Being a player, thought Max, was after all a really cool thing. As long as you stick for that age-old commitment, there is nothing new that can ever come out of it. But be a player, opt for changes, and you'll see the world is a kaleidoscope. It's not unknown that people behave differently in bed. Date her, make out, cuddle up with her all you want; but as soon as you bring her to bed, a new cover will unfurl. Like an unexplored realm.

Looking around the café , Max could deduce that the population with whom he hadn't slept with yet, was quite minimal. Even though a professional and practicing player, Max had not lost his taste in choosing women. He wouldn't go around hunting anyone he could find. Class, he thought, was the essence of playing away. Lose the class, and the crowd would call you a jock. A dumb jock, to be precise. Players like Max don't go for other female players. They usually prefer fresh girls, the ones who can be easily won over by some charm and a cowboy attitude.

But that day, Max had come not for business. Someone, over the days, had caught his fancy. He was looking at a girl on the table in the centre of the café. She was with her friends, close ones it seemed, who all seemed to be involved in some frank discussion which were common to their kind. She was tall with sleek, dark hair. She had kept her hair loose, and they flowed down her shoulder blade. Mascara adorned her prominent eyes and they looked stark dreamy. Clad in a black gown and with the grace she possessed, the girl appeared like a off land, treacherous isle, which had been luring sailors into a poisoned trap for centuries.

Max was drinking her beauty in gulps. Today he'd go and propose the girl. And this time, he'd try to remain committed. The magic of the girl would keep him anchored to one shore alone. So he got up and straightened his suit. Although going up to beautiful girls was no big deal for him, but still this time Max couldn't help feel a small hint of perspiration. Then he walked off to the girls.

As soon as the group of girls saw him coming, they stopped their discussion. A short, blonde one whispered over something to the brunette one by her side and they both exchanged glances with the ones sitting across. Max's one was indifferent. Another one in the group whispered something to her this time, and she looked up to Max.

" Yes ?" , she said when Max had come closer and halted.

"I've been looking at you for  a week now and I can't seem to be able to forget you. You steal my thoughts all day. Would you like to go out with me ?", Max had said everything he'd got to say at one go.

"But aren't you a player ?", she retorted. The blonde one shifted  in her seat and chuckled.

" I am, if you entirely would like to call me that. But I'm not here for a fling. I'm deeply in love with you.", he said.

" Does a player have a heart ? ", she asked Max rather simply.

" I don't know about others, but I do .", Max answered the girl.

" No they don't. They only know how to have fun with girls. Nothing else." , she seemed exasperated at this point.

" You're wrong. But I want an answer, would you go out with me ?", Max asked again.

" Hell no. Just because you're a dirty player.", she replied bluntly.

Max was stunt. A player was hurt. Can't a player love ? Can't they have the trust ?