I consider this for a few minutes, then take a deep breath and blow it out noisily.
"You know, cousin," I sez. "You're right. I mean, when you're right, you're right ... know what I mean?"
"I do," Nunzio frowned, "which is in itself a little disturbing."
"So ... when do you think we should start?"
"Well ... how about right now?"
While my cousin has convinced me that it would be within the bounds of ethical behavior to launch our campaign, such an accelerated-type timetable catches me unawares.
"Excuse me?"
"I said how about starting right now. Opportunity should be seized when it presents itself ... and right now there is a young lady at the bar who has been checking you out for the last several minutes."
I sneak a peek in the direction he is lookin', and sure enough ... there is one of those classy broads I have been tellin' you about, a blonde to be specific, perched on a bar stool and starin' right at me. I know this to be true, 'cause though for a minute I thought she was lookin' at someone else, as soon as our eyes meet, she closes one eye in a broad wink and smiles.
"Nunzio," I sez, duckin' my head and turnin' my back on her. "There is one more problem I have neglected to mention to you."
"What's that?"
"Well, though my manners with broads are perhaps not as polished as they should be, they are nonetheless the best I have managed to acquire over the years. That is to say, I am normally on my best behavior with females, so the idea of tryin' to act so offensive that they call for help is not particularly comfortable to me. Mind you, I am sayin' I would have difficulty doin' this with the ordinary broads I am accustomed to dealin' with, and to tell you the truth, I find the kind of classy broads that hang out here more than a little intimidatin'. I'm not sure I can start a conversation with one, much less summon the courage to try to be offensive."
"Well, I don't think that starting a conversation is going to be a problem," Nunzio sez.
"Why not?"
"Because the lady in question is on her way over to our table already."
Surprised, I swing my head back around to check things out for myself ... and come dangerously close to plantin' my nose in the broad's cleavage, as she is much closer to our table than Nunzio had indicated.
"Oops ... Sorry!" I sez, though it occurred to me as I said it that it was not a great start to bein' offensive.
"No problem," she sez. "A girl likes to feel appreciated. Mind if I join you?"
Somethin' about the way she grins while sayin' this is familiar ... or at least, decidedly unladylike. Before I can comment, however, Nunzio has taken over.
"Certainly. In fact, you can have my chair ... I was just leaving anyway. Catch you later, Guido ... and remember what we were talking about."
With that, he gives me a big wink and wanders off, leavin' me alone with the skirt ... who wastes no time plantin' her curvaceous bottom on the chair my cousin has so graciously vacated.
"So ... I haven't seen you in here before."
"What?"
I have been so busy thinkin' about what I am goin' to do to Nunzio to repay him for his "graciousness" that I nearly miss the broad's openin' gambit.
"Oh. No, we just got into town this week. This seems to be turnin' out to be our main hangout, though."
"Hey, that's terrific! This is one of my favorite spots. It's my first time in this week, though. Girl's got to do the rounds to keep up with what's going on in town ... like when new soldiers arrive."
Although I have been feelin' self-conscious about meetin' one of these high class skirts, this one seems real easy to talk to ... like I'd known her for years. Whafs more, she is certainly not at all hard on the eyes, if you know what I mean.
"Say," I sez, "can I get you somthin' to drink? A wine spritzer, maybe?"
"Bourbon. Rocks. Water back."
"Say what?"
I mean, it isn't just that she drinks stronger hootch than I would have expected, it is the way she rattled it off. I decide it is not this chick's first time into a bar ... a decision made easier by the fact she has already told me as much.
"Better still," she sez, "isn't there somewhere else we can go?"
This is a rough one. Abdul's is the only joint in town I have frequented so far.
"Ummmm ..." I sez, thinkin' fast, "I have heard of some place around here where there's open stage entertainment."
Mind you, I am not wild about takin' this skirt somewhere where I might run into my commandin' officer, but I figure she'll be impressed with my willingness to spring for a good time.
"I was thinking someplace more like the rooms upstairs," she sez, leanin' forward to smile at me real close.
I am taken a little aback by the forwardness of this suggestion, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. When a high-class babe like this approaches a low-brow Joe like me in a bar, she is not usually after witty conversation ... which, in my case, is fortunate.
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: It has been brought to my attention by some of my test readers that the concepts in this Chapter and those that immediately follow are a marked change of pace from the normal MYTH content. In this, I fear it may be my sad duty to introduce to some readers for the first time the horrifying reality that there are a few sick, twisted, perverted individuals who approach members of the opposite sex in singles bars for purposes other than pleasant conversation! I feel free to identify them as such in this book, since it is a well known fact that such blots on the shining history of mankind do not read, making me relatively safe from legal action. Incidentally, this is also why the question "Read any good books lately?" has become such a popular way of screening whom one does or doesn't talk to under such circumstances. I will leave it to you how to answer if the question is ever addressed to you. Meanwhile, back to the story ...)
As I was sayin' before I was so rudely interrupted, I am at a bit of a loss as to how to respond to this advance.
"Right now?" I sez. "Don't you want to talk for a while first?"
"What's wrong? Don't you like me?" she sez, startin' to pout a little. "Should I go peddle my wares somewhere else?"
"Peddle?"
"Watch it," she sez, flat and nasty. "It's a figure of speech."
"Oh."
I am vastly relieved to hear this. The only thing more depressin' to a sensitive guy like me than learnin' that a female is interested in him for his body and not his mind is learnin' that her real interest is in his wallet.
"Well?" she sez, cockin' an eyebrow at me.
Though I am, perhaps, a little dense at pickin' up cues from a skirt, let it never be said I am slow once the message has gotten through. Scant seconds later I have acquired the key to a room from Frumple and am leadin' this vision of loveliness up the narrow stairs ... well, followin' her, actually, as experience has taught me that this gives one an excellent view of the sway of her hips, which is to me still one of the most beautiful and hypnotic sights in any dimension.
In a masterful display of control, I manages not to fumble with the key whilst unlockin' the door, and even stand aside to let her enter first.
Bein' a broad, she whips out one of those foldin' mirrors and starts checkin' her makeup even before I finish lockin' the door behind us.
"So," I sez, over my shoulder, "What do you want to do first?"
To be honest with youse, at this point I have no interest at all in creatin' a hassle. Instead, I am thankin' my lucky stars that a skirt like this would give a lug like me a second look, and hopin' we can get on with things before she changes her mind.
"Well," she sez, "You could start by bringing me up to date on how you and Nunzio have been doing."
It takes a moment for this to sink in, but when it does, I knows just what to say.