Erotic Tourism

"She not feel well. Time of month, I think."

"Number 4?"

"She in shower making clean for you before dinner."

"Number 5?"

"She and Number 1 cooking dinner and making hot bread."

"And Number 2?"

"She making shower, too, so be ready as seat girl."

"So, I'm short one?"

"Not short. Here is girl you need. See why I bring niece?"

So, there I was, hoisted on my own petard.

Turbo leaned into the car and said, "You like Mister Walters? Now you see he nice man?"

The girl didn't nod, but then she didn't shake her head, either.

Poor kid. What a fix her uncle had foisted upon her! What could she say? That I was 13 years older than her and she'd prefer a man only a year or two older, perhaps? That she didn't want any man, me or anyone else? That she thought I was ugly and didn't deserve her or any woman? What could she say that wouldn't hurt her uncle's feelings after he'd pumped her up about this Prince Charming he would introduce her to?

Poor kid! I didn't know what to say. Her English was very good? I already knew that. Her hygiene: Looked good. Her dress: Well, not so good, but what did I expect. Her shoes, not much better than her other clothes. What could I say to complement her?

"You get out an walk around for him so he see how nice you look walking," Turbo said.

She climbed out and did just that. Add an evaluation for poise: very good. Yes, she would look good coming to my bed naked in the half dark. In fact, fully naked in full light.

I figured she deserved similar from me. Without saying anything, I leaned back, took several steps back, then strolled around much as she had. When I finished, I smiled. "Hope I look half as good as you do," I said as my attempt at breaking the ice.

With that the Antarctic Ice Cap melted. The smile I got said I deserved from her whatever I might want. She turned to her uncle and said something I couldn't understand. He translated: "She wants you. She think you nicest looking man she ever meet."

She knew damned well what he'd said. Her smile widened and I got a nod, too.

Turbo Taxi opened the door the little bit it had swung shut during this.

I took her hand and followed her into the back seat of his car. When in, she looked up at me and widened her smile. "You teach me? I be best girl Number 6 you ever have. You teach me everything you like? Please?"

I sure planned to, although I hadn't quite figured out yet where I'd put her. We had three king size beds—plus mine. Number 1 and Number 2 now shared one, Number 3 and Number 4 shared the second, and I guessed, Number 5 would share the third with Number 6. Quandary solved, except the dining table.

Number 3 didn't quite preface her remark with dummie, but she could have. "We have six seat at dinner table. You take the special one, there are five others, which leaves the second where you sit. So see? No problem."

No problem at all.

How would Number 6 take to learning how we did things at my place?

She'd learn to cook from Number 1.

She'd learn maid duties from Number 2.

She'd learn the laundry routine from Number 3.

She'd learn pool and greens maintenance from Number 4.

She'd learn the finer points of the first four from Number 5,

and she'd teach all the others anything she knew that they didn't.

At that supper, Number 2 initiated her to my special dining chair. She showed reluctance at first, but as Number 2 demonstrated how much she enjoyed that task, I think by the time supper finished, Number 6 would have spelled Number 2 off—eagerly.

Several demonstrated how thoroughly they enjoyed nursing me. Number 6 gave it a try although she had quite a lot of training to go through to actually produce. She was all smiles when I finally gave up and just sucked her nipples. "God, I love that," she repeated again and again. In my head, so did I.

***

I took a walk around the place after my 'B' girl (Number 5) fell asleep in my room. As I walked past her half empty room's door in the dark, I caught myself up. Were those sniffles of tears I heard? I stopped and listened again. Yes, they were—coming out of the room Number 5 now shared with Number 6. I tapped softly on the door, not knowing what I might be getting into.

I heard footsteps on the soft carpet, then a click as whoever was inside released the latch. It was Number 6.

"What's the matter, six?" I said to the face in the door's margin.

"Nothing. I'm just ..."

"Lonesome?"

She nodded, the tears that had been in her eyes rolled down her cheeks.

"No need to be lonesome here. I'm here, and I got five other girls to keep you company."

"Oh, Master, I'm sorry."

"Where's Number 5? Isn't she your roomie?" Then it dawned on me.

The face before me nodded, then started to cry again.

"She not come back. I think she not like me."

Oh, yes, more tears!

"Why you think she didn't come back?"

"She doesn't like me. I just know it. I just don't know anything, and she doesn't like me."

"Number six, I'll tell you why she didn't comeback."

The girl looked up now, with why all over between her tears.

"I fucked her so good she fell asleep. It's my fault, not hers—or yours."

"Really?"

"Yes, my fault. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry, Master, I just thought ... "

"Tell you what."

Her face looked up with what all over it again, but a different what this time.

"Let's go down to my room, you take off your clothes, and I fuck you until you fall asleep, too. If Number 5 wakes up, then that's just tough. I'll just have to fuck you both to sleep again. Sound fair?"

Number 6 looked up and smiled, I couldn't tell if that smile was about the fairness of it, or the enjoyment she anticipated. But she smiled.

"Come on. Time's a-wastin," I said as I hooked my thumb in the waist string of her bikini- thong.

She reached back and grasped my hand. It wasn't the sort of grasping that said I don't want you touching me there. I slipped my other fingers around so inside they cupped against those beautiful butt cheeks of hers.

"You spoil me, Master," she said.

"I plan to spoil you so good you'll stay spoiled your whole life."

"Oh, Master! Please hurry! I want to be spoiled so I make you feel good and want to spoil me even more. I'm understanding why five women want you. Uncle Turbo told me, but I couldn't believe it."

I slipped the lock into my room and swung the door open. Yep, sure enough, there lay Number 5 where I left her sound asleep on my bed.

"Slip in here, Number 6. Then I'll get in with you."

The girl already in bed moaned and rolled away. Number 6 giggled.

"What?"

"I just hope in the morning I'm too fucked out to wake up, too."

"Well, let's give it a try, shall we? That's just the way I want you: Totally fucked out so your body only wants to rest."

Number 6 stopped a moment, then looked into my face. "Is that why men run the world?"

I'd never thought about it, but she deserved an answer.

"Is it," she said?

"How you mean?"

"You men, the good ones, anyway, take us women to bed and fuck us so good we can't concentrate or anything else for days afterwards. I think it is conspiracy."

There was big word for a girl of her circumstances.

"Well, shall we try out the first part of your premise?" I said.

"Let's try out the whole thing. Please, Master? You said you'd fuck me clear into tomorrow. Please? You do?"

How could I refuse?

***

The following morning, I was somewhat late getting up. I mean after all, Number 5 and Number 6 both demanded I do my duty for them again. Number 6 carefully watched Number 5, then once Number 5 went down for the count, Number 6 moved in to take up the slack. I managed, but by then, my body had turned mostly to slack anyway. All over, that fact was probably lucky for Number 6. Otherwise she'd have been in the condition Shirley Gately found herself in when those thugs dropped her off at that out-in-the-sticks police station: self satisfied smile and all.

As it was, Number 6 had only the smile and a great attitude.

She helped me up, then bathed me, all in time to get something in my stomach before Turbo hauled me away to work. Of course, his niece rode along to keep me company. Actually it was a bit embarrassing, her uncle, the only father this young woman had for the year and a half since her mother's demise, couldn't resist checking that last night had gone satisfactorily for both his employer and his niece.

Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. "Uncle Turbo? He was great, just as you said he'd be. I just hope I was good for him, too. His 'B' girl was Number 5, my roommate, you know? He fucked her so good she fell asleep and didn't come back to our room. I thought she was mad at me, but Master heard me crying because I was alone, so he came, got me, took me to his bed where Number 5 lay all fucked out. Then he fucked me out real good so I went to sleep, too. Oh, I hope I did the right thing."

"How about it, Master?" Turbo said.

"Just fine, barely woke up soon enough to eat breakfast and get to work."

"Yeah, I noticed." he said as we wheeled into the get-out-spot in front of TWSI. "I bring you new girl to ride home with? Or you want niece again?"

I shook my head than nodded. "You rest up good today, Number 6, just in case."

She smiled and whispered, "Just in case, Master."

I bailed out and headed for the main door. Behind me I heard, "Remember, Mister Walters. Number 6 strong, healthy girl. She ready when you ready."

My god! I was thinking. What if somebody heard that? I mean, not everyone here would readily accept my situation at home, let alone one of those bodies-beautiful accompanying me to work. I waved back at her, hoping she got back in her uncle's car.

The doorman at the main entrance held the heavy glass door so the American woman ahead of me didn't let it slam in my face. Funny, you know? Common courtesy said I should hold the door for her, but did it say the same for her? I nodded my thanks to the doorman—who I'd known and thanked daily since my arrival two years back. I noticed the woman didn't even hint thanks to him. I also noticed when I left that afternoon, the door was open before I got close to it. Not so for the woman from this morning walking ten paces behind me.

"Lazy doorman," she muttered.

That did it.

"Lady?" I said, turning back.

"What?"

"You might thank the man when he does his job well, even if its just what he's supposed to do. Honey gets better response than vinegar."

She gave me an up yours expression. Maybe she needed what had happened to my project's accountant. I shook my head and kept walking.

But she wasn't about to let that lie where it had fallen. She came up from behind and laid another comment on me.

"Why don't you mind your own business? Huh? You slob. Nobody thanks me for doing my job, why should I thank him?"

"Because I've known him since I came here two years ago, and he's a damned good doorman. Can you imagine how boring that job must be? Open the door, close the door, open the door, close the door. Then eight hours later, go home so you can come back the next day to do the same thing for another eight? And do that every day, even the weekends when you don't see him because you have those days off? Life ain't so sweet for these people, lady. I may not be able to correct all the un-nicities these people have to live with, but a smile and a thank-you helps a lot, I'm sure."

"Oh, screw you!"

"Not on your life. I'll bet you're a lousy fuck as well as a piss-poor human being."

"You ... you ... insulted me! You swore at me! I'll have you disciplined. Who's your boss?"

"Who's yours? Don't try that crap on me, Lady. I didn't just climb off the turnip truck, you know. These people don't put up with that sort of crap from anybody, including ex-pat women. They want their new AirForce base built, and I'm the one building it for them. You want the whole national AirForce showing you how wrong you are?"

"You are not! I'm here working on that, too, so you have nothing on me."

"What's your contract say? You ever really read it? Two years, right?"

"Certainly doesn't say you can insult me and swear at me."

"How long you been here? Six months?"

"Five."

"And what's it say happens if you leave or quit or get fired before your two years are up?"

That stopped her.

"I'll tell you what. It says you pay your own way home. That's right at twenty-five hundred bucks the way they'll send you."

She appeared to be trying to get her brain around that.

"How much you been paid so far?"

"Sixty thousand. Twelve thousand a month."

"You lose that."

"How ...?"

"How much you got left to go?"

"Uh, nineteen months."

"In dollars.'

"Uh, nineteen times twelve thousand."

"That's right close to two hundred and thirty thousand."

"So?"

"You lose that as reverse severance pay. You'll have to get a job here, then earn that back before you can leave."

Her mouth just hung open, like someone had just nailed her on the back of the head with a cricket bat.

"Can't be," she muttered.

"It is. I know, because that's what my contract says, too."

She more or less shook her head.

"But I got one thing better going for me."

"What?"

"I'm not stupid. I know what I sighed when I came here, and when I leave, it will be at end of contract and I'll take my pile of well earned money with me instead of putting myself in a hole it will take the rest of my life to dig my way out of."

"You ..."

"So, Lesson One: Know the facts.

"Lesson Two: Think before you act.

"Lesson Three: Use your head.

"Lesson Four: Treat people nicely and most will treat you the same in return."

She was nodding her head, now. I was thinking how lucky Miss Pain-In-the-Ass Shirley Gately had been to be abducted, used and enlightened, then returned while my company was still trying to smooth-over her disappearance.

"They can't do this to me."

"Use your head, lady, before you do something else stupid.."

With that I turned and headed for Turbo's car and the nicities I expected to find in the back seat.

Next morning the doorman greeted me even a bit more enthusiastically than normal.

"You seem happy today, Enton" I said.

"Oh, I am," he said. "You remember that bitchy woman you had the argument with here yesterday? She actually thanked me this morning for helping her with a package she had. What did you say to her?"

"I just reminded her that not all life is roses and that being courteous and thankful to people who help us, makes everyone's life more enjoyable. I also reminded her what happens if she quits early or gets booted out of country. You don't even want to hear about that."

"Bad, huh?"

"Bad, yes. Sometimes I think you citizens here are lucky. Pretty hard to boot you out of your own country, but not at all difficult to get rid of us ex-pats."

"Aw, they'd never boot you out."

"How you know that?"

"Turbo Taxi, he tell me. He say you very good man, and you be all nice to women in your house."

"I try."

"Huh! You think Turbo give you niece if he think you not be good to her? Or you do stupid and get thrown out of country? He like your ladies. He want you take care of them forever."

I supposed so. I wondered how they felt about taking care of me forever? I guessed I'd have to confront that problem when Phase II of the AirForce job finished up. But that was almost five years off, if I did my job well. Already I was hoping a Phase III would come along in time.

And not only because Miss Pain-In-the-Ass, Shirley Gately seemed to have morphed into a human being. In fact, when her immediate supervisor doing her performance review queried me about her work, I was pleased to write truthfully: Much improved over her previous year. Two days later, she accosted me just as I left for lunch, offering to buy for both of us again.

Being a tourist gives you what you can't get from National Geographic: First hand understanding of the people in the country you are visiting—it's even better if you're there for five or ten years, contributing to making their lives better by making human beings of the less than human who visit from your country, and helping make better the lives of those to whom you get close: Number 1, Number 2, Number 3, Number 4, Number 5, Number 6, Turbo Taxi. and your doorman. Oh, yes! You'll know when you've succeeded. You won't want to leave because you know you made their lives better and will continue to do so.