Chapter 5: One Night Stand
Lying on my soft, spacious bed, I thought about Sarah again. Tonight had been somewhat rewarding; at least I knew her name was Sarah, and she didn’t seem to live downstairs from me for long. That might explain why I didn't run into her very often.
The Bubble Bar was a significant part of my nightlife. It was a place where I could see plenty of beautiful women. Though I seldom approached them, simply appreciating them from a distance was enough to spice up my life. I'd always stayed at the level of admiration; maybe taking action was just too daunting for me. Tonight, the guys from the company, still unsatisfied from the previous night’s party, decided to come together to this bar, known for its abundance of beautiful women, for another round of fun.
In this city, I always felt that it wasn’t just men who were bored. They came to the bar in groups, drinking, boxing, and playing games. If only men were there, it would be boring in the extreme. Since many women in the bar were without male companions, it was evident they were equally bored. Men needed women and women needed men; this truth was universally acknowledged. Yet, in bars, few dared to pick up strangers, and the success rate was not very high. I wasn't sure why.
Tonight, the bar presented a peculiar situation: the number of women actually exceeded the number of men, possibly even doubling them. This rare occurrence sparked excitement among the guys, including me. Beautiful women, though enhanced by cosmetics, clothing, and dim lighting, constantly shuttled around us. Their pseudo-beauty, with heaving chests and alluring curves, whether real or fake, was stimulating enough for the men around them.
In such a promising scenario, the guys decided to take action, splitting into small groups to mingle with the pseudo-pretty women. I remained in my seat, not because I was noble, but because I hadn’t yet found a suitable target or gathered enough courage.
I felt someone watching me, from 45 degrees to my right. Pretending not to notice, I observed her with my peripheral vision. She was a pseudo-pretty woman with exaggeratedly long and arched eyelashes, brightly colored lips, plump breasts, and rounded calves—enough to quicken my breath. Even though I knew her eyelashes were fake, her breasts might not be real, her lipstick was a bit cheesy, and the skin of her calves might be poor, I still appreciated her beauty. Men are like that. There is no man who isn’t a bit philandering; some just lack the opportunity. Even though Sarah had taken an important place in my heart, I was willing to give the rest of my attention to other women for now.
Things went surprisingly well, maybe because I was dressed more handsomely or because the boys showed me respect, sparking her interest. More than an hour later, this woman and I went back to my place. Despite my traditional upbringing and inherent opposition to one-night stands, which could erode my basic confidence in women, I didn’t oppose it when faced with the opportunity myself.
The elevator rose slowly, but my heart began to sink. The conflicting emotions within me waged war as the primitive temptation of sex began to gradually overcome my last remnants of traditional moral concepts.
With a ding, the elevator stopped. I habitually looked up at the number indicating the floor—15. At some point, I had pressed the button for the 15th floor, though the 17th was also lit.
"I'm sorry, you'd better go," I said, much to the woman’s disdain.
As I lay in bed, I wasn’t sure if I felt sorry or relieved. The world had become so chaotic that I was starting to lose myself. I fell asleep in a daze until the sound of the doorbell woke me up.
