An attractive man looks back at me from the mirror. Adjusting his perfectly styled hair, he prepares for another night of conquest.

"Ladies, meet Charles Knight" with a name that evokes both mystery and charm, he's a man with the power to seduce any woman he lays eyes on. Average height, with a chiseled jawline and piercing blue eyes, his athletic physique exudes confidence, and his dark, lightly tousled hair adds a touch of recklessness.

As I take a final look in the mirror, I can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

Every detail of my attire has been meticulously selected; The dark blue Levi's hug my legs just right, the Luca Faloni black button-up adds an air of refinement, and the matching black Ted Baker Chelsea boots and belt bring the entire ensemble together.

The game, you see, is all about status. Women say they want love, vulnerability, 'husband material', it's all a lie. In the end, we're beasts driven by our genes. What women want? It's to choose the best possible mate, and tonight, that's me.

I tilt my head slightly, a hint of mischief in my gaze. "Look at you, you handsome devil. Let's get out there and steal some hearts!"

As I turn to leave, the familiar buzz of my phone interrupts my thoughts. A message from my wingman, Eric, pops up on my screen.

'Outside. Let's do some magic!'

Eric is the Robin to my Batman. My trusty sidekick who assists in these most unscrupulous endeavours.

A grin creeps across my face as I pocket my phone, looking forward to what surprises the night will bring.

---

There's a queue when we arrive at the Rusty Spoon. The doorman, a sturdy figure with shaved head and tattoos, stands guard. I make eye contact, and call out as we approach.

"Hey, Steve! Quite the crowd tonight." I greet him by name as he unhooks the red cord, lifting it and granting us entry.

"Evening, Charles. Eric. Good to see you again"

"Thanks. Wouldn't want to keep the night waiting!" Eric replies in a playful tone.

The board is set, and cutting the queue is our first play. It's a calculated display of familiarity; by acknowledging us, the doorman has set us apart from the throng. No doubt some of those waiting for entry are annoyed; no doubt all of them are intrigued. Who are we? Why do they have to wait, while we cut ahead? It's a subtle signal that we navigate this world to a different rhythm. Always know the doorman.

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With a nod of gratitude, we slip inside.

Warm air and the sound of laughter greet us as we enter. Vintage style LEDs emit a warm amber light, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. This place is what Eric likes to call a "Full of itself" bar, but I style myself as a man with more class, and will simply call it "overpriced."

I spot the owner, Tony, behind the bar tonight. He gestures us to sit as we approach "Hey, Tony. How's things?" I call over the din. "You settle on that rental yet?"

"Not yet. They upped the price last week, looks like I missed my chance" he replies, grabbing us a couple of glasses. "Whiskey on the rocks?"

"You know me too well!" I reply. The choice of drink is important. In a place like this, it's always whiskey.

I begin my scan of the room, seeking a suitable mark. I am a man of discerning tastes, someone who likes a challenge. My eyes flick from group to group, assessing faces.

My rule of thumb is this; a good seduction is won or lost in threes: Three seconds to approach, three minutes to win over her friends, and three hours to get her back to your place. Good marks are seldom alone. They're guarded by their social circle, and when you approach a girl in a group, you never go for her directly.

Women are like cats, you see. If you want to pet a cat, you don't charge at it like a predator. Instead, you entice it by showing it you possess something it desires. You let it come to you willingly, on it's own terms. It's why Eric's role is so important. As well as being social proof, it's his job to run interference on the mark's 'Ugly friends,' giving me plenty of time to work my magic.

Eric taps my knee. "eyes at 2 o'clock" he says as we clink glasses.

I look. Across the bar, seated on the short side of the L, a woman with golden hair and mesmerizing green eyes catches my attention. She is alone. Our eyes meet for a lingering second, then she turns away.

The countdown has begun.

3...

"You can sit this one out." I say to Eric in a low voice as I rise from my seat, whiskey in hand. My eyes never leave the woman as I take a sip, savouring the smoky flavour on my tongue.

2...

I approach with confidence. Reaching her, I lean casually against the bar.

1...

"You have the kind of eyes that could steal a man's breath" I say. Some men say pick-up lines are cheesy. Some men are fools.

She glances at me, a smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? And what would you do if I did?"

I chuckle and my eyes crinkle with mischief "I suppose I'd have to find a way to catch it again."

It's the start to a beautiful evening.

---

Sunlight trickles through parted curtains, casting a faint glow into the room. I stir with a groan. I feel sick. what was I drinking last night? My bladder feels full to burst.

I swing my legs off the bed. Not my bed. I think absently.

Golden hair swishes in front of my eyes. Not my...hair!? I reach up to touch it, hoping to dispel the illusion, only to find my muscular forearms replaced with soft caramel skin.

"This can't be" I whisper, my voice trembling into the stillness of the room. I search around and spot an ornate mirror propped against one wall. I stumble over to it, suppressing my rising urge to vomit.

A stranger stares back at me. A face framed by golden locks, and green eyes filled with confusion and mounting dread.

"Shit!" I curse.

A simple white cotton nightgown falls loosely around me, it's hem brushing just above the knees. The fabric's modest coverage does little to hide my form.

My hands instinctually move to my abdomen, where I feel a small but unmistakable bump.

"SHIT!" I shout.