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.
