One Night in Foodland

It was late. The kind of late teetering on the brink of early. Everything was closed down. The bars had been put to sleep hours ago. Sukhumvit Road may have been lined with a few katoey but even those looked ready to pack up and go home. The whole town was close to shutdown.

But Foodland was open.

It's hard for me to imagine living in Bangkok without Foodland. Robinson's closes much too early. Villa never seems to have the thing that you went in for. And as for 7/11... Unless you're a big fan of Mr Squishy or Mr Slurpy with a side helping of corn dogs 7/11 is the last resort of last resorts. But Foodland... Foodland is a palace.

Saunter in at any time in the dead of night and there's a party in mid flow at the breakfast bar with eggs frying and coffee brewing. Turn the other way and there's even a chemist to get that hangover cure in advance of the actual hangover settling in.

I wandered in with half a mind about what I wanted. I remembered that I was running low on soap. Apart from that I was just drifting. Any night where I end up alone is usually rounded off with a shopping trip to Foodland. Even if you know you're returning to an empty apartment there's always some consolation in Australian wine and freshly baked bread. And, of course, I wouldn't be mentioning Foodland here if it wasn't for the fact that at four or five in the morning there's a good chance of meeting someone who can shake your world up a little.

When I saw the whore I knew I knew her. I didn't know why I knew I knew her. I didn't know where I knew her from. But then again it didn't matter. I was settling on a defeated evening and there she was. Her sweet small body packed tightly into a pair of sky blue jeans with a loose striped man's shirt delicately outlining her cleavage as she stretched out to pick up a tin of something.

She read the tin like it was poetry. She knew she was being watched and she enjoyed taking everything just that little bit slow. Her lips shimmered the same reddish black colour of the Bangkok sky. She wasn't young. Somewhere between thirty five and forty five but her face had the kind of sweet and sensuous character that ages well. She had the kind of inner smile that, back home in the UK, we call filthy.

She turned a corner and a jar of pickles that, moments earlier, had seemed the most exciting thing in my life, lost all meaning to me.

I saw her in the soap and shampoo aisle examining soap and shampoos. She turned, caught my eye and smiled. Her eyes were black as tar and her hair hung in black curls around her face. For a moment I wondered if I knew her at all but there was a familiarity in her smile. She took a bottle of Pantene ProV and carried on with her shopping.

I decided to clear my head and drop it. I grabbed a bottle of wine and headed to the bread.

She was there already holding a baguette. She smiled broadly and said "You follow me."

I laughed.

"I think you forget me when you don't speak before."

"You look different."

"I change my hair."

"That's it."

She put the baguette in her basket. "I think maybe you shy. You don't want talk to me."

"Why would I be shy ?"

She smiled that deep rich dirty smile. "Where you go now ?"

"Just shopping..."

"You have lady wait you ?"

"No. No... Not any more."

"Is no good. You should have some lady wait you."

"And you ?"

"Yes. I have lady wait for me. My sister." She laughed.

"Well. It's good to see you."

"You want see my house ?"

Kind of took my breath away. I just stood there feeling a definite stirring of the loins.

"If you want I take you look. Can look my room. I make you breakfast. If you no have some lady wait for you you not eat so good."

"Okay. You talked me into it."

The night air was as thick and warm as the blood of a chain smoking opium addict. I watched her grab a taxi meter and, once we got in, it zipped easily through the early morning streets. She didn't speak much on the journey but at one point she leaned her head into my shoulder and held on to my arm as if I was someone dear to her.

The journey was took us over through Banglamphu and across the river. The day was just coming to life with a reddish glow as we came to the place she lived. Market stalls were being set up in the street and a smell of fresh durian settled over the neighbourhood.

We had to walk over some gangplanks between two other houses to get to her place. It wasn't the most beautiful house in the world. It was a breeze block affair with an ornate looking hardwood door that hung at an ever so slightly wrong angle to the frame.

Inside it was gloomy. I guessed the sister was asleep but on entering she kicked off her shoes one at a time with such force that they clattered loudly and bounced off the wall. "I show you my room." She said. I took a bit more time with my shoes. They had laces. Damn those laces. After all these years in Thailand you'd think I'd have the brains to start wearing slip ons.

Her room was, well I'm not quite sure how to describe it. It was a tip is what it was. It looked as though she'd just got back from a long holiday and had tipped the contents of five large suitcases out without the slightest thought. Somewhere in there was a fan, a TV and, bizarrely, a working lava lamp. On the walls were posters of horror films which, I admit, made me almost forgive the mess.

"Sit." She said indicating a spot on her bed with slightly fewer clothes strewn about.

I sat and smiled an idiot smile.

"This my room. I like my room. I like something have personality."

"Yes. Well. This is a room with a lot of personality."

She beamed at me and bit her lower lip before lurching against me and kissing me hard on the lips. In a second her tongue was inside my mouth as if on an expedition for lost dental gold. Then she pulled back and smiled naughtily as if she'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "My sister sleeping now. She working very hard. In the hospital she same uhh..."

"Nurse... Doctor... Surgeon... Receptionist..."

"No... Uhh... lehkahnookaan."

"Secretary".

"Yes."

Then, without warning she kissed me again, this time running her fingertips down my back and pulling my shirt up as if to pull it off over my head. It was far too awkward to work so I pushed her away and took it off by myself.

Her breathing became quick as if she'd been snorting amphetamines and she looked at my chest as if she was a guy looking at big tits. It was almost alarming. Then she ploughed into me kissing and licking my chest and torso tearing at the buttons to my fly with the awkwardness of a teenager. It had got to me too because my dick popped out of my trousers pretty at two or three times its normal size.

"Hmmmm" She said grabbing it in her small hand. "For me ?"

"You're welcome to borrow it."

She raised her eyebrows and said "I think I keep. This one perfect size for me. Not too big for my little pussy." Yeah... We've heard this one a million times (or those of us with ordinary or smaller dicks have) but, strangely, it never gets old. "I want to kiss him. I can kiss him."

My heart was beating pretty strong now and all the blood was pumping downwards so the best I could manage was a nod.

Her lips touched the tip of my penis kissing a butterfly kiss. Then she opened her mouth and her tongue traced the opening and down to the edge of the ridge tickling it with tiny flicks before tracing down the seam towards my balls and back up again. She smiled and looked into my eyes as she opened her mouth slightly enough to let the glans pierce her lips. Then she slowly moved her soft hot mouth over my dick until it was all inside her. I could feel her tongue wrapping itself around it and a felt her sucking ever so slightly so her mouth became a vacuum.

Waves of pleasure flowed up through my head so powerfully that I had the sensations of pins and needles behind my eye sockets. She seemed to want to hold it there like this for ages. I touched her black locks and touched the back of her neck.

She pulled back almost as I was ready to explode inside her and she smiled. "You like."

I nodded again feeling like a jerk.

She unbuttoned and took off her shirt so that she was naked from the waist up but for her black bra. The she stood up and took off her jeans which she kicked away from her ankles as unceremoniously as she had her shoes. She wore no pants.

Maybe it because I was lightheaded from the fellatio but her cunt suddenly seemed like the holy grail. This was the only cunt in the world. I wanted to taste it and drink from it. I wanted to do for her what she'd done for me but I wasn't quick enough. I was lying there passively and she lowered it on to me. It was already damp but it was tight and felt almost as sensually alert as her mouth as I watched my dick disappear within her.

Instantaneously she seemed seized with a kind of incredibly ecstasy. She had that look you see on the face of electrode fitted schizophrenics having a religious experience. Her breathing became shallower and quicker. Her hips moved forward ever so slightly as if riding a slowly trotting pony. My dick seemed to feel harder and harder inside her and liquid flowed from her on to me, seeping between my legs and on to the clothes beneath.

"Oooh... Yes... Yes... Yes..." And then she froze, for a moment, her arms and body shaking a little before she fell on top of me and gasped for breath.

She seemed spent but my dick was aching for more. I held on to her ass and pounded into her from beneath feeling her tightness around me until...

HALLELLULLAH !

True to her word she cooked me breakfast. As the eggs were deep frying in a wok sending oil squitting off in all directions she handed me a sparkling blue photo album. Inside there were pictures of woman dancing in bars. Women in bikinis. Women naked. I recognised a few of them.

She served me up two eggs over white rice. Steam was rising and the smell alone made my stomach rumble.

I turned the pages half expecting to see her in it. Otherwise why would she be there. The bar shots were replaced by drunken apartment party shots. Girls in more clothes looking plainer. She didn't seem to be in these pictures either.

Coffee brewed up. Good coffee too. She put the cup next to the food and she must have seen the quizzical look on my face so she pointed out one of the girls in one of the pictures. It looked a little like her round the eyes but it wasn't her. It was, however, a girl I had gone out with for a few weeks some years earlier. While we'd been together she'd taken me home one day to meet her mother. And, of course, it was her mother that I'd just fucked.

She smiled warmly at me from across the table. "You want some ketchup ?"

© Turk Fist. All rights reserved by the author.

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