Oil

 

My 5:30 a.m. alarm for work on Friday morning came waaaay too early.

I had a couple of invitations to go out on Thursday night; the one that seemed most likely to come to fruition was with Jason — a farang from out of town who was here just a few weeks ago.  He wanted to get together, but he had a date for the movies.

I sent him a message that said that I had to work early Friday morning, so my plan for Thursday night was simple — I was gonna go to the bar early and barfine quickly.  It was unlikely I would see him because I was hoping to be at home smashing some poor little Isaan girl before the credits were rolling on the movie 2012.

And I had a very specific plan.

There’s a hostess at Country Road that definitely has my attention, but with the snuggler sleeping in my room for 11 consecutive nights on her holiday from work, I simply haven’t been able to make the love connection.  I popped into Country Road on Wednesday night, bought her a lady drink and told her that I’d be in early on Thursday to barfine her.  She smiled.

So Plan A sounded firm, but I had a backup plan.  When my pal Terry was in town last week I’d gotten a few hours out with him, leaving the snuggler with the air conditioning and the cable TV.  At Shark Bar I’d met a stunning and very nice dancer — tall, graceful and beautiful.  I’d been sensible enough to SMS her number to myself so that I could find her on return visits (#26).  In the unlikely event that anything went wrong with the Country Road girl I would be thrilled to bar fine the Shark Bar stunner instead.

If Plan A and Plan B both fell in a heap for some reason, there was always my cheap & cheerful spinner from Connection Bar who should be an easy snatch early on a Thursday evening.

So, when I finished work around 7:30 Thursday evening I headed straight to Soi Cowboy brimming with confidence and very much looking forward to a first-time experience with one of two lovely girls.

I arrived at Country Road around 8:15 and quite literally bumped into the girl I was looking for as I entered the bar.  So far so good.  Since she was here I ordered  a pitcher of Heineken.  Returning to the table, she came over and started chatting with me.  I wasn’t intending to waste any time, so I reminded her that I’d told her yesterday I would come and bar fine her early.

Here I was, with a full wallet and a hard on, ready to go.

One problem.  She’d already been barfined.

Amazing!  8:15 pm and she was already off the market, but she said that he was a regular of hers who wanted to take her dancing.  I got a look at him.  He was over 40 years old, much fatter than me and I reckon I win the least-ugly contest, so it’s not like she was shunting me off for some young stud-muffin. No sweat — you know the old saying — you never lose the girl, only your place in line.

I was disappointed for a moment until I remembered Plan B — the Shark Bar dancer.

I stayed long enough to finish my pitcher — perhaps 20 minutes — which was long enough to see my girl head out the door with her boyfriend du jour, then I went to Shark.
The bar was packed… it was a little tough even finding a seat.  I scanned the stage and the crowd but couldn’t see my girl.  After ten minutes I checked with the mamasan.

“Numba 26 no come work tonight“

Fuck!

This was bad, but that’s the beauty of having regular girls on standby.  It was only a bit past 9 pm — perfect timing to take the little spinner out of Connection Bar.

I headed over to Soi 22 and into the tiny dark watering hole that is Connection Bar.  There were about 4 customers.  Two of them were talking to each other and didn’t even have girls.  Shit, this looked promising.

Then I realized that of the two girls who were spending time with customers, one of them was my girl.  This was the second time in a row I’d gotten shut out with this girl — last time she’d gotten bar fined and left with the customer.  I wasn’t planning on staying long enough to see that happen tonight.  I’d had my third strike in an hour with Bangkok P4P girls.  This was bad.

I walked out of Connection Bar just 5 minutes after I’d walked in.  I was on the verge of a foul mood.

I was trying to figure out whether to just go home, or to try to look around for another girl — after all, I had to be out of bed before sunrise.  Nine-thirty wasn’t late, but it might take a while to find the right girl after starting the night with such high expectations.

And all at once the answer to my dilemma was standing right in front of me.

One of the most enjoyable and enthusiastic bargirls I know is a short girl with a pretty face and a tattoo on her shoulder that works at Angel Bar, just meters away from Connection Bar.  I bar-fined her two nights in a row earlier this year, just before the snuggler started being a fixture in my room.

I hadn’t been with her since, though I’d tried one night about 6 weeks ago only to be told that she was on her period.

Looked like tonight was her night.  Though she lacks the raw beauty of the Shark Bar dancer or the je ne c’est quoi of the Country Road hostess, she’s cute and a proven commodity in bed.

I sat down to buy a couple of beers — one for her and one for me.

Just then Jason sent a message.  He was out of the movie.  I’d been updating him on my movements all night, so he knew where I’d been and where I was.  He wanted to join me.

Well, I was just about ready to bar fine my girl, but I figured I could wait and have a beer with him.

What I didn’t realize, was that he wasn’t two blocks away and on his way to meet me… he was two blocks away and sitting down to dinner with his date.  It took about 45 minutes of beer and SMS before I understood that waiting for him was turning my night into a late one.

When he finally sent the message saying that dinner was over and he was on the way, I replied with a flippant, “Great, I’m starving, bring food”.

I was joking, but he took me at my word and arrived with a bag of sliced pork and herbs.

This would keep me in the bar for another 25 minutes and two more bottles of beer.  My girl insisted on getting plates and then feeding me like a little kid.  I’d had just enough beer that it seemed charming.

My plan for the night had been to drink no more than a round or two of beer, barfine before 9 pm and be fucked and asleep by midnight.

I finally said a woozy good night to Jason around midnight and headed back to my room with the Connection Bar girl.

We showered together and hit the bed together.  We had a rousing session of sex, then showered again, and I went in for round two.

Around 1:30 a.m. we were going hammer and tongs when things seemed to be getting a little dry, causing some uncomfortable rubbing between her legs.

I reached for my tube of KY lubricant, only to find it empty.  Shit.

I looked around in a panic.  She wasn’t gonna take much more of this, and I was well-short of finished.

I looked at my electric wok.  Sitting next to it was  bottle of cooking oil.

“Don’t move!” I commanded as I left her legs akimbo to grab the cooking oil and slosh some on my hand.

I know that you’re not supposed to use petroleum jelly like Vasalene as a lubricant because they cause condoms to break, but vegetable oil seemed safe — I mean — it’s natural soy oil, right?

Anyway, where many a girl might have objected, this one didn’t.  I slapped some cooking oil on her, jammed myself back inside and spent ten minutes finishing things off.

Whew!

I fell back on the bed exhausted while she fairly well ran to the sh0wer.

After she got dressed I handed her  athousand baht for the short time, and heard the inevitable — “How about taxi money?”

Given the lack of complaint about the cooking oil, I figured she’d earned a little extra.  I know where she lives, so I handed her the 60 baht it would take to get her home.  A quick kiss goodnight and she was on her way.

It was a shade past 2 in the morning.  I had just over three and a half hours to get some sleep and sober up before going to work.

I did sleep, but I have to say, even in the taxi on the way to the office I was feeling the thin blood coursing throgh my veins.  I drank a bottle of mouthwash and popped some sugarless gum in the bathroom before the meeting, but my guess is that I looked a little worse for the wear and tear.

I was only working half a day, and rocked up at home at lunch time.  I looked at my bed.  Oil stains all over the sheets.  This looked bad.

I stripped them down and started doing laundry.  By late afternoon my bed looked respectable again.

Oddly enough, this wasn’t the first time that I’d used cooking oil as a sex aid, though the last time had been about thirty years ago.

When I was a university student I went to a dinner party at a friend’s house.  My girlfriend and I stayed late, and we were invited to sleep over on the fold-out sofa bed in the living room.

During the night we got busy, and when the lubricant wasn’t sufficient I’d gone to the kitchen and returned with the bottle of cooking oil.  We’d fucked like rabbits all night long with the oil.  In the morning the sheets and the matress were fairly well soaked with the stuff.  We rather ashamedly folded up the sofa and put the cushions in place.

When our dinner host emerged from his bedroom late in the morning he looked at us a bit askance, sniffed the air, and in all seriousness asked us, “Have you been frying chicken?”

We cracked up with laughter and had to confess our sin to him.

He moved not long after that, and I helped him load up the truck.  He didn’t even think about keeping the sofa, just tossed it away.

I couldn’t quite look him in the eye as we tossed it into the landfill.