The Swinger

It was a dark and sleazy nightclub. Through the smoke and red lights, I saw HER. Okay, she was cheap but you still knew you couldn't afford it. Her dress was too short, her legs too long, her hair was dark and her heart even darker. My kind of place. My kind of woman.

All I had to do was cross a twenty foot dance floor. But better men than me have disappeared into that twenty foot Heart of Darkness and never been heard from again. What could I say when I got there: Nice weather we're having?; What's your baud rate?; Are you for Open Source or Microsoft?; Is the batting average or the on base percentage the best indicator of a baseball player's talent? Funny - she just didn't look like the small talk type.

So, I pulled out my ace in the hole. Walked up. Said nothing. Her lip curled and she whipped me once or twice with those long eye lashes of hers, taking me in. It stung. Felt good. Real gooood. Leaned over, whispered in her ear, "Swing, baby?", then I took her hand and led her on the floor. She was shocked. And curious. Just the way I like 'em. It took me a couple minutes to get her in my groove. No need for small talk. I let my body do the talking and after a few minutes there was no need for chit chat - we were speaking the same language.