This world is an amazing place. The kinds of lives people are living... Sherlock Holmes always said that no fiction can ever equal the strangeness of real life....
I was working at a coworking office today, my laptop propped up on a chair, standing on a desk, making an impromptu standing workstation. My hand wiggled the wireless mouse around on a second chair, standing next to the first.
While I trudged through emails, I dimly wondered what delights this weekend would hold in store for me. I've been in Thailand a year and it still enchants me. I'm still on my honeymoon with this wonderous land.
As if the universe were answering my unvoiced musings with a comedian's timing, my phone beeped with a text message. It was from Angela.
Who the heck is Angela...?
She must be fuckable, I reasoned. Otherwise she wouldn't be in my phone. One collects so many numbers, that some girls are bound to slip through even the most elegant of phone-number-chick-hotness-rating classification systems.
She appended her enthusiastic text with "babe". By reflex, a big red scrolling marquis flashed in my animal brain: "DOWN TO FUCK".
Angela...Angela... Where did I meet this girl? I racked my brain trying to put a face to the name. I searched my Gmail inbox, stuffed with message notifications from Thai dating websites, but no "Angela" emerged from the digital poosy plethora.
I finished work, and went to train BJJ. I finished BJJ and went to eat a grass fed Australian steak, rare. Washed it down with some Aussie shiraz and sat spacing out and telling myself it's meditation.
We were set to meet at 11pm and I wandered around Soi 11, lined with loud and colorful minivans transformed into street bars with huge, bassy woofers pumping out the latest garbage from the US. But tonight, the whiny bitches screaming unmelodically didn't make me cringe. My being was happy and refused to succumb to the downward spiral of "Fucking America..."
I took in the smells: garlic...perfume...exhaust...smoke...beer.
On the corner I stood waiting. Finally she showed. A tall (for a Thai girl), 19 year old cutie in her prime. My dick got hard immediately. I gave her a big hug and led her down the street to a shisha joint.
We walked down the soi hand in hand. Physical chemistry: check.
I teased her and she beamed at me sheepishly from behind big eyes, made anime-green with those funny contacts the girls around here like to wear. She went on to adorably explain that she was nearsighted. But she didn't know the word for it, so she pantomimed a book in front of her face, and squinted dramatically.
I sat smoking shisha. She sucked down her Long Island iced tea, and we played with each other's skin. I was ready to go back to her hotel room after "hi", but I forced myself to sit there, sensually smoke shisha past the point of even wanting to, just to build the anticipation.
I admit thinking "Jesus...I'm going to fuck this gorgeous 19 year old girl. Fuck me, what a lucky bastard." Here's the thing: I never feel undeserving of good things, nor do I feel particularly deserving. I'm grateful for it all at times, and a total ingrate at others. In short, I'm human.
"I've got to be honest, Angela..." I said, "I have no clue where I met you!"
Turns out I approached her on the street and got her number about a month ago. I kept her warm with my weekly mass texts. I wondered if she was so naive to think I was personally texting her... In retrospect, naivete isn't the first quality I'd associate with her.
Angela was very open and shared a bunch of intimate things about her life with me.
On the weekdays, she's off at university studying communications. On the weekends she rents a hotel room on Soi 11 and fucks a bunch of guys, often for money. That is, they usually offer her money, and she takes it.
"How much do they pay you?" About $100 a pop. Bloody hell! In one weekend, this gorgeous 19 year old girl makes more than the average thirty-something Bangkokian does the whole month slaving away in some dingy office, whose only respite is a compressed lunch break where he gets to eat his favorite dish, papaya salad.
I couldn't help but smile to myself and think "you fucking do your thing baby! Do your fucking thing like time's chasing you with an axe. Because it is." I liked this girl Here's a girl with guts. And she could care less what anybody thought of her, that much was clear. Or she cared, but did it anyway.
She liked girls too. She'd fucked 3. And had a few menages.
We half-jokingly decided we should find a hottie to bring back to the hotel with us. I wasn't horny enough to take the idea seriously. And frankly, I didn't want anybody horning in on my time with this nubile nympho.
I paid the bill and we traipsed back to her hotel. I was still stinky from the gym so I decided to shower. But she took off her clothing, and I mine. And my body pressed against her perfect skin, those amazing proportions and that intoxicating youthful scent...well, the shower got deferred.
Afterwards, she got dressed and decided to go back out (to make some money I guess) and seemed a bit upset that I didn't give her anything. Even though she never even remotely hinted about any monetary stuff up front. And I've got a keen radar.
She told me, slightly pouting, as we made our way downstairs, that she wanted me to sample "her best". But she didn't mention money explicitly or force the issue. She seemed happy enough to fuck me. And it was a good fuck, too. In the top 5 this year. Well, I guess she's used to guys giving her money. And who can blame her for wanting it? I would. You would.
Fuck it. I smiled, thinking that we all won. The hotel won. The condom business won. The steakhouse won. I won. She won.
I flung my arm around this cute hustler and we ambled through an alley. I looked up to embrace a cool breeze flowing through the alley and saw a white cat crossing from one side of the alley to the other on a thin bundle of electric wires, about a story up. The feline was utterly present, totally intent on its task, undeterred by the possibility of becoming a splat on the concrete.
We're all just alley cats crossing a bundle of wires...
As the alley opened up like a yawning mouth into the main drag, Sukhumvit, an improvised street restaurant on the corner wafted spicy jolts of onion and chili to our noses. My eyes watered slightly.
Well, it's time...
I kissed Angela and flagged down a cab. I don't know why but I really liked this girl. She was real. There she was, keeping it real in a world of masquerading pretense. I knew as my cab whizzed by her silhouette sauntering down the street, that I'll never see this girl again. And I wondered whether my night with this young hustler wasn't just a sweet, sweet dream.
I was working at a coworking office today, my laptop propped up on a chair, standing on a desk, making an impromptu standing workstation. My hand wiggled the wireless mouse around on a second chair, standing next to the first.
While I trudged through emails, I dimly wondered what delights this weekend would hold in store for me. I've been in Thailand a year and it still enchants me. I'm still on my honeymoon with this wonderous land.
As if the universe were answering my unvoiced musings with a comedian's timing, my phone beeped with a text message. It was from Angela.
Who the heck is Angela...?
She must be fuckable, I reasoned. Otherwise she wouldn't be in my phone. One collects so many numbers, that some girls are bound to slip through even the most elegant of phone-number-chick-hotness-rating classification systems.
She appended her enthusiastic text with "babe". By reflex, a big red scrolling marquis flashed in my animal brain: "DOWN TO FUCK".
Angela...Angela... Where did I meet this girl? I racked my brain trying to put a face to the name. I searched my Gmail inbox, stuffed with message notifications from Thai dating websites, but no "Angela" emerged from the digital poosy plethora.
I finished work, and went to train BJJ. I finished BJJ and went to eat a grass fed Australian steak, rare. Washed it down with some Aussie shiraz and sat spacing out and telling myself it's meditation.
We were set to meet at 11pm and I wandered around Soi 11, lined with loud and colorful minivans transformed into street bars with huge, bassy woofers pumping out the latest garbage from the US. But tonight, the whiny bitches screaming unmelodically didn't make me cringe. My being was happy and refused to succumb to the downward spiral of "Fucking America..."
I took in the smells: garlic...perfume...exhaust...smoke...beer.
On the corner I stood waiting. Finally she showed. A tall (for a Thai girl), 19 year old cutie in her prime. My dick got hard immediately. I gave her a big hug and led her down the street to a shisha joint.
We walked down the soi hand in hand. Physical chemistry: check.
I teased her and she beamed at me sheepishly from behind big eyes, made anime-green with those funny contacts the girls around here like to wear. She went on to adorably explain that she was nearsighted. But she didn't know the word for it, so she pantomimed a book in front of her face, and squinted dramatically.
I sat smoking shisha. She sucked down her Long Island iced tea, and we played with each other's skin. I was ready to go back to her hotel room after "hi", but I forced myself to sit there, sensually smoke shisha past the point of even wanting to, just to build the anticipation.
I admit thinking "Jesus...I'm going to fuck this gorgeous 19 year old girl. Fuck me, what a lucky bastard." Here's the thing: I never feel undeserving of good things, nor do I feel particularly deserving. I'm grateful for it all at times, and a total ingrate at others. In short, I'm human.
"I've got to be honest, Angela..." I said, "I have no clue where I met you!"
Turns out I approached her on the street and got her number about a month ago. I kept her warm with my weekly mass texts. I wondered if she was so naive to think I was personally texting her... In retrospect, naivete isn't the first quality I'd associate with her.
Angela was very open and shared a bunch of intimate things about her life with me.
On the weekdays, she's off at university studying communications. On the weekends she rents a hotel room on Soi 11 and fucks a bunch of guys, often for money. That is, they usually offer her money, and she takes it.
"How much do they pay you?" About $100 a pop. Bloody hell! In one weekend, this gorgeous 19 year old girl makes more than the average thirty-something Bangkokian does the whole month slaving away in some dingy office, whose only respite is a compressed lunch break where he gets to eat his favorite dish, papaya salad.
I couldn't help but smile to myself and think "you fucking do your thing baby! Do your fucking thing like time's chasing you with an axe. Because it is." I liked this girl Here's a girl with guts. And she could care less what anybody thought of her, that much was clear. Or she cared, but did it anyway.
She liked girls too. She'd fucked 3. And had a few menages.
We half-jokingly decided we should find a hottie to bring back to the hotel with us. I wasn't horny enough to take the idea seriously. And frankly, I didn't want anybody horning in on my time with this nubile nympho.
I paid the bill and we traipsed back to her hotel. I was still stinky from the gym so I decided to shower. But she took off her clothing, and I mine. And my body pressed against her perfect skin, those amazing proportions and that intoxicating youthful scent...well, the shower got deferred.
Afterwards, she got dressed and decided to go back out (to make some money I guess) and seemed a bit upset that I didn't give her anything. Even though she never even remotely hinted about any monetary stuff up front. And I've got a keen radar.
She told me, slightly pouting, as we made our way downstairs, that she wanted me to sample "her best". But she didn't mention money explicitly or force the issue. She seemed happy enough to fuck me. And it was a good fuck, too. In the top 5 this year. Well, I guess she's used to guys giving her money. And who can blame her for wanting it? I would. You would.
Fuck it. I smiled, thinking that we all won. The hotel won. The condom business won. The steakhouse won. I won. She won.
I flung my arm around this cute hustler and we ambled through an alley. I looked up to embrace a cool breeze flowing through the alley and saw a white cat crossing from one side of the alley to the other on a thin bundle of electric wires, about a story up. The feline was utterly present, totally intent on its task, undeterred by the possibility of becoming a splat on the concrete.
We're all just alley cats crossing a bundle of wires...
As the alley opened up like a yawning mouth into the main drag, Sukhumvit, an improvised street restaurant on the corner wafted spicy jolts of onion and chili to our noses. My eyes watered slightly.
Well, it's time...
I kissed Angela and flagged down a cab. I don't know why but I really liked this girl. She was real. There she was, keeping it real in a world of masquerading pretense. I knew as my cab whizzed by her silhouette sauntering down the street, that I'll never see this girl again. And I wondered whether my night with this young hustler wasn't just a sweet, sweet dream.
![[Image: wink.gif]](https://rooshvforum.network/images/smilies/wink.gif)
