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"Yeah," she said.

I asked, "Was that fun?"

Beatrice responded, "Yeah, it was fun, but, like I said, it wasn't anything that I'm going to remember or write home to my mom about." Well, I would hope not.

"And my first time having sex with two guys here was not my first time having sex with two guys. I've had much more fun having sex with one guy that I like than having sex with two guys that I was..." She thought for a second and said "fond of," then smiled.

I asked, "So the sex here is not that great?"

Beatrice said, "It has the potential to be, but it's not. No."

Then she contradicted herself. "I always have good sex, right. Always. Always. I'm always having good sex with a guy."

As if I were compelling her to take someone home that night, she said: "No, I'm sorry. I can't do it. This is like the meat market. It's just not -- it's not my game." Why is everyone contemptuous of their own stomping ground, I wondered.

I asked Beatrice, "Have you ever read the Kama Sutra?"

She said "No, I have not" and added: "I don't think I need the Kama Sutra. I'm sorry, dude. I am, like, totally experimental all the time." A guy walked over to her from the line and said to her, "Hey, booty-call connoisseur, it's time to go inside."

"Aww, man. I'm having so much fun," she replied.

I brought up the Kama Sutra, and she cut me short again, "I'm not familiar. You have to be with the person that you're with to figure out what position is going to be better for the both of you. Every experience that I have with a guy is so fundamentally different in so many ways."

I tried to tell Beatrice about size compatibility and the elephant vaginas and the bull penises and the wisdom of the ancients, but she wasn't having any of it: "I'm always having good sex. I don't need a guy to be that big."

Her date came over and pulled her toward the club.

"One more thing," I said, forsaking all those dog-eared pages of hard-learned categories and postures and seducing techniques. "Do you teach a seminar?"

Beatrice looked back and said: "I should. I should. I swear to God."

Then she was swallowed up by the maws of Voodoo.

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Courtney Hambright

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