My Whoring Memoirs – Part I
I worked in telecomm for 23 years and the profession landed me in some 45 or so countries on every continent except Antarctica. I’ve pretty much seen it all. I’ve had to pack heat as a civilian working in the West Bank in Israel during the Palestinian uprising in the early 90’s to worrying about getting hacked by machete in Liberia. I rolled with the Guatemalan Army all over the country during their dirty little civil war. Middle East, Americas, Europe, Africa, Asia. Name a country and I’ve likely been there. Point is, I’m no starry eyed babe in the woods. I've put my tackle to good use over the years. Asia? Ohhhh sweet Asia.
I’ve happily paid for pussy and have landed my fair share of free poontang. I’m a Yank. I’ve been reading Stick's site for some three years now. I wish I had such eloquence and wit in my writing style as some of the other regular contributors but I don’t. I think I can string a sentence together, get my point across and thankfully, I understand paragraphs.
1985 in Dallas, Texas. I know this isn’t a Thailand or Asia in general story but I’ll get there later. This story however could have easily taken place in Thailand. Some 22 years later and I still snicker to myself at this story. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall in this ladies home when she got home. Back to the bar. I was staying at the Airport Holiday Inn near DFW. The hotel had a lively bar with live music. I was bellied up to the bar solo happily drinking my Myers Rum & Coke. Sitting to my right was a very attractive and well dressed lady probably in her early 30’s as I recall. She had dark hair which I love and quite a rack. She was sporting a sizable rock on her ring finger so I assumed she was married. She was engaged in conversation to a man to her right whom I figured was her husband. Other than the fact she was sitting next to me, I was having zero interaction with her.
After some time, the man she was talking to left the bar. She looked my way and I asked her where her husband went. “That’s not my husband” she replied.
“Bartender, please get this lady whatever she’s drinking on me.” We started engaging in small talk not unlike one does at Nana. “What you name?” “Where you from?” “How long you stay?” “What you do?” but obviously not in pigeon English. She was local to the area and was a flight attendant for American Airlines. And yes, she was married.
We’re happily chatting away. All innocent stuff. I swear by the hand of Satan, I had no ill intentions with this lady but of course, the thought was in the back of my mind. I mean hell, the first thought that comes to a man's mind when he sees a women is “would I or not?” Anyway, she finished the drink I got her and the next thing I know, mysteriously, she’s trash-hammered. I saw her have just two drinks. She was seemingly stone sober one minute, the next minute, she’s tanked.
She tells me it’s time for her to go home as she had an early morning flight to Hawaii with her husband. I tell her no way you can drive in your condition. “Come on, I’m ok. I’ll give you a ride home and you can get a cab back here in the morning to retrieve your car.” You readers may wonder why I just didn’t get her a cab. Well, my innocence somewhat went out the window with a beautiful, drunk woman next to me. I still had no devilish plans but I had to wonder to myself, we may be on to something here. I tell her lets go to my room to get my car keys and we’ll go. I pay the bar tab and off we go.
We get up to my room and grab my car keys. She flops down on the bed and tells me she wants a massage before we go. “Um…Ok.” She takes off her clothes revealing a beautifully tanned, tight body with a huge set of warheads that stayed on her chest and not flop down to her armpits. My God, she was an American stunner. This was six years before I would discover the delights of Asia. I still recall her like it was yesterday. We all have those memories that stay with us amongst the hundreds of shags we’ve had. I’m happily massaging away when she asks me to take off my clothes. Mai pen rai. I’m there. No need to go on with the details. We had our way with each other. Think of that old ZZ Top song, Pearl Necklace.
After the deed, she passes out. Shit. It’s 3 AM, I have to be at work in four hours and I have a passed out woman in my room who has a flight to Hawaii with her husband in a few hours. I decided to check her story so I take a peak in her purse. Sure enough, there are her American Airline credentials and her tickets to Hawaii with her flight leaving at 8 AM. I roust her awake and tell her she has to go and get the front desk to get a cab. She stumbles out of the bed and gathers her things and leaves my room all discombobulated looking. She leaves without her stockings.
Oh boy, I hope she’s a good story teller because she’s going to have to come up with a whopper of a story to her husband. To this day, I wonder if she ever made her flight. I suspect not and I have to believe divorce papers probably soon followed. What are you going to do? Such is the way of things in hotel bars with men and women alone and alcohol.
My first trip abroad, not counting Mexico was to Monrovia, Liberia in 1989. Those of you who have been to West Africa know what absolute hell holes these countries are. I stayed in the VOA (Voice of America) complex. No monger stories to tell here though I was told there is action in town but is highly dangerous for Westerners and not advised. I would a few years later score an African lovely in Harare, Zimbabwe.
Next up? Perhaps Guatemala, Zimbabwe and Indonesia.
Stickman's thoughts:
It might not have been Thailand, but it was short and sweet enough that I thought it worth including.
