Keeping Score

A truck rattling with water bottles trundled past making me have to lean closer to Frank to hear him speak. “How many women have you slept with… Seriously… How many? Don’t give me the usual crap. And don’t pretend you have no idea. Every man has some kind of idea about the numbers; even cunts like yourself who pretend to be all modest about it.”

The sun was blazing down around us but we were sitting under a parasol that stuck inelegantly out of the hole in the middle of our table. It was still hot but at least the sun wasn’t hitting us; just all the poor sods walking through the streets holding newspapers over their faces to prevent premature ageing and dark skin.

“There’s no modesty involved Frank. I’ve been living in Bangkok for fifteen – sorry – sixteen years. Most of the women I’ve slept with in that time have been prostitutes of one kind or another. It’s hardly a score.”

“Come on Turk. It’s always a score. But I understand. You want to be coy that’s fine…” He smiled an annoying kind of a smile and I really just wanted to get away from the subject. “But it must be around five, six, seven hundred right?”

I laughed. “No… Nowhere near. I have a very low sex drive. I only sleep with women I love.”

“Sorry mate. For a moment back there I thought you were going to bullshit me.”

“It’s true; more or less. Going to some bar and paying a woman to leave with you can get… old. You lie there going through the motions somehow imagining that this woman could be something special while knowing full well she’s interchangeable with the last dozen women you went to a hotel with and you can lose the will to live. I’m not a shining example of the romantic ideal or anything but, after a while, there’s got to be a bit more to it than that…”

Frank nodded his head giving me an ironic look with eyebrows raised and jaw jutting slightly forward…

“Okay… I’ll tell you something… Remember that guy Sam who was here for a few weeks. Nice guy… American. Sandy hair. Looked like Robert Redford in All the Presidents Men… Well… I invited him out here because his marriage broke up. His wife ran off with a truck driver. The poor sonovabitch lost everything. I took him out with Bob and Swedish Vic. We hit every bar where they know me.”

“Why wasn’t I invited?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I figured you’d ask him how many women he slept with because the amount of women he slept with in his entire life was one. Just one. His wife. The one who ran off with the truck driver. He met her in college. Hadn’t had any girlfriends before. They fell in love and did everything together. And, you know how I hate couples? Someone gets a permanent girlfriend and it’s a fucking drag but with Sam and Vikki I could go and stay at their place whenever I went to the city and it never got on my tits. I felt completely at home with them. I almost felt like a regular person. I tell you something… I was always envious of that. I could never have what he had. Never met a woman like that and the women I met who came anywhere close to that I always failed to get anywhere near with or they turned out to be horrible… But Sam… He had it made… Thing is when it fell apart for him it killed him. Really crushed him. I thought if he came out here he’d meet some whores and forget all about her because what the fuck do I know about marriage right? Now… Sam… He’s a good looking guy. He had women all over him. He could have got freebies. But I could tell he wasn’t into anyone he saw. They were all just cheap hookers to him. In the end he was talking to Vic and ended up asking Vic exactly what you just asked me. Vic told him some huge number and Sam’s eyes just glazed over. You know what he said?”

“No Turk… What did he say?”

“Sam just looked him in the eye and said ‘Don’t you get tired of it?’”

A cloud passed in front of the sun and Frank smiled. “What did Vic say?”

“Nothing… It was a weird moment. You know Vic. I mean he sees himself as an explorer in the arena of human perversity but that little question just floored him. I should say Sam was really pissed. I mean he’d been knocking back a beer or two in every bar. He’s not the judgemental type… But he was right in a way. All that fucking around… With a lot of guys here it’s just boredom. They’ve been chasing tail since they were twelve and here they can get all they want. It’s like kids at Christmas who realise all that shit they’ve been getting excited about for the last three or four months is just a bunch of stuff. I don’t know… Sam will never get over Vikki. I know he won’t. He went back home and I don’t think he slept with a single woman here. Just wasn’t that interested.”

Frank smiled… “Because he got friendship and sex all messed up in his head. You don’t need to be with a woman who understands you. All you need is a woman who knows the difference between a blow job and putting your dick in her mouth. I’ve slept with seven hundred and forty six women. I don’t remember their names or even what they look like. Some were rubbish. Some were fantastic. But I got to experience them all. I pounded all those pussies and I’ll go to my death with all that fucking behind me and feel sweet about every single one. When you get tired of fucking around that’s death man. That’s fucking death. Life may not be a picnic but as long as there’s fresh pussy, cold beer and a warm place to shit…”

“Yeah… I know. I’m a moany old cunt at this time of year.”

“So how many women have you slept with Turk?”

“About a hundred and thirty.”

“Fuck off.”

“Depends what counts as sex. I mean you can’t count the real short times or the MP sessions or the ones who give you a quick one in a BJ bar.”

“Course you can.”

“That’s not sex. That’s just diddling around.”

“Don’t say that. You’re fucking with my numbers. Besides. If you come and there’s a woman in the room I think you gotta say that counts.”

“What if she comes and you’re in the room but you don’t come?”

“That counts too.”

“What if you’re in a room and there’s a woman there and you both come but you didn’t know there was someone else in the room.”

“No…”

“Why not?”

“To have sex the woman has to know you’re having sex.”

“What if you have sex with a woman but you get interrupted and neither of you come…”

“All right… I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“And what if the woman has sex with you but you don’t know about it. You know… Like if you’re unconscious and she takes advantage of your horny dreams.”

“Why would you be sleeping with her?”

“I don’t know… Maybe she’s your sister… Or a nurse. You’re in a hospital under general anaesthetic and some nurse sexually abuses you while you’re out of it. Would that count?”

“Has that happened to you Turk?”

“Well I wouldn’t know would I? Who knows what might happen when you’re unconscious. My friend George reckons he got abducted by aliens who used his sperm to repopulate a minor planet in the Andromeda Nebula. If he’s right he must have the biggest score of anyone I know.”

“You want another beer?”

“Cheers mate.”

“Happy New Year!”

© Turk Fist. All rights reserved by the author.

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