Asian Heat

by Leather, Stephen

  She stayed on the bed as I got up and dressed. I took out my wallet and emptied it. I gave her everything I had. That night I walked home. And I never went back to Rainbow Two, because I knew that if I looked into her eyes again I’d be lost forever.

  THE HAT-TRICK

  You slow down as you get older, there’s no question of that. In your fifties your body has to struggle to do what it used to do with ease when you were twenty. You can’t drink as much, you can’t walk as far, and sex – don’t get me started on sex. When I was in my twenties I could go all night, and if the girl was up for it I’d probably come three or four times, maybe more. I was a bloody sex-machine.

  Well, I’ve just turned sixty and these days I’m lucky to get it up at all. Now in England that’s not a problem, because in my home town there’s about as much chance of me getting laid as there is of winning the lottery. Once you pass forty, you become invisible to the female population unless you drive an expensive motor and have a million quid in the bank.

  I got divorced when I was thirty-five, my wife had been screwing around with my best mate and her lawyer took me to the cleaners. She got the house, the villa in Spain, the cars and most of my pension fund. I stayed away from women for a while after the divorce and spent my time building up my business. I’m comfortable enough now and one thing is for sure, I’ll never get married again.

  I started coming to Thailand when I was fifty-six. The Land of Smiles they call it and I have to say that it always puts a bloody smile on my face. The girls are happy, friendly, and available. Sure, you have to pay, but it doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg. In fact you can have a great time with a stunning young girl for the price of a curry back home.

  I went to Bangkok a few times but now I’m a Pattaya regular, it’s fun being by the sea even though it’s so dirty you wouldn’t dream of swimming in it. But I like to sit on the beach under an umbrella and drink Singha beer and eat freshly barbecued prawns. And at night I barhop. Pattaya is a barhopping heaven. Hundreds of bars, thousands of beautiful women. A kid in a sweetshop doesn’t even come close. I go three times a year and stay for two weeks each trip. I stay in the Hilton, these days, and I always get a suite with a sea view.

  The Pattaya girls are brilliant – they know how to have a good time and they don’t have the stuck-up attitude of their Bangkok sisters. They’re cheaper, too, and will often spend the night for the same price as an hour’s short-time in Bangkok.

  The one problem I have is performance, to be honest. I’m not as young as I used to be and sometimes, if I’ve had a few beers, I have to admit that I have trouble getting it up. I can’t use Viagra or those other performance enhancers, either. I’ve got diabetes and a bit of a blood pressure problem and the one time I tried Viagra I got a wonderful stiffy but my heart went crazy and I thought I was having a coronary. Never again.

  I was thinking about my lack of performance while I was sitting in a beer bar off Walking Street listening to a guy in his twenties boasting to his mates about the night before. He’d picked up a dancer from Babydolls and had done her every which way but loose throughout the night. He went into so much detail that at one point I considered hitting him over the head with my bottle of Singha. I jest, of course. He would have wiped the floor with me.

  Sitting next to me was a freelancer called Pung. Her name meant “bee” in Thai. She was in her thirties with a pleasant face and a wonderful cleavage emphasised by a low-cut tight top and faded blue denim jeans that were stretched over a mouth-wateringly curvy backside. I’d bought her a few drinks and was enjoying the fact that her right hand never strayed far from my groin. She nodded at the boasting lad. ‘”He talk too much,” she said.

  “Yeah, but it sounds like he’s got a lot to talk about,” I said.

  “What a man and a woman do in the bedroom should stay private,” she said, as she absent-mindedly fingered the zip of my trousers.

  “I wish I had his staying power,” I sighed.

  “What you mean?” she asked and I explained how the years had taken their toll on my sexual performance. She’d laughed, thinking that I was joking. But I told her that I was serious. She’d smiled and given my tackle a nice rub and said that I’d probably just not met the right woman. I bought her another drink and told her that I was pretty sure my all-night shagging days were over. She shook her head solemnly and said no, she was sure that she could prove me wrong. And that was when she came up with her proposal. She’d spend the night with me. The first time she screwed me, I’d pay her a thousand baht. If she could screw me a second time I’d give her another two thousand baht. And if she screwed me a third time, I’d give her an extra four thousand baht. So if she made me come three times during the night, I’d pay her seven thousand baht in all for the hat trick.

  I was going to say that her plan was a non-starter but then wonder boy started describing how he’d banged his go-go dancer in the bathroom before she left and I changed my mind and said that I was up for it. Generally I go with my girls to a short-time hotel but because this was going to take all night I took her back to the Hilton. She was well impressed with the view and, as we stood together looking out over the sea, she slid her hand down the front of my trousers. “I go shower,” she said, and kissed me on the cheek.

  She disappeared for ten minutes while I fetched us a couple of beers from the minibar. When she came out she was wearing nothing but a towel. She smiled at me, let the towel fall to the ground and before I knew what was happening I was on my back on the floor and she was on top of me. I came like a rocket.

  “Number one,” she said. She grabbed the towel and hurried back to the bathroom. I was still wearing my shirt and my trousers were around my knees so I undressed and put on a bathrobe. When she came out she was wearing the towel again. We sat on the sofa and drank the beers as we chatted about her life. It was the standard bargirl story: a husband who’d run off with another woman, a child who was being looked after by her parents, a life spent trawling the bars of Pattaya looking for a customer and, if she was lucky, a new husband.

  As we talked her hand found its way to my tackle again and without me realising it I’d grown hard. She put down her bottle, slid down between my legs and took me in her mouth. God, she was good. At one point she had wrapped her hair around my balls as she sucked and licked. She was amazing and I thought I was about to come but at the last moment she climbed on top of me and kissed me full on the lips as she pounded against me. I exploded inside her within seconds. I sat there gasping for breath. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d come twice.

  ‘Number two,” she laughed, and hurried back to the bathroom, taking her towel with her.

  I lay on the sofa, hardly able to move, until she came back, wrapped once more in the towel. She was holding a wet cloth and used it to wash me clean, then lay next to me on the sofa. We watched a movie on HBO as she lay in my arms. Don’t ask me what it was because I’ve no idea, I was just happy to be with her.

  The movie finished about midnight and then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom. She left me alone for a couple of minutes and returned with a large glass of beer and a small bottle of baby oil.

  She told me to drink the beer and to watch as she dropped the towel and rubbed the oil over her breasts and legs, slowly and sensually. It was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen. The lights were off but there was enough moonlight to make her body glisten. “You like?” she asked.

  I nodded. God, yes, I liked. She turned around and rubbed oil on her amazing backside, then bent forward and rubbed it along the back of her legs. I finished the beer and lay down. She crawled onto the bed and began to rub herself up and down me, softly and slowly at first, driving me crazy with her touch. She’d kiss me on the lips, then slide down and kiss my breasts, then her leg would slip between mine. She was constantly moving, touching, caressing. Her movements were almost hypnotic, and all I could do was lie there. She began to move faster, her groin pushing against mine, and then I was har
d and inside her and she was sitting on top of me, riding me hard. I wanted to reach up and hold her incredible breasts but my arms felt like lead and they lay lifeless by my side. “Come for me, baby!” she yelled, and I did. My God, I did.

  I lay on the bed, gasping for breath. My whole body was a dead weight. I felt as if I’d been in a car crash. I tried to thank her but I had trouble forming the words, my mouth had gone numb. “Number three,” she said and kissed me on the cheek. The room started to whirl around me. I couldn’t focus and I could feel everything slipping away. I tried to speak but my tongue felt as if it was too big for my mouth. “You very nice man,” she said. She kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry,” she whispered. Then I passed out.

  When I woke up I had a splitting headache and a bitter taste in my mouth that suggested a small animal had crawled inside and taken a dump. Pung was long gone, of course. Whatever she had put in my drink had knocked me out for the best part of twenty-four hours. She’d taken everything that wasn’t nailed down. My laptop was gone, along with my iPad and my phone, my wallet, my Rolex and my gold chain. She hadn’t taken my credit cards and passport, which was nice of her. I was insured so I didn’t end up being too much out of pocket, and I was left with a great story, how a sixty-year-old fool who should have known better was screwed four times in one night. It hasn’t put me off visiting Thailand. I love the place, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.

  THE END