#48: Rosemary's Pear

There was no way Paul was leaving this club without trying his luck with the Asian chick with the gigantic boobs.

She'd arrived twenty minutes ago, heading directly to the bar as if on a mission. She chatted with the bartender—a cute, leggy brunette who would have otherwise had Paul's eye—and nursed a cocktail special. After taking some video of the scenery which she presumably posted to social media, she then spent several minutes watching the go-go dancer on the elevated platform near the bar, while remaining preoccupied with her phone.

The woman eventually caught Paul ogling her chest from halfway across the room, though it took him another minute to notice she'd made eye contact. Taking it in stride, she gave him an amused smile and returned to her mobile. Sipping the last of her drink, she waved to get the bartender’s attention.

Figuring this to be as good a time as any, Paul got up and headed to her place at the bar, timing his arrival to coincide with the bartender's.

"I would like the Rosemary's Pear with Ki No Bi gin, please."

Paul stepped up, immediately to her left. "May I get that for you?"

She turned to him and smiled graciously. "If you insist. Thank you."

Paul ordered a Heineken for himself, then extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Paul."

"Hello, Paul. I am Krysta. Thank you for the drink." She shook his hand with a firmer grip than he expected.

"You're very welcome. You enjoying yourself so far?"

"I am, though I must say, the scenery is particularly engaging over here," she said, tilting her head towards the dancer making an impressive spin move.

"Impressive indeed! What do you think she makes doing this?" Paul said.

"At this event? No less than $80 an hour. With all the sponsorships, probably closer to $100. Not a bad gig, if the dancing doesn’t tire you out."

"That's a pretty specific guess. Are you a dancer yourself?"

"Am I a dancer?" Krysta repeated, raising an eyebrow. Paul immediately regretted his inquiry. She gave him a moment's serious eye contact, then burst into a laugh that set her chest into glorious motion. "No," she said, waving her phone. "I only know because I Googled it a couple minutes ago. As far as being a dancer, I actually go out of my way to avoid it. I am more of a conversationalist."

Paul was frazzled, but not enough to abandon ship. "Well, I'm cool to chat. May I join you?"

Krysta gestured for him to take a seat. They made small talk, with Paul, slightly buzzed, taking an active role. He had been advised not to bring up his stock portfolio in the early part of a conversation, and he held out for a few minutes until Krysta provided him a transition. She was grumbling about her roommate's Roomba eating her network router cables.

"Funny you mention that. A buddy of mine recommended I buy shares in iRobot. The company that makes those."


"Definitely. There's more to that company than vacuuming robots though."


"I mean, sure the little vacuuming robots are cute, but are they worth investing in as a company? Yes! Sure, most people will see the vacuum robot that eats their tv—"

"Wireless router."

"—cables, but when you look at the way the market and the industry are headed, I think robots are the future."


"Absolutely! They have vacuum robots. Self-checkout. Pretty soon, cars will be driving themselves. It's a sound investment."

"You could look at it that way," Krysta said, more amused than impressed.

"Look at what?"

"The robotics industry."

"You know about the industry?"

Krysta paused to sip her cocktail. "I could see iRobot as a safe bet in the short term. Their product is trendy, and they have a recognizable name and a solid niche. It is also a crowded and rapidly growing market. Taking marketplace strength into consideration, you might also look into Ekso Bionics or Cognex, who is a major player in industrial robotics."

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. "You're an investor?"

"Robotics enthusiast."

Paul chuckled. "Wow. I would not have pegged you as that type either."

"Oh? What type would you peg me as?

He'd walked into that question, and there was no easy out. She let him squirm for a moment, then giggled.

"Sorry. I am giving you a hard time." Krysta stood. "My friend is summoning me to the dance floor, but it has been nice talking to you, Paul."

"Hey, before you go," Paul said, taking out his phone, "I have to ask."


"What were those two companies you mentioned?"

'Kristin'—if Rick caught her name under the roar of the music—was an awkward dancer, which boosted his confidence. If she had a body like this and she was an excellent dancer too, she would’ve been thoroughly out of his league. He'd seen her dancing with another girl, a redhead, who'd stepped away. Rick didn't miss a beat moving in and joined her for most of an Uptown Funk remix before she expressed her need to take a break.

"Hey, nice moves out there," he said, keeping pace with her.

"Thanks," she said. "I am not much of a dancer. Thank you for rescuing me."

"The pleasure is all mine!" Rick blurted. Kristin (or was it Crystal? No...) smiled politely and headed back to the bar.

"May I buy you a drink?"

Rick knew she must have seen that coming, but she managed to look caught off-guard by the question.

"Oh! The Rosemary's Pear with Ki No Bi would be awesome. "Thank you!" she said, with a slight bow of her head.

He took a seat next to her. "No problem!"

Kristin looked down at her phone, and Rick took another extended gaze into six or so inches of the most enticing cleavage he'd ever seen. Catching himself, he jolted back to attention, but she remained focused on her phone. Thrilled as Rick was to have the opportunity to talk to her, he was at a loss for conversation.

"So...what brings you here?"

"My friend has been dragging me to clubs since college," she finished her text and scanned the bar again. "I am not sure where she headed off to..."

"I'm here with kind of a loose group. I got tickets through my company, but I haven't been to a club in a while."

"Brace yourself. Here she comes."

A stunning redhead in a  figure-hugging black cocktail dress approached from the side. Her slurred speech and uneven gait indicated she was drunker than she thought she was.

"Having a good time?" (Rick was pretty sure he'd heard 'Kristin') asked her.

"Am I?" The redhead leaned her head back and roared with laughter. "You bet! This DJ is kiiiiiiillllller. Did you two make out there?"

"Yes, we made it out there. Hey, speaking of which, this is Rick. Rick this is Syd—"

"Hi Rick," 'Syd' said, dismissively, turning to Kristin. "Hon, I am loving this party." With a lascivious grin, she snaked her arm behind Kristin, her hand landing on her waist, with a few fingers brushing at the underside of Kristin's breast. Kristin offered Rick an apologetic smile as Syd tugged her close.

 "Looks like you are already a few martinis in," Kristin said.

"Four," Syd purred into Kristin's ear, plenty loud enough for Rick to overhear. Rick weighed whether it was appropriate to buy a clearly inebriated girl any more alcohol. He was also hesitant to interfere with the unfolding spectacle.

"Would you like some water?" Kristin asked. "They have little Pellegrino bottles for free over there."

"Psshh!" Syd said, waving a hand. "Nah. But I could agree to a martini."

"Slowing down may also be a good idea," Kristin said, "unless you plan to make an early exit tonight."

"Hm," Syd said, tapping her lips. "An eeaaarly exit, eh? I could get behind that."

Kristin raised her glass. "Sounds like a plan, but I need to finish this first."

"Take your time. Then we'll take our drunk asses home, get naked and sweaty, then film some nasty, hot girl-on-girl smut."

Rick managed to save about half of the mouthful of beer in his mouth, with most of the fallout spraying the bar in front of him.

"So, you'll have to excuse me, ladies!" Rick said, abruptly standing. "It was, uh, cool to meet you, Kristin." He shuffled away,  leaving the remainder of his half-finished beer.

"You're very welcome, Kris-tin." Sydney said, suddenly without a trace of slurred speech.

"Ugh. Did he say 'Kristin?' Damn it, I knew I should have double-checked he heard me. How's he supposed to find my website now?"

Sydney extracted a small mirror from her purse and set to re-adjusting her hair. "You really should just hand out business cards."

"Krysta! You didn't!"

"I did," Krysta managed to choke out, launching into a full coughing fit.

Typically, anyone fumbling a shot as she had would have gotten a relentless ribbing from my brother. In this case though, her jostling, tequila-glistened breasts left all of us tongue-tied. To our disappointment, she snagged the outer edge of her dress, staving off a wardrobe malfunction.

I was invited to the party at Club Blue by my brother Will and his friend Travis. Checking my Instagram on the drive there, I'd noticed she'd posted a story with a video of herself in a limo, using the hashtag #ClubBlue. From the moment I arrived, I scanned my surroundings like a hawk.

Two hours later, I was ready to accept I'd go the night without a sighting. It was then I finally noticed Krysta and Sydney Lorraine (who I'd also seen topless online) sitting by themselves with nearly empty glasses on a couch by the bar. I didn't care if Will and Travis followed me over. At the very least, I'd see K-Cup-freaking-Krysta with my own two eyes. If I were lucky, I'd buy her a drink and maybe exchange a few words with her.

It turned out better than I expected.

"I got about half of it down!" Krysta said, patting her chest with a napkin and, sending a few final ripples through her ample bosom, before looking up with a pathetic pout.

"You'll have to excuse my friend," Sydney said. "The last time she took a shot was in a dorm room."

"Not true!" Krysta said. "Actually, it might be true."

"You wanna' try again?" My brother asked her chest. "The next one's on me."

"Oh, I doubt I will do any better with another shot."

"Hey, whatever you're feeling. What would ya' like?"

"Rosemary's Pear with Kin No Bi gin, please."

"You got it, girl!" he said, flagging the bartender.

"Hey, can one of you guys take a picture of Krysta and I?" Sydney asked. "You know, for Instagram?"

"I got ya!" Travis volunteered before realizing she meant with her camera.

"Oh! My drink!" Krysta said. "I need it for the picture."

"We can wait," Sydney said, heading over to Travis. "I'll talk him through my camera app in the meantime." That left me with Krysta, still debating whether it was wise to admit to recognizing her from the internet.

She posts photos of herself topless for paid subscribers. She shouldn't be surprised if someone recognizes her. But does she want anyone to recognize her?

"So what brings you here?"

Be honest.

"My brother comes here a lot and scored tickets early."

Nice. Now think before you— 

"What about you?"

Come on, man. She's a public figure. Don't be disappointed if she's not too forthcoming.

"My friend Sydney dragged me out. She says I work too much."

Okay. So far, so good. Just don't pry.

"Work too much, eh? What do you do?"

Dude. Not cool. She probably doesn't want to admit she's a—

"Pinup model and webcam performer. Softcore. Mostly topless."

Oh, okay. Then I guess I'll jump straight to...

"That's awesome! Can I take a picture with you?"

"Sure," Krysta said, unfazed by the request. "Be sure to tag me though. 'K-cup Krysta.' 'K-R-Y.' All one word. Sorry, I have no business card. I have thought about getting some, but it seems tacky."

I held my camera out front of me and she posed at my side. I felt her arm around my ribcage and a sublime plushness press against my torso.

"You better smile!" she said.

You bet your ass I smiled, like a big goofy idiot. I admit I even hesitated a little to take the photo and took two 'just to be safe.' K-cup-goddamn-Krysta had her left tit pressed against my ribcage. I would pay hundreds of dollars to re-live those seven seconds.

"Can I get one too?" Krysta asked.

I'm sure I indicated some kind of affirmative, I'd gone stupid with joy. Fortunately, Will returned with her drink, which she happily accepted. She took the photo, gave me a pat on the side followed by a wink, then headed over to Sydney for their picture. I paused and took a moment to burn the last minute into my brain before my brother slapped me on the shoulder.

"Those girls were ballin'! Next drink's on me."

"That Rosemary's Pear with Ki No Bi sounds pretty good."

"...except another fifteen-fucking-dollar cocktail."

"You're the best, Marcie," Krysta said, laying down a twenty for her tab. "Thanks for taking care of me."

"No problem, and thank you!" Marcie said. "I already made a killing in tips tonight."

"You earned it."

"You're a fine one to talk," Marcie said, making for the kitchen just as Sydney approached.

"That's quite a tip for a four-dollar tab."

"I asked for her to water down my Rosemary's Pears—still a single pour, but heavy on the puree and tonic. Basically a hard pear Julius. Made it easier to nurse them. I figured our sponsor would appreciate the sales."

"Strategic. How predictable of you."

"Also, I think I am ready to start dating again."

Sydney opened her mouth to say something but had no immediate reply. Krysta savored her friend's rare loss for words. Sydney finally landed on an indifferent expression.

"What brought this on? Was it the guy who stared at your cleavage nonstop and managed to tear himself away long enough to mention his stock portfolio?"

"Ew. No."

"I can't imagine it was the guy who needed to seek medical attention for his persistent erection."

"No, though he was sweet if you looked beyond that. Thanks again for the rescue."

"So, it was the lanky college kid that did about the worst job pretending he didn't recognize you."

"He was adorable, and probably twenty-one. I almost felt bad teasing him as much as I did. But no. I think I just enjoyed talking to strangers rather than performing for them. It was...easier than I remember."

"Well, good for you and good luck. It shouldn't be hard for you to meet people with that approachable-geek-with-porn-star-jubblies look of yours. It's the same reason women either hate you or pity you." Sydney nodded at Marcie the bartender, who'd circled back to drop off a slip of paper and a shot of Patrón. "Hence your new friend."

"She must have felt more than pity," Krysta said, holding up a note with the bartender's name and number, along with a message scribbled below.

Next time, the drinks are on me. If you're interested. - Marcie 

"Well, if you don't call her, I will," Sydney said.

Krysta laughed. "Venmo me my cut of the bonus. Now, we should go. The last two drinks are going to hit me, and I would prefer to get home before I have to deal with the fallout of pictures of me passed out in a limo with my boob hanging out."

"Now that would earn me a favor."

"Blackmail?" Krysta snickered. "You would never do it."

"Are you kidding? You and I both know I absolutely would."

Krysta gave the bartender a nod, raised her glass, and tossed back her shot with neither hesitation nor training wheels. "You think you would, but you would not." Krysta slid down from the stool. "Now, I need to pee, then fetch my jacket. In the meantime, you can wrangle that limo."

Sydney watched as Krysta casually sauntered away. Krysta clearly wanted to prove she could get someone as self-confident as Sydney to second-second guess herself. She'd succeeded.

"I've created a monster," Sydney said, grinning.