Readers' Submissions

The Under Secretary




There may well be twelve vestal virgins waiting for me when I reach heaven but the one perched on my lap tending, plying me with cocktails from a never-ending supply of long stemmed glasses is everything a man could ever wish. I’ve been on cloud nine from the moment she accepted my invitation to spend the night. A Miss Thailand if ever there was. Beautiful, stunning, almost too good to be true!

Her hair; slinky black, as long as I’ve ever seen on a lass and groomed straight, there’s not a strand out of place. Make up, applied to accentuate, but not over the top; nails, manicured and polished; and she sports legs that are simply . . . I suggest to die for. I like to be a few paces behind when she walks. Those curves, they’re perfectly proportioned and in all the right places and in motion become fluid to her rhythm, wow!

When our eyes first met she was clad in her next to nothings—a scanty bikini. I was not alone in being drawn to her, all sat at the bar were drawling, gawping in wonderment at the little vision as she went about her work. Then, wearing a short skirt, high heels and a flimsy top, an outfit which she slipped into faster than it took the two thousand baht bar fine I’d forked out to reach the cashier, more gazes had fallen her way. And on my arm, as we headed out and into the night, such were the feel-good vibes I picked up from her being at my side, I floated along the footpath. I felt the entire world watching. And this little goddess, a gem of a find, is mine until six this evening when, unless I hand over another two thousand then she should return to work in the Get Lucky Bar in North Pattaya.

Last night we spent a pleasurable evening, for the most part in my hotel but no, I didn’t get lucky. Least not that lucky. That, I have to say was partly my fault. But then I am a little . . . let’s say new to this kind of affair. She didn’t seem to mind. To be fair she kept her dignity at all times. A tad shy and clearly was not about to bare all before me but then I found that rather appealing and let her keep the towel wrap around her for the night. It sort of added to the allure and female charm.

Anyway, I’m sure next time we’re between the sheets inhibitions from a first night will have been vanquished and things will really hot up. I imagine, once she gets going it will become rather spicy. Even without the sex she’s good fun to have around and I’m having a great time with her on the beach: swimming, playing on the sand, and boy does she know how to give a good massage. She has hands sized for the job, knows all the right spots and how to trigger them. I’m stressed from work, my boss, my job, so her fingers over my torso plunging into the folds of my skin were a real relief.

I smile.

‘What?’

‘Nothing, just enjoying the moment,’ I reply.

She reaches for the glass and raises it to my lips. Umm, this lass is a keeper. I’ll buy her out for the duration of my stay.

‘My darling,—’

She takes the glass and sets it on the table and then looks into my eyes with long soulful look. ‘My, teelac, you velly good man, I like you to—o much. You pay bar me tonight, ple—ase.’

A mind reader it appears. I told her, “of course” at which she produces this beaming smile and then plants me with a wet soppy kiss square on the lips. At that she proceeds to deep throat me; tongue foraging, probing; wandering hands reach down, explore. Much to my dismay I feel a rise developing, embarrassment consumes me. I curse but barely has my tirade of words commenced when my telephone comes on song. From the ring tone pre assigned to this number I know it’s the Under Secretary calling from Abu Dhabi. ‘F—, I don’t believe it!’ I push Miss Thailand off my lap.

Caught in the moment; with no clue how best to handle the situation such is the shock of the predicament. How on earth have I ended up in this position? Please, this cannot be happening to me. If I’d have stayed in Bangkok, as I was supposed, and focused on my mission I would not be having something this hard with which to deal. The mission, ugh! Mission impossible! Lift guys . . .

The Under Secretary will expect me to pick-up. The ringing won’t stop until I answer. Should I grab it, cut him off? Least that might lend a moment to think about what I might say or do whilst he redials. No, he will be very angry.

He was very angry! My briefing on mission status failed to meet his expectations but then truly my mind was elsewhere. His stern uncompromising words of warning on the implications of failing my mission went in one ear and out the other as I mulled over my predicament.

What a prick I am! Of all the bars in Pattaya and all the girls in the bars I pluck the chick with a dick. A gender-bender, a ladyboy. She looks the part, well she fooled me but clearly, as I discovered, this one is not a full blown katoey. A real katoey would have undergone a snip and tuck with no chance of rising to the occasion.

My only solace, she was the most beautiful one in the bar and until that moment of truth, if I’m honest, I was having a wail of a time.

Now the under secretary is not the only one who’s very angry.



Stickman's thoughts:

Plenty have been fooled before you, and many will be after you.