The Last of the Playboys

Will they be missed?

By Vivienne Arkell

I really don’t recall much during the first hour of our date. Not that I was buzzed yet, but Colin was not proving to be the most solicitous man. He was extremely handsome. Yes, extremely in that suave, daring, Sean Connery as Bond kind of way. He seemed to be from that part of the world too, but I have never been great with foreign accents. Give me a Midwestern rocker, or an educated East Coast man anytime and I was happy. These imports from overseas always struck me as playboys or mamma’s boys with too many unexplained, hard-to-read, underlying angles. But I have to admit, it was quite difficult to resist Colin after watching him work an entire room of glamorous women and then stopping to focus entirely on me. His original determination and full on pursuit was great for my ego.

But this evening, being quite proud of his directing achievements to date, I had listened to how Colin ‘slayed the dragon’ every eight months or so as he moved from one mega-glamourous international project to the next. I was overdue for him to slay my dragon and was starting to worry that he would never get to me, until I rolled my eyes and heard…

“So Vivienne, tell me about yourself,” he said in a lowered, sexy tone. Maybe the macho in him just needed to make sure his admirer understood that this male was to be the center of attention. Yet would I duly return the pleasure when the law had been laid and acknowledged? Hmm.

It was obvious from the mental notes I had been taking that Colin got around. He was a true bon vivant and traveled in class. The family wealth had definitely trickled down to him, as well as their fashionable and well-mannered ways. And judging from his shoes, glasses, and wrist, along with our champagne that evening, Colin was not opposed to spending for the finer things in life.

“Well Colin, I thought you would never ask!” I coyly responded. “I have been to Italy and Spain a lot for my design work, but nothing like your travels. Tell me more about your trip to Corsica.”

I have to admit, I really loved seeing this man in full game. I hadn’t seen a skilled womanizer like this in years. His grace, his hand gestures. The way he would pet my hair in between stories and gaze into my eyes. Or give me a nuzzle and peck on the cheek, after brushing away a few strands of hair that had blown into my face from the wind off the water.

It was a perfect storm of yummy circumstances. A wealthy man with ample time for leisure and a lust for the pleasures of the world, especially women. He was no one you would find trolling the internet, which is where I had found most of my other boyfriends.

The flirting and sparring started to get a little more fun as the bottle emptied. “Two more glasses please,” Colin requested of the waitress as he touched her hip in an only semi-appropriate manner. She giggled and replied softly, as this was not her first time dealing with this kind of operator.

My mind was starting to get quite seduced by all of this worldly charm. Colin was not a wholesome Midwesterner. And he wasn’t a save-the-world do-gooder like Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark. He was pulling out all of his cinema moves: Sean as Bond meets Marcello in La Dolce Vita. All that legendary sexual prowess was in motion, making me feel like the only woman in the world who he wanted to share his bed with… Even though there were some moments where it seemed like it was more important for him to look good than to feel good.

He had dropped his guard and was moving freely. Could I turn this conspicuous ladies’ man into a softie? He was starting to feel like putty in my hands. Was this his game? Did he have a warm heart in there under all the cool layers? Or was he going to just play his role like in the movies – an inimitable breed of elite pleasure seeker and empty heart breaker.

I liked the idea of being with a man of such prowess and power, 72% gentleman and 28% outlaw. Maybe I would be living the jet set lifestyle with him? He could have any rich, beautiful, or famous woman, and he had chosen me. Could I have my own playboy? Did Vivi actually woo a playboy?


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