The perils of Thailand's prostitution industry have taken over the well meant intentions of Lord Morpheus' dream world, tossing and turning, clammy sheets that feel wed to the touch though in my hazy presence of this regularly returing limbo, it only adds to what is top of the pops in the order of uncomfortablity...
Ring, ring does my house phone but in my dream like state of existence it only sounds like these feminine knuckles raping the outside of my New Star guest house door, down and trodden, out on booze and Ya Ba, flat broke ladies of the nightlife, maybe looking for a couple of hours of sleep at my side before returning to the boulevard, maybe one or two red ones helping a starving Hot Momma's belly in the dreaded morning after...
Ring, ring it goes again but this time it is my cell lying comfortably close at the side of my bed, bringing me back to my Farang Land life, back to my bed and my house here in Amsterdam West, the crappy old and dusty house I occupy when I am not on the road in some far-away garbage belt dictator ruled state in Farawayistan...
A sweet female voice asking me if I was asleep, a voice full with promise and true Amazonian feminine sexuality, Antonia from Aruba, one of my Aldults-Only-Game partners, asking me if I am in the mood for some carnal games of pleasure and fun....
Three o'clock in the morning, more dead then alive, on my bike down to her house, the feeling that I am driven by a post mortem libido urge uppermost in my wine destroyed mind but trodding on with determination...
1 comment:
Bitter sweet.
Je verhalen in boekvorm lijkt me prachtig!
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