The Phuket Escape - Pt 3

Day 4

“Not coming back today.”

Four words that lit my eyes instantaneously from a groggy wake that still had my vision lined with tears from yawning. This was the grace of fate, the second wind and I was Jordan back in the game again.

Huixx’s SMS was singularly more inspiring than watching Terry Fox limp to stardom. I had a shot at redemption and to throttle towards my goal which till now, had looked like it had been dealt a blow of complexity, was finally possible.

I immediately lined myself up with a date with Jeang and in the process, blow off Pai who had called to ask me if I could shop with her. I sat through a brief evaluation by LB on what was to be the best plan.

LB: “You should go meet Pai, shop, then take her back to the room. I’ll go to the beach and we can meet later for dinner.”

Had I heard this while my attention was rooted to a single entity, this would have be perfectly ideal. Yet, bukaked with stupidity and an addiction for tattooed dancers, I instead opted to meet Jeang for a body massage.

The Massage Story

I started the date in the best way I could, by walking past her.

It’s like how you take a girl back from the club and she’s the hottest thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. You have great sex under dim light and the morning after when the foundation has thinned, the mascara smudged and the eye-liner no longer accentuates, you find yourself pinned by an arm of a total stranger.

Exact same story.

Jeang was a complete stranger. No more dolled eyes or endless lashes but in place was the once porcelain face now slightly weathered with age. I immediately glanced to the boobs. Yes, the unmistakable peaks, which would sustain my attention till we passed the next traffic light.

The date was only starting to exacerbate into regret and a huge joke at my expense. Pai was teasingly becoming my education on regret. But oh wait, fate would never let me off the hook this generously..

The massage was going to be the spear of destiny.

To begin with, I’m never much of a Thai massage advocate. As if being inflexible isn’t enough, I have a disdain for deep pressure massages. I’m a pussy and I need my muscles to be coaxed, not battered.

My masseuse might have secretly been the protégé of Ric Flair. She had quite an array of grapples that would have passed of as submission moves had we both been in tights. Half the time she had my calves and thighs stretched or my back arched uncompromisingly, and I was biting the pillow to stop me from yelling.

Then it went from sheer pain to immortalized embarrassment…

Just as she locked me in what I believed to be the Sharpshooter ( legs folded behind and pulled towards the back), the pain immediately triggered a reflex action I’d never have imagined.

Farting.

It’s one thing if it was a silent whistle, but this was a thunderous clap. I almost had to tap my ass to check if any accompanying shit nuggets flew out from the jukebox. So, it all went downhill, accompanied with a wave of giggles and only half an hour ago, they were commenting on how pretty I was, but for now, I was going to be remembered in the annals as, ‘Thunder Ass’.

Embarrassed, I spent the next 5 mins or so trying to devise a way to emulate the ‘thunder fart’ by fractioning myself against the mattress and other futile devises. The immediate cure for my blushing was an injection of flushness; the groin press, which caught me at mid breath and sat me partially up from the pain.

Me: “FUUUUU……CC…KK!!!!”

Then she released and I instantly felt the warm blood rush like ants running through the veins again.

Jeang: “Are you ok?”

Me: “Yea, I do this all the time.”

3 seconds later, I was back to grunting in pain.


By the time night came, LB and I had been well satiated with pizza and we got back to chasing skirts, or in Thailand we frame it as giving girls a chance to hit on us. I realized that the one huge advantage I had was my ability to infer half-fucked English sentences and communicate in abecedarian Thai.

The addition to our otherwise now routine itinerary of Erotica and alley bars, was Banana. Two words to surmise the place. FUCKING.AWESOME.

From the moment we stepped in, we got hit by a barrage of smiles and pleasant introduction from the local girls. And I’m talking about girls who are actually hot and not the run of the mill village monkey out in the club cos she lost her bus fare home to the padi fields.

LB and I make a quick scan and after agreeing that one particular girl was pretty, I proceeded to an exchange of glances and waved for her to come over. LB left and I headed up with my new catch to top bar.

Things that happen when you shuffle.

1. You become a side-show.

For the tune of Tiesto, I unwittingly became the object of observation for at least 15 Caucasians.

2. Get Picked Up

I got flanked by a group of gays who were cheering me on like I was running for Presidency. All was cool until they shouted, "Go Baby!"

3. You are by default, from Melbourne.

Some Aussie came up to me,

Aussie: “HEY!! YOU’RE FROM MELBOURNE!! YEAAA!!!!”
Me: “Nope.. YouTube.”

Even with one girl who was periodically staking her claim and holding me, I still allowed myself to get hit on by a couple others at the dance floor. It was the fountain of ego. Never have we spent so little effort to get hit on by such a gamut of girls.

Once the party ended and the suggestion from the girls to continue to another club came, I remembered agreeing to meet Pai at 2.30am. This was going to be another dreaded decision of leaving one for the other.

I weighed my options.

1. Meet Pai and I’d end my last night finally utilizing my Travel Mate.
2. Meet Jeang, probable pussy but highly desirable.
3. Stick with B, very pretty but a chance that I might not seal the deal.

Hands up if you picked option 3, cos you are no longer on complimentary wave lengths with me. I go for options 1 & 3.

The execution was simple but it lacked one important element; Foresight. I had left B and her friend at Tiger Disco while I sneaked out on pretext that I needed to find LB. Once out, I ran back to Erotica to meet up with Pai, who in the worst clubbing suggestion EVER, wanted to head to Tiger Disco as well.

Me: “Fucking shit.. this is great…”
LB: “Relax la.. just go back and pretend you don’t know B.”

By then, Pai was occasionally screaming at me on something about her friend spotting me at Banana. I’d have corrected her on the details, but I don’t need to explain myself for being an asshole.

Two girls at the same club. This was going to blow up in my face. Yet still, I took the plunge…