The Foxy Model

She was standing outside of the pub, leaning against the wall; all twenty one years old and five foot ten of her. French, thin, absolutely beautiful. She was a model with some pro experience—she didn’t brag. I guessed. For once, I believed it. She was all legs and hair. She wore a faux fox tail that I tugged at from time to time. I called her Foxy.

“How is it inside?” I asked. She didn’t know. She’d just arrived and wanted to finish her cigarette before going upstairs to meet her friend. She had an ultra-chill girl, “I won’t mess with you if you’re cool to me,” vibe, so I didn’t say any dumb shit or drop pickup lines. I didn’t even touch her. What I did was look her straight in the eye and tell her that Tokyo was a better bar and just down the street. I sold an experience.

“I will go there and meet with you after this bar.” She said. I pretended like I didn’t care but my god she was sexy. Inside I ordered a drink and then scouted the scene. Plenty of hot girls but nothing like Foxy. I eventually found her in the back, sitting with another beautiful French girl.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked. They were fine with that. Her friend was dating the drummer in a band that I once interviewed in 2006. I showed them the article online. They were impressed. They were artists: Painters and models. They showed me their artwork on Facebook. Foxy’s art was very impressive. I let her know I was very impressed without being too eager to please. Just a simple, “This is really fucking good.”

They asked what I do for a living. “I’m a dating coach.” I told them. They didn’t understand. “Like Hitch.” I said. Now they understood, and were very, very interested. After ten minutes of questioning they believed that my job was real and the service existed. I sold it as, “A way to help men and have time to write my novels.” They thought that was pretty great. The friend got suspicious and said, “So, you are doing it now? What you teach?”

I looked at her for a few seconds, considering my words. Then I said, “If I see a beautiful woman, I will talk to her.” That was a good answer apparently since it didn’t come up again.

I bought them a round of Jager Bombs, total cost, $20 with a tip. Then I asked them if they’d been to Tokyo Bar and they hadn’t–so off we went. As we walked down the street every male, young and old, turned to look at the beautiful, well dressed French girls with the average looking man. I felt like the stud, but didn’t get my hopes up. All I wanted was to hang out with these girls. No pressure on myself.

Tokyo was slow and quiet. I took them to the terrace and bought them another beer. I told them, “You get the next round.” They were happy for the beer. Foxy had some more pictures to show me on Facebook and she covertly caressed my hand as I passed her the Iphone. This was the first indication of Interest other I’d received. That was when I thought, “Maybe I can fuck this girl.” I didn’t expect it would happen tonight. If it did, it would be her decision.

I talked to the girls about music, travel and art. Every guy in the bar was doing the eye contact thing. Walking past and staring the girls down but the girls could care less. They didn’t even notice until I pointed it out. I even said, “Look at the pussies, staring at you. All they have to do is open their mouths.” They thought I was funny.

I left the girls alone while I got another drink for myself. I saw them talking about me. I knew what was up, they were discussing logistics. When I returned the friend said to me, “I will leave her with you. Take care of her please.”

The friend left. I couldn’t believe my luck but played it cool. I told foxy I lived not far and had a beautiful balcony and vodka. She said, “I shouldn’t go. But….ok.”

We got to my house and once inside I made her a drink, sat her on the couch and put on a movie. We watched it for about two minutes before I leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. She let me. Then we made out on and off for about ten minutes. I said, “We should go upstairs to watch this.”

She hesitated then said, “Ok. Let’s go.”

Within minutes I was pulling her way too tight pants off. We were naked together. Her body was absolutely beautiful; thin and curvy with a perfect round anti-gravity ass, long beautiful calves, mess of thick, wavy hair. She tasted great. She gave an amazing blow job and I banged her to orgasm over about twenty minutes. She rode me with great skill for a twenty one year old. Someone had trained her. I couldn’t stop admiring her body and gave her many encouraging compiments. It was like winning the lotto. I would say it was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Not kidding. If anyone ever wonders if they should go out alone on a Wednesday, the answer is yes. Hell yes.

I told her she could stay or go. She decided to walk home. I told her I wanted to take her to a party on the weekend. She said, “If you want to fuck me again, message me on Facebook. I think you know what I want.”

I assumed she meant sex.

She would not agree to meet me again.

Goodbye Montreal

***Sign up on the right and get a free pdf with all of my greatest hits from 2010-2012.***