Stickman Readers' Submissions July 16th, 2008

A, B, C, Drinks (Part 4)

Vodka orange

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1 part Absolut® vodka

2 parts orange juice

Pour vodka over three or four ice cubes in a highball glass, and add fresh orange juice.

Alcohol 13%

There is always a first time, and that very first time I met a Thai girl marked a turning point in my life.

In those days I wasn't able to differentiate Chinese from Japanese, Vietnamese from Thai… They all looked like the same to me – Chink or gook- and I wasn't at all attracted by Asian women. Give me a blue-eyed blonde with a bubble ass and watermelon boobs and you would have made my day.

I had been dragged into Neptune II by a workmate who knew very well what he was doing, but thinking of it afterwards, I’m not sure anymore that he knew what he was doing. Did the bartender who had served me that first alcoholic drink when I was 15 and trying to pass for an adult know what he was doing? Did that guy with a bad cough who had handed me my first cigarette know what he was doing? Dids that workmate who had introduced me to his horny housewife know what he was doing?

I just asked him if he knew of an entertainment place in Hong Kong where they have pole dancing or some cheerleading, something sexy. I was not exactly looking for nudity. I’ come from a country where women are fit, sexy and not shy to show their body, in private or in public – to be frank, thanks to globalization, this is not exactly true but some myths have to be nursed to continue – for something like Folies Bergères or Moulin Rouge. But as he is American and has probably been deprived since childhood of free access to female nudity, he understood I was looking for titties – what else would I want to look for in a sexy show? – and he informed me that unfortunately there was not such a place in Hong Kong. He wrongly concluded too that I was too shy to ask him up-front where I could get laid that night.

“What’s love got to do, got to do with it”

“What’s love but a second hand emotion”

“Who needs a heart”

“When a heart can be broken”

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By an irony of fate, this was the song played by the band upon entering Neptune II, a song I had already heard two or three times before that night in other bars of Wanchai.

Why don’t we know how to read the signs pointed so clearly by the hand of fate? And especially when that hand is giving you the finger. The danger is always coming from the direction you were expecting less, isn’t it? And don’t say to me that Buddha has a long and protective arm. I should have taken the hint from that Tina Turner gold classic.

I ordered the first of what would be a long string of Vodka-Orange cocktails, and before I knew what was going on in this place, my friend intercepted a cute girl who was passing by, telling her: ‘Eh you, come here and take care of that Falang!’

‘Falang, WTF is it? ’ I thought.

She stopped, frowned at my friend, then looked at me and gave me the warmest smile I have never received in my life. She put her small purse down on the counter and the Heineken she was carrying, a bottle that would disappear quickly unnoticed, and we shook hands.

The image of that girl is now engraved in my brain and I have the feeling that it will fade away only with my death or by Alzheimer's. She was a young woman of a kind I had never seen before, so far away from what I knew. Although she definitely had Asian features, I immediately found her utterly attractive, and it would have been difficult to explain why, oozing femininity in an unthinkable way.

Her face struck me first, with her exotic brown eyes especially highlighted with a blue eye shadow, her fair skin – aren’t Chinks supposed to be yellow? -, and you guessed it, her long black jet and sleek hair.

She was small and svelte but not skinny, her body looked fit, and I noticed a small scar on a shoulder. She was wearing a short pearly glimmer white spaghetti strap top – I noticed that she had small breasts – that exposed her belly button as her jeans were a low-cut model that sat below the hips, and heel slip-on shoes that displayed beautiful small white feet with neatly painted nails.

She started with what I would later know was the usual Thai bargirl routine and to my dismay I have never been able to understand her name because of her heavy accent and the loud music. That’s why now she is just a face and a voice without a name that haunts my memories.

After the usual introductions, I bought her the first of what would be a long string of beers, beers she would put quickly after only one sip on the counter, placing in the neck a small piece of paper, bottles that would disappear quickly, unnoticed.

She then started to entertain me, chatting, joking, and nearly doing musicals, moving graciously her body to the music, singing and acting. Only for me, like Broadway, I couldn’t believe my luck! Little by little the distance between us was closing and before I could understand what was happening I could feel her hands occasionally poking my arms and chest.

Her performance ratcheted on the next higher notch with the first notes of that famous Joan Jet song, as she started dancing for me in a dynamic and unrestrained way, playing the guitar heroin on the hard-edged hard beat-driven rhythms, flipping her hair overhead to cover her face where only her fevered gleaming eyes could be seen, and flipping them back to display her forehead now slightly shining from sweat, and reached its apex when we yelled out together the chorus:

“I love rock n roll”

“So come an take your time an dance with me”

“He smiled so I got up and asked for his name”

“That don’t matter, he said,”

“Cause its all the same”

“Said can I take you home where we can be alone”

“An next” it hit me like an 100 000 V electric shock, I understood what she was doing.

I said ‘no’ shaking my head, “we were not movin' on”.

‘won thousan and I give you good massaaage’ she said, I love rock and roll still blaring out.

Again I said ‘no’ shaking my head and added ‘you are going to lose your time with me’.

‘No problem, I just want to make you happy’, she answered before resuming her performance.

“So come an' take your time an' dance with me” and she took my hand to struck out toward the dance floor. And of course the next song was a ballad, again a classic from Tina Turner, and we danced entangled together, and I could smell her intoxicating body odor, and she rubbed her naked belly against me, and she rested her head on my chest closing her eyes, “Just as long as I’m here in your arms I could be in no better place…” and … for the first time in many years I felt alive.

Back to the counter, she excused herself to visit the toilet. It gave me the time to think, well if I can call that howling tornado inside my head thinking.

‘What can I do? I have never done this… I’m with my workmates, what will they think of me? No, no, I’m not going to give them some leverage… I have no condom and I don’t know where to buy some, it is so late. What if she has AIDS? Maybe it's a scam. Some mafia guys will follow us and come in my room with guns… 1000 HKD, how will I be able to justify this expense to my company? I can neither use my credit card; my wife may suspect something… What if once in the room she just lies on her back and waits…? What if…’

I could see her coming back, and I still didn’t know what to do with her when she is stopped by a man who has grasped her arm. He is big, fat, has white hair in a crop cut and the reddened skin of someone who drinks too much; his eyes are lecherous and blood injected.

‘My god this guy may be a pervert.’

The talking came to a quick end and she was back with me.

‘Him say, him give me 100 US dollar short-time, but I say noooo, I don’t like him.’

‘You will lose your time with me. He is better money than me.’

‘No problem now, I just want to make you happy’ she whispered with a sweet smile and enamored eyes.

While I was looking her in the eyes, not knowing what to answer, I saw her visage suddenly coming closer and I turned my head just in time to avoid a kiss that was directed right at my lips.

‘Why you don’t want me?’ she asked a little bit surprised and miffed.

As I was not answering, she then took my left hand in hers and this is when she saw my wedding band.

‘Oh, I understand, you are married.’

‘Yes, and I promised not to do this sort of things. I’m sorry; I’m not good business for you.’

‘No problem, I just want to make you happy’.

This sentence is still echoing in my head each time I’m thinking of her, and yes she did make me happy for the next following hour, joking, chatting, dancing and trying again, time after time, to kiss me.

That night I came back alone to my hotel room and I found a salutary oblivion in Vodka-Orange induced sleep.

Afterward, I wondered which country and culture had bred such a creature and this led me to the StickmanBangkok website among others.

I’m still beating myself for having say ‘no’ to this girl as I never found any acceptable reason to that nagging question: why?


The gift

I had just arrived to spend some weeks working in a factory located in a remote South China town where girls are bold, wild, friendly, smiling, dark skinned, poor, and funny… Does it ring a bell?

It was a very hot and very humid July day. The fans in the factory provided little relief and I was soaked.

Well, here am I, talking with some manager, and I have that peculiar feeling. I turn over and I see a gaggle of young women, all wearing the official company pink blouse, gathered in a compact crowd and staring at me. When they see I have noticed them, they scatter giggling. For some of them it is the first time they have seen a foreigner.

Now I’m inspecting the production lines, checking every detail, and the workers don’t dare to look up. I feel a gentle tug on my shirt and I turn round. A sweet little thing is handing me a brown plastic cup. I’m expecting some refreshment, so what a surprise when my fingers are nearly burnt as I’m taking the cup. It is containing only hot water. Is it some kind joke?

No, it is just hospitality and compassion, and local custom. Welcome to China!


Is red wine an alternative to beer?

I won’t sing the French wines’ praises to you as the ones that can be found outside of France barely compare with New World wines. Each time I’m in Hong Kong or Thailand, I don’t miss an occasion to taste theses wines and I never came across one that tasted bad. But that was in restaurants and I would make strong reservations about wines that are sold in shops as there they don’t have the appropriate method of storage, wines deteriorating easily and quickly with sun exposure or heat shocks.

When I go to the bar, I more and more often drink red wine. Contrary to beer that are served chilled, you can take your time as most red wines are served at room temperature. Furthermore, drinking wine is more about sipping than chugging down. I have remarked too that when you are drinking wine you are not pestered by the waitress for a new glass if the current one is not finished, which is not the case with beer. Or course not being able to see the level of beer remaining in your bottle comes as an easy excuse.

Red wine heats the body. I would even say it makes the drinker horny, of course if consumed in moderate quantity, and it is not rare to see a woman unfasten the higher buttons of her blouse down to reveal her cleavage as her face is getting hot and as she is getting a blush similar to the one she would get in the pinnacle of passion. With some practice you can even control her consumption so that she stays in that state without going to the next one where her eyelids start to be heavy to the point where she can’t keep her eyes fully open and when her mouth lets out an irrepressible yawn.

The downside is that it is difficult to find a non-French female drinking companion that at least enjoys drinking wine, finding one that can talk about wine being an unreasonable expectation outside France. As it is also a part of the pleasure of drinking wine, discussing not only the effects it has on your mouth but also about the color, the smell, etc… It is not a cliché or hype, but it is indeed a pleasure similar to discussing the pros and cons of a girl with your mates, it can range from rambling to poetry. While talking with that woman about the effects wine has on her body, you will already be building up an intimacy with her.

Another downside is that wine can be difficult to digest, because of the sulfites that have been added as preservatives. I would say that over one bottle you can expect some gastro-intestinal discomfort the next day, which is not the case with beer.

Stickman's thoughts:

A delightful series this and oh so original!

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