The Serpent And The Apple
By Jumpin' Jack Flash
Another voyeur slips silently out from behind his electronic camouflage, the key strokes herald his footsteps into the soft glow of your screen.
He is an average man, 40 years old with a kind heart. Unlike most of you he has a 30 year old wife still shaped like an athlete, and a daughter 2 years old who, it appears, is perfect; a beautiful, blonde, olive skinned, brown eyed, intelligent, laughing angel. He works for himself, from his home which he owns by the sea in a lucky country. There are no traffic jams, no pollution, the weather is perfect, and neighbors are friendly. He walks with his pretty wife and daughter along the beach every day, occasionally she pokes him in the ribs feigning disapproval followed by a smile when she catches him gazing at the lovely girls in bikinis splashing in the ocean.
But, he has been to Thailand. He knows.
Thailand. Now a monster always present, hulking in a darkened corner of his world. Behind the calm daily mask he is screaming, torn apart by his thoughts, writhing in anguish as the deadly hedonistic sins of gluttony and lust threaten to tear apart his perfect, innocent, clean, loving world. Millions of years of genetic programming guiding him towards fresh young perfection – his DNA demanding eternity. The endless stream of silky smooth young bodies, nipples erect, backs arched, dark eyes, soft lips, flat tummies – flood his thoughts. Like an out of control film these scenes flash across his mind, his face his mask, the calm exterior curtain between these thoughts and his world at home with his beautiful family.
He thinks again about the bikini girls at his beach. They are young, 17, 18, 20, 25. Interestingly, these girls rarely return his gaze, almost never return his smile, and he is aware to his core that he will never ever taste the warm smell between their legs. Some even challenge him with a sharp look telling him that they think he is disgusting because he looks at them. He hurts inside. He was just admiring their beauty, just remembering what they tasted like, he knows he has no chance, their aggressive looks have taught him this. Even the fat ugly ones have learnt the lesson to keep their noses in the air. Age is everything. They do not need his money, they do not need his kind words, or his wise counsel. Apparently he is old. He is nothing to them. – he has nothing to offer and they are eager in their viciousness to make sure he understands that this is exactly how they feel – how it is. It hurts…, it seems only yesterday that they flirted together on the beach of his youth. Now, nothing….worse than nothing, disdain, disgust.
Yes, he has been to Thailand. He has smiled quietly to himself at the sign “Bang Na” as his taxi sped along the expressway…Thinking now, which one was Na? He can’t really remember as they all blend into each other. Pert sweet breasts under girlish bras. Laughs, smiles, a sexual submissive silence as he peels back her hipster jeans. Pussies always slippery and wet with quiet anticipation – a beautiful truth both parties understand, her body cannot lie, her body wants to be fucked – there is no work here, her body does not need to be convinced, she is ready, he knows it, and she knows it. All requests honored with a gentle smiling acquiescence. Up to you. Never less than 2000 baht, after all, these are God’s most beautiful creatures, anything less would be just plain out of balance…incorrect. He is so thankful to them.
He has marveled at the beauty and honesty of the statue outside the Lucifer Bar in Patpong. No pants – what’s the point? – this is Patpong. Awkward, almost embarrassed stance – he simply cannot help himself, they are so beautiful his lust overrides everything, it is beyond his control. He has abrogated all responsibility to his DNA. Self-consciously he hides his hard-on, eyes blood-shot with the obsessive lustful insanity that is eating his brain, and the alcohol-soaked sleepless nights.
Yes, he has tasted Thailand’s fruit. He knows what it looks like, the texture of its flesh. He has seen the way it moves, he knows its smell, and from that, there is no going back.
Not unlike HIV, this obsession courses through his bloodstream, permeates his every conscious moment. He is fucked. His world is fucked. He knows it. Time is all it will take from here.
He has learnt a lesson, but it comes too late. He knows now that when some lines are crossed, even just once, they disappear. He understands the vortex of illusion that swirls around all the 7 sins: the more you have, the more you want – desperate, fever pitched, sweat soaked, eyes darting – bloodshot, endless searching for an impossible satisfaction.
Thailand: if you haven't been, don't go.
The forbidden fruit is always the most delicious…