Hong Kong Pt 1
When I heard I was going to Hong Kong to party, it was marked on my calendar with a big YES. I was after all, going to the best clubs on VIP access and drinking on an open tab and there was really only two ways to engage this; a nice Paul Smith shirt and a box of locally bought condoms.
Hong Kong was one that had escaped my path of hedonistic partying and intemperance for debauchery. I was here 5 years ago, but I came with a chastity belt because that is one of the many drawbacks of being in a relationship.
5 years on, a lot less matured, a lot more of a tease and a blind desire to party without a conscience – because I believe I will eventually be 4 hours away for consequence to catch up to me -, I made my celebrated return, amidst the daily typhoon.
The night started at Dragon I, a club famed for celebrities and models, who litter the place for crazy champagne dosing or a mild martini nightcap. The great thing was that I was partying with players in the industry who knew enough people for me to be randomly shaking hands with women who towered over me.
That lasted over an hour and we eventually raised our protest and campaigned for a venture to a another club, which served up more of a local flavour. The thing is, it looks great to be partying with celebrities or top models, but the chance of you actually hooking up with any of them is so marginally slim, it’s like trying to make a porn flick with a conservative rights activist.
When we finally got to New Beijing, I knew I had found my sanctuary. The place was like some of the other clubs In Taiwan, spacious and a myriad of Chinese women dancing to horrible RnB music. We finally got to our table and eventually groups of women came by to join us and I immediately concocted a malleable blueprint of engagement in my head.
There was only one utopia and that was my explicit right for a bedroom companion.
I cannot write this entirely chronologically because vodka does impede my mental regurgitation of events I cannot really remember who’s tongue I tasted first. And neither do I remember names.
The Berkeley Girls
I got introduced to four girls and I proceeded to introduce myself and offered to pour them a drink.
Anna: “We already had two jagerbombs.”
Me: “When you come here, it all starts from zero. Or you can sit at the kids table over there and order an orange juice. Now, I’m bad at counting, so tell me when to stop [pouring the vodka].”
I turned to the other girl,
Me: “Yours is up next.”
Fany: “But I just had two jagerbombs.”
Me: “Your past is of no concern to me. You can have some illegitimate sons in Jamaica for all I care. Today, the mission is to go seven glasses.”
Fany: “You’re funny.”
The great thing was that these two girls were from the States, so they were much better equipped to take my jokes and there were almost zero communication barriers – except that none of them had cleavages I could talk too.
I knew Fany was into me, because she kept asking me to take pictures and she constantly told me how cute I was. Anna on the other hand, who was a blonde American, started out by pimping Fany to me but somewhere along the line decided to keep me because I was pretty much the most entertaining bona fide English speaking person in the club.
Anna: “You know, you are really a great tease. No one teases me like you do.”
Me: “Yea, but I’m sure that guy over there has a bigger dick.”
Anna: “I love your personality and you are so cute!”
Me: “Seriously, is that pants off or pants on?”
Anna eventually told me that Fany had quite a thing for me and since I largely preferred Asians, I went over to re-introduce myself with a tongue. This was all until I realized they were actually flying back to the States in 6 hours.
This posed a serious miscalculation to my equation for utopia. For one, having to fly off meant that the chance of hitting the sack despite their interest, was like trying to catch a 3 hour movie in an hour; it might work, but it’s pointless.
Mickey and Friends
At some point of time, I got introduced to Micky. She was tall, slim, worked as a part time model and she had hot friends. I told them I was French and I kiss cheeks for introduction. They obliged. I then said,
“As Singaporean-French, I actually do two cheeks and the lips.”
And two of them actually believed me, or perhaps they already had the intention to kiss me. Either way, I am a horrible person.
One of the girls, Elle, was already slightly inebriated when she came. She was pleasantly pretty and quite a tease. She would whisper in my ears, hold my hand even if she was stretching for the drinks and always sit between me and any other girl.
Then we had a group photo shot with the others and she stood in front of me. Next thing I know, I felt her hands rubbing against my crotch. I was ecstatic. She had finally stepped up her game and I wondered if this photo taking was my last itinerary for the club that night. I was excited and ran a gamut of sex positions through my head.
Then I looked down and saw that she was actually just scratching her ass and her knuckles were just accidentally brushing on me.
Like what the fuck! This was the double erection killer. Not only was she not seducing me, but she was scratching her ass. I swear, God must think this is really amusing.
I went off to find the other guys and when I got back, everyone had left the table except for Mickey who was close to the bar, so I took her back for more drinks, and the flirting just blew through the roof. She told me to take a guess on her age, and I of course already knew she was 19 because her friend told me, but I told her that if I got it wrong, she would get a prize.
Naturally like all con artist, I intentionally got it wrong on the first go just to lure them in.
Mickey: “So what’s my pr..”
I interrupted her mid-sentence with a kiss.
Mickey: “Wow, I like the prize.”
Mickey was cool to begin with, but the conversation slowly moved to when I was going to be back in Hong Kong and if I had a girlfriend, and I stupidly said that if she came back with me, that I would seriously date her. Of which, she immediately stood up, pointed her finger at me and yelled.
“You promise?! Give me your address!!”
I was so shocked, I nearly peed my pants because I thought she was going to whip out the marriage papers, circumcise me and use my foreskin as an engagement gift.
Her friend Nina, another fellow model timely interrupted our conversation. She was drunk, heard Mickey recount the proposal to her and immediately turned to me. She said something to me which I of course couldn't hear through the thumbing base because I was seated and she was standing a distance from me.
I reached out my hand to pull her closer to me. She reached out, bowed down to my ear level and before she could even say anything, lost balance and fell face first onto our table and toppled all the glasses onto the floor.
It didn't matter that she took out an entire table of drinks, broke 3 glasses or bruised her arm slightly. It was hilarious because she got up and acted as if nothing ever happened.
Me: “Wow, now that’s embarrassing.”
Some other group of girls dropped by randomly between the start and that whole debacle and while they were just averagely pleasant looking, I did remember one of them, Jane, because she had those Gigi Lai dimples and was pretty cute when she smiled.
Jane not only had a great smile, but she also had a great ass and she was proficient enough in English to understand what I was saying, but not enough to proxy caustic remarks, so I refrained largely from using wit to charm her and relied largely on dancing.
The great thing about Hong Kong is that people can’t really dance. They can sway, tap their feet and follow the beat pretty aptly, but they aren’t as impressive as the people are in Taiwan, who look like they all graduated from dance school. So when someone moves differently from everyone else – read as shuffle- , they get a lot of attention.
She was in a black body hugging dress that screamed availability but had on some cotton granny panty that pronounced conservatism. And on a couple of occasions, she would have her tongue in my orifice and then play coy about the whole matter and I was wondering if my hotel had a nun’s outfit for rent, just so that I can escalate this contradiction.
And I was spoilt for choice, but I made one..