This is a continuation of my post in the Field Reports section "Failure to Isolate." It is also the post I promised in the Lounge about how girls knowing their own game makes the whole thing more fun. Enjoy.

Mocha’s hot, and I’d run some game on her before she’d picked up the book. I’d made an offhand comment about negging a customer where we both work, and she mentioned she’d been reading the book as well, and it was a good move. So we started talking about game, and how I was sure it could be made to work on men as well as women. She was skeptical at first, but I assured her: give it a try, work out a few of the kinks, and we’ll come up with a method for it. Mocha Method!

So at the club, she kiss closes the boring guy and opens one more set before we leave. She uses my fingernails as her opener, which works wonderfully because I’ve just come off my set and I walk up to provide her some social proof. She points enthusiastically at my nails, makes a funny demeaning comment about them, and tells me Matt was hanging out by the men’s bathroom. I have to collect my penguin from Dancergirl regardless, so I head over that way, and get a bit of a rush putting my hand down her shirt to collect my trinket. She calls him “Wheezy,” which I feel is a perfect name for a penguin, and I make fun of the skin-covering shirt she’s wearing. She wears this skimpy black dress all night, and when it comes time for drunken guys to come over and hit on her, she covers herself right up. She laughs and I take off.

I meet Mocha at the coat check and she tells me about how one of the guys in her last set was actually yelling at her for being too tall. I told her next time some guy does that she should neg the shit out of him. It’s the equivalent of a shit-test, a dominance establishing behavior that can be easily worked against him with some judicious AMOGing. “Awwww. Are you afraid I’m going to see your bald spot?”

So we head back to her place for the debriefing, laughing about our respective stories in the field. She approached four sets, I approached five, including the set we approached together and the dude I opened for her. All of them were good stories, and we’d had a good time.

We got back to her place and I was introduced to her roommate, and her roommate’s friend. Her roommate has very short hair, the result of a recent dreadlock removal. Her roommate’s friend has a mustache that looks like something out of a bad cartoon western. We sat on the couch, drank more vodka, talked game, and made fun of each other for nearly an hour. Then her roommate and her roommate’s friend disappeared into her room leaving Mocha and I to talk by ourselves.

I can’t be sure when exactly it happened, but we’d been talking game for a while when I finally stated the obvious. Yay direct game!

Monkey: You realize we’re probably going to end up sleeping together right?
Mocha: You actually beat me to stating the obvious. I hate you.
Monkey: We’ve been gaming each other all night. It’s just a question of who is going to give in first.
Mocha: It’s so much more fun when your opponent knows the game, isn’t it?

And it IS! We spent two hours gaming one another, making moves like chess players. I was sitting in completely alpha posture, and called me on it. She was sitting completely open and facing, so I called her on that. I was still in frame, so whenever I said something of sexual weight, I’d kino. Her exact words: “Don’t kino me,” which, far from negating the sexual tension, in fact INCREASED it. She told a sexual story, I accused her of escalating the rapport. I broke the rules and told her when I was doing it (“I’m going to break the most important rule of late-game attraction now, and talk about my ex-girlfriend!”)She knew I was gaming her. I knew she was gaming me, and neither of us wanted to be the first to supplicate.

In the end, it’s me. I break first, I freely admit it. There’s no kino escalation (she told me not to, and I got very self-conscious about it); I just move in and kissed her. The result was almost instantaneous. All of the sexual tension breaks, and we attack one another on the couch until it becomes clear that clothes are going to be coming off. We go to her bedroom, fuck like rabbits in heat, and sit up chatting all night. Five, maybe six times, we went at each other; neither of us slept. There were backrubs involved as well… In the late morning we finally decided to call it quits and have some breakfast. Next time I’m staying at her house I’m bringing corn flakes and milk (all she had were protein drinks that tasted like chocolate with the consistency of charcoal).

We go out for coffee, both of us bragging about our sets last night, and talking about how we were going to deal with the issue of “office romance.” We agree on a seven-night stand, and simply not telling anyone about it.

I get caught up in talking about one of my sets (I was having difficulty figuring out where I went wrong with HBExotic), and I’m talking with my hands. I always talk with my hands. I insist I did everything right with the girl, I was perfectly smooth and everything was great except the isolation. Then I spill my coffee all over Mocha (hence her new name as a player) and she makes fun of me mercilessly until we decide to part and get some sleep.

So there we are. I didn’t close a single set, but I did end up full-closing my pivot. It was a strange weekend…

I knew this was going to happen from the very first second I read your post. There is something, very similar to a law, that states that whenever you have a girl you get along with helping you get other girls or seeing you fooling around: she will try to get you.

This happened to me once. I once had this HB9 come with me to buy some gifts for a girl I was seeing at the time...and I was talking to her about how much I liked her and how good sex was and stuff and we ended up doing the thing at my place!! awesome!

So yeah Monkey, strange weekend but a good one anyways!