Can I Buy You A Drink?

by Rick Paulas

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In this mostly-fictional monologue, we learn how to effectively use restaint and innuendo to guarantee a copious amount of sexual intercourse in the near future. Take notes, young ones.

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Here you go, miss. One Irish Dream, my treat. Oh, you didn’t order an Irish Dream? Then what is a Mick-stud like myself doing here? I’m just kidding, I’m not Irish.

Here’s your Strawberry Daiquiri, though. On me. Of course, I’d much rather it be on you, if you catch my drift.

For my drink, I had the bartender whip me up a Red-Headed Slut, but then I turned her down and headed back over here. Brunettes are more my style.

But yes, fair is fair, and I owe you this drink since you “allegedly” saw me put something into your last one. And yes, I’m using the word “allegedly” correctly. Since it hasn’t been proven in a court of law, it's only an “alleged” act. And unfortunately for you, you have no more proof since you so brazenly refused to drink up. And now the evidence is down the drain. If you drank it like I told you and you felt woozy afterwards, you might have a case. But by that time you’d have fallen for my charming wit and rough, masculine exterior, so there’d be no need to bring in the authorities. Of course, if you did press charges, I’m not worried: I know a good lawyer.

Me.

Oh, I already mentioned that? What’s that? “Maybe I confused you with that other woman”? Who was that? Oh, she was just a business associate of mine. The disagreement we were having was about a court case. I know, I know, it looks bad when a woman slaps a man across the face in a bar, but it was really just a professional argument. It most certainly wasn’t about me screwing around behind her back or something like that. I'd never do that. I don’t peddle in that filth. I never understood why guys cheated on their girlfriends. It just seemed so pointless to me. The ‘having a girlfriend’ part, that is. Why settle down to just one woman, am I right? I’m just teasing.

No, no. I didn’t get you confused. It’s just that when I talk to a beautiful woman like yourself, I get all flustered. In fact, if I ever saw you on the witness stand, I’d have to give up the case right away. I could never cross-examine you without faltering. Unless the judge allowed us access into his private chambers, of course, where I could badger you like the hostile witness I’m sure you’d be.

So remind me, what were we talking about before that thing “allegedly” slipped into your drink? Oh right, my name.

Well, it’s pronounced with a soft A. Like “on”. No, it’s not Eastern European. And no, it’s not French. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a French name. I mean, Freedom name. Haha. Is that joke a little too political for you? No, it’s not Canadian, either. Go ahead and say it out loud again.

Oh, I like how you say it. You put a nice Latin Curl on that “R”. Volt-rrrron. You know, I have a lot of experience representing illegal aliens, which means I also have a lot of friends on the Border Patrol. Maybe, you know, if you have some relatives you want brought over we can work out an arrangement. Perhaps you can pay in installments. Say, three times a night?

You’re sure you’re not Mexican? Oh, you're Italian? Well, if you don't want to get in debt to the mafia, the offer still stands. And I was serious about three times a night. Without breaking a sweat.

What’s that? You think my name is from a TV show? Seriously? Do you really think that my parents were such big fans that they actually named their first born son after a cartoon about shape-changing robots that, at the end of every episode, combine to form one giant robot in order to defeat the evil King Zarkon of the Planet Doom? More importantly, do you think that I’d admit that to people? Especially attractive young ladies I meet at a bar?

Jesus, I can’t believe you remember that show. How old are you anyway? Which reminds me, can I check your ID? I’m kidding. We’re not even close to doing anything illegal yet. I’d know after all. I am a lawyer.

Did you like the show, though? Well, if you want, we can head back to my place and watch a few episodes. My parents have the complete box set on Laser-Disc. Or we could play the board game. And since we're two consenting adults, we can even play “Adult Style” if you want. The rules are pretty easy to follow, especially with the laminated cards I had printed up.

Huh? No, you didn't hear me wrong. I said “my parents”. But hey, no worries, they should be asleep by the time we get back. It’s way past their bed time. You just have to make sure to keep your voice down when we get there. And your moans.

Did I mention that three times a night was a minimum? And I don’t finish until you do, promise. In fact, here. It's a legally-binding document. Three times a night, every night. All you need to do to get your ticket to Pleasure-Country is sign here, and initial here, here, and here.

Go ahead, take your time, read it over. It is 25 pages after all. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting outside in my Bentley if you any questions. I’ll just scream your name out when I see you coming, alright? See you soon, princess.