“You’re where? In Bangkok , as in , right now you’re in Bangkok? and you’re dropping by in a few minutes?”
That’s me talking to two of my last remaining single girlfriends on Friday as they dropped the bomb on me that they’re in town and looking to finalize their wedding plans with me, something which I can’t say no to seeing as though I’m both their bridesmaids for their dual March weddings. Perhaps they could sense the trepidation in my voice even though I took a deep breath before continuing on with the conversation.
“Yes, that’s, that’s just fine” I said as I curled up my lip and looked regrettably at the four dildos boiling in the pot on my stove and the other thirty or so femdom items that were lined up to be sterilized subsequently.
“I need a coffee before you come over (and a heart rate monitor for that matter) so see you in 20 minutes ok? 10??? (fuck the heart rate monitor, I need anti-heart attack pills) , ya ok 10, cya”
Just like that, a breakfast of Eggs Benedict with a side order of Cooked Rubber Cock not only got put on immediate hold , but unless I wanted to scar my innocent-as-bambi girlfriends eyes permanently i had 9 1/2 minutes to complete Operation Cover-Up.
Luckily I plan ahead for such things and all the bdsm toys are kept in the second unused bedroom which looks like a shrine to Femdom. Pretty much every inch of shelf or furniture in that room holds some sort of pleasure or restraining device. Some people have lava lamps , I have electrical stimulation rods.
Some have metal art as a talking piece, I have metal urethral tubes as a teasing piece.
Some hang art , I hang restraining devices.
They say every girl has a skeleton in the closet , well I have a Cinderella dress – size 42 , sissy clothes in all men’s sizes , and four … count them … four pvc rubber latex suits that make me look like Cat Woman when I wear them. Hell I even have Cat Woman’s whip. Meow.
So ten minutes later they call me and instead of saying they’re in the lobby like all you guys do the only thing my friend keeps repeating in Thai is “you live here ? You fucking live here? How? This is luxury, how the fuck do you live here?”
Hmm. Compared to sleeping on the floor in a run down dilapidated village home my condo is the equivalent of Buckingham Palace to them, something which totally slipped my mind. I had to put the handcuffs back on the shelf beside the forced mouth opening device ( it’s for guys who think they can opt out at the last second being under my ass at an unfortunate time – no – uh uh) , then I locked the door and hid the key in the bra of one of the dolls hidden in the depths of my bedroom closet.
They were like kids in a candy shop when they rushed into my condo – grabbing, opening, and touching everything they could see.
“English? You read books in English?” the one who’s getting married first said as she ran her fingers along the books on my living room shelf stopping to casually open my dearest one, To Kill A Mockingbird , and then read out the author’s name “Haw paw Lee … he is Chinese?”
“Possibly” I said in English taking the book from her and putting it back up beside The Poems of Wilfred Owen where it belongs. I must have stood a second too long with a mournful look on my face as for whatever reason I decided subconsciously to take that particular moment to pay a moment’s respect to the passing of Harper Lee.
She said ‘arai’ – “what?” in Thai and I shrugged it off as nothing, interrupted suddenly by the screams of the other one as she hopped up and down with my blu-ray player in both her hands like she was holding a baby.
“Do you want to see?” I asked as I shuffled my fingers through my dvd collection settling on Oh Brother Where Art ‘Thou. They both settled in with their feet up on my tan sofa and grabbed a pillow each to hold against their chest as I turned the TV on and played the video. But when I turned around my heart crashed to my toes as my eyes were immediately drawn to Fang – my nail toothed chastity device which was sitting right where I had left it during Thursday nights session, on the sofa – except now that space was being occupied by my two best friends – and Mr.Fang was happily watching the tv come to life right between them. Luckily it was slightly sunken into the space between the sofa’s backrest and the seat cushion so I – like a kid – dashed to the couch and did a ballet leap with a 180 twist and landed between them both pushing Fang deep into the crack with the force of my ass.
This was going to be an interesting three days I thought to myself.
It’s now Monday morning as I write this and I’ve survived the three days. Barely.
It’s been hell, and now I have a clear understanding of what Peter Parker or Clark Kent must have gone through. I’ll take my loner Cat Woman lifestyle over Spider man’s life any day of the week because Peter must be a basket case of shattered nerves trying to burn the candle at both ends like this.
Take Saturday for example, hell on ice. If we go back to Friday night, with everybody in Bangkok who even remotely knows me calling me because they saw my photo in two of this city’s more popular magazines and saying “girl we saw you on Ku-De-Ta’s ad”, my girlfriends wanted to see it for themselves. KuDeTa isn’t a place for me , it’s a very hi-so luxury nightclub where the drinks are 500 baht a pop and you had better be wearing a designer name brand to avoid being peered down at by snobby rich bitch noses. Thing is , if you tallied up the collective IQ of every girl at the place, you’d hardly break 100.
Which makes it all the more pleasing to walk in there with my 800 baht H&M ‘name brand’ dress and purposefully stealing rich acting dudes from wet pussy dripping gold diggers, only to throw them back into the water upon leaving at 5am. It pisses girls off to no end.
Thing is, while my two girlfriends passed out on the couch within moments of getting back to my condo , I had to charge my phone and answer email from my phone while my bedroom was spinning like a top. Somewhere around 10am I got through my emails and I kind of cheated out a quick blog story by using an email I had answered earlier in the week. I pretty much collapsed into my pillow the very moment I posted that story, a few seconds before noon.
“Wake up, wake the fuck up, get up!!!”
They were shaking me seconds after I had closed my eyes. In reality, it was 2 in the afternoon so I had grabbed exactly two hours sleep, the exact same amount I had stolen the night before. We spent the day looking for bridesmaid dresses and by the time we hit the fifth shop I was on my sixth coffee downing them at a rate of about a cup an hour.
Cat Woman takes cat naps, I don’t. At 9pm I had to be at Lebua’s roof top patio bar to enchant one of my favorite slaves. At around 11pm he offered me some poppers to get high. Offering poppers to a girl on her 8th cup of Espresso inside of 7 hours is like offering a Tylenol to cure a headache after being hit by a bus.
My dress might have been a killer, and I may have been drawing a lot of looks, but by the time 11pm drew near I was hearing people talk like Charlie Brown’s teacher , everything sounded like “waa waa waa waa”. I was approaching two full days on three hours sleep and with the caffeine wearing off I felt like a post hemorrhoid surgery hospital patient on her first day of morphine.
There was this one moment when I was slapping his face in public and I could hear the reverberation of the impact echo in my head three times over every time I struck him.
A sane girl would have gone home after that but I guess I’m far from sane. Instead of sensibly going home I went out dancing again with my friends, the 3th consecutive night (yes 3rth) , and once again we got home at 5am.
Dead Cat Walking.
How tired was I? I had one of those dreams that runs like an eight hour movie where I was seducing my mother, was fully aware of how much I wanted to wake up and dream about something else, but couldn’t until I had fondled her in every which way my sub conscious deemed possible.
I don’t party like this very often. I suppose if I’m looking for a silver lining in how intense the past three days has been it’s that in three short weeks they’ll both be married and I’ll officially be the last girl from my home town to remain single and I’ll have nobody to party with again.
That’s fine, I’m CatWoman after all, destined to be a crime fighting, man seducing, loner super hero mistress.
khal xx
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