He took a sip of his cocktail, then leaned in close to her ear and whispered,"Whoever can win over my buddy tonight gets the cash."
The woman gave him a sly glance, bit his ear gently, and replied,"What if we both win him over?"
Andrew laughed heartily, patted her, and said,"Then it doubles!"
"Alright, big guy. Leave it to us."
With that, the woman slid over to Peter's side. She didn't throw herself at him immediately coming on too strong would seem cheap.
Any woman who frequents a place like this knows the game. Otherwise, who's footing the bill for the drinks?
Peter Parker was completely flustered, unable to form a coherent sentence. His eyes were locked onto the girl beside him, her cropped top revealing her belly button. The scent of alcohol and perfume wafted over him again and again.
He stammered,"Aren't you cold wearing something so thin? You might catch a chill outside later."
"Pfft..."
The girl in fishnet stockings couldn't help but laugh. This boy was just too sweet, too innocent. She almost felt bad for seducing him.
"Handsome, you're not drinking, you're not dancing… What, you planning to just sit here all night?"
She leaned in, winding herself around him like a snake, sultry and graceful. Peter's body went rigid. When her thigh brushed against him, his composure almost shattered.
And to make things worse, on his other side sat another beauty in shorts, her long, pale legs fully exposed. Under the nightclub lights, her skin practically glowed.
The two women closed in on him from both sides, trapping him in the middle. The heady mix of perfume and bare skin made his mind foggy, and his senses overloaded.
"Hey handsome, why so quiet? You've got glasses on… don't tell me you're still in college?"
The girl in shorts was starting to lose patience. Peter's complete lack of response made her wonder if something was wrong with this cute nerd.
Peter didn't dare look either of them in the eye. He'd never been in a place like this and didn't know how to talk to strangers especially not strangers like these.
"Uh… how about I buy you both a drink?"
That was the best he could come up with after desperately trying to think of something to say.
He looked up, hoping to find Andrew but his seat was empty. All that remained on the table was a thick wad of cash.
Panic took over. There was no way he could handle these two nightlife veterans on his own. In a flustered panic, he pushed past them and fled.
"Hey, don't go, handsome!"
The girls tried to grab him, but Peter was far too fast. All they could do was watch as he disappeared.
They plopped back onto the couch, disappointed, just about ready to start cursing until they spotted the cash on the table.
A quick count revealed more than six thousand dollars. Their mood turned on a dime. They hadn't even needed to sleep with anyone and still got paid. A win-win.
Outside, the trees stood tall and bare, and the snowfall had grown heavier. From a warm, lively club to the freezing streets, Peter shivered as the cold air hit him.
He hailed a cab and returned to his rented apartment. Maybe it was the alcohol, but unlike usual, sleep came easily. He passed out the moment his head hit the pillow.
As for Andrew?
He was long gone, soaring through the sky in his Mark IV Hellfire Armor. Peter's growth wouldn't come overnight. Until he reached a certain age, he wouldn't grasp that complicated feeling. Life demands experience and without the time to absorb and reflect, someone else's wisdom is just empty noise.
This was his first snowfall in the Marvel world, and Andrew intended to make it count. As he wandered under the New York sky, watching snowflakes drift down, he felt a pang of emptiness.
"Paul, call..."
He stopped short.
It suddenly hit him, he didn't know who to call. His contact list had plenty of female acquaintances, but not a single one he could confide in.
It was that kind of moment in the middle of the night, when you're drunk, who do you want to call?
Your wife? A friend? Or… that woman?
In the end, Andrew still dialed a number.
"Betty?"
"What is it, darling?"
Betty's voice was drowsy clearly woken up from sleep.
"I've got cigarettes. Do you have wine?"
The image of her, completely bare, flashed through Andrew's mind. His chest tightened with longing.
Betty looked out at the snow drifting past her window, stretched lazily under her blanket, and replied with a smirk, "Not only do I have wine, I've got a beauty too."
If the sky hadn't been moonless tonight, Andrew figured he'd be howling like a wolf.
"Full throttle."
His voice trembled. If he didn't go now, he felt like he might explode.
An hour later, Andrew lay against the headboard, cigarette between his lips. As he gently ran his fingers along the curve beside him, he finally felt grounded as if he'd returned to reality.
Men only become philosophers when they're idle. It's only through action that they escape the whirlpool of overthinking.
Betty slipped out from under the blanket, trying to return the mouthful of Wangzai Milk she'd been holding, but Andrew kept pressing her head down, making it impossible.
Pouting, Betty Ross turned over and spat the expired milk onto the floor beside the bed. Then she grumbled,"So unfair. You get to give it to me, but I can't give it to you..."
Before she could finish, Andrew sealed her lips with his.
A soprano's moans rose above the howling wind outside, soaked in passion and intoxication. They echoed across the apartment complex, who knew if the neighbors were stirred from their sleep?
"Wait… wait…"
Betty's voice trembled like silver bells ringing softly near his ear. Andrew felt like he was caught in a dreamlike web of emotion, intoxicated by her perfume soft, hazy, and unreal.
Her face flushed a deep red, like she'd just sipped century-old wine.
Andrew didn't stop. He leaned in and kissed the crystal pendant hanging from her earlobe. Her delicate ears, smooth and pale like jade, outshone the crystal though mostly hidden beneath her silky black hair.
He buried his face in that soft curtain of hair and inhaled deeply. The mix of her shampoo and natural scent was intoxicating stronger than nicotine, blurring the edges of time.
Outside, the sky was dark and heavy. Clouds rolled and danced in the wind. Between sky and earth, snowflakes fell like strands of silk, weaving heaven and earth into one.
Each delicate snowflake was like Betty in Andrew's arms shivering in the wind. One moment rising, the next drifting down.
Her voice broke into soft fragments, faint and indistinct, like water trickling under a frozen stream… or the quiet sobs of the wind beneath the eaves.
(End of Chapter)
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