls. The bar backs know me now and smile and give me a nod every time they pass. My nightgame family. This place is the most aggressive, ridiculous club I have ever known (and I have clubbed all around the world, regularly, for 20 years), a complete shark tank, and drinks flow all night in Tokyo… so it’s good to have some fam.
I cab home, have a snack. Pass out and dream of that wet spot.
We shall see.
Viva daygame.
