32 Pages • 8,985 Words • PDF • 343.2 KB
Uploaded at 2021-09-24 06:22
This document was submitted by our user and they confirm that they have the consent to share it. Assuming that you are writer or own the copyright of this document, report to us by using this DMCA report button.
Introduction On the previous page, you’ll see for the first time ever Neil’s initial cover for The Game – designed before the book was even near completion. I often wonder if the book would have had a different reception if this had been the cover.
The small and often uninformed decisions that an author and a publisher make determine the future of a book. A different approach to the cover, the title, the design, the sequence, the page count, or the content can create a completely different reading experience.
Often, Neil will spend a week trying to perfect a story or a chapter, only to discover that either it doesn’t actually help drive the story forward or it just doesn’t work. If it doesn’t, then it must be removed, even if it means that a week of writing has just gone down the drain. In the following pages, I’ve included a few of those cut scenes and chapters from Neil’s last two books: Rules Of The Game and The Game.
Enjoy these bonus tracks, and keep them to yourself. To quote Neil: “There’s a reason they weren’t in the books…”
The following chapter was removed from Rules Of The Game. While writing the book, Neil was more interested in exploring relationships than seductions. This particular field report seems to confirm simultaneously most men’s fears about relationships and their fantasies about being single.
RULE __: ALL NEEDS CRAVE FULFILLMENT I met Norah and her husband on the plane. She was in her late 30‟s, with long metallic blonde hair, a dusting of freckles at the bridge of her nose, and out of proportion fake breasts. He was in his early 40‟s, with unkempt dark hair, a black t-shirt with a stretchedout neck, and a pile of miniature whiskey bottles on his tray table. “We saw this movie on the way here,” he complained. “Why don‟t you just watch a DVD on your computer,” she suggested. “My batteries are going to run out.” “Just use mine,” she said. “I can do my work at home.” She owned a successful fashion line. He was an unemployed screenwriter. They lived in Hollywood, and offered to give me a ride home. “I love L.A. on these warm summer afternoons,” she chirped to her husband. “Let‟s take a hike later.” He switched on the radio. I was impressed by her ability to remain unfazed by her husband‟s negativity. She didn‟t appear to take a word of it personally. Instead, she seemed to accept their roles. It was her job to brighten his mood and his job to try to extinguish hers.
“Why do I bother?” He changed stations. “There‟s no good radio in L.A.” They dropped me off at home, and I bid them goodbye. We pledged to go for sushi sometime, but I knew we never would.
A week later, on a Thursday night, my doorbell rang. I padded to the door to find Norah standing outside in tight jeans and a white sweater. “I was just passing by,” she said, “so I thought I‟d stop in and say hi.” She was the last person I‟d expected to see. But I was happy she was there. I had been attracted to her from the moment I‟d laid eyes on her. However, I‟d never hit on her, flirted with her, or shown any interest whatsoever. As far as I was concerned, she was out of bounds. “I was just out with some friends at the Avalon Hotel,” she said. She was clearly tipsy. “And then I thought: „I wonder what Neil‟s doing right now.‟” I walked her to the kitchen and searched for something for her to drink. “Why don‟t you just show me around?” she suggested. I liked the way she asserted herself. It was a trait she hadn‟t displayed around her husband the week before. As I walked her through the house, she lingered on the way in and out of every room, leaning against the wall or in the doorframe. She clearly wanted something from me. So I gave it to her. We tumbled onto the bed. “You‟re so hot,” she kept saying. “I‟ve fantasized so many times about this.”
I couldn‟t understand why she had chosen me. I‟m better-looking than I was in my teens and twenties, but I still don‟t turn heads or even shift eyes. Either she didn‟t come across many men outside of work, or perhaps she‟d heard me joking around with the stewardess and been amused. While men are naturally inclined to cheat, women generally aren‟t. They are often driven to cheat, because they‟re not getting something they need from the man they‟re seeing, whether it‟s emotional, financial, or sexual. Kathy was living proof of this theory. “I want to see it, just for a second.” She unbuttoned my pants. “Oh my god. You are so sexy. I want to put it in my mouth a little” She slowly licked it from the base to the head. “This is going to be mine,” she said. She wrapped her thumb and forefinger in a circle around the base, and slid her mouth slowly, sensually down it. Most of the women I‟d been with were in their late teens and twenties, and usually needed time to get comfortable in bed and freely express their desires. But Norah was the greatest date ever. No dinner-and-a-movie expenses; no how-many-siblings-doyou-have conversations; no but-we-just-met protestations. Just ring the doorbell and grab the cock. When she‟d gotten what she needed, Norah slipped back into her jeans and sweater, and quickly left. And I returned to my writing, wondering if this was going to become a habit of hers; if she was going to start busting in unexpected at all hours and demanding sex; if I was going to have to give her the no-drop-by speech and slowly phase her out when she became too needy.
A week later, she texted and invited me for sushi with her and her husband. I was impressed by her ability to act as if everything were completely normal and natural. There were no clues, suggestions, or even the slightest coded message to me. When she excused herself to go to the bathroom, I anxiously looked for a hint that I should slip away and join her. But there was no hint. “The albacore isn‟t very good today,” her husband said when she returned. “They don‟t seem to care anymore.” “We can go to that sushi place on Ventura you like, where they have the crispy rice.” “I‟m tired of that. I ate there five times in one week, and just lost my taste for it.” “Well, there‟s always Italian,” she smiled nurturingly. I was impressed by her ability to remain unfazed by her husband‟s negativity. She didn‟t appear to take a word of it personally. The next night, I texted to invite her over. I never heard back. I texted her a few nights later, and she said she‟d get back to me after dinner. I‟m still waiting for that text. And I‟m still jumping up every time the doorbell rings, hoping it‟s her and she‟s tipsy and she wants to play. We had so much still to explore, her and I. If only she‟d been a little more needy.
THE GAME: LOST CHAPTER THE ORIGIN OF ROSS JEFFRIES
Ross Jeffries, by all accounts, was an angry man when he was in his 20s. His ambition was comedy: stand-up, screenplays, whatever would get him laughs. But instead he drifted between tedious office jobs, lonely and girlfriendless. That all changed when he was in the self-help section of a bookstore and his hand, as the story goes, involuntarily reached out and grabbed a book. That tome was Frogs Into Princes, the classic book on NLP by John Grinder and Richard Bandler. Ross went on to devour every book on the subject he could find. The power and control that had eluded him his whole life was finally his. One of his heroes had always been the Marvel Comics superhero Green Lantern, who was endowed with a magic ring able to bring the desires of his will and imagination to life. Now, Ross Jeffries had that ring. Sitting at the bar of the Viceroy Hotel a few days after our trip to the Getty, he told me about the first time he decided to use it.
I‟ll never forget one evening when I was walking on the UCLA campus, frustrated, because the fourth girl in a row not shown up for a date we had arranged. I screamed to the stars, “When am I going to solve this?” And a voice in my head said, “When you solve it for yourself, you'll solve it for everyone." That didn‟t happen until seven years later, when I did my first real pickup. I was working for an attorney as a paralegal. Our secretary had just quit and my boss was going on vacation. Before he left, he told me, "Hire whoever you think is good."
My last interview of the day was with a girl named Megan. I can still see her clearly in my mind's eye. She was blond, with green eyes and legs to die for. She was sitting across the reception desk from me. I had just discovered NLP and I thought, “Let's just try this.” So I started talking to her in suggestive, hypnotic language. I think I did an early version of the Blammo pattern1. She seemed fascinated, and I remember thinking, “This is really cool.” So I closed up the office and invited her for coffee. That turned into dinner, and during the meal, she said, “I bit my tongue. My tongue just fell asleep.” And I said, “That‟s because your tongue has a message for me. What does your tongue want to tell me?” And she leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I wanna suck your cock.” I couldn‟t believe it. I had not been with a woman in four or five years. I was 6”1” and 127 pounds. I was so horribly skinny and unattractive that my parents used to tell me I looked like I‟d escaped from a concentration camp. We went back to the office, and that was that. Afterward, I remember walking through Westwood with her. All these guys were whistling at her, and I kept saying, “Thank you” to them. It was the same neighborhood where I had first heard the voice telling me I‟d solve the problem and change the world. It was totally surreal. I kept getting lost taking her back to her car. It was such a break with my normal routine that there was a sense of complete unreality, like when you wake up and aren‟t sure whether a certain event was a dream or not.
A hypnotic pattern in which a seducer talks a woman into feeling a deep connection with him and conditions her to feel aroused by the sound of his voice.
The next girl was a really hot black girl I met at a garden party. The first thing I said to her was, “Why is that leaf spinning around? It's hanging by a spider's thread." We started talking, and I remember programming her to call me and she did. She invited me to see a piano player. During the night, I did a version of the Blammo pattern with her. Soon she started giving me a back rub; then I gave her a back rub. We started making out, and she was all over me. She invited me back to her place. I was so stunned by how aggressive she was. In fact, I was so stunned that I couldn‟t get aroused. I didn‟t close the deal until the second time. And I thought, “This is amazing.” I was really onto something here. It got so easy after that. In a pet store, there was a salesgirl who looked like a ballerina. She was 5‟1” and very thin, with curly dark hair and big brown eyes like a Walter Keane painting. I‟m drooling thinking about her. I did some hypnosis with her -- right there in the store. And she was totally into it. Later, she told me she had to go sit in the puppy room, because she couldn't work for the rest of the day. I wound up taking her out, and we went back to her house and just made out for hours on the porch. She didn‟t want to go inside because her roommates were there, and I was so inexperienced I didn‟t know what to do. I didn‟t know if it was okay to rip her clothes off right there on the porch. I never closed that one, because it was confusing. It was so early on.
After those three, I realized that this stuff really works. So I set about proving the voice in my head right. In the end, I‟d like to be remembered as a Robert J. Oppenheimer2, a person who has given the world a new, explosive knowledge.
The scientist whose research on atomic energy in Los Alamos, New Mexico led to the development of the atomic bomb.
THE GAME: LOST FIELD REPORT
Some men preferred to play the game alone. Rather than becoming the social center of a room, like Mystery, they preferred to hide in the shadows, emerging when they spied a lone wolf – a woman on her own. One of the most respected of these hunters was TokyoPUA, a stocky, slow-talking, black-haired businessman with an innocent Clark Kent face. In addition to helping run the community’s primary portal, fastseduction.com, along with Boston pickup artist Formhandle, he was also part of a small contingent of the pickup community that lived in Japan and had a preference for Asian women, whose reserve required a slightly different method of seduction. TokyoPUA’s field reports were legendary for their attention to detail and their advocacy of steady, applied persistence. The following was an extreme example…
From: Fastseduction.com Subject: LR – HBNoPanties Author: TokyoPUA
It was always my fantasy to come across a super hot woman in Japan wearing a skirt but no panties, catch a glimpse as she sits across from me on the train, go into sexual state, PU her, and lay her that day. I guess this is still my fantasy since that wasn‟t exactly what happened, but with this lay I got as close to that fantasy as I have come yet, and in some
ways it was more fun and crazy. The PU sort of began with me going to the public swimming pool near my place at night, and getting into sexual state there by checking out all the fine, slim J girls swimming there. I finished about 9 PM and figured I would head to the Shibuya train station area and find myself a hottie. I was in a good state because of the fine women I had just seen in the pool, and because of the workout I just had swimming. I got to the station at about 9:15 PM and the place was jumping with people as always. For those that don‟t know Shibuya, it has what has to be the busiest pedestrian intersection in the world, and is just damn crowded with fine chicks in general. Anyway, I walk the streets for about 10 minutes and I see a woman pass me with nice sized jiggling tits, probably about a 9. I turn around hoping to catch her going into a store or somewhere I can approach with more certainty of success. She pops into a video store, but right as I am about to walk up, she leaves. At least the area she leaves to is better lighted than the area where I first saw her, so I follow her out and try the approach to warm up, but she is cold as ice, and so I eject and move on. Now I walk over to Starbucks, figuring that closing time is a good time to be around there, and that if I don‟t see anything worth going in for, I will just keep walking the area. Well, I don‟t see anything inside, but just as I am walking past it I see a woman just oozing sexuality coming towards me. She has a sexy walk, long brown hair, great body, and best of all I get good EC, so I flash her a smile as we walk by. I turn around to ensure the backside of the package is good, and my heart starts to race even faster. Her totally perfect ass is silhouetted in a thin, stretch-material white skirt, and the way it swayed from side to side made me mad with desire. It had to be pretty damn clear to all
the people sitting in front of the Starbucks what was happening as I immediately turned around and literally ran after her. She went down the escalators and I grabbed both rails and jumped off right behind her I was so motivated to talk to her. I came up behind her and said in English, “Hi, I saw you back there and decided you looked like someone I should meet.” She said she didn‟t understand English so I translated into Japanese. She said I was smooth. I said, still in Japanese, “Yes, and you like a smooth guy, don‟t you? My name is TokyoPUA,” and held out my hand. Shaking hands isn‟t common in Japan at all, but it‟s immediate kino, so I do it. She says again that I am smooth, and I say, “so I‟m not sure what you were going to do now, but we can spend some time together.” She says she was going home, but seems game on, so I apply a bit of KAMI (kino anchored motion inducement) to gently move us in a direction opposite the one she had been going, while talking, “So, do you like to drink?” She says yes, and I go into describing a drink I can make: “Do you like Coconut rum? Pineapple juice? Midori?” She says yes to each, and I describe how I want her to come to my place now and enjoy a special drink I make with those ingredients while looking out on the view over Tokyo. I have only been talking to her for less than 5 minutes, but I‟m not wasting any time for two reasons: I am damn busy and have other chicks I can get easy sex from by calling them up, and I actually want her to know I am aggressive in order to turn her on. Well, she says she only has 30 minutes and I say that is still enough time, but she starts telling me she just met me, etc. I tried some more KAMI, but no go, so I started asking about what it would take for her to feel more comfortable going with me, and even gave her my business card to make her worry less. This helped put her at ease, but she
now focused on the time issue, so I dropped the direct invite home, and turned to figuring out how to isolate her in the immediate environment and escalate after getting her more turned on. We went to Starbucks and got drinks, but I suggested that it was too crowded, and that we go sit in on a bench like area I had seen while prowling earlier. I angled her into the corner formed with the wall so that I could really isolate her, and shield against anyone sitting on a side of her. This was important later it turned out. Anyway, we started making small talk, but then I paced the situation and said that we had both seen each other in passing and it was cool that we were able to meet. She couldn‟t deny the pleasant EC, so I was using the current situation to cause some good cognitive dissonance to amplify what had really happened. So by the time I was through with my vivid description of the bodily sensations I got when passing her, she felt obliged to give an exaggerated good rendition of what she had felt too. But after she verbalized saying that she felt, “Woo, he looks cool!” then of course her mind has to accept that even more, and I can use it at any time. Anyway, a little more small talk about what languages I speak, what her hobbies are, and I am back to the drill cause I know I have to get her hot before 30 minutes are up (she says she has to get a the last train by that time). I go into the 4 magic questions, and really skip over much analysis of the first 3, and just concentrate on the last sexual question. (For those that don‟t know, I ask it as follows: Chose a lake, a waterfall, the ocean or a pool in your mind, imagine you are by one of them, how do you feel and what do you do? If they don‟t have an answer to the later half I prompt with “do you relax by the side, or get in and move around?”)
Anyway, she is by the ocean, and relaxes by the side, but feels wonderful and free. I tell her the interpretation, get her to admit that is sometimes what sex is like for her, then I get the inevitable question: “What was your answer?” and give my stock answer, “I dive in, parting the water with my hands and go as deep in as I can go until my breath almost bursts, then swim as far as I can until I am so exhausted, I just can‟t swim anymore.” She of course likes this answer. I fractionate a bit with talk about what she does. She is a classic ballet dancer. I say it explains her nice body, get kino on her legs, etc. I challenge to see if she has any muscle, get more kino on her bicep – this always prompts reverse kino of my muscles. She says she wants to be a stewardess, but qualifies it to me that being a stewardess isn‟t thought of as glamorous in the US, but that it‟s a high status job in Asia. I tell her don‟t worry, I used to date *a* stewardess (I felt it prudent to not say at this point that I had laid 5 stewardesses already) and that I understood entirely. This impressed her, and I had moved closer into her personal space. I used this to ask if she in turn had ever had a foreign boyfriend or lover (yes, I asked it exactly that way, to put the right imagery in her head). She said no, so I said, “Wow, so you have never even kissed a foreigner?” Sometime earlier during the small talk, I had used a trade secret move to jokingly set the frame that I was her king and she could be my queen. So while we were now on the subject of kissing, I said, “Well, that would be the perfect reason for me to kiss you now, since how can you be my queen without a kiss? But I‟m not sure if you kiss well. On a scale of 1 to 10, how well do you kiss?” She said 100, so I said, “Great answer. If you had said only an 8, I wouldn‟t have
kissed you” I moved in for the kiss, but got blocked. “I‟m Japanese, I can‟t kiss you in public” she said. I said, “Well, I know that, and that is why we can go to my place now to have that romantic first kiss.” (People were walking by constantly, but I had angled myself to block her line of sight to them as much as possible.) She brought up the time objection again, so I suggested a romantic stroll to a place that was less public. This also didn‟t work, so I went back to getting the kiss right there. (It was all like a big double bind, because I was either asking us to get more intimate where we were, somewhere nearby, or at my place.) I kept good eye contact and said “Okay, I am going to move in front of you, and hide your face, so no one will see.” I went in for the kiss, but she dogged to the side, so we sort of wound up side pecking. I said, “Ah, so you like Spanish style?”, and proceeded to get a Spanish style double cheek kiss. Here I kicked in the cognitive dissonance again, taking about how nice our first kiss was, etc. I had been holding her cold drink and occasionally teasing her by putting it on her bare leg, but now I took some of the whip cream and ate it suggestively. With some of it still on my lips I moved in and managed a lip kiss, pulled back, then finally came back in for a bit of tongue for each of us to “lick it off.” So now after first kiss I knew things would be easier, but I still needed to escalate and get her alone with me. I escalated my kino to having my arm around her waist, then feeling her ass a little as I kissed her. Now I remembered once about 3 years ago in Shibuya, not too far from the very spot I was at, sitting in the dark with a different girl, and managing to get her to let me
cop a feel of her bare g-string by talking about me liking girls who wear sexy underwear, etc. So I modeled myself from 3 years ago, and talked about how exciting it was when I saw her ass as she walked away, and how I wondered what kind of underwear she was wearing. I broke the sexual tension then by joking that it must be orange though since that was her favorite color (another useful bit gleaned from the 4 magic questions, and sometimes part of my standard routine, i.e. guess her panty color and say it must be her favorite color). She laughed and relaxed, but as I had been talking, she didn‟t realize just how far my hand had gotten down the back of her skirt (my hands move quite well even while I‟m talking, LOL). She blocked it going further, and I said “Wow, they must be very small and sexy, cause I didn‟t feel *anything*.” Then she got kind of sad look on her face and said, “ I can‟t tell you my secret.” This broke my state and I figured she had a boyfriend or something. Anyway, I said, “it‟s okay, here we are kissing and acting crazy, any secret is okay.” Well, with some coaxing I got her to tell me: She said she and a friend had gone looking for swimming suits that night, and that she had tried some on. While out of the dressing room checking out her suit, her panties got stolen. Now, if I hadn‟t lived in Japan for 4 years I would never believe this story, but if you doubt me go online right now, do some searches, and even in English you will probably find a lot of Japanese girls offering to sell their underwear online, cause there is such a huge fetish for it in Japan. What can I say – a lot of guys in Japan are damn desperate, which makes my life better. Anyway, she said she was too embarrassed to tell the store clerk, and just decided to go home that way.
Well, regardless of the truth of that story, I was in instant heat, imaging her perfect bare ass, and looking directly at the triangular shape of her pussy through her skirt. I had to have this chick; I didn‟t give a damn about her 30 minutes issue. I said in a deep toned voice filled with desire: “Oh baby, that is a sad story… but so sexy at the same time.” I had gotten some light indirect kino around her pussy area while talking to her earlier, so mentioned that I thought it looked and felt very smooth in that area (again, bringing up the fact that previously was left unsaid, i.e. that I had touched her there and she hadn‟t complained. More cognitive dissonance, in essence). I was even bold enough to ask if she shaved there, but she wouldn‟t answer that. I probably went overboard cause of my lust, so she stood up and said she had to go. Basically, here I am at this point staring right at her pussy area knowing it‟s nude underneath that skirt, and I‟m having a bit of a hard time thinking straight. I stall her by saying I will walk her to the train, but that I need a breather until I am less excited. She gets the drift, and we relax there for a few more minutes. I go for broke and tell her that I have to be with her, and will pay for her taxi back home (and I do mean broke here, cause that will be over $100 in Japan since she is 40 minutes away by train). She still won‟t go for that, saying that her parents will get mad (yes, she is 25 but lives with her parents, not at all uncommon in Japan for children to stay with the folks till they get married). I told her that I would go with her halfway on the train, then come back. She is putting up resistance to this idea, but I don‟t take no for an answer and just get a ticket and go through the gates with her. Once we get on the train, I suggest that I will go all the way, then find a taxi back, or stay in a hotel (hint, hint). She says, “No, don‟t do that,” and continues to put up resistance. However, the
train is really crowded, which presents an opportunity for great body-to-body contact. I pulled her into me and put one hand around her waist to steady her. I started going back into some talk I had initiated earlier about what her favorite kind of kiss would be, and what mine was. I had taken that opportunity to talk about a kiss that starts standing up, and that makes your heart beat faster, and you feel the urge to put your arms around the other person, and the passion builds to where your hands search out each other‟s bodies in time with the movement of your tongues, etc. I took it further and started talking about how our most private places were touching each other now (as I pressed into her more on the train), and could she feel it? Of course I had a fierce erection pressing into her and of course she had to answer yes. I talked about how no one else knew what was going on between us, and asked if that turned her on. She said yes, and so I continued to escalate. I started pulsing my dick against her, and telling her I could tell that she was turned on. Then I started caressing her leg with my free hand, and slowly, slowly moving my way up. I had already had that “innocent” contact around her pussy from before, so I knew that in her turned on state she was not going to object. Plus I knew it would be a turn on for her to try this in the train. So pretty soon I started lightly masturbating her through her skimpy dress. It was killing me to know that she had no panties on, and I was dying to get my hand up under her skirt and feel it for myself. I started pulling up her skirt slowly and would get no resistance until I actually tried to touch her, and then she would always block it. I gave up on that but she started to touch me as well, so we were having a mutual masturbation session in the train. This went on for about 20 minutes, but soon some people left the train and there
wasn‟t enough cover to continue unseen. Anyway, I turned to relaxing her by playing with her hair, and it was clear that by now all objections to my being with her on the train were gone. I of course said so in order to pace the situation, and she agreed. We changed trains and were now sitting down. She had her legs crossed and mentioned that she couldn‟t uncross them cause she didn‟t have any underwear on. I joked that I would go sit across from her and she can do a Sharon Stone move on me. I would have actually, but there were no seats available on the other side. Here, somehow, we got to talking about how strong I am. I turned it into a “batsu game,” which is sort of like a bet but the “prize” is usually a punishment that the winner gets to inflict on the loser. Very common in Japan. Anyway, I told her that I was so strong that I could probably pick her up with one hand, and that if I did, she had to let me take her to a secluded place and continue our kiss. She didn‟t say yes, but she didn‟t say no either. I also got some other challenge going that would result in me kissing her breasts, but she wouldn‟t agree to that if it means that there is direct contact, so I toned it down to light kisses through her clothes, knowing it can escalate. We got off and I went to get some water, mainly to let the crowd thin out. It was now about 11:40 PM. As we walked out of the station, I quickly found a dark recessed area and led her in by the hand. She said, “Wow, just like high school kids.” I pulled her in and we started making out; she was a great kisser. I started feeling her up again, but she again resisted at the point where I went for pulling up her skirt. In fact it was a break state, and she said she had to go home. I elicited her main objections (time, no bed, etc.), and volunteered to get a hotel. She said she promised she would see
me again, but that we have to be patient. Okay, whatever, I‟m still going to walk with her and try again. We got up about 20 steps on a winding path and I stopped her again to make out. I told her that I‟m being so persistent because this was every guy‟s fantasy. I sat down in strip bar fashion and said in a challenging fashion: “So show me something.” She got the hint and started to bend over and pull up her skirt little by little. I made it more exciting for her by showing her my “appreciation” and stroking my rod through my jeans. She kept teasing me and not showing me her pussy, so I said, “You show me yours and I will show you mine.” I unbuttoned my pants a little to show her I was serious. Well, she pulled up her dress and finally I saw her bush. Okay, I‟m lying: I didn‟t see her bush, because there was none. She was completely shaven! I almost fell off the bench. This got progressively hotter, as she gave me the view from front and back. She said she liked to tease me. I tried to angle this into a lap dance, but again, any kind of touching just made her lose state and back off. We heard some people coming up the bend, so we had to stop. Again she said she needed to go home, and started walking that way, telling me I couldn‟t come along. I just ignored this and kept walking with her. This time I told her we would have a relaxing walk in the breeze, and took her hand. As we were walking I commented on how crazy we must be for each other. She was concerned about me thinking she was kinky, and I gave her an escape hatch and said I knew it was because I turned her on so much. I said that there were different parts of her, most of them the tame normal girl, but that sometimes you meet someone who knows how to bring out the crazy and fun side of you. She agreed.
At this point I just asked, “For example, do you like girls?” This was a bit of a deviation from the previous thought, but it set it up indirectly for her to be able to answer yes. I had already told her during small talk early on that I liked adventurous women. And she had just agreed I bring out the crazy side in her. “Well, I don‟t know, I have never had that experience.” I said, “Well, I‟m sure you would really enjoy it. And there is nothing sexier than a three way kiss.” This of course made her ask, “You have tried that?” I went on to tell her that it was with the stewardess girlfriend that I had told her about, and another stewardess. She then said, “my fantasy is to try it with girls of different race.” I said, “Okay, I can set that up!” By this point we were basically in front of her place. It was kind of up in the hills. I put out another invite to get a hotel, but she said no again. I said it‟s been so crazy so far, that we should at least make each other come. I told her to come with me down a dimly lit path near her place, and told her we would strip for each other. This worked, and a few minutes later we were stripping down by the side of the path. I put all of our clothes into the bushes as we went along. She didn‟t strip all the way, but it was enough. From here it gets fairly pornographic, despite the fact I didn‟t have sex with her. She wouldn‟t let me, but said we should be patient until the next time we met. We did the Asian thing where you promise by interlocking pinkies. Anyway, suffice it to say that we both made each other feel really good despite not having sex, and the experience was heightened by the fact someone could have come along and caught us at any time.
The follow up:
So ten days later I am back from business trips. It‟s a Tuesday and I call her up, but get no answer, despite calling twice. This is bad, because she has to see it‟s me calling. I leave a message anyway in a fairly seductive tone saying that I am back, and that we don‟t have to be patient anymore (recalling her words). By Wednesday night she still hasn‟t called back so I call again. Still no answer, but this time I don‟t leave a message. Thursday comes and still no call from her, so I know something is up. So I think things through and figure I have to address whatever it is that has happened, and add some scarcity at the same time. I call and leave basically this message in Japanese: “Hi HBNopanties, it‟s TokyoPUA again. I don‟t know what it is that has kept you from calling. Maybe you have a boyfriend, or you have gotten scared to see me again, but whatever your reason is, we are both just human, and we can‟t deny that we shared an incredible experience together, so it‟s okay if we meet again, maybe just for dinner, with no expectations, just to enjoy meeting each other again. You can meet me Friday or Saturday, but after that, I‟m gone again for two weeks. Call me.” Well, by Friday at 6 or so, I haven‟t gotten a call from her, so I call up my FB (an even hotter chick who is 10 years younger than me) and don‟t give a damn if HBNopanties calls again as she and I have awesome sex. Afterwards though, I get a call from HBNopanties and I just ignore it, knowing I will call her the next day. I call her Saturday, but get no answer. An hour later she calls back and we set up a date for dinner. I get her feeling comfortable again, escalate kino again, and then get her back to
remembering all the crazy feelings, adventure, etc., take her to a love hotel and finally lay her. Afterwards, I do some debriefing, and asked why she hadn‟t called me back originally. She said she didn‟t want to feel like a prostitute or something (ASD/chick logic, LOL), because what she had done with me was so crazy, and that she didn‟t want me to think she was “kinky.” I told her, “Don‟t worry, I don‟t think you are kinky, I just think I am that good to make you act that way.” Of course, little did she know how much I really meant what I said. I then asked her why she finally did call me back. She said, “It was your last message you left me, it made me feel relaxed and okay.” Apparently she liked the tone, etc., but it seems that the key thing was me saying that we were both human. Clearly this had allowed her the mental escape hatch she needed to deal with her own internal ASD. So basically the message had worked just perfectly. I didn‟t dwell on what her reasons were (left that open-ended), and I basically said that whatever they were, there was a level of rapport that was hard to deny because of what we shared, and that because of that, we should meet. I could have called her and reminded her that she had promised to meet me, but that would have been transparent and somewhat desperate seeming. I could have acted pissed, or even straight out told her that she was losing her chance. I could have also decided not to call her, and expect that eventually she would call me. But in the end, this basic and simple message I left was the best I could have done.
This isn‟t exactly in my usual LR Tutorial format, but the keys to making this whole lay happen were:
-My use all my usual toolbox tricks like kino, sexual talk, 4 magic questions, etc. -My great state and confidence when I hit Shibuya due to my intense swim. -Looking for and capitalizing immediately on great eye contact. -Being aggressive and not taking soft no‟s for an answer. -Isolating her. -Escalating things physically and verbally. -Dealing with the follow-up in a persistent and intelligent manner that was thought out in advance and based on getting rapport.
THE GAME: THE SHADE MANUAL
The following is the most widely spread lost chapter from The Game. For those who have not yet read it, in the following scene, still new on the journey from AFC (average frustrated chump) to PUA (pickup artist), Neil encountered one of the community’s most mysterious sexual gurus, David Shade.
In the underground world of seduction, like the world of martial arts, there are dojos. And these dojos are led by gurus, each with his own philosophy and system of seduction. My goal was to learn from them all, to collect all the pieces and keep the ones that fit, until I could finally put together the puzzle that is woman. There‟s Ross Jeffries and the school of Speed Seduction, in which hypnosis and subliminal language patterns are used to get a girl aroused. Or Mystery and the Mystery Method, in which party tricks and social dynamics are manipulated to land the most desirable woman in a club. Or David D‟Angelo and Double Your Dating, in which he advocates keeping the upper hand over a woman through a combination of humor and arrogance that he calls cocky funny. Or Gunwitch and Gunwitch Method, in which the only thing students have to do is project animalistic sexuality and escalate physical contact until the woman stops them. His crude motto: “Make the ho say no.” Or there‟s David X, Rick H., Major Mark, Juggler, and David Shade, perhaps the most mysterious guru on the scene, whose nights out seducing women into threesomes
with his girlfriend were legendary in the community. And, after nearly half a year in the community, I was finally going to meet him. He was in San Francisco, where I was helping Juggler (a stand-up comic by night; a pick-up artist by day) run a workshop. And Shade had invited me – along with a dozen other sargers, or apprentice pick-up artists – to dinner at Le Coloniale. David Shade‟s claim to fame was the explosive David Shade Manual, a cheaplooking photocopied pamphlet about the final stage of seduction: sex. It included techniques on finding hidden erogenous zones such as a woman‟s deep spot in the center of her cervix; on having threesomes, foursomes, and orgies; on seductive scripts to give a woman an orgasm over the phone; and on using hypnosis to, as he writes, “slip in the back door.” He sat at the head of a round, knightly table, sporting a smooth shaven head and a large pocket protector. He looked like a cross between Vin Diesel and Jerry Lewis. He was a different type of seducer than anyone I‟d met before. With Juggler, I had terrorized San Francisco bars, leaping in front of groups of women with my fingers outstretched like pistols and yelling, “Stick „em up.” It was fun. David Shade, however, was deadly serious. He belonged to the old school of seduction, Speed Seduction. However, he had chosen as his guru a character by the name of Major Mark. A former military officer who claimed thirty-seven kills to his name and a fetish for hypnotized slave girls, Major Mark was a short, pudgy middle-aged man who wore short-sleeved Hawaiian shirts said “mmm-kay” a lot. He had helped Ross Jeffries develop Speed Seduction before
branching out to write his own e-book, Scoring With Married Women, which was the definition of what Twotimer, one of my first friends in the community, would call evil. To show off, on my way to the table I stopped two women with the “Do you think that spells work?” opener. An opener is a prepared script used to start a conversation with a group of strangers; it‟s the first thing anyone who wants to meet women must be armed with. Both girls had black hair and thin bodies, except one was tall like a crane and the other short like a dove. I told them the usual spells story – about a friend who met a woman who cast a love spell on them, and now they‟re dating. Then I transitioned into a mind-reading demonstration in which I guessed a number they were thinking of. They gasped and laughed at all the right places. I was in. I flirted for a few minutes, talked about books, took their phone numbers, and sat down at the table in a blaze of glory, introducing myself as Style. I could feel the gravity that the name now held when I spoke it, the murmurs of excitement from the students at the table. The reviews of the workshop I had winged with Mystery in Belgrade had hit the Internet, and my pick-up knowledge and skills in the field had been soundly praised. People were curious to meet Mystery‟s new wing. The conversation at the table was focused on men who were naturally successful with women versus non-naturals like ourselves, who had simply learned to emulate their behavior. I have a theory that naturals, as a whole, tend to lose their virginity at a young age, so that they no longer feel a sense of urgency, curiosity, and intimidation around women during their critical pubescent years. Those who have to learn methodically, like ourselves, had suffered through high school without girlfriends or even dates.
Consequently, we had been forced to spend years feeling intimidated by and alienated from women, who held in their sole possession the key to releasing us from the stigma blighting our young adult lives: our virginity. “I can not pick up at will,” a buff little man, who spoke in a French accent, was saying. “I feel like seduction is something I need to turn on and warm up, like an oven, before I can use it.” I knew what he was talking about. “That‟s a problem I‟m finding too,” I said. “The routines and scripts are supposed to be training wheels, to get us started talking to girls. But I find that when I don‟t use them, my interactions go nowhere. Is it possible to become a natural seducer all the time?” Shade listened, evaluated, and then weighed in. “Major Mark told me a long time ago, „There is no off switch,‟” he said. He did not smile. He did not blink. “You‟re always on and there‟s no way to stop it. All of us here are always seducers. To quote Major Mark again, „Energy follows thought.‟” Shade‟s modus operandi was to be picky. Not every girl was worth seducing. “Major Mark said a long time ago that the really worthy women will provide you with all the material you‟ll ever need to seduce them,” he continued. “It‟s the ones who aren‟t worthy that you end up having to entertain. Seduction is not about you or your material: it‟s about her.” That night, we went out to a cheesy downtown club called Ruby Skye, rolling in a cockfarm of fifteen. I wanted to watch Shade work. While the other guys ran around the bar, opening every set they saw, Shade just sat on a bench and waited.
“I‟m starting to have doubts about this guy,” a PUA named Adonis told me. “You know, he‟s forty-six. Maybe he doesn‟t feel comfortable in clubs. He doesn‟t do anything but sit around.” Adonis grabbed a seat next to me. He smelled like pea soup. “I mean, I‟ve learned a lot tonight about looking for quality woman to make my girlfriend,” he said. “But I want to learn to get girls who look like bimbos. I don‟t care if they have a brain the size of a pea, as long as they are fucking hot.” Suddenly, Adonis‟s dream girl walked by. She hesitated for a moment near where we were sitting. She was alone. Both Shade and Adonis rose to their feet. Shade beat him to the approach by a breath. I could only catch bits and pieces of what Shade was saying. He complimented her on her grace and energy. Then he took her hand, sat her down, and began a palm-reading. Then he dismissed her. Was this part of Major Mark‟s advice? “She wasn‟t what I was looking for,” he said. “I‟m very picky. A woman needs to be smart, funny, open-minded, and bisexual.” I began to wonder about David Shade, as I had about some of the other seducers I‟d met. When I first joined the community, they were gods to me. They possessed the power that had eluded me my whole life – the power to attract and enchant women. I wanted to meet them, learn from them, be them. But it was hard to tell whether I was worshipping false idols. That lesson would come with time. However, I couldn‟t blame David Shade for having high standards. That was something I aspired to. Shade began to talk about his girlfriend. He was bringing her to Los Angeles, and wanted suggestions of places they could go tandem hunting for bisexual women.
I gave him some suggestions, then he turned to me and fixed my face in his intense, steely glare. “Be careful,” he warned. “You are getting caught in the middle of a lot of different agendas.” “What do you mean?” “You can only be a slave to one master,” he answered, cryptically. I never saw him again. But I understood the implication. I‟ve never been a true believer in anything. I‟ve preferred to combine teaching and wisdom from various sources, find what applies to me, and discard what doesn‟t. The problem is that when you drink from the source of knowledge, there is a price. And that price is faith. Every single teacher wanted to know that he was the best, that his students were the most loyal, that the competition wasn‟t getting laid. Yet every single student wanted to absorb as much information from as many different experts as possible. It is a crisis that‟s specific not to the community but to humanity: Power is retained by attracting loyalty, and subjugation is guaranteed by giving it. I thought about his warning the next day, when I flew back to Los Angeles and received a phone call from Ross. “I‟m having a workshop this weekend,” he said. “If you want, you can come sit in for free. It‟s at the Marina Beach Marriott hotel on Saturday and Sunday.” “Sure,” I told him. “I‟d love to go.” “There‟s just one thing: you owe me parties. Good Hollywood parties with hot chicks. You promised me.” “Got it.” “And, before we hang up, you can wish me a happy birthday.”
“It‟s your birthday?” “Yes, your guru of gash is forty-four. And my youngest this year was twenty-one.” I had no idea he was inviting me to his seminar not as a student, but as a conquest.