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“So what do you feel like? Brunette? Blond? Redhead?” Hunter asks, bowed over the railing, looking at the dancing prey below.
“I’m not sure.” I also peer out into the sea of gyrating bodies.
“I’m thinking redhead myself,” Hunter says, rubbing his hands together sinisterly.
I chuckle, and when I glance at him, I figure now is a good time to ask what’s been bugging him because he’s drunk and usually all for the sharing.
“You okay, man?” I ask. “You’ve been acting weird. Well, weirder,” I correct with a smirk. “I’m detecting some hostility when the opposite sex is involved.”
Hunter takes a quick sip of his beer, and I know I’m onto something. But he shrugs it off, obviously not wanting to talk about his feelings.
I decide to press. “Want to talk about it?”
“Dude, I’m here to fuck, not to talk. So unless you wanna put out, quit it with the psychobabble. And besides,” he adds. “You’re drowning in pussy, so you wouldn’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Understand what a lucky son of a bitch you are,” he plainly replies.
“Lucky? Please explain how,” I say, scratching my head because from where I stand, I’m far from lucky. I’m obsessing over one girl who is totally unattainable while trying to wean myself off another.
Hunter reads my thoughts. “At least you have them coming back for more. What do I get? I’m lucky if I even catch their names. Am I ugly? You’d tell me, right?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink.
So this is what’s eating him. Could it be my friend, a bigger manwhore than me, is looking for a steady girlfriend? That’sgot to be it. The problem is, he’s choosing the wrong women. I should know.
“Dude, you’re not ugly. If I swung that way, I’d totally fuck you,” I say, slapping his shoulder playfully. “So you what, want to settle down?” I ask seriously, wanting to make sure my theory is right.
He shrugs, which in Hunter’s language means yes.
“Hunt?” I ask again, determined to get him to speak.
“I dunno, maybe!” he snaps, most likely annoyed with the twenty questions. “I just…why can’t I find one I like? Are all women like that? If so, fuck that bullshit. I’ll stick to one-nighters,” he says, running a hand down his face.
“Maybe the problem is the women you find aren’t exactly ‘bring home to your mom’ kinda material,” I suggest, hoping I don’t appear judgmental. “And besides, the way you talk, walk, dress, act…Jesus, your entire being doesn’t reflect you’re looking to settle down.”
“Maybe my whoring tendencies are a cry for help?” he quickly suggests, and I don’t know whether he’s being serious.
Just as I’m about to address his statement, he cuts me off. “Let’s just get laid already.” He pushes off the railing to look at me.
I know a brush-off when I see one, but I let it slide. He’s done talking, but at least I know what’s been bugging him.
This conversation, however, will have to be put on hold anyway, as a set of twins is headed our way. And yes, I mean girls, not boobs. And yes, they are identical.
“Punch me,” Hunter whispers from the side of his mouth.
“Are you fucking high?” I whisper back, puzzled by his randomness.
“I will be after I fuck twin one or two. Either way, I don’t care which it is because I won’t be able to tell who’s who because they are fuckingtwins,” he states, his excitement clearly evident byhis shit-eating grin. “This isn’t a dream, right? Those two blond bombshells are really headed our way.”
I roll my eyes and sip my beer. “Yes, you moron, they are real, and they’re headed our way,” I reply, watching their fake tits barely wobble as they walk toward us.
“Punch me just in case,” he quickly says, but I refrain from the violence as both girls stop beside me.
“Hi, I’m Mandy, and this is Marisa,” Mandy says with a smile, her perfect teeth glowing under the fluorescents.
Before I have a chance to reply, Hunter steps forward and takes charge. “Hi, Mandy and Marisa. I’m Hunter, and this ugly bastard is Dixon,” he says, hooking his thumb my way.
I sarcastically smile at his charisma and extend my hand. “Nice to meet you ladies.”
