Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?

Abraham Lincoln

Paul stood next to Jan at the bar of the hip in-club Beluga and watched the crowd. The music was booming in his ears, it was too loud and quite stuffy. He would have expected more from the VIP area. At least the drinks were cold. Jan actually trained in the German fencing mecca of Tauberbischofsheim, but regularly hung around in Hanover, ostensibly to meet old friends. Or to check out the competition. It was more than doubtful that Jan had any friends at all. At least Paul only met with him to delve deeper into the thought processes of his counterpart. Everything was a game and every move revealed something that could benefit the other.

"What do you think of the blonde back there. The one in that silver drag next to the whale girlfriend?"

Paul frowned. His gaze wandered to the designated blonde. Even at a distance, she looked artificial, way too heavily made up, and young as hell. The girlfriend was a bit plumper, but also much more natural. No matchstick legs. The long brown hair attracted him much more in combination with the gentle smile. Only one of them radiated joie de vivre and it was definitely not Jan's Barbie. Unlike his fellow fencer, Paul actually preferred women who didn't look like they had their clothes body painted on. If everything was anticipated, where was the excitement?

Apparently, Jan mistook his taciturnity for interest. "Yeah, bro. She's hot, I tell ya!"

Paul cleared his throat and reached for the non-alcoholic beer sitting on the counter in front of him. "I don't know. Is she even of age?"

"If she came in here, she'll already have ID."

At first glance, Jan seemed like a typical idiot, but the fact that he was breathing down Paul's neck in the world rankings spoke a very different language.

On the one hand, fencing depended on physical attributes such as endurance, strength, and speed. However, you could only be successful if you used your head. Strategy and tactics were central elements that Jan used but often concealed.

His competitor clicked his tongue. Like a snake, relaxed and sluggish, until it suddenly went on the attack. Straight hair, the look, and demeanor of a banker. He smelled of money. As a professional soldier, he had valued security. Something about that appealed to women because Jan rarely returned to the hotel room alone. Probably because of the muscles.

The blonde gestured wildly and talked down to her smaller friend, who then made her way to the counter with a sullen look on her face.

"Not my cup of tea," he complained, "I prefer my women a little more well-done if you know what I mean."

"You're older, too, of course." Jan's fake laugh drowned out the background noise. Thirteen months. "I think she's perfect," his colleague declared as Paul's lull in the conversation began to turn awkward. A smarmy grin later, Jan was already plowing through the crowd, the object of his desire firmly in view.

Paul shook his head. The more time he spent with Jan, the harder he found it to hide his distaste. The guy was an ass, nothing more, nothing less. But still, he was good at what he did. How on earth did he do it?

When could he possibly end this charade? His cell phone told him that it was already 01:21 a.m. He had to hold on a little longer, maybe an hour. Otherwise, he would need a good explanation in order not to be considered a bore. If Jan ever became aware that Paul's life revolved far less around parties and women than he had assumed, he would use it against him icily.

Paul took another sip from his bottle. Daria asked him on each of Jan's visits why he got involved in this nonsense. She just didn't understand that there was more to this than meets the eye. It was just as Master Mika used to say: only those who knew their opponents as well as they knew themselves could be successful. Although he was sure that Jan didn't like him either, he called him almost quarterly to go celebrate. Always just the two of them. When Paul was too bored or simply met someone who captivated him, he too got involved with one of the women. Most of the time he didn't find anyone. It wasn't that he was only looking for one-night stands, but that was all that had ever happened in the last two years. Either he had been traveling too much or the woman had been bothered by playing only third fiddle to his family and sports. His last attempt hadn't liked cats.

The beer in his hand tasted stale, just like the whole evening. Jan had engaged the blonde in conversation. She kept touching him, sometimes on the arm, sometimes on the hip, when she leaned forward to listen better. Jan appraised her, presumably to figure out how he could get her out of the little silver dress later.

The DJ was changing to the techno parody of a love song. It was a song that Paul found cruel even without the dismemberment, and this new interpretation did not enhance the piece at all. It was going to be a long hour.

The blonde's friend returned, noting that her presence was no longer wanted-. With a relieved expression on her face, she sat down on a free bar stool. Even as she sipped the first sip of her drink, she stealthily slipped her high heels off her feet. Clever girl.

Paul had to grin. If he had just been looking for something solid, the girlfriend might actually have interested him. As it was, however, he let the opportunity pass. If you couldn't get your own life together, you shouldn't force yourself on someone else. He pulled out his cell phone and took another look at the time display. 01:34 a.m. Cursed.

"Hello," a smoky voice sounded from his left. Another blonde leaned decoratively against the counter. She wore a gold dress that seemed to be made only of scarves and looked up at him under lowered lashes. "Is this seat taken?"

Her face was pretty, gently arched eyebrows above pale green eyes. Together with the light curls, it was an interesting combination. Little makeup, a plus. Her eyes crept over Paul and he felt like hunting prey. Her demeanor matched the dress, but not the rest of her. Even her shoes seemed comfortable and she wore her hair down. Contradictions were interesting, especially when they had nice legs.

"Here's free," he stated the obvious.

Her smile faded before it reached her eyes. "I saw that." With a nod, she gestured toward Jan, who was kissing his blonde.

Paul snorted. It was bad form to push a woman up against the wall at the club to pat her down. When he turned back around, his shoulder touched the woman's upper arm.

"My name is Melanie."

"Paul," he replied. It was so loud he had to yell. "I have to tell you, though, that I have a girlfriend." The girlfriend fad worked perfectly to separate the good girls from the not-so-good ones. Anyone who got involved with a given-up guy was usually just looking for a one-night stand himself, and this pretty butterfly didn't appeal to him for anything more.
"I don't mind." Melanie moved a little closer, positioning herself so that no one could see what she was doing. With one hand, she stroked the inside of his thigh. Definitely not a good girl.
His interest deepened. Hiding under the golden clothes was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. "Would you like to get some fresh air?" he asked.

When she nodded, Paul led her along among the dancers to the exit. They passed Jan and Paul tapped him briefly on the shoulder, pointing to his butterfly and enjoying the stony expression on his rival's face. So he had also noticed that Paul's conquest was prettier.
The fact that his companion wore a gold dress, while Jan had to make do with silver, was a nice detail. With a broad grin, he put his arm around the butterfly's waist and led her to the dressing room.

No sooner had they left the Beluga than the butterfly pulled him close and began nibbling on his lower lip. Her hands slipped under his shirt. The touch made him sweat. With one hand he grasped the back of her neck, turned her head, and invaded her mouth with his tongue. She tasted like a sweet cocktail, something coconut-based. Sticky, but not unpleasant. Briefly, she broke away from him and he growled in frustration.

"I've been watching you all along. Your body is awesome," she purred in his ear. At that, the butterfly brushed a curl behind his ear.

"You're nothing to sneeze at, either." Maybe a little wiry for his taste, but her long legs were great.

"I live around here. What do you say you come up and I'll make you some coffee?"

A not insignificant part of Paul thought that was a really good idea.