25/06/2016 by Tom Torero
Friday 24th June 2016, Chisinau, Moldova
All of the good daygame on this trip was found in the central parks of Chisinau, out of the glare of the pounding 35’C sun.
Rather than the rough-and-ready Former Soviet Union chaos of the cracked pavements lined with hawkers and beggars, the parks offered a calm leafy oasis where girls sat on the benches eating ice creams or reading books.
The university term had just finished so the city population had dropped back to 700,000 – a below than average daygame pool. Chisinau has a small town feel to it, much like Odessa in Ukraine where people know each other and the pace of life is slow.
Nevertheless, 10 approaches a day was unearthing leads from hot girls with Russian physiques but exotic Balkan faces and skin tones. Like in much of the FSU, the standard of English was poor so hustling relied on strong non-verbals and persistence.
This lay report begins with a mid-afternoon stop in the park next to the cathedral. A very pretty Russian looking barbie doll in small shorts and a low top had rushed past me, her fake boobs waking up my DNA and causing me to dash back and catch up with her.
She temporarily stopped to listen to the compliment but still edged away, indicating she was in a hurry. Her English was surprisingly good, so I ploughed on towards a hook point by calling out her focus, her look and her energy. Like a horse, she slowly settled as I kept on talking and holding eye contact.
From the beginning she had a spoilt princess vibe to her, much like a girl you’d find in a Moscow club. She told me about wanting to be a business woman and open her own restaurant. Jamie Oliver was her inspiration and she wanted to travel around Europe learning about cooking.
Alarm bells started ringing when she said she knew a guy in Ireland who was her “investor” and was due to visit her that week. Gold digger alert 101.
I spiked things up by asking if he was her lover, and she said that she only kept him as a friend. Half of me felt sorry for him for his provider friend zoning, but the other of me felt queasy at his sugar daddy ruse to get her. I knew I’d have to offer her a different proposition at the other end of the spectrum – lover, not provider.
We bantered for a good ten minutes, and she seemed keen to meet again so I took her number and we parted.
When she didn’t reply to my initial ping, I just mentally filed her away in my leads-to-nowhere bin. The trip had been full of flakey numbers of hot girls, despite a handful of instant dates, dates with tough LMR and some failed Same Day Lay attempts.
I was pushing things hard and fast, which is a sub-optimum strategy in the FSU but the only thing to do if you’re on a short hustle trip.
Three days before flying home, the park princess texted me back, explaining she’d had to fix her phone. The day before I’d seen her strolling down the main street with her Irish investor who was in his late 50s and overweight, bossing him around and making him carry a shopping bag.
I suggested an evening drink and she confirmed immediately. This was going to be an anti-provider, full on lover mission of battling a FSU princess who had a big attitude because of her hotness.
My wing on the trip kindly agreed to film the date for my Stealth Seduction infield video product, so we rigged up a camera in a bag and headed to the date venue early to choose suitable seats.
On cue she arrived and I got her to sit next to me on a sofa, so the camera could capture us both. She was looking even hotter – more Russian than Balkan, her turbo body and fake boobs on display and very distracting. Her cat-like eyes and high cheek bones were putting me off my date patter.
Icy at first, she took time to warm up as I ran my usual date structure, skipping much of the rapport and launching into my verbal and physical escalation ladder. She loved the chic-crack topics of astrology and my pseudo psychology version of the famous “Strawberry Fields” routine. Again, typical FSU date themes.
I examined her palms, her small wrist tattoo and her suntan, moving ever closer to her but then making sure to fractionate away to leaning back.
She opened up about having a boyfriend of five years who she was about to break up with through boredom. We talked about the provider guys that tried to seduce her, and I gave her the talk about why men and women can’t be friends. Slowly but surely the ice was melting.
Her phone kept ringing – it was her friends saying they wanted to meet her for food in a nearby restaurant. She invited me along but again I spotted the red flag FSU trap: being the “entertaining English guy” in her evening out with her girls, and then paying for all their drinks, food and shisha.
I declined and said I’d head off to meet my friend. Better to cut the date short and keep your value than tag along with a princess.
She said she still had an hour and that we could walk through the park to a bar. Even though she was leading, it sounded like a plan where I could escalate things further before her friends came. Losing a battle to win a war.
The park was buzzing in the evening sunshine with young people heading to an outdoor concert and all of the terrace bars full. My wing was having a hard time keeping track of us and filming as we weaved between the tables looking for a space.
Eventually we found a place inside one of the bars and soaked up the much needed air-conditioning. Again we sat next to each other so I could move things into the seduction portion of the model. My wing sat behind us, filming what he could.
I showed her photos on my phone and asked her to show me some of her. Looking at the bikini shots and her bathroom selfies was turning me on, and I used the “fourth wall” technique of telling her how I was trying really hard to concentrate, but that I was having dirty thoughts like a primitive man. Her eyes lit up.
I moved in closer and bunched up her hair in my hand, telling her how I loved girls with good hair and that pulling it was so attractive. She was getting turned on too, but mentioned that it was a small city and everyone knew everyone. She was worried about her friends or her boyfriends’ friends seeing us.
The kiss was going to be too overt. Instead I played with her hands and brushed them against my hard dick. She didn’t move them away and again her eyes melted. Any minute now her friends were going to arrive.
We walked outside for a cigarette and right on cue one of her girl friends appeared, flashing me dagger looks. I kissed the princess goodbye on the cheek and parted.
I’d pushed things pretty far verbally and physically – making clear I wasn’t boyfriend material, that I didn’t believe in having female friends, and that I was attracted to her. My instincts told me the “boomerang test” would fail and she wouldn’t come back for part two after the first date.
The following day I sent her a mid-day ping, and to my surprise she replied quickly. Again I just went for it and invited her out that evening, which she agreed to.
A few hours later we sat next to each other in the bar of the Radisson Blu hotel next to my apartment. My game plan was to only have a quick drink and then bounce her back to mine to minimise the chance of interruptions from her friends.
She’d come looking stunning, like she was ready for a big night out. Tight white dress, high heels, everyone in the bar starring at her and then looking at me in ripped jeans, dirty boots and an old t-shirt.
It was then that she dropped the bomb shell. Again she’d booked a table with friends at a restaurant in the park and wanted me to tag along all night. She only had an hour before she was meeting them.
As is good practice in the FSU with princess girls, you have to keep stating the boundaries and grab back the frame. I told her in no uncertain terms that a date was just two people, and that I wasn’t go to join her friends. I reminded her that I didn’t believe in being friends, and that she turned me on.
Things suddenly got sexual as I mentioned again that I was hard, and that her boobs and hair were massively distracting. She leant in and asked what I was thinking about doing to her. I said I’d bend her over the table, pull her hair and make her forget her name. Again, the puppy dog eyes and the nervous giggle of a girl who had come to have sex.
By now it was dusk and we still had half an hour – not enough for the pull to the apartment but a walk in the darkening park. I knew I had to escalate there and try to get her to ditch her friends.
The park by the cathedral was shrouded in the canopy of leaves and the oncoming night. Couples hid from view on benches avoiding the lit areas.
We found a bench and I pulled her in, holding her hair and making out with her. “People will see” she said, pulling away, as families strolled past in the shadows.
I took her hand again and brushed it against my dick. She played with it as I moved my hand up under her dress and got ever closer to her princess pussy. She wouldn’t let me go any further, saying again that we’d be seen.
It was all so frustrating. I knew she was ready to go, her buying temperature through the roof, but logistics and the time constraint were ruining my chances.
Soon we had to walk to the second park across the street so she could join her friends. As she spoke on the phone to them I noticed that there was some problem – they were going to be late and they were having trouble getting a table.
Last chance saloon. The second park was bigger and darker. We walked hand in hand into the middle of it and found another bench. This time we had secrecy, and we could just about glimpse silhouettes of other couples on nearby benches with the same plan.
Her hand was down my jeans, my hand was up her dress. The make outs became hot and heavy. Now, now, now everything was screaming.
Suddenly we were bathed in strong light. The park’s lamps had been switched on and we were in full view of everyone else. Cock-blocked by the heavens! The lay was slipping away rapidly.
Plus her phone was ringing again – the friends were not far away.
I stood up and led her by the hand, hoping just to walk on and find another place for isolation. She was thinking the same thing and suddenly leading me towards the edge of the park behind a restaurant.
A rusty staircase overgrown with branches and vines led up to a small balcony overlooking the busy terrace below. It was an old club owned by an oligarch that had been abandoned and now shaded from view by the trees and the darkness.
She stumbled as she climbed the stairs, her high heels getting caught in a crack. I pulled her up and put down her bag. We were immediately all over each other, biting each other’s lips, me pulling her hair and grabbing her tight ass and giant boobs.
“What are you doing, crazy man?!” she gasped as I undid my belt and opened my jeans, taking her hand and getting her to hold me as I slipped my fingers under her dress and into her soaking panties. “People will see” she giggled as we looked down onto the terrace below. We could see them, but they couldn’t see us.
I pushed her against the crumbling wall and hitched up her dress, penetrating her and making her moan. The sex was hurried, risky and fast – she got spooked by the crowd below and we pulled up our clothes to head back down to find her friends.
“You’re a wild man, a crazy boy” she kept grinning. “I’ve never done it in a park before. You make me do naughty things.”
At the restaurant I left her to meet her girlfriends, returning to the park two hours later after midnight and fucking her again on a bench as she sat on top of me, her friends meanwhile at home to get changed before heading to a club nearby. This time the lay was proper, deep and hard. Shadows moved around us as she rode back and forwards on me, gasping into the warm night air.
I returned back to my apartment after 2am, breathlessly recounting the lay to my wing, before getting a few hours sleep and then heading to the airport to fly out of Moldova in the morning, the thoughts of the park princess still spinning in my groggy head.