The British Virgin (Part 2 of 3)


“Great. Did you take a long walk by the pier with him, stare at the stars, and watch the sun rise?”

“No, nothing at all like that.” Wanting to put the focus on me she asked, “Did you meet the girl of your dreams?”

“No, not yet. But I’m pretty sure it’s going happen like in an American movie, randomly in some coffee shop or maybe in the fish market. We’ll fall in love, be inseparable for several days, then after that never see each other again.”

“That’s not so romantic.”

“Sure it is. Only unfulfilled love can be romantic.” How many times was I going to bite off the movie Vicki Cristina Barcelona, I did not know.

“Didn’t you say you’re leaving tomorrow?” I asked. I put my hand on her shoulder, the first time I touched her.

“Yeah, in the morning.”

“I’m sorry but we don’t have enough time to fall in love. You have to find someone else.” She gave me a warm stare that told me all I needed to know. What I didn’t realize at the time was that it was risky to hit her with a line like that. I was spitting game that an Eastern European girl would enjoy, but British girls recoil at. You can’t mention “love” even in a humorous way because she thinks you’re desperate. I had forgotten to be cold and distant with Anglo girls, to pretend I didn’t like them by busting their balls and keeping things superficial.

Tanya, thankfully, was different. She was feminine, sentimental, and appeared to be submissive. She wanted me to lead and do most of the talking. As I would soon find out, she was also inexperienced, on a level I was sure I couldn’t overcome.

One of her friend’s loudly said she wanted to go to another bar. In a previous time my friend would have jumped at the chance to bang her, but things changed and he seemed content merely making conversation. The cockblock was in, I thought, but then my girl said, “It would be nice if you and your friend came.” I gave a knowing nod to my friend who responded with a look of reluctance, and off we went for a short walk down the docks.

We let the girls walk in front of us. We passed sidewalk cafes located a few steps away from parked luxury yachts. It wasn’t too hot but even minor efforts of exertion started to moisten my lower back and upper lip. It’s the type of climate where you’re careful about not lifting your arms too much while wearing a gray shirt.

Surprisingly, the girls bought us a round of drinks at the next bar, which was more like a small club. “Call Me Maybe” was blasting and the girls were singing along. Even more disturbing was that guys were singing along, too. I asked Tanya if she wanted to go right outside to sit on the steps and talk for a bit. She eagerly headed to the door. My friend stayed inside to continue running interference on the two girls. The next day I’d present him with a Purple Wingman Heart for his performance.

“You don’t like dancing in a club?”

“Not really,” she said. “I like talking.”

“When I was younger, all I could do was dance because I didn’t know how to talk to a woman. I’m not saying I know how to talk to a woman now, but I think it’s a much better way to get to know someone.”

Things started to move fast now as I gave her all my greatest game hits. Every now and then you encounter a girl who takes everything you got, all that you’ve accumulated in that little encyclopedia of game you created in your brain. I hit her with so much dialogue—less than 5% of which I’m reproducing here—that even my friend, the guy who I came up in the game with, was impressed.

“I have a question,” I said. “Do you like men who are taller than you… are from America… and have beards? Totally hypothetical.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s hypothetical!” I smiled and then she said, “I don’t mind those things.”

I’ve discovered that if a girl says “Yes,” “I don’t mind,” or “I don’t have a preference,” I’ll be getting somewhere. If she objects to one of the qualities I stated, then I probably won’t. Her answer may seem neutral on the surface, but it was actually very encouraging. Within ten minutes we kissed.

After that it was a game of going along with the two friends while working on the connection. There would be a point where I could say “Let’s go” and she’d follow me without caring about them, but I wasn’t there yet.

All five of us walked to another club. One of her friends balked at the $17 cover. “I think I’m just going to bed,” she said. I tried hard to restrain my excitement, because if anyone was going to cockblock it was going to be that one. Four of us went inside: me, my friend, Tanya, and Tanya’s friend.

For a couple songs we did that thing on the dance floor where we formed a circle and bobbed to the music. I got tired of that, grabbed Tanya, and said, “Why don’t we go sit down.” She didn’t object, and we sat in a quiet part of the club, watching it fill with mostly British and Scandinavian people.

I was able to explore Tanya’s mouth more carefully now that we were alone. Her lips were soft and she liked moving her tongue around, though what struck me most was how easily she got lost in the moment. International kissing rules state that when you separate from a kiss, your eyes should open within two seconds or so, but Tanya’s would stay closed, as if she was under some type of spell. I enjoyed this because it made me feel like I was having a powerful effect on her, when the more likely truth was that she was a hyper-feminine girl who was more deeply affected by intimacy.

I multitask when I kiss. My lips, tongue, left hand, and right hand all work independently of each other to provide maximum stimulation to the girl. While cradled on the couch, my left hand was both stroking and tugging at her hair while my right hand was rubbing her thighs, testing the waters by going higher and higher towards her vagina until I was at her panty line. Most girls at that point would playfully smack my hand away, especially in a public venue, but Tanya was in another universe and allowed me to proceed until I slipped a finger under her panties and played with her wet pussy.

I felt self-conscious that someone was looking, but no one was, so I continued for at least ten minutes until I got tired and she half-collapsed into my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her and decided to wait a couple more minutes until I would try to whisk her away.

“It’s very loud here,” I said.

“Yeah I don’t like it,” she replied.

“How about we go for a walk right outside so we can talk a bit more?”

“I don’t want to leave my friend.”

“Why don’t we find her and see what she wants to do?”

My hope was that we couldn’t find her, but two minutes in we saw her across the dance floor sitting with my friend. They weren’t kissing but they were sitting close, and as if god smiled down on me, my friend told her a joke that made her keel over in laughter.

“It looks like they are having a nice time. I don’t want to disturb them.”

“I should go over to see if she’s okay.”

“She seems like she’s having the most fun in the club. Look at her face. Did you get a text from her?”

She pulled out her iPhone. No text messages. “Send her a text message saying you’ll be right outside. When she’s ready to leave she’ll let you know.” She sent the message and then out we went.


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