Lubricia’s back with another reader letter!
Hello, lovers! I’m Lubricia Cosmoline, your hoe-stess of “After Dark.” As a long-time aficionado of everything that goes “bang,” I seek to offer a platform for all of your most intimate, personal experiences in the world of guns and hunting. I’ve seen it all—a .50 BMG can’t go too far for me! So sit back, unholster, and get ready for today’s letter…I call it “Deep In My OODA Loop.”
Dear Lubricia Cosmoline,
I never thought it would happen to me, but just this evening I finally made a particular fantasy of mine come true. It was my usual boring subway commute—I try to mind my own business, but as a stunningly gorgeous Asian woman with long, silky black hair and a doll-like face, I frequently have to fend off pickpockets and pests. So when a tall, dark, and handsome man grabbed a strap next to mine, I was already on alert. (Of course, he was hard to miss with his burly build and husky-blue eyes!) So it wasn’t a surprise when he suavely murmured “Hey baby” by way of “hello.”
“Hey yourself,” I replied, suitably impressed by his wit. “What brings you here?”
“Wanted to tell you to get out of my OODA loop,” he winked. “And also to ask you if it hurt when you fell down from Heaven.”
“How original!” I cooed sexily. “But I’m not in your OODA loop…I think I’d notice if I were.”
“Oh no,” he soothed. “It’s a way of thinking about self-defense, similar to Col. Cooper’s ‘color chart’. The first O in OODA loop means ‘observe,’ as in that I observed you standing here.”
I gazed up at his manly, flaring nostrils. “Well,” I said as coolly as I dared with my heart pitter-pattering in my dainty yet lithe body, “anyone can do that.” The rocking motion of the car swayed our bodies gently closer together.
“Not just anyone,” he smirked. “The second O in OODA loop stands for ‘orient’…
“That’s remarkably offensive,” I snapped, and—Lubricia, I know this sounds crazy, but just for a moment I thought I heard the funky bassline that had been playing in the background interrupted by a discordant record scratch!
“…and by that I mean, I orient myself towards whatever it is that’s caught my attention. In this case, Toots, that’s you. Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only 10 I see!” he chortled. Just like that, the funky bassline started back up again, and I knew all was well.
“So, would that explain why you and I are the only ones on this subway car?” I asked, batting my eyelashes as the subway picked up speed, setting his leg to brushing against mine.
“Well,” he pondered, gazing blankly off to the side as if reading something very slowly, “yes, because of the D in OODA Loop. That’s for ‘decide,’ as in I decided to hop on this particular car just so I could talk to you, dollface.”
“Well, then, you sure did put the D in OODA Loop,” I smiled, as the funky bassline switched to something a bit more up-tempo, just in time for a sharp turn to pitch me directly into his bulbous pectorals.
“Oh, I think I’m going to,” he chortled. “But first, of course, I’ve got to A…as in act. And I think you’ll find that I’m quite an actor, baby, especially since you don’t seem too eager to get out of my OODA Loop…”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Handsome Stranger,” I cooed, smiling. I didn’t need the subway car’s motion to do what I did next, as I slowly rubbed the inside of my thigh against his body. “I’m not trapped in your OODA Loop. You’re trapped in mine.”
Deep In My OODA Loop
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