Mongering after the Apocalypse – Part 3

When I woke Friday, my gums were still tender and sore, but the pain was tolerable. The weather outside was overcast, and by mid-morning, it began raining.

So much for the idea of a Jomtien “beach date” with Little Duck.

The dreary day began to affect my mood. My familiar mindfuck pattern began to emerge.

A long, long time ago . . . on a famous USA tropical island far, far away . . . a therapist once told me: “You tend to have negative projections about the future.”

The rain lightened, but my mood didn’t.  Although the sky was clearing, my inner dark cloud of doom never dissipates.

I felt my familiar growing ambivalence – about my chances of fucking Geng, and whether it was worth all the trouble.

I finally decided not to contact Little Duck.  Fuckit.  Send in the clone.

There’s always other young Thai spinners around – although admittedly they are getting much more scarce in Pattaya.  

Someday, the Slim Young Spinner type will officially be declared an Endangered Species in Thailand’s ever-declining P4P scene.

I reverted back to my reclusive, anti-social nature – and felt instant relief. No worries now, mate.

I decided to just drink a couple beers in my apartment, and eat a takeout Beef Stew plate from You Restaurant & Sports Bar located on soi Excite.

I was getting ready to leave my apartment to buy the takeout beef stew, when suddenly I get a LINE message from Geng.

WTF!

I hurriedly reply to her.

I guess I might get to fuck my Little Duck after all.

Yesss!

Witherspoon’s seems like the ideal place to wine-and-dine my Little Duck. I had thought of it earlier, when I was in a more optimistic mood.

I message Geng that I will take a shower first, and meet her in 20 minutes.  I hurriedly slurp down half a packet of kamagra gel. I can’t risk my weary old dick being unable to rise to the occasion.

I speed-shower and then dash out the door quickly. I speed-pedal my bike anxiously down Buakhao Road. I will just barely make it by 20 minutes like I promised.

After about 4 minutes of pedaling, I near the Treetown area. I instantly spot Geng, standing in front of a food vendor’s cart.

Her back is toward me, and she’s texting on her phone.

I take my time and approach her slowly. Best not to joke around, and say “boo!” or startle her.

I have an inkling that Geng might be texting me.

Maybe she’s waiting impatiently, wondering when I’m coming. But I’m right here now, so it doesn’t matter.

I casually say, “Hello Geng. What you doing?”

She turns and laughs.

“I just texting you now. You look at your phone.”

I laugh and don’t bother to look.

“So what you doing, buying spring rolls?” I ask.

“Yes, they very good,” she says.

I peer closely at the cut-up chunks of the fried rolls. Just as I thought. The filling is translucent rice noodles, so light that you feel like you’re eating air. No meat or vegetables.

Basically you’re just eating the oily dough wrapping – most likely deep-fried in toxic, re-used oil, strained of sediment and recycled by uncaring, ignorant vendors.

“Where we go?” she asks, after paying for her rolls.

“We can ride the Songthaew down to Witherspoon restaurant,” I say. “It’s not far.”

I park and lock my bike next to the vendor’s cart.

We cross the street and hop on a passing Songthaew, and arrive at Witherspoons in a few minutes. We sit at the restaurant counter facing the street, both agreeing it’s the best place for people-watching.

For me of course, the best people to watch are directly across the street.

Little Duck orders a glass of wine, and I indulge in a pint of dark Guinness. I know if I end up drinking a second one, I will have an intense drunk buzz.

I take big sips of my beer that goes down smoothly, helped by my heightened anticipation.

It’s good to be alive!

We scan the picture menu together and Geng points to the Chili Con Carne dishes. “That looks good,” she says, surprising me.

“You don’t want Thai food?” I ask.

She shakes her head. Wow, what a really strange Thai bird.

She stops to look at the Indian curry dishes.

“You like Indian curry?” I ask.

“I like all kinds of foods,” she replies. “I also can cook all kinds. Spaghetti, pizza . . . cous-cous.”

“Wow, how you learn to do that?”
“I just like to experiment. I watch YouTube videos on cooking, and try for myself.”

She seems unusually broad-minded for a Thai, I think to myself. Maybe she has lived abroad.

 “Have you traveled much?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’ve been to Myamar, and Singapore. But I didn’t like Singapore, it was boring.”

Yeah, I guess she’s too poor to go the farang countries like USA or Europe. I’d bet she’d enjoy it.  Most Thais don’t seem interested in traveling, I notice.

We end up ordering the Chili Con Carne with Chips, to share.

I’m not hungry at all. I just really want to fuck.

I ask Geng what she does in Bangkok, and whether she has a job.

Geng tells me she works at a Thai barbecue place. “I also freelance,” she adds, smiling at me knowingly.

Aha! So Little Duck is P4P after all. A sure thing!

“Oh you freelance then?” I ask. So you do short-time?”

“Yes.”

“We can do ST after dinner? There is ST hotel nearby.”

“OK,” Geng said, nodding her head.

Alrighty then!

I feel extremely pleased. No fucking worries now, mate.

Geng lights a cigarette, and starts checking her phone.

I decide to check my unread LINE message she was sending, when I first saw her on the street.

WTF!

Geng had wanted to call it off!

I look at her in surprise.

“Oh so you didn’t want to meet? You didn’t say anything when we met.”

“Well, I feel OK now,” she says with a laugh. “I’m just tired. I not sleep from last night, and I was drinking this afternoon.”

“What! You didn’t sleep last night?” I exclaim. “And you still did not sleep today yet?”

Geng laughs. “Yes I not sleep.”

“Why you not sleep last night? What were you doing?”

“I was at my friend’s house for birthday party. So we stay up all night.”

“And how much you drink this afternoon?”

“I drink 3 glasses of wine.”

“Where did you drink the wine? At a bar?”

“I was drinking with my girlfriend. In her apartment.”

“If you feeling so bad, why did you text me on LINE?” I ask.

“Well, I was feeling OK then.”

Sheesh.

If I had checked my phone when I first saw Geng, this might have been all so different. I probably would have agreed to meet with her another day.

Shite. I felt regret about the kamagra I had already swallowed. I didn’t want to waste it.

But, this is Pattaya. I had a backup plan from the start.  Soi Chaiyapoon is right around the corner.

“So are you okay?” I ask Geng. “How do you feel now?”

“I feel OK.”

“Well, you better not drink too much wine. You should take it easy,” I say worriedly.

“Yes, I will not drink wine too much now.”

I feel an ominous foreboding.

Geng starts to eat her takeout spring rolls.

“So what have you eaten today?” I ask.

“I not eat anything.”

“What! You mean you didn’t eat anything from this morning?  No breakfast? No lunch?”

She laughed. “Yes I don’t eat anything.”

I shake my head in amazement.

Even in my prime of young manhood, I never did any marathon partying like that. If I were in her condition, I would be a walking zombie, or comatose.

I look at Geng, smoking her cigarette quietly.

She seems totally OK. Not incoherent or rambling. In fact, she doesn’t seem drunk at all.

She’s already on her 4^th glass of wine of the day – quite a lot for her small body.

“How’s the wine,” I ask. “Can I take a sip?”

She hands me her wine glass, and I act like a wine connoisseur. I swirl the red wine around the glass, and tilting glass to my nose to sniff its “bouquet.”

“Yes, you should smell the wine,” I say. “That’s part of drinking wine. How it smells.”

She glances at me curiously.

“It smells OK,” I say, and then take a sip. It tastes a bit tart to me. Not that good, but drinkable cheap bar wine.

“I used to drink wine,” I say. “But it’s too expensive, so I only drink beer.”

“Red wine is different too, from beer,” I add. “You feel more drunk. One time I drank a whole bottle of wine by myself. I got real sick.”

Geng laughs. “Yes, one time I drink two bottles of wine by myself.”

“What! Two bottles?” Man, this small chick can drink!

“Do you drink every day?” I ask.

“No, only a few times a week.”

I start wondering if Geng is alcoholic. We talk more, as I find out her story. Geng only started smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol a year ago.

At age 28, Geng was spreading her wings after leaving her abusive husband of 5 years. Her ex was the classic Thai man stereotype: wife-beater, boozer, gambler, no job.

Geng said she had lived a sheltered life while married. But now she is free, and wants to try different experiences in life that she never did while younger, such as drinking and smoking.

Her pals keep pestering Geng about her new vices, but Geng claims she can stop anytime.

She has a strong will, she says. She just doesn’t want to stop smoking or drinking right now.

 And why should she, I think.

Everyone has their wild times in life, usually when young.

I tell Geng I used to smoke for nearly 20 years – and it was very hard to quit. I knew the last thing Geng wanted or needed was another lecture.

Let her be free now.

My biggest disappointment is learning that Geng has two daughters, ages 4 and 3. Her parents in Bangkok are looking after them.

Two daughters! I should have known. A child-loosened pussy.

I drain my Guiness, and order another glass. Geng also orders another glass of wine, which slightly disturbs me. It will be her fifth glass of wine today.

I notice a new tattoo on Geng’s right leg. It still had a pinkish hue.

“When did you get that tattoo?” I asked.

“Yesterday,” she says.

I bent down to have a closer look. “Yeah, looks cool,” I say.

“I wanted to get another one on my left leg, but the tattoo shop was closed,” she said.

“What! Another tattoo?” I am slightly aghast.  It seems like she’s being too impulsive.

“You know, tattoos are permanent. They don’t come off,” I say.

“You should wait and take your time, before getting another tattoo.”

Geng smiles at me and says nothing.

Oh Well. Welcome to the Land of Smiles. Sabai Sabai.

The Chili Con Carne is tasty enough, and I let Geng finish most of it. I want her to fill her stomach, to slow down her booze absorption.

So far, everything is going according to plan.

The ST hotel on Buakhao Road, Jasmine Villa, was right next to the LK Metro entrance. It’s only a 2-minute walk from here.

Then, the hammer comes.

“Sorry, is it OK if we do short-time tomorrow?” Geng asks. “I feel too drunk right now.”

Boom!

I sit in shock. My worst fears came true. She’s too drunk to want to fuck.

Sigh.

I have no desire to fuck someone who probably might get nauseated, or start vomiting in the ST room.

“Well, that’s OK,” I say. “If you too drunk, I guess we can try another time.”

“Tomorrow afternoon, I promise,” she says.

“Yeah, OK, tomorrow then.”

Yup.

You can never be 100 percent sure of a pickup fuck — until your dick is actually inside her pussy.

This was another typical kind of “date” — that I used to experience all the time as a young, clueless, and insincere, lying loner back in Hawaii. Trying to pick up chicks, and somehow always getting thwarted.

I remember once, after a dinner with a weird tourist chick, we were lying in her hotel bed naked, and making out.

I was about to enter her pussy with my stiff dick, when she stopped me. She didn’t feel comfortable fucking someone she just met.

Yep — even in Pattaya, fucking is not guaranteed.

We linger awhile more, as I drain the rest of my beer, and ask for the check.

The bill is 940 baht. I pay for it, and leave a 40 baht tip.

Meanwhile, Geng has gone to the toilet. Her glass of wine is about 1/3 full.

I stand up to leave when she returns.

“Well, I’ll be going now. You can just relax and finish your wine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow, I promise,” she says.

Hasta la Vista, baby.

I leave Witherspoons, buzzing on beer and kamagra. My dick needs to fire away!

I walked around the corner and up Chaiyapoon, right to Juney’s massage shop.

Little sexy Juney was standing outside.

Perfect.

But just as I approach, a big fucking farang on a motorbike stops in front of her.

Curses, foiled again!

I slowly walk past, and pause a few shops down. I stand in a closed shopfront area, watching them.

I’ve been through this scenario before in Thailand – literally seeing someone steal my intended target pussy — when I’m only steps away.

Sometimes the P4P window of opportunity can be only several seconds!

I start thinking about my plan C backup.

I suppose there was always good old Pat up the street. I can have a pounding deep throat face-fuck for only 700 baht. Being a generous farang, usually I tip Pat 100 baht afterwards.

The damn farang asshole on his bike is chatting endlessly to Juney.  Man, I can never understand these motherfuckers that have long-winded talking or bargaining with hookers.

Usually I close the deal with only a few sentences.

I ask a freelancer how much for ST, and wait for her answer. Then I either agree, or bargain for a discount. She then agrees or disagrees. And then we either go ST, or I move on.

I stand there impatiently, feeling massively irritated. I figured here was a 50-50 chance the farang will move on, or else park his bike and go inside with Juney.

Finally, after an eternity, he drives away.

I make a beeline to Juney.

She laughs, because she had noticed me out of the corner of her eye, hovering in the distance like a hungry vulture.

I am happy. This is a 100 percent sure thing – a deep-throat blowjob and tight-pussy fuck . None of this stinking dating game bullshit.

I had forgotten how small Juney was. She’s about the same height as Little Duck, but a hell of a lot more voluptuous.

From there, things proceed exactly as I envisioned. She starts with a smooth and sensual oil massage of my back and legs, as I lie there drunkenly.

I actually feel no real regret about Geng. In fact I am pleased at how my date with Little Duck went. Everything was perfect for me, really.

The conversation flowed smoothly during dinner, I felt relaxed and happy and was enjoying myself. I didn’t do anything stupid, clumsy or crude.

Yeah, it was good to just relax with a chick and talk over a pleasant dinner and drinks. Something that has been a rarity in my wasted loner’s life.

After Juney finishes massaging my back and legs, it’s time to flip over and get down to business. I look at her fine, protruding big tits on her fit and trim body.

Juney’s smooth, dark skin feels fine to touch as I play with her tits. She bends down to give me a BJ.

Although Juney can do deep throat, she’s not eager for it. But she’s perfectly OK with me grabbing her head and shoving it all the way down my dick, balls-deep.

Heavenly! After a bit of face-fucking, I stop because I don’t want to spurt in Juney’s mouth. I need some tight pussy!

So I enter her missionary style, my dick rock hard with kamagra power. Juney’s tight pussy feels marvelous.

I finish by flipping Juney over, in the “prone bone” position. She’s lying flat on her stomach, as I’m pounding away, slapping her firm and shapely ass cheeks furiously with my groin.

After I spurt, Juney just lies there quietly, as I tenderly stroke and massage her back and shoulders.

I appreciate how Juney doesn’t rush things. It’s all part of her attentive, affectionate service. She also consents to a couple of photos.

I give Juney 1,200 baht for the ST plus a 100-baht tip, and leave her shop a happy man.

I did not meet with Geng for ST the next day.

After several mis-communications on LINE, and non-responses from her, I gave up the idea.

I admit, a big reason for my apathy was Geng having two kids.

She also isn’t so young, and her small body is more stick-like than sexy. I had a feeling I would end up disappointed if we did ST.

So that was my perfect dinner date with Little Duck, with a happy ending.