((Some language may not be suitable for all audiences. AKA, Seylon talks like a trucker. Prolly NSFW.))
Can be tough bein’ me, though folk ain’t gonna believe it none. Gorgeous, tough, got two beautiful kids an’ a tongue that can talk sweet an’ sour at th’drop of a hat. Tongue can do other shit, too, but see, that’s the damned problem. Least, the problem I’m yappin’ on t’day. So sit down, shut the fuck up an’ hear me out. Oh, an’ pass me that bottle’a whiskey.
S’good, Sugar. Thanks.
Ya see, there’s folk out there who say they get ass, that they’re a pussy magnet an’ the women are crawlin’ all over ‘em. Problem is they’re fulla shit. S’a pretense to make ya think that you’re missin’ out on somethin’ grand, like they’ll tickle your fancy with the snap’a fingers. They’re prolly hopin’ you’ll drop trou right then an’ there an’ suck their cocks in gratitude that they graced your presence in th’ first place. They’re assholes, Sugar, but I like to think . . . well, m’different, yeah? I ain’t sayin’ that I got a girl danglin’ offa knee every time m’out, but ya’d be surprised how quick I can work m’magic an’ get somethin’ cute an’ girly in under . . . ten minutes. S’about th’time it takes for me t’figure out if I can actually get a gal into bed or not. I’d give ya a round ’bout number’a gals I’ve had, but I ain’t sure numbers go that high. Ya’d be surprised how many pairs’a tits ya can pack in seven hundred, eight hundred years.
Heh, funny thing ’bout tits, now that’m on th’subject. Best pair I ever seen – in all that time? Genise Crownsilver. Them things are perfect, an’ I seen tits from Darnassus to Tanaris to . . shit. Ya get my point. Geni’s got a pretty pair, s’leave it at that ‘fore I start droolin’.
Back to what I was sayin’. I had m’share an’ then some of ladies, an’ m’fair good at fishin’ out a friend for th’night when m’feelin’ lonesome. Can’t remember th’last time I went home ‘lone when I wanted a piece’a ass. Just don’t happen, either cause I can sweep someone off their feet at a pub or – if that don’t do th’trick – open up th’little black book an’ ring-a-ling a friend.
I ain’t gonna sit here an’ extrapolate – fifty silver word, there, darlin’. Take a drink with me.
Fuck that burns good. Right.
Ain’t gonna extrapolate that m’the best thing that ever graced sheets this side’a creation, but I got m’skillset an’ s’done me well. Think the reason some folk are bad at fuckin’ s’they forget that half’a the thing’s in th’head. Ya can diddle parts til somethin’ interestin’ happens, but if a gal’s brain ain’t feelin’ as stimulated as th’rest’a her? S’gonna be a mechanical release, an’ that’s that. M’after soul wrenchin’ shit. I want ‘em shakin’ an’ screamin’ not cause they feel they gotta put on a show, but because they’re so into th’moment they don’t know they’re loud ‘nough t’wake the innkeeper an’ the folks next door.
Th’difficulty comes – heh, said comes. Shot time. Th’difficulty comes th’next day when they’re lookin’ at ya with them big eyes like ya hang th’moon. Th’problem with bein’ me, Sugar, is I’ve had t’give Th’Talk too many fuckin’ times. S’amazing how many gals think that cause ya worked ‘em over til they’s wrung out an’ tired that it means ya love ‘em. I ain’t suggestin’ fuckin’ don’t have nothin’ t’do with love, it can, but it don’t have to neither. Some gals got an issue confusin’ th’two. Men don’t seem t’have th’same difficulties, or if they do? They’s just better at hidin’ it.
First time I had t’do th’talk was right after ‘Marra died. What ya should know ’bout ‘Marra is she was m’first woman, gal that taught me all I know ’bout th’ladies. ‘fore her I didn’t even look at ‘em none, was all ’bout th’dick cause I just didn’t think ’bout gals like that. She showed me th’ropes, an’ a few other things, includin’ this thing ya do where ya push their leg back an’ . . . fuck. Nevermind. M’gettin’ off topic. She taught me most’a what I know ’bout women now, s’leave it at that. Rest I learned from time an’ experience. Anyway, she died in th’war, an’ I was left on m’lonesome recoverin’ from a broken heart. Loved her an’ I was too dumb t’know it ’til she was gone.
Gimme second. Need ‘nother bottle. Reese darlin’? Thanks, Sugar. You’re th’best.
Yeah, so after we put ‘Marra in th’ground in Ashenvale, shacked up with this nice sentinel gal, can’t even remember her name now, was that long ‘go, but I took out alla my hurt over th’course’a . . . three nights? Four? Don’t remember much ’bout it, except that I was hurtin’ bad from losin’ ‘Marra an’ I’d tried t’fuck her outta m’system. That don’t work, by th’way. Don’t try it. Just puts off the copin’, but . . . shit m’bad ’bout ramblin’ ain’t I?
I was puttin’ m’kit on – armor, Sugar, kit’s a word for armor – an’ I went t’go after our fuckfest an’ she asked when she’d see me ‘gain. I turned t’look at her, an’ she looked at me like I was th’sun in her sky. Made me feel like shit, Sugar, an’ I had t’explain that I weren’t in it for th’keepin’. Just lost m’gal, an’ I was lookin’ for a friend an’ some company, but nothin’ more. She was pissed, an’ I can’t fuckin’ blame’er neither. That talk ain’t a NICE talk, an’ I was so fuckin’ bad at it then. Ya get better at it over th’years, yeah, but ain’t ever real comfortable t’give.
The day it ‘comes comfortable? You’re a dick. I try hard not t’be a dick if I can help it.
Long an’ short, Sugar, is I fucked it up that time. Tried t’tell her I didn’t make no promises, that I was hurtin’, an’ that she was lovely an’ worth keepin’ but I just weren’t th’keepin’ type. She threw everythin’ on th’nightstand at me an’ called me a dumb cunt. Pissed me off at th’time? But she was right. I was bein’ a dumb cunt. So lemme tell ya what I learned over th’years ’bout Th’Talk, from that experience an’ a few other uglies I seen since, yeah?
Ya do it first. ‘fore ya drag ‘em home, after ya laid th’groundwork an’ got ‘em wet as a rainstorm.
S’the secret. Th’magic. Ya tell ‘em up front. Ya’d be amazed – FUCKIN’ AMAZED – how many gals will still go home with ya if you’re honest that s’just a night’a fun, but ya gotta go in th’mornin’. If I guessed how many actually balked an’ walked on me after I told ‘em up front? Say . . . five percent? That ain’t ‘lot when you’re lookin’ at my kinda numbers, darlin’. Honesty. S’the best fuckin’ policy.
Oh. ‘nother thing worth notin’ is it ain’t gotta be a long goddess damned speech none, either. Make it simple. “Sugar, I think you’re prettier than a spring mornin’, an’m sure you’re a doll, but I gotta tell ya ‘fore we go home that s’for fun. S’it, yeah? Ain’t a promise.”
All ya gotta say. Yeah m’fuckin’ serious. If ya make it longer than that they think you’re apologizin’ for it, an’ ya don’t want ‘em thinkin’ that. Makes ‘em doubt ya an’ what they’re thinkin’ on doin’. If ya sound sure, an’ ya tell ‘em true, ya earn their trust. Honesty. More’n breath on th’neck, more’n a well placed line or a flirt or a subtle grab, it’ll get ‘em every time.
Ya think’m fulla shit? Point out a gal, darlin’. Point her out, an’ I’ll show ya.
Just gimme ten minutes.