"How old are you? I would guess twenty two, maybe twenty three." Without question, J-ball is the smoothest operator I have ever known. "Bartender, whatever this young lady is having stick it on my tab." The Vegas mama standing next to him at the bar was getting ready to buy her own drink when he decides to intervene. "Thank you for the compliment and the drink. My name is Claire," she then sticks her hand out to him. Most guys would sheepishly shake it and maybe, if their lucky, get a thirty second chat out of her...J-ball is not most guys!
Without a moments hesitation, he takes her hand and gently kisses it. "Anytime beautiful," he says. I was watching it all unfold from the bar stool next to him. After he kisses her hand - he asks if she would care to join us - "I would love to join you but I am meeting someone here in a few minutes," she tells him with a wide smile. He responds by kissing her hand again and saying, "Maybe he won't show and you can join us." After his remark her tan face blushes and she says, "Why don't I give you my number and we can go out for a drink some other time?" Without breaking stride or releasing her hand, he summons the bartender to bring him a pen. She writes her number down on a napkin and kisses it. "I will call you soon," he tells her. Most would think the encounter to be over...it wasn't. The two of them spend, I would guess, fifteen to twenty seconds staring at each other before she leaves, no words - just stares.
"I know a couple of guys back in Kansas who really knew how to swoon the ladies. But I have to be honest with you J-ball. They couldn't carry your jock." Watching him spin his charm on females is akin to watching Larry Bird shoot a basketball; or George Brett swing a baseball bat. It's truly a thing of beauty and grace. I told him such, and he says this - "Jethro, I want you to watch and learn. Who knows? One of these days your hillbilly ass might be able to pull off the same feats." We both look at each other after his statement and start laughing, he then says - "I seriously doubt it."
As we are leaving Yard House a beautiful girl in a short skirt and silk blouse is entering. He looks at me and says, "Check this broad out!" She hears his comment and looks at him with a wide smile. I thought he was being a little abrupt. But the subject of his compliment felt otherwise. She then says, "Hi, how are you?" Instead of reciprocating the greeting, he decides to pull the staring routine. Ten seconds or so pass and he turns and walks away...leaving the Madonna he was staring down gawking. As we are strolling to the car, I say - "Goddamn Jayball, you could have gotten another number! Jesus, that girl was gorgeous. Why didn't you make a move?" He looks at me; shrugs his shoulders; laughs; puts his sunglasses on; spits the toothpick out of his mouth and says - "Jethro, I have a stack of numbers at home I would venture to guess is at least two inches thick. Every once in a while I have to say no."
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