As I wake up, my mind instantly fills with the events of last night. It was one of these nights. I slowly drift back to sleep, as my memories start filling my dreams.

It was Saturday. The one Saturday of my monthly visit at my Mom's. She lives alone. I come back from college to pay her a visit every month. Yesterday was one of these days.

I vaguely remember my mother telling me something about the subsequent Sunday. Can't be that important, I guess.

I usually go out on these Saturday nights. See a few old friends. Catching up. Chats. Latest rumors. Drinks. We always go to our old favorite bar. Nice little place. Limited selection of drinks. A small dance floor. Nothing real fancy. It's usually crowded on Saturday nights. No one knows why. Yesterday was one of these nights.

All my friends canceled. Bummer! So I took things in my own hands.

So be it! I thought. Let's make this one of these nights.

I have gathered quite some experience in this kind of thing: getting laid. I don't know why the girls fall for me. But I like it that way. No, I don't date. Yes, I do fuck around. Call me a scumbag, if you want, but girls who fall for a guy that picks them up at a bar have it coming. Really. I'm digressing.

I went to said club, my radar on full alert. Patience was the key. It always is. Pick your prey with meticulous care. This night should be one of the more challenging. Why so? I can't take her to my Mom's. Huge turn off for her, no-go to my Mom. Obvious! Toilets are gross. Made it in there more than just a few times too many. Bushes also worked great so far. No good anyhow. Too cold outside tonight. Did it in Mom's garage a few times. Not this time. So the car it will be. Adventurous! Something new. New is good. Prevents things from getting repetitive.

My chick-scanner worked wonders. I had traced down the girl in less than five. A few more glances to be sure. She was alone – good. She hadn't noticed me... yet – good. She was hot – very good. She was into strong drinks – excellent! Totally my type.

I ran the protocol. The protocol is simple. Idiot proof. Ask the barkeeper what she's drinking. They remember the hotties. Get her that drink. Make it strong... Very strong. Overtip the barkeeper for it; he's kind of your wingman after all. Surprise her with the drink. Have a little chat. Don't prepare any pick-up lines . Just don't! They're douchey. Let them come spontaneously. Make her laugh – a lot. Charm her. Challenge her. Provoke her. Take her for a dance. Slow songs mostly. Get touchy. Not too aggressive though. Let her know you're in charge, but don't be bossy. And then... Take her for the ride. Important note: Don't be creepy – ever!

“Which one for tonight?”

I replied to the bartender's question: “Sorry, what?”

His grin was bold, yet impertinent. “You're here alone, I see. So you're probably looking for a nookie, I bet.”

He got answered by a crooked grin.

“I know my regulars. That girl over there, I guess.”

I nodded.

“I do know my regulars. Drink's already prepared. Left one's hers. Extra stiff.”

I payed my man. The drinks smelled of lime, rum and peppermint. Probably mojitos. The barista knows his way around with drinks. How to make a drink stronger without destroying its balance of the different tastes? Replace the mineral water with vodka. Tastes practically neutral. Works with almost every cocktail.

“Good choice, boy. Small tits, but her appearance compensates that. I like her hair. Frames her gorgeous face. And that ass! Haven't seen her before, though. Good luck, boy” he said.

“I got this.” No need for that wish.

She had her back turned to the bar. She was leaning back, resting on her elbows; practically waiting to be chatted up. No one but me noticed? Seriously? Would it be that easy? Let's hope not! Had my share of too easy girls. Boring. No challenge. Most of them desperate beyond repair. Didn't want any of that drama that usually follows.

She only took note of me as I approached from up front. The protocol was fully operational. Her smile was breathtaking. I was stronger – experience.

She noticed: “Lookie there! That one for me?” She pointed to the glass in my left hand.

I gave it to her, nodding. Eyes still on hers.

“Nice. Strong. Looks like someone was running his protocol.”

A player too? Interesting.

“ Before we start... We both know where this is headed, right? Wanna go through the challenge ? Or do you prefer to get started right away. Saw your car outside. Looked appetizing.”

No she hadn't. Girl was bluffing. Clearly. I was caught off guard a little, though. Trick question. For sure! She was good.

“ Let's go through the challenge , shall we? Makes it more interesting. Otherwise... I'm afraid I have to give that drink someone who deserves it.”

Her mysterious smile at me. Huge turn on. “Ballsy words from a big hunk? Or are you trying to compensate something?”

I was. Girl was damn good. I only have around four inches to offer. No biggie. I have other things in store: technique mostly. Never left a girl unsatisfied – trust me. I can do things with that tiny wheenie other guys just dream of. Plus I've got a set of talented fingers and an experted tongue.

“You'll have to find that out for yourself.”

“Bold again? Guess you're compensating, then.”

She knew the game – better than I did, seemingly.

“Yes, I am. How did you guess that?”

“Oh really, I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to offend you.”

I'm taking back what I just said. She didn't know the game all so well. All just pretending...

First time, she backed off a little – got her! But playing the pity card? Who the fuck does that? Not me! That's for sure.

She smirks again.

“Actually... I was trying to offend you. Just a little. Not bad, your trick, I mean. So ballsy it is.”

Turned out she was just playing, I guess... Bummer. Could have worked, though. Anyhow. Had her on my side now. She played well after all. Turning the tide so often. Had to be extra careful on that one. Game was dangerous. The playful looks she sent me were teasing me. Did things to me. Could have lost myself in them. Tough nut to crack. And the dirty looks she gave me while sipping at her drink... She waited for it. For me to lose control. She was testing me. Testing if I could stay in charge. Manage the situation. Manage her. Evolution does this all the time: selection. She was the Darwin of hooking up.

I bit my lower lip. Just a matter of buying a few extra seconds. Distract your prey with subtle gestures. That is... When you're seemingly not getting anywhere... losing the battle.

She was faster: “By the way... Sorry for not introducing myself. My bad. I'm Sheryl.”

She offered me her hand for a shake. I took it and gently pressed my lips to its back instead.

“My pleasure, miss whatever your real name is. No way Sheryl's your actual name.”

I read busted in her smile. She stated: “ Tonight it is. Just for you.”

“Just for me? What an honor... Sheryl.” I paused. “Is there a reason why I get it granted?”

Her flirtatious smile again. “Rarely ran into another player. At least not as good as you are. Plus, we might get lucky tonight, who knows?”

I chuckled. Nice to hear. Nothing I wasn't aware of, though. Again, she was testing me. Never actually stopped. Flattering... Sheesh. Old trick. Fall for compliments that easily? Makes you feel secure. Makes you let your guard down. Makes you weak.

“Thanks, but you haven't seen anything really. I've had tougher nuts to crack.”

Direct provocation – works in most of the cases.

Now she had to pause. My turn to take the lead again.

“Touché,” she said, “guess I'll have to show you what I'm capable of, then.”

Correction: direct provocation – always works. Challenges them. Just don't be insulting – never works.

I resumed the provocations: “Let me guess... You're in fact out of ammo? Struggling to find new words.”

A flame lit in her eyes. The same she ignited in mine the moment she became my project. She was annoyed, challenged, provoked. In other words: she was aroused. Almost ready for the touchy part: dancing. She'd me mine before long. Not the moment to get inattentive. Not at all!

“Shit, you're good!” She took a long sip of her mojito to see my reaction. I almost carelessly proclaimed victory, but then saw it in her eyes: not the moment yet. She still had things in store. Even now her own protocol was fully operational. “Damn! Drink's perfect!”

“ Wait... You call me good, but you call the drink perfect ?”

Damn it! I fell for this stupid trap. Could have been mine. Idiot! So she was in charge now. Fuck! Her grin was victorious.

“I got the same tricks in store, you know? Just mine are better.”

There! Yet another interesting turn. Badly chosen words. My chance to regain the lead? Or maybe an orchestrated wrong move to make me feel dominant? Not the time to get too questioning anymore. All-in it was.

“Nah, bad copies of mine. Nothing more.”

I could read the s-word running through her head in her expression. She was tense. Plus one for me.

She made her best to sound offended: “Too bad you're driving me away with your constant pushing. Thought you wanted to get lucky tonight.”

Not convincing. Bad choice of tactics, girl. You're in my field – defenseless.

“Oh, I will. You can't hide from me that you want me.” Back to teasing.

“Alright then. So take me to your car, and take me for that ride, will you?”

Another trap. Defo another trap. Too easy one. Her last test.

“Not working. I'll have to see your dancing skills first.”

There was satisfaction in her eyes. I had passed the test. Also a little frustration. I had made her horny and refused to fuck her right away.

We put our empty glasses on the bar. I took her by her hand. The DJ winked at me. He knew my style. He knew it was time for some slow songs. A matter of getting intimate. Feel each other. Get closer to each other.

Three songs was all it took. From dancing apart, coming closer, feel our bodies on each other to grinding finally.

It was about time we go to my car.

---------------

My memories get blurry and mixed up. A thousand impressions of last night fill my dream simultaneously. The chronological order get unclear. Us almost running to my car, her moans, my hand in her panties, opening the back door of my car, her orgasm, the ride home, undressing, getting dressed again, the actual sex,... Damn it! It all mingles to an undefinable mixture.

The cause for the disturbance in my dream is my mother waking me up.

“What the hell, Mom?”

“Get up sleepyhead. You know I want you to finally meet my boyfriend and his daughter before we move in together and get married. So please hurry, and welcome your stepfather to-be and your stepsister to-be. They'll be arriving any moment. Get dressed. Now!”

“But... but... Moooom!”

“We talked this over, remember?”

In the end, I get up anyway. Our guests just give me the time to get dressed. Not a minute more.

I hear my mother invite them in. No offense, but who agrees on coming over at Sunday before three or four in the afternoon?

I enter the living room. I can't make out their faces. Too tired eyes.

“And this little lazy-ass over here is my son.”

“Thanks mom! Great job introducing me to the new family...” Or wait...

My gaze locks with a familiar pair of eyes. Eyes I have seen sparkle in deepest desire just a few hours ago.

She stretches out her hand. “Nice to meet you, brother.”