The Immense Waiting of Others
The whole place smells of sweat. Sweat and smoke. This, of course, being the most popular night of the week at the city's most popular night spot featuring the areas most sought-after DJ spinning the most popular yet obscure dance tracks to come from France or Austria or wherever the new it locale is for this week, it's understandable that there hasn't been a vacant spot on the dance floor for well over 2 hours.
Finals just wrapped up at the local university which makes this Friday night at Club Aloe all the more festive. Nubile women are plentiful, which in turn brings out the young men. From your vantage point at an empty table you've made out all the alphas, the wingmen, the scavengers; the entire hierchy of the social scene. You can tell which ladies are there just to blow off some steam and have a good time with their friends, which ones are looking for husbands, and those who have no clue where theyre going to wake up in the morning. Quite a number of ladies this evening have been giving you not-so-subtle glances. While it's not rare to see an older man by himself at this club, usually they tend to be the pitiful hawaiin shirt wearing, drenched in cologne, trying too hard to be available type. It's rare to see a man as clean cut as yourself, in fine italian from the neck down, sitting alone.
You signal the attractive floor walker to bring you another drink. She nods in confirmation. Moments later she comes back and lands your drink on the table before you. Cranberry juice. straight. no ice. You hand her a Ten and she stuffs it between her cleavage and lands a kiss on your cheek. You don't even give the courtesy of a smile.
You suddenly realize that the song that's been playing for the last minute is one that you recognize. A familiar tune from Sergio Mendez and Brazil '66. You've always been an avid listener of latin music and had no idea that the kids would appreciate some actual good sounds. Maybe there's hope for them after all.
"Hes moving!"
The female voice in your earpiece jolts you out of your lethargy.
"Sebastian, get off your ass. He's moving".
You shoot to your feet and give an eagle eye to the corner of the far bar where you, until recently, have been intently watching. The mark isn't there. A cursory glance lets you latch on to a handsome bachelor, casually dressed, moving up the stairs to the patio exit with a tall blonde on his shoulder.
"I'm on him." you say into your cell phone that actually isn't on. Your voice is actully recieved by a small microphone hidden on your tie.
You begin to give chase to the young bachelor but realize that it would be hell trying to make your way through the hordes on the dance floor. If you go through the front entrance to the club you won't be able to keep an eye on him, but you'll definately get out a lot faster. Which route do you take?
Finals just wrapped up at the local university which makes this Friday night at Club Aloe all the more festive. Nubile women are plentiful, which in turn brings out the young men. From your vantage point at an empty table you've made out all the alphas, the wingmen, the scavengers; the entire hierchy of the social scene. You can tell which ladies are there just to blow off some steam and have a good time with their friends, which ones are looking for husbands, and those who have no clue where theyre going to wake up in the morning. Quite a number of ladies this evening have been giving you not-so-subtle glances. While it's not rare to see an older man by himself at this club, usually they tend to be the pitiful hawaiin shirt wearing, drenched in cologne, trying too hard to be available type. It's rare to see a man as clean cut as yourself, in fine italian from the neck down, sitting alone.
You signal the attractive floor walker to bring you another drink. She nods in confirmation. Moments later she comes back and lands your drink on the table before you. Cranberry juice. straight. no ice. You hand her a Ten and she stuffs it between her cleavage and lands a kiss on your cheek. You don't even give the courtesy of a smile.
You suddenly realize that the song that's been playing for the last minute is one that you recognize. A familiar tune from Sergio Mendez and Brazil '66. You've always been an avid listener of latin music and had no idea that the kids would appreciate some actual good sounds. Maybe there's hope for them after all.
"Hes moving!"
The female voice in your earpiece jolts you out of your lethargy.
"Sebastian, get off your ass. He's moving".
You shoot to your feet and give an eagle eye to the corner of the far bar where you, until recently, have been intently watching. The mark isn't there. A cursory glance lets you latch on to a handsome bachelor, casually dressed, moving up the stairs to the patio exit with a tall blonde on his shoulder.
"I'm on him." you say into your cell phone that actually isn't on. Your voice is actully recieved by a small microphone hidden on your tie.
You begin to give chase to the young bachelor but realize that it would be hell trying to make your way through the hordes on the dance floor. If you go through the front entrance to the club you won't be able to keep an eye on him, but you'll definately get out a lot faster. Which route do you take?
- ID: 38526
- Nickname: intro
- Hits: 113
