Seymour Totti’s Foreign Policy

There’s something about cleavages. They are like a visual vortex, a fleshy whirlpool into which you’re eyes get sucked. There is no escape. Even if you have no sexual interest in the owner of a particular cleavage if she is exposing it you will be compelled to gaze into it as if the whole meaning of life is contained therein.

Silvio Berlusconi may prefer girls a fraction of his age and regard Angela Merkel as unfuckable but if the latter turned up to an important Euro-meeting in a low cut top he would have to look, he wouldn’t be able to help himself.

A smooth well rounded cleavage is like a welcome sign, and a promise of more treasures within. It’s often said that the sign of a good painting, like the Mona Lisa, is when the eyes follow you around the room. That is also the sign of a good cleavage, when your eyes follow it around the room.

I was reminded of this the other morning when I met a client for coffee. She has a good cleavage and she knows how to use it. Eyes were following it all around Starbucks.

ps. These models also have smooth shaved pussies

There’s a lady I run into in sometimes. She lives in Pattaya where she runs a successful deck chair rental business but from time to time she gets the bus up to Bangkok. She leaves the deck chairs to her son and daughter in law and goes off to hook in Thermae on Sukhumvit Road. But why, I asked her. Deck chair business not so good?

“Deck chair good,” she asserted, “but I get lonely, want someone take care me.” I asked her about her husband but she replied in Thai with words that made her friends blush and then nod sagely. “No have husband.” she said finally.

She’s in her fifties, short and a bit dumpy but she has a quick and generous smile. She told me that she made a bit of money working Thermae. At least she didn’t have to pay and she only goes with guys she likes. “Sometimes I boom boom for free if he good man with good heart.” She put her hand on my chest and said; “I think you have good heart,” and all her friends laughed wildly.

She left before daybreak, “Go Pattaya now,” she whispered and let herself out. When I got up later I noticed she hadn’t taken the money I had put next to her handbag.

Read: Thermae: The last chance saloon

I get to spend such a small part of my time at my Bangkok bolthole. I love the place immensely but there’s no money to be made in Thailand so I only get to go there when I’m not doing other things. And in this day and age I find myself having to do a lot more other things just to make enough money to do nothing for a while.

But I digress. I went back for a well earned break and discovered that the convenience store downstairs had a hot new member of staff. I took my shopping to the checkout, gave her a 500 baht note and a little smile. Up close I wondered if she was even eighteen. She had spiky hair, a cute button nose and a small dragon tattoo under her left ear . Her mouth said “korp khun ka” (thank you) but her eyes said “for two pins I’d use you and abuse you and cast you aside like an old bus ticket.”

I felt like a piece of meat only useful for satisfying the carnal cravings of another. It was wonderful, I had to leave the store with my shopping in front so the Korean mother and her 5-year-old wouldn’t see the flag pole in my shorts.

Later that evening I told the tale to Captain Outrageous. The Captain is an old friend who lives close by. “Ah that would be Dow,” he said “I heard she was working over there.” You know her? I asked. “Yes, but I know her older sisters, or brothers if you like, a lot better. They are ladyboys, all the siblings in that family are…” I picked my jaw up from the bar “… and she’s actually 21 so you’ve no need to worry about her age.”

Interview with Captai Outrageous