A Walk on the Wild Side

by Jacqueline George

  He turned off the water so he could talk. “Er, thanks, Jane. That’s fine.”

  “Very good, Mr Tim. They ready tomorrow.” Tim heard her bundle up his work clothes. Then the click of the door lock. The door of the shower cubicle slid open, and Jane was looking at him.

  “Jesus, Jane! What are you doing?” He had nothing to hide behind and, besides, Jane looked good. She still wore her make -up, and had let her hair down. She looked him in the face and, studying him carefully, began to unbutton her shirt.

  “Jane, please-” but he did not move. She shrugged the shirt from her shoulders and watched him stare at her breasts.

  “You like, Mr Tim?”

  Her breasts were small and firm, matching her slim build. Very pale brown, with tight, dark nipples. “They’re beautiful, Jane.”

  “Good. I am happy, and I like this. Oh, too much.” She took his cock in both hands, and her touch was warm and dry. “Oh, too much,” she repeated, and confidently pushed the skin back to uncover him.

  “Jane, no, don’t,” but they both knew it was too late to object. Jane stepped back and slipped off her trousers. She wore small black panties around her slim hips. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the shower so she could kneel at his feet. Tim did not protest.

  She knelt in front of him, hands resting on his thighs, and studied his cock for a moment before, with the fingertips of both hands, she began exploring his balls.

  Tim was excited, ready for more, and his balls were tight against his shaft. She cupped them in one hand and, at last, gripped his cock firmly and pulled back the skin. “Sangat bagus,” she whispered and looked up at him. Watching for his reaction, she raised the tip of his cock to her closed lips. She waited, and the gentle kiss of her

  lips took Tim’s breath away. Slowly and without dropping her gaze, she sucked the head of his cock into her mouth.

  “Oh-”. Tim let his head fall back against the shower wall.

  Jane took his cock from her mouth and said “You quiet, Mr Tim, OK?”, and settled down to sucking the head of his cock again. Her tongue was exploring him, poking and flicking all the sensitive places. He sighed again.

  “You like, Mr Tim? Good. Tonight, I quickly, but on-shore, I give you good time all day.”

  She sucked him again, but now, as one hand held his balls, the other pulled back rhythmically on his skin, tugging to the edge of pain. It was too much – he would not last.

  “Good, Mr Tim,” she said, “You come, OK?” and she was sucking again, working his cock, pushing him to the edge and beyond.

  She held still. As he had tensed and come, she had bitten the end of his cock with covered teeth and squeezed tightly as he pulsed into her mouth. Neither of them moved a muscle, until she relaxed and chuckled.

  “You hungry man, Mr Tim, Very hungry. I like too much.” She pushed into his arms for a quick kiss and stepped out of the shower. “Go now – I see you Jakarta, OK?”

  ~~~

  It was mid morning before Tim woke. Breakfast finished at seven, and lunch would not start until eleven. Still, he was hungry and went to the canteen looking for cornbread and coffee. It was empty, so he sat with Ernesto the Mexican cook/camp boss and gossiped.

  Ernesto hated Indonesia. He hated it so much that nothing could stop him coming back hitch after hitch, year after year, and his catering had become well known from one end of the Java Sea

  to the other. He even moved from company to company as contracts ended so he could keep coming back. Now he happily sat and explained how terrible life had become for him, how everyone and everything conspired to destroy his sanity. The locals, the Americans, the insects, snakes, even sharks, everything.

  “I tell you, my friend, next time I think I don’t come back. Why should I? My boys are working now, good. My girl, she married and ready to make her mother to grandmother, good. I pay for my house, my car, don’t owe no money to no-one. Why should I come back?” Ernesto shook his fat head in disgust.

  “Because you love us, Ernesto. No one cooks like you do. Where else would I get hot cornbread? And proper coffee?”

  “Huh! You only thinking of your stomach again. But me, I have to do everything. Everything! The people they give me, all stupid. Know nothing. All my hands, look, they are billy boys. This one look exactly like girl.” He waved a paw in the direction of the galley.

  Through the serving hatch, Tim could see some of a kitchen hand at work preparing lunch. He was chopping vegetables, except

  – except, yes. Through the white drill shirt Tim could just make out a feminine outline. He bent down to try and see the cook’s face. Jane. He sat up sharply, but Ernesto had been watching.

  “Ha – you like him, yes. This one very pretty. Very interesting. Nice tits.” Ernesto turned in his chair. “Hey, Jane, you come out here, OK?”

  “I coming, Mr Ernesto,” said Jane. She hurried into the dining area, but faltered when she saw who was sitting with Ernesto.

  “Hey, Jane, you meet Mr Tim. He likes pretty girls – that right, Tim?”

  Jane seemed embarrassed and did not look them in the face. “Yes, Mr Ernesto, everyone know Mr Tim.”

  “Good, good. Now bring us more coffee, please.” They waited until she had brought another pot of coffee and returned to the kitchen.

  “What do you think, eh? She’s a pretty girl.”

  “Yes, she is,” said Tim. “She must make you very happy.”

  “Me? Oh no. Not me. I leave that for the young men, like you. No, no, I don’t look, I don’t ask no questions. She works good, and if she wears a skirt in the evening and plays with the crew, well, not my business.”

  “What’s not your business?” Alex the mud man had come into the canteen. He was Irish, a small man with curly brown hair.

  “Bill-boys,” answered Ernesto. “What you here for? It’s not eleven yet.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I’m mixing and there’s no way I’m going to make lunch. You wouldn’t have any of that cornbread, would you? That’ll tide me over until tonight.” He sat down as Ernesto fussed off to the kitchen. He asked Tim, “What billy boys? What’s he on about?”

  “Oh, not much. Just he’s got a nice one in the kitchen, but he says he doesn’t play with her. Not sure I believe him. She’s a pretty thing.” To confirm his opinion, Jane appeared with a tray. Ernesto had sent cheese pieces, pickled jalapeños and rich yellow squares of cornbread.

  Alex watched her closely. Once she had gone, he said, “See what you mean. I’d say she’d look pretty good when she’s dressed up.”

  “Oh, she does, believe me.”

  Alex smiled. “Tried her, have you?”

  “Me? Certainly not! I don’t go for that sort of thing. Neither does Ernesto.”

  Alex thought as he sipped his coffee. “Well, Ernesto doesn’t surprise me. Look at him – he’s so fat I’ll bet it been years since he could check if he’s a boy or a girl.

  “Hot looking bird, but I wouldn’t go near her on board. She’s probably too busy being porked by half the locals anyway. She might be able to persuade me back on shore, though. Anything could happen then.”

  His nonchalance surprised Tim. Alex might admit to being interested in a billy-boy, but he never would. Let alone admit to enjoying a secret blow-job in his room in the small hours of the morning. He was definitely not gay.

  “You’ve tried them, then?” Tim asked.

  “Oh sure. I mean, you can do lots of good things with girls, but sometimes they’re just not around. I’ll tell you what – all the best blow-jobs I ever had have come from billy-boys. Don’t you love Jakarta?”

  “Yes. Yes, Jakarta’s good. This must be just about the best assignment in the oil patch. Cheap booze, and girls everywhere. What more could you want?”

  “Yes, indeed. And such nice girls, too. Not like Ireland at all. I go back, and I swear the girls there are just nuns taking a holiday to have more baby Catholics. When you get them into bed, they don’t know what it’s for.
There’s a lot of dumb things about Indonesia, but you can’t say anything against the girls.

  “Tell you what, though. You’re all uptight about billy-boys, but I bet you’ve tried a few. Don’t believe me? Next time you pick up a real sexy looking chick, you know, well-dressed, heels, skirt up to here – you know the sort. Well, next time you get one of them who just wants to show you her tits, and won’t let you look at her pussy, think again. You’ve met girls like that, haven’t you?”

  Tim had met girls just like that. Like Darti, who he had talked into bed a couple of times. Fun, but both times she’d claimed to off games for the moment. Or Peggy, one of the regular girls at the Sayyed Jaya Hotel who would gave him tingling massages, but only took her panties off when the lights were out. She did fuck properly, but somehow she never seemed quite right.

  “They could be having their periods?”

  “Ha, Indonesians with periods don’t go near a man. No, you’ve been playing with billy-boys, my son. You just never realised. Missed the best parts.”

  “I think I’ll just stick to girls,” said Tim.

  Alex was not deterred. “You know when it first happened to me? Ages ago. I’d just got off the plane from Dublin. I was a good little boy. Food, beer, bed. That’s all I knew about. The girls must have thought I was a priest or something. Then I let one of them pick me up at the George and Dragon one night, and wow! I was off down the slippery slope like an Olympic skier. Never looked back. I reckon I had three times as much pussy in that first week than I’d had all my life in Dublin. And so much better, too.

  “Anyway, that’s not what I was telling you about. You see, I was on project work then. A lot of mornings in the office, some trips, but mostly I could goof off mid-afternoon. Used to go down to the swimming pool at the Marriot, or sometimes just to the bar. Have a beer, relax, read the paper. Good life, I tell you.

  “Well, they had a regular there. I don’t think she worked there –no uniform – but she’d take orders, bring drinks, clean up, that sort of thing. I suppose the guys at the bar liked the help, or perhaps she was paying them off. Anyway, this girl was OK, friendly, but no pin-up to look at. Don’t know where she was from. Further east, I guess, but her face wasn’t so Asian, and she had frizzy hair. Still, who cares when the lights are out? She was good fun. Come and sit with me, chat, ask about Ireland.

  “You know what she was called? Travesty. God knows where she’d got the name, or if she even knew what it meant. Anyway, she kept bugging me about a blow-job. Every time she’d say, let’s go to your room, Mr Alex. I make you suck-suck. I used to say no, I’d just sat down, I was relaxing with a beer, that sort of thing. And then one afternoon, I thought, why not? She’d asked often enough, and who was I to be particular?

  “So off we went to my room in the middle of the afternoon. I tell you what, we didn’t come down again until eight in the evening.”

  “Jesus – what were you doing?”

  “What didn’t we do? She started off by getting my clothes off, laying me on the bed, and giving me the blow-job from Nirvana. She was fantastic. She knew exactly what she was doing, Sucking, licking, whirling her tongue around me, jacking away as she sucked – man, I tell you. If there were Nobel prizes for blow-jobs, she’d have one.

  “She kept taking me to within a hair of blowing her head off, and then she’d stop. Just drop me, and let it cool down before starting again. I was going nuts.

  “She still had her clothes on. She was kneeling beside the bed, fully dressed, so I reached over and started unbuttoning her. She didn’t mind that. She kept her mouth on my cock, but we soon had her blouse and bra off. Real nice tits. Neat handfuls. Got to love them.

  “Next thing, I’m trying to get her skirt off but she stops me. She says, Mr Alex, you know me billy-boy.

  “Could have knocked me down with a feather, but I’m lying down already, with a cock like a power pole. I was so shocked I didn’t say anything, so she stood and dropped her skirt. Right enough, there was something in those panties, but I was, like, who cares? I’d got a hard cock, and I wanted her to do something about it.

  “I must have nodded or something, because she slid her panties down, and there it was. A nice little cock. I thought, what the heck, and grabbed it.

  “It felt OK. I mean, she was like a girl. She felt right, smelt right, everything like a girl, except she had a cock. I was past caring. We lay on the bed and 69ed for hours, and she went crazy. I came, she came, but we just started up again. Jesus, she was good.”

  Tim was shocked, and excited. “Did you-?”

  “Fuck her? Yes, eventually. That was good too. Well, exactly like a girl, I guess. She lay back with her hips at the edge of the bed and her legs in the air, and I knelt on the floor. Felt just like a girl, except I was watching her cock instead of a pussy. That was mindblowing. Great!”

  Tim did not know what to say. Shock, surprise at Alex talking about it, excitement at what had happened to him.

  “Then I let her fuck me,” said Alex. “I knelt on the floor and rested on the bed, and she got on with it. Real gently. Oiled me up, fingered me, and slowly slid it in. You’ve no idea – now that’s something you just got to try.”

  During the long hours of his night shift, Tim re-lived Alex’s story again, and again. Not a chance, he thought. Well, not much of a chance, anyway.

  ~ ~~

  When he was on- shore, Tim had a room in the company house. It was a convenient place, in the small leafy streets east of Jalan Thamrin. A businessman’s house from the days when this part of Jakarta was a quiet upmarket suburb. Now it was still quiet, but the traffic and excitement of Jalan Thamrin lay only a short walk away. Tim could reach most of what he wanted on foot. If not, market centres like Blok M were only a short taxi ride away.

  Tonight, Tim was free. He had handed all his rig paperwork in at the office, and he could start enjoying his rotational break. No bosses, no stupid meetings, no drunken colleagues turning the house upside down. He finished his shower and headed downstairs. Damn. William was there. In the lounge, playing darts, alone.

  William was new – no, that was not true. He had been in Indonesia for months now, but he still seemed new. Short hair, glasses, and an air of being lost. He looked as if he had just left his English grammar school. He had not fitted into the casual oilfield social life yet, and Tim doubted he ever would.

  Yet there he was, and Tim was stuck. “Hi, William. Eaten yet?”

  “No. I was going to have a sandwich...”

  Tim groaned inwardly. “OK, come along with me, then.” They picked their way along the dark street to the bustle of town, and walked up to Thamrin Square and its ugly Stalinist monument.

  “Where are we going, Tim?” asked William. “What are we eating?”

  “Chinese. Grilled carp with ginger. You’ll never get it better than this, believe me.”

  “Er, fish,” said William.

  “Problem? Well, they’ve got other stuff as well.” They passed the grandeur of the British Embassy and into a drab side lane. Their restaurant stood alone amongst darkened offices on one side of the street. On the other was only the embankment of the raised main road. The darkness and nearness of big western hotels made it a favourite gathering place for billy-boys.

  “Hey, look at that!” William was looking at a couple of girls walking arm-in-arm towards them. They certainly knew how to catch a man's eye. Flowing hair, obvious jewellery, dresses more glamorous than elegant.

  “William, my son,” he said, “Leave them alone. They are not proper girls.”

  “But...” William was confused. “But...”

  “They're billy-boys, William.” Where another man might have been intrigued, William was shocked. Goodness knows why, thought Tim. He's lived out here long enough to cotton on.

  Poor William. His talent as the world's natural butt was so obvious that even the girls picked it up. They focused their attention on him, ignoring Tim. William tried to shelter behind his friend, but it
did no good. His confusion was obvious and the night did not hide the fact that he was turning red with embarrassment.

  “You like me, big boy?” asked one of them, “You like pompom?”

  “Er – I'm sorry…” William started stuttering.

  “Look, I'm real lady,” She unbuttoned the top of her dress to show two firm, sculptured breasts with tight, brown nipples. “You like these, big boy? You touch.” She moved nearer and reached for his hand.

  William gave Tim a look of despair and, seeing no hope, he turned and ran. With shrieks of delight the two girls gave chase, their skirts hitched up, hair and hand-bags flying. Back towards the bright lights the three raced, William keeping only a short lead. Waves of mocking laughter echoed in the narrow street as passersby joined in the fun.

  Tim stood alone, laughing out loud. William should not be allowed out without his parents. Then he smiled. He would be much better off dining alone.

  He had nearly reached the restaurant when he saw a movement in a dark doorway. “Hello, Mr Tim.”

  Jane wore the same outfit as the evening when she had surprised him at the ship's rail. Even in the half-light she looked stunning. Natural beauty, of course, but a dress that on a normal girl would have looked simple or perhaps chic, looked racy and enticing draped around Jane. However she did it, her heavy sexual aura was unmistakable, and impossible for a man to ignore.

  She looked at Tim expectantly. “OK, OK. Come and have dinner with me.”

  “Thank you, Mr Tim. You are very good man.” Without waiting for a further invitation, she slipped her hand under his elbow and walked beside him, high heels tapping the pavement. It felt natural, but at the same time the unnaturalness sent a sinful shock through him. He became acutely conscious of the tall, slim figure beside him, of her perfume and the swish of her stockings.

  They attracted attention in the Chinese restaurant. Jane in full battle-dress would have attracted attention anywhere. The waiters did not know whether to be amused at the prospective surprise awaiting the ignorant kwailo foreigner at the end of the evening, or whether good manners demanded that exotic sexual tastes should be discreetly ignored.