Dave had heard the stories. See, there was this magic token that would let you make any woman in the world. All you had to do was hand her the token and she'd instantly flop over on her back and spread her legs for you. First, though, you had to get the token.
"Still don't believe me, chump? Well, what about Jack Miller? Fat as a blimp, face uglier'n a toad's belly, and couldn't hold up his end of a conversation to save his worthless life. Just the same, he manages to crawl into Jocelyn's pants. Right purtiest woman in this corner of creation and she falls for the world's biggest bozo. Falls hard, too. Had to be the token, now, din't it?"
That damn token. It was just an urban legend, right? A myth. A friggin fairy tale. So why did all the guys talk about it as if it were real? And, how otherwise to explain all those weird happenings? All those classy women with repulsive slugs for boyfriends?
Down on his luck, Dave was. Since Marianne had dumped him a year or so back, he'd had a long and lonely dry spell. It wasn't that he was that bad looking or anything, just so damn shy. It was just plain hard chatting up a woman you'd just met, and getting to know her better was such a hassle. Man, if he only had that damn token...
It was sitting in the dirty display window of the rundown curios shop. Just an old brass New York City subway token. Pretty beat-up looking, too, with spots of corrosion and green crud. No, it couldn't be that token, not hardly, but still, it was a token. Dave paid the buck fifty the old geezer behind the counter wanted for it.
Sheeit! The guys would laugh their asses off if they found out. Yeah, he'd really been taken for a ride on that one. Paying good money for a magic token. Oh, well, a fellow could dream, couldn't he?
Speaking of dreaming... well, why not put the subway token under his pillow when he went to bed? Couldn't hurt, could it? All right now, make a wish. Wish I may, wish I might, get lucky with this token tonight. Well, at least the damn thing rhymes. Should be good for a wet dream, at least.
The dreams were strange. Beautiful women, half-naked and tantalizingly out of reach. Beckoning to him with lewd gestures, promising the most obscene pleasures if he'd only give them... the token. But, no, he had to hold on to it because otherwise something bad, something very bad would happen. He woke up in the middle of the night and the sheets were sticky with come. He was thirsty and his head hurt.
He saw her on the bus the next morning. She could be the one. Long, flowing blonde hair, dangerous curves, and a luminous smile. If only she'd smile for him that way. But, hey, that's why he had the token.
He got up from his seat and walked over to her. She eyed him suspiciously.
Now! Gotta be now, or I'll lose my damn nerve.
"Uh, lady, I have something for you."
Startled, she looked up and snarled, "Get away from me, you creep!."
He scuttled off, down the aisle, as far away from her as he could get. He sat down all the way in the back end of the bus. Shit! If he couldn't even get the token into her hand then it wouldn't work. Maybe he was going about this wrong.
Hmm. First, I maybe ought to first get to know a woman. Then, get her to trust me and feel secure enough in my company to take small gifts from me. After that, the token. Hey, this is beginning to sound like Relationships 101...
He already knew her. For gosh sake, he said hello to Marlene every morning as he walked past the reception desk into the office. Lately, she had been looking up at him and smiling. Oh, and was that a special twinkle in her eye when she asked how he had been doing? Hey, what the hell. He'd buy her a bouquet of wildflowers one of these mornings on his way to work.
"Those are for me, Dave? For me? Oh my, how sweet!"
"Well, I'm glad you like them, but I gotta get to..."
"Now, don't you run away from me! I happen to think you're a special kind of guy and could be I've had my eye on you for a while now. Come on, make an effort. Get over that shyness of yours and do what you should have done months ago. Let me give you a hint: I'm free after work tomorrow and..."
The movie wasn't one that he ordinarily would have chosen. But, damn, he had almost forgotten how nice it was to be sitting next to a real live woman in a dark theater. When her warm hand slipped into his halfway through the main feature, the shivers started running up and down his spine. She liked him! Hot damn!
Dinner with her -- at a real restaurant, fuck those fast food joints! -- was a delight. ("I'll take the fried shrimp, and duck l'orange for the lady.") Food just tastes better when your girlfriend -- gotta love that word -- is sitting across from you with the candlelight sparkling in her eyes. They had so many things to talk about, so many things to discover about each other. Damn, this was exciting.