Blondes Have More Fun

[Guest]

The day started with a pounding at my temples. My first response to the pain was to try and go back to sleep but the nagging pulsing sensation wouldn?t let me. I did try to smother the thing out by pulling the softest coolest pillow of my bed on top of my head and squeezing but it was no use. I was going to have to resort to that slightly out of date packet of Tiffy. I took two and washed them back with tap water. A kind of double jeopardy there.

 

I was surprised to see the face of the man who stared back at me from the mirror. It wasn?t me exactly. It was a kind of bad horror film version of me. An old haggard portrait of me by some sick minded artist. As bad as I might look after a couple of eccentric nights on the town there was no way it was this bad. This man had bags within the bags under his eyes. His skin was the same greyish white as that of a corpse. And in the eyes... Well. Whatever this man had seen in his life it was far worse than anything I had.

 

I slumped back on the bed and tried hiding once again under the second pillow. It took a while but the pounding started to become lighter and lighter. Soon it wasn?t a real raging headache just a queasy sensation around the frontal lobes. A little while later it was nothing at all.

 

I got up to shave and a face started to emerge from all that shadow. I still felt whenever I caught sight of my reflection that there was a complete stranger peering back at me just waiting for the opportunity to steal into my world and take my soul back to his. Of course this was ridiculous. Maybe not quite as ridiculous as the reality of the past couple of weeks but ridiculous nonetheless.

 

The phone rang.

 

?Hello.?

 

?Where are you.? Said some guy whose voice I didn?t quite recognise but which, nonetheless, I thought I should.

 

?I?m in bed. Where are you ??

 

?I?m keeping our appointment.? It was my lawyer. I?d agreed to meet over some business at a large hotel in the lower Sukhumvit area. I realised I was already fifteen minutes late.

 

?Sorry Simon. I was up half the night going over the nitty gritty. I?ll be there in five minutes.?

 

I showered quickly and stepped out into the sun. No-one with a hangover should ever be subjected to direct midday Bangkok heat and sunlight. I felt my headache stirring ready for a swift return. I bypassed the usual courtyard chit chat and leapt on the back of a motorcycle taxi. He gave me a helmet which I promised to put on if we saw a policeman. We weaved between the cars locked in traffic and I got to the hotel within a few minutes.

 

Luckily I was swiftly forgiven and we went over all our business before chatting about the state of the economy and prostitution. I found that at some point in the course of any conversation with a fellow farang in exile the subject turned to the state of the economy and prostitution with the latter being used to illustrate the former.

 

As the dusk settled over the town our conversation wound up and he staggered off to wherever it was that lawyers staggered off to. I went to the bar and ordered another drink. I was worried that if I left it too long the hangover might return. It was then that I spotted her. A blonde three stools along. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders and she wore the type of Chinese silk dress that hugged the body. And she had a body worth hugging. I took her in at a glance and tried not to look again. I was here to drink and she looked like she was here to meet someone. Somewhere in another part of the hotel a pianist was playing Cole Porter and some pure voiced Filipina was singing with too much care to offer the songs a semblance of soul or meaning.

I looked at the blonde in the mirror behind the optics. She seemed to be looking right back at me but looked away after a second. I kept looking at her. Her eyes were deep brown and her features soft. She seemed pale. Pale like someone who lived mostly by the night or just avoided sunbeds. It was a nice pale.

 

She looked back at me in the mirror and this time held a glance on me.

 

?Do you know me ?? She said in an accent I couldn?t place. A European accent that was masked by American English.

 

?I don?t think so.?

 

?You sure. Are you sure you don?t know me ??

 

?Why ??

 

?Because you look at me as though you know me.?

 

?Sorry.? I said. ?It?s a bad habit.?

 

?Don?t be sorry... I like it.?

 

?I?m sorry.?

 

?Can I ask you a question.? She said and turned to face me.

 

?Is it general knowledge ??

 

?More like special interest.?

 

?Okay... Ask away.?

 

?What do you think about Thai women ??

 

?What do you mean ??

 

?Thai women. You like them ?? She said and tilted her head to one side slightly.

 

?Hate them.? I said.

 

?Me too.? She moved along until there was just one empty stool between us and then continued in a low voice as if sharing a secret. ?You know why... I hate their perfect peanut butter skin and their slim shape. I hate the way their eyes sparkle in the darkness as if they can see everything that you miss. I hate their soft soft hair that smells like Jasmine Incense. I hate the way they touch you as if you?re made of bone china and I hate the way their joints seem to bend in every way imaginable. I especially hate their hot tight little vaginas. You know ??

 

?Yeah... Those are all the things I hate too.?

 

She smiled a broad red-lipped smile and held out her hand ?My name?s Yenetchka.?

 

?Yenetchka.?

 

?It?s Polish.?

 

?You speak very good English.?

 

?Of course. English is the international language. Polish is only useful if you?re making love or keeping secrets.?

 

?What if you?re making love and keeping secrets ??

 

?Welcome to my world Mr...?

 

?Fist... Turk Fist.?

 

?Turk Fist.? She laughed. ?Sounds like the name of a porn star.?

 

?Yeah. My parents were hoping for a porn star but all they got was a drunk.?

 

?Are you a real drunk or just a drinker ??

 

?Is there a difference ??

 

?Yes. Of course. A drunk will usually say he?s just a drinker whereas a drinker will nearly always claim to be a drunk.?

 

?Then I?m both.?

 

?So what do you do when you?re not drinking Mr Fist ??

 

?I live off other people?s money. And please... Call me Turk.?

 

?How do you manage to live off other people?s money ??

 

?If I knew that I wouldn?t need lawyers or accountants.?

 

?That man you were with,? She said stirring her drink. ?He?s a lawyer.?

 

?You know him.?

 

?I?ve seen him around.?

 

?So what do you do when you?re not talking to drunks ??

 

?I follow people... Mostly.?

 

?Are you following me.?

 

?Of course.?

 

?Do you get paid to follow people or is it just a hobby ??

 

?Normally I get paid. But with you it?s personal. I?d call it a personal matter.?

 

?No offence but doesn?t the whole blonde in Bangkok thing kind of work against you ??

 

?Being seen can work to your advantage sometimes.?

 

?Clearly.?

 

?Do you find me attractive Mr Fist ??

 

?Is that a trick question ??

 

?No... I?m interested. You meet white men here. Drunk on Asian pussy. It?s a kind of disease.?

 

?Yeah. In the old days it used to be called Yellow Fever.?

 

?Yellow Fever. I like that. Are you a sufferer ??

 

?I don?t think so. No. No... I?m just here because it seems a good place for the financially solvent to be washed up drunks.?

 

?You?re too modest Turk.?

 

?Am I ??

 

?I think so. You strike me as a man with a lot to hide.?

 

?Of course. Why do you think I started drinking. What about you ? What?s an American educated Polish woman following a man like me for anyway. And don?t say you just like the look of me.?

 

?I?ll let you in on a little secret.?

 

?Go on then.?

 

She lent right toward me and her eyes twinkled ?I don?t really hate Thai women.?

 

?Get away.?

 

?In fact I have this... Yellow Fever.?

 

?Okay.? I felt a wave of disappointment. I was hoping she was going to say she did like the look of me. ?But what?s that got to do with me ??

 

?I like Thai women so much... I could eat them. You know ??

 

?I can imagine.?

 

?Can you Turk...? She looked around as if to make sure no-one could hear her. ?Can you imagine me alone in a room with her neither of us wearing more than a towel. She looks at me right in the eye and pulls the towel away from me leaving me standing there naked in front of her. I stand there for a while while her eyes caress every inch of my flesh drinking in my pale white breasts and the fair downy hair between my legs. She takes my hand and lays back on the bed pushing my head between her legs. I roll back the fabric of the towel until I can see her pussy. The smell of her like the song of some siren. I kiss the flesh of her thighs and run my tongue along the shaven rim of her lips. Then I kiss her and her legs spread wide enough for me to plunge my tongue inside her. my tongue pushing deeper and deeper into the ridged soft hot flesh of her pussy. Small sighs coming from her as her flesh trembles beneath me. Can you imagine that.?

 

?Well. You do paint a vivid picture.?

 

?Can you imagine... As I drive her to that moment where she is so close to coming she can taste it... Can you imagine that I then look up at you and offer you my white white flesh...?

 

?I can imagine all sorts of things. What?s the trick to all this ? When does Jeremy Beadle turn up ??

 

?We have a common interest Turk.?

 

?A common interest.?

 

?A mutual friend.? She said.

 

Suddenly the whole picture started to make sense. ?Nam.?

 

?Yes. And I think you and I are going to be very close friends.?

 

?I have to be honest with you Yenetchka. I?m a drinker. I drink because I feel safe with a drink. I go with whores because I feel safe going with whores. One or the other may kill me but they feel safe. I like feeling safe. I don?t know the score with Nam. I don?t know what she wants from me and I don?t know what you want from me. All I know is that it doesn?t make me feel safe.?

 

Yenetchka laughed. ?That?s exactly what she likes about you. Sorry. That?s why she loves you.?

 

?Yeah. I know. Because I?m a small weak man with a tiny dick and a drinking problem.?

 

She laughed even more and placed her hand lightly on my groin. ?Keng laaw? She said in exactly the same way Nam might say it. ?I think you?re ready for a reunion.?

 

?Tell Nam..?

 

?Shhhh.? She put a finger to my lips and stood up. leaned her slim body against me and kissed me on the lips. ?You want to fuck me. It?s okay. We can go to my room. Nam doesn?t have to know. Fuck me first. I know you want it.?

 

?Maybe. But I think I ought to pass just the same.?

 

?Another time then ??

 

?Sure. Another time.?

 

She finished her drink in a gulp. ?Think about me Turk. Think about me and Nam together. I?ll be with her tonight. I?ll be fucking her tonight.?

 

?I?m sure.?

 

She smiled, turned and walked away.

 

The barman leaned over and handed me a paper napkin. I wiped away scarlet lipstick and thanked him.

 

 

 

 

 

TBC

[limbo]

Wild

[Pescator]

Hi Turkfist,

 

Wow, Saved by the bell.

I am addicted by now, I need my Turkfist fix (Turkfix?) daily by now. And I have no intention of weaning off any day soon.

Thanks.

 

Cheers

Hua Nguu

 

[Redbaron]

Excellent, as usual....

[BelgianBoy]

TF,

 

YIIIIIIII HAAAAAAA ............

 

Cheers !

[iono]

Man you always trap me, I tend to breeze over trip reports, however your stories draw me in every time.

Great read ::

[crofty68]

Terrific as usual.

Joke: How do you separate the men from the boys in a Turkish bath?

 

With a crowbar

[dsab]

Hey TurkFist,

 

what takes you sooo long ? Waiting for the next one...