Sunday, April 1, 2012

One night, one more time.

"thanks for the memories..." Thnks fr th Mmrs (Fall Out Boy)

It's some indiscriminate hour in Singapore and I'm walking through a haze. Having spent my entire flight pre-gaming and only just making it through Customs without getting busted for being a drunk, I thought I was ready for a night straight out of the depths of hell.

Once again, I forget that my liver and brain aren't always on the same wavelength. I've just ended up at Orchard Towers and I don't know how I'm walking. I need some food.

McDonalds. Thank you sweet sweet Golden Arches. Don't get me wrong, I love the cuisine of Singapore. But I need something completely bland and reliable here. Maccas will do fine.

Right now I'm thinking of the story I heard from the old design guy at my work about his visit to Koh Phangan where he ended up shitting in a bag cause they didn't have a toilet. Oh shit. No shit. No thinking about shit. Fuck....stupid cuntybollocked big Mac! Luckily I make a toilet in time and there's toilet paper and a flushing toilet. One that's much cleaner than any back home too. then again what else can you expect? This is Singapore. They fine you round here for not flushing.

Time to head back across the road. They don't call this place the Four Floors of Whores for nothing. First thing I see as I walk up the stairs is the same first thing I saw when I came in - an old Asian dude with a shit-eating grin on his face and two hot young things by his side. I plan to be in the same position soon enough. Well, except for the old and wrinkled part.

First bar on the lowest level has some weird tiki theme. Whatever. I just want a drink...wait. $16? For a fuckin Heineken? Are you serious? Fuck me dead. I know about the exchange rate and all but $1 in Singapore is not 50 Australian cents. Oh well. I have my redundancy payment and last paycheck bouncing around my plastic cards, and I've gotta waste it on something. May as well be alcohol and strippers. There's plenty of them in here, but I better leave. As much as I like strippers - and I do - I need to find women to have sex with. Preferably without paying for it. At this point I was unaware that Singapore strippers are just glorified prostitutes.

On the top level of the Four Floors I'd heard of a place called Crazy Horse, where the ladyboys roamed. For most guys, this would be a turnoff - not for moi. It's a bi thing, but even if I was straight I figure it wouldn't matter. Fucking a ladyboy is a personal goal of mine and it will happen tonight.

Naturally, I get attention soon as I step inside. I may not be Ke$ha - the party had clearly started before I walked in - but a young guy wearing a Bondi Ink singlet and looking half drunk makes for an ideal target for ladyboy hookers. Before I could get to the bar I had three by my side. No problem. You girls want drinks? I'll buy drinks. The drunker they get the more open they'll be to negotiation of their price.

The music is so loud in here that it's impossible to have any sort of conversation. Call me old fashioned, but I don't like to just jump into bed with a prostitute. At the very least I want a name, even if its one she works under. A Candy, an Amber, a Melody (probably due to their clientele, Singapore prostitutes all tend to take slutty Anglo names) - just something to yell out during orgasm. I'm such a gentleman.

Eventually one of the "girls" works out a fee with me - $150 for a root in the mall elevator and I had to wear a condom. Seems fair enough, especially since a tray of tequila shots (the drink of choice) costs $60. Done.

Let me put it this way - if you've never had sex in an elevator I highly recommend it. Especially if there are mirrors everywhere. She started off by giving me a BJ and I gotta say that she's fuckin great at it. I've had a lot of bad blowjobs in my life but this is not one of them.

I should mention here that there are times when I get hit with a case of Whiskey D and can't cum when drunk, especially given that I'm a pretty quick shooter in real life. No problems here. She doesn't swallow but - that's an extra - so when I make it known that I'm about to cum she pulls her mouth off my cock and I blow all over the buttons. I know that I'm probably gonna get in trouble for this, but fuck it I'm leaving town tomorrow morning anyway. Still I should probably clean this shit up a bit. Later though. Since I'm too drunk to get another insta-boner, it's time for me to work on her a bit. Plastic or not, no vagina can stay dry for too long when Ash starts giving head. Just cause she may be a prostitute doesn't mean she shouldn't have some fun also. And I get the feeling she's enjoying it as much as I am.

Fun and games are over. As Jemaine Clement would say in his sexy deep voice, it's business time. The sex itself is average - I can stand up but not thrust as hard as I usually would, although my inebriated state allows me to go for longer. Luckily I can cum just before my boner gives up. She just sort of smiles at me as I ask the question.
"So...are you a real woman? Or Kathoey?" Nods at the last remark.
"Meh. I don't care."
"Really? Most men do."
"I'm not most men."
"That is true. You are not Indian, are you?"
"No. I am from Australia."
"I can tell by the way you speak. Most Australian men do not like hearing I am Kathoey." Her English is quite good.
"Not me. Have a good night." I give her the cash and she exits the disused elevator, leaving me to recover for a few minutes. Just a few minutes, mind. I want to have a real woman tonight.

One thing about the Towers is that there's a hierachy. The bottom level is where the cheapest hookers are, the middle level is slightly classier, the third is for the dancers and the fourth is ladyboys. I head into FHM on the third floor. The internet taught me that dancers aren't hookers, but they may leave with you anyway if you have enough money (as opposed to strippers at home). Well I'm still flush.

Step into the bar and order a vodka martini. Seems like the time of night for one, even though they usually end up with me puking. I haven't smoked tonight though which helps.

Not surprisingly, it doesn't take long for some money-hungry girls to start trying to get free drinks off me. Since it's a little quieter here I can actually grill them better also. I got names (Which I won't list here) and even some background. At this stage, however, I'm getting to what my boys will recognise as the "Ashed" stage. Drunk enough to be awesome, but if I drink more I'll end up passing out. So I focus my financial resources on the women while demonstrating my pole dancing skills to my boy DJ Habib's mix, which I lent the house DJ from my iPod. Since I was throwing around cash like nobody's business he acquiesced. (Yo Ramez - I never mentioned the me pole dancing part when I told you DJ Habib was a hit in Singapore did I?).

Again, I'm learning just how far some cash takes you in this city at night. If I'd tried to poledance back home I'd've been evicted - hell I got banned from a club in Auckland just for climbing onto the podium. (Another day, another blog - but I was stage diving). But cause I'm spending money I can do what I like even if the other male patrons don't appreciate a skinny guy's dancing. YOLO bitches.

By now I'd been in the bar almost an hour and most of the girls had moved beyond me, but two of them were getting really close. I thought about making an exit with them but then they had to do their hourly show. Now maybe I'm drunk as all fuck by this point but these chicks are great. They're both smaller than strippers back home - naturally, since they're Asian - but what they lack in stature they make up for in moves. They're gonna be mine. Naturally, as soon as they come down from their stage I invite them to come back to my hotel room.

"I don't know."
"Do I have to pay?" I wasn't really keen on more prostitute action by now but at this stage I'd've paid a kidney to get these girls on my cock.
"No, we must check with the manager."
Luckily, it was all good. As it should be. I had made him a lot of money tonight.

On the cab back to my hotel, they started speaking in Spanish to each other, thinking I couldn't understand. Ha ha. As it turns out, I taught myself Spanish so I could understand Acidez and Narcosis lyrics. And yes girls, you did get lucky that night. You learnt exactly how lucky when we got back to the room and I got my pants off. I know you've seen Indian guys naked before and yes, I saw the surprise on your faces. Rest assured that I enjoyed seeing you both naked just as much.

In fact, I think we all enjoyed every moment of the sex. I won't bore you with details but let's just say that I was very late getting to the airport the next day and I have a couple of keepsakes from them (in return they took my hat and t-shirt, but hell - fair exchange, considering I put in one of my great drunken sex performances. I've never cum multiple times when drunk before).

The next morning I woke up and they were gone, but I could have cared less. Now I know how Charlie Sheen feels every morning. Right down to the burning sensation when I piss these days.

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