In my email inbox is a response from David McCain, a newfound friend I met in a chat room. Earlier, I had asked him if he had any unpleasant experiences with pickups in an infamous bar on P. Ramlee Road in Kuala Lumpur. His story goes like this...
Imagine, Kuala Lumpur - the capital of the Malaysia. David, an Australian software engineer, enters a dance club in Bukit Bintang, plonks himself down some distance away from the stage, where a band will be playing later, and orders a Hanky-Panky, a drink containing Italian vermouth and dry gin, and a basket of pretzels. Attired in a sky-blue Oxford button-down shirt and dark pleated pants, he smells of a blend of musk, mandarin, magnolia, peach and sandalwood, having been liberal with his Calvin Klein EDT.
The night before, he had sat near the four-piece band and his heart had thumped along with the vibration of the loud music. Though the music fell harshly on his ears which annoyed him, he was successful in picking up a girl. A twenty-something year old girl – either Vietnamese or a Myanmar national – wearing a short dress in a floral print had sauntered past his table. He smiled at her and wriggled his fingers as a friendly gesture. She came over, sat on his lap, fingered the curls at the back of his head, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. Then she took out a mobile phone from her purse, tapped in RM400 on the screen and showed it to him. Grinning, he took her phone and keyed in RM300. She nodded her head and they left for his hotel room. They did it in various positions. When she left, his loins were still tingling, and after a shower, he slept well.
Tonight, his eyes drift from girl to girl. Compared to the previous night, more hookers are hanging around. A tall lass, garbed in a red top, catches his attention; but her face is longish, which he doesn’t like. Another chick, standing at five-feet-two and with short hair is cute; at an adjacent table sits a fair-skinned girl, possibly Chinese, wearing a skirt so short that her black panties can be seen. Last but not least, a group of four girls are huddled at a corner table, laughing among themselves – they look friendly, and are likely to be accommodating in bed. With so many fishes in the ocean, David is unsure whether he wants to eat bass, perch, wrasse, pomfret or grouper.
‘Hello. You dress well – I like that in a man. I’m Chloe.’ An accented voice drifts to him. A whiff of patchouli and amber enters his nostrils. Glancing over his shoulder, he sets eyes on the owner of the voice – an oval-faced girl with a slender nose and full symmetrical lips. Long, silky hair flows down her bare, cocoa-coloured shoulders, and her deep cleavage churns a whirlpool of desire in him.
He decides she’s the best looking among the lot. ‘I’m David. Please join me.’ He signals the waitress and she orders a drink and Mexican chicken tacos.
‘Let me be your girlfriend for this evening, okay?’ she says, smiling to display front teeth reminiscent of the rodent family.
They chat, dance, drink and eat. An hour passes before he pops the magic question: ‘Want to come to my hotel room?’ After agreeing on a price for an overnight session, they take a fifteen--minute stroll back to his hotel.
Inside the room, she opens the mini refrigerator. ‘What’d you like? Whisky, beer or rum?’
‘Rum.’ He sits on a chair, unties the laces, kicks off his shoes and peels off his socks.
Chloe prepares the drinks and hands one glass to him. Smiling, she toasts, ‘To happiness, to us’ and gulps down a mouthful.
David draws copiously from the glass. ‘Tonight is a night you’ll never forget!’
She puts the glass down, sidles up to him, pulls his belt from its loops and tosses it over her shoulder. She reaches down and pulls open the buttons of his pants. He takes off his shirt. ‘Please shower first,’ she says. In the raw, David enters the bathroom and emerges later to find her sitting on the side of the bed. She hands him his drink and she starts to sip hers, looking at the TV screen.
The National Geographic documentary playing is about a pitcher plant trapping a fly.
David quickly empties his glass and starts to undress her. He takes his time with each button, fingering them a bit, stroking the skin underneath as they released, one by one. He tosses her clothes on the carpet. Clad in undergarments, she presses her lips against his, their mouths opening and melding with a sensual heat. Seconds later, David feels the room spinning around, the dark curly lashes of the girl’s eyes starts to blur.
‘Jeezus Christ! What’s wrong with me? My gawd, I need to lie down.’ He clutches his temples with one hand, flops on the bed and passes out.
The next morning, the phone on the side table rings, making David’s heart double its palpitation. He can feel the pounding blood in his veins behind his eyes, which he opens with great effort. Groggy, he crawls across the bed to pick up the receiver.
‘Aaaayyy, David! You’re late for your appointment!’
‘I’ll call you back.’ He staggers up to his feet and goes through his leather wallet and luggage. All his cash is missing, and he’s too embarrassed to make a police report.
Leo Lee, a computer trader, slides out a four-inch long comb from his back pocket, and combs his Brylcreem-styled hair. He walks straight to the table occupied by a five-foot-six blonde whom he has been observing for two hours. She had been dancing with a beer-bellied white guy who looked twice her age, whom she left with for over an hour, only to return to the club alone. Though she wears no fishnet stockings, boots, or skin-tight clothes, but a blue, three-quarter sleeved, lace top and denim shorts, he senses she’s a vice girl who has just sold a quickie at a nearby motel. In his little black book, kept in the drawer of his writing desk, Leo has been ticking a list of his conquests over the years: Thai, Myanmar, Korean, China doll, Filipina, Indonesian, Vietnamese, Japanese, New Zealander and Mongolian. Tonight, he aims to tick Russian when he reaches home.
‘Hi, where are you from?’ he asks, smiling. Her upturned nose and full red lips spell seduction to him. Her blond hair is swept back to reveal a pair of gold earrings.
‘Kiev, Ukraine.’ Her blue eyes twinkle at him. She leans sideways and pulls a chair away from the table. ‘Have a seat. I’m Iryna.’
Leo is pleased that her English is passable but a small element of apprehension enters his veins as he has read somewhere that Ukraine has the highest HIV/AIDS rate in Europe, with one in five sex workers infected. But what the heck. He decides he will wear two condoms.
David, an Australian software engineer, enters a dance club in Bukit Bintang, plonks himself down some distance away from the stage, where a band will be playing later, and orders a Hanky-Panky, a drink containing Italian vermouth and dry gin, and a basket of pretzels.
SMS only: +60124460864
Address: 51-A, Changkat Road Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia