S.G. Browne

Captain Charm

I walk into the room.

Into the bar.

Into the club.

Music pumping and bodies sweating and alcohol lubricating libidos.

I see women clustering together in two and threes for safety.  I see single women forcing false smiles and looking uncomfortable.  I see the reason for their discomfort moving through the room in a wave of testosterone — aggressive and tactless and completely devoid of class.

Men hover over the women.  Leer at them.  Force themselves upon them with alcohol on their breath and sex on their minds — their hands grasping, their pelvises thrusting, their mouths speaking in coarseness and vulgarities.

This is my quest.  This is where I belong.  To teach these brutes the fine art of romance.

I am Captain Charm.

Filed under: Random Fiction — S.G. Browne @ 8:54 am

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