f8925a99a70ef9af9c2770f974deca48
Blacker than this.

This report is one from a back log (only 1 left after this) of lays that I never got around to writing up, however, this does not detract from the story. I broke almost every rule in the London Daygame Model – but it worked…

Sunday 9 June 2019

It was a lazy, sunny Sunday afternoon. I was hungover, as is usual for a Sunday, and rolled out of bed at around 1pm. I text Mr S. to see if he fancied going for a late breakfast, he was already at a local café with Xants so I quickly got ready and went along to join them.

Upon my arrival Xants greeted me – “You look like a homeless person! Is this why you were eating noodles from the floor last night?! Are you homeless now?!” [1]

Mr. S was laughing along “Yeah, Roy, you look like shit and you fuckin’ stink of booze!”

“Chicks can’t resist the smell of stale booze and cigarettes in the mornin’ – just watch me get a same day lay today” said me, even though it wasn’t morning.

After breakfast I decided to go solo. I put my headphones in, selected my “Walk like a badass” playlist from Spotify in an effort to inject some vibe into my alcohol infused veins and took a walk towards “down bottom” [2].

I opened two girls as I walked down Oxford street and I got blown out twice. “Shit, maybe I really do look like a homeless person!” I thought to myself. Undeterred, I carried on, the next one would be good. I got to glasshouse street and decided to take a little break and lean against the wall to fish for a bit. I puffed away on my vape and as I exhaled I could a see a very nice bum passing by at speed on the other side of my cloud of vapour. I didn’t see the face, but I studied her figure as she raced away from me – she was a black girl with short curly hair, she was slim but was wearing tight leggings which showed off her excellent hip to waist ratio, she was wearing a tight black leather jacket with a skull on the back of it. Everything about her screamed BAD SET – she was walking fast, there was no IOI, I hadn’t seen her face. But the spider sense tingled, and it rarely lets me down. “She’s horny, OPEN” I told myself.

I literally ran after her as she was making a beeline for Wholefoods. I could see I wasn’t going to catch her in time for a front stop so when I was about 10-15ft behind her I yelled…

“HEY, YOU THERE, BLACK SKULL JACKET!!” – She slowed down, I carried on…

“Yes, you, STOP a second!”… she was rooted to the spot and turned to face me, she was looking at me and then looking at the floor as if I was about to tell her she dropped something. I closed the distance on her whilst breathing heavily…

“Thanks, excuse me, I’m a bit out of breath…”

“Wats goin’ on ere?!” said the black girl in a proper London accent, the kind you would hear on an episode of East Enders.

“I saw you racing past me back there and… I thought you looked hot, you have a strange look about you… the rock n roll jacket and the gym lycras, a strange combo, but it works”

“OH Wow, fank yoouu”

“Why were you running down the street?!”

“Oh, that’s just how I walk, keeps me slim”

“It seems to be working”

Shirly cut me off as I attempted enter the “vibing” phase.

“I’m in a bit of an’ urry, you mind walking wif me whilst I get my shopping”

“Uhhhhm, OK” said me.

From here we went on a mini shopping trip to both Wholefoods and Boots by picadilly. All the while I made a conscious effort to look her up and down whilst she satisfied her consumerist urges … I told her that I wasn’t her personal shopping assistant, but I would offer my opinion on her potential purchases as long as we went for a drink afterwards, she agreed.

Around 30 minutes later I walked us to the Glassblower at the top of glasshouse street. We got the little table in the corner by the entrance and I was back in familiar territory. I found out that Shirly was 28, from North London, was a teacher and had a degree in psychology from Cambridge University. She was well read and quoted lots of literature at me and was also heavily into her gym which explained her athletic figure. This was not a typical London black girl and she knew it.

After the drink I suggested another one at a bar closer to mine. She agreed on the proviso that we go to Primark first – she had to buy a gift for her niece. I told her to do that another time, but she insisted. I reluctantly agreed. 20 minutes or so later I started walking us in the direction of my apartment, Shirly was carrying 3 big bags of shopping from Wholefoods, Boots and now Primark.

We stopped off at the Phoenix bar just behind Oxford circus and got another drink in. We sat beside each other on a bench and I started escalating. She was accepting all touch but would not let me kiss her. It was now around 7 or 8pm so I suggested we walk to Marylebone (where I lived at the time) but she wasn’t having it and started talking about getting food. In hindsight, I should have ended the date here but as I was insisting on doing everything wrong on this date, I decided to take her to meat liquor for burgers. After the meal I made once more attempt to bounce her back, but she lived quite far away and hot a lot of shopping back to get home, so insisted on leaving at 10pm.

We text back and forth for the next couple of weeks, but we were both always busy. Then randomly she was in my area a few weeks later…

27 June 2019

I was lay on my bed at around 10pm on a Thursday night attempting to read a book when my phone vibrated on my bedside lock next to me. It was Shirly – “I’m at Marylebone station, you around?”

I got ready and met her at the station at 10:30pm. Shirly showed up in heels and an orange figure hugging dress, she looked much hotter than when I met her the first time around. I took her for a drink at the bar next to my apartment and we cuddled up beside each other on the couch. I finally kissed her this time. It got to 11pm and the bar was closing so we had to leave, this was the perfect excuse to bounce her back to mine.

As we walked to my front door (it’s a 3 min walk away) I told her that I lived in the area – “NO FUCKING WAY! You live here?!”

“Yeah, I told you I live in this area”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realise you meant bang in the centa!”

“Yup”

“Look, I’m not going home with you, I need to leave for the last train soon”

“Oh OK”

“I am quite hungry though; is anything open around here?”

“No restaurants, except the two Indian places over there” – There are two Indian restaurants on my street corner.

I took her straight to the Indian knowing that by the time we finished eating she would have missed her last train home. I ordered the smallest thing possible on the menu and she ordered some rice-based dish which she ate about a quarter of. I had a pint and she a half pint.

Shirly paid the bill this time as I got the burgers the last. Shortly after this I took her home and fucked the shit out of her, the sex was amazing and she had a fantastic body – with larger breasts than expected (she never wears a bra), a tiny waist with a big butt and a very wet vagina. I let her stay over as I wasn’t working the next day (I was off on a Euro Jaunt). She let herself out the next and I fully intended on keeping her around as a regular – she was not only good in bed, but also good at chat.

However, I made a mess of the texting, there is no text game manuals around on how to handle girls AFTER you’ve banged em’. I messed it up because every time she wanted to see me, I had another date lined up or at least potential dates with new girls. I never wanted to commit to spending an evening with her in case one of my new leads came through. Then one day (it was gay pride in London) I was joking around with her over text, she didn’t take it well and things ended quite spectacularly…

That escalated quickly.

 

[1] At the end of the previous evening I bought a box of noodles from Wok to Wok. As I went to have my first bite, I intelligently dropped the full box on the ground and all the noodles fell out. I scooped them straight back into the box utilising the three second rule and carried on eating them.

[2] Down bottom is the term my wings use to refer to Piccadilly, Leicester Square, Covent garden and Trafalgar square. Up top is Regent Street/Oxford street – we tend to avoid this area when it’s too busy and/or infested with other daygamers spamming it up.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Lay Report: Another Satisfied Customer

  1. Roy, I’m sure you have much more experience with this, but I’m wondering if a girl who has really no intention of seeing you again, would write all this stuff? Wouldn’t she just ghost or block you?
    She obviously thinks of you as an asshole, in other words she is attracted to you. But she might be missing a little comfort?
    Not sure, what more experienced players would recommend, but assuming you want to keep her around, I guess there a basically two options: a) go a little beta on her or b) stick your to your gunz and game on like nothing happened

    Btw. I agree, that there really is a lack of material about dealing with girls, who are in the inbetween, i.e. the girl is not a simply date or phone number anymore, but she is not yet a regular or girlfriend either.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow, she really showed her cards at play here in that text message. Here’s some nice validation to the hypergamy theory; the things that turned her off from seeing you a second time are the same things that pulled her in the first round.

    Great blog. By the way, love the dual perspectives of here:

    > “I let her stay over as I wasn’t working the next day (I was off on a Euro Jaunt).” -Roy
    > “You tried to throw me out in the early hours of the morning – that shit was noted.” -Lady

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s