Bangkok Airport Lounge 3rd July 2016.
Ly sleeping in a chair to my left. Ten day holiday in Bangkok complete .
Transient objectivity seems to be the norm. I'm going to die, not that it actually frightens me. More an urgency to have that " last hurrah" before I slip with remorseless acceleration into befuddled ineptitude and a loss of precious mental consciousness.
Bangkok was good. Five star hotel, pretty Vietnamese companion, financial restraints " dans la lune." I had told myself before I came, that the only way to really know a woman is to live with her. And it's true. There's nothing like a session of snoring, a touch of irritability, some horrific skid marks on the bed sheets to lay markers on the hoped for equipoise that humanity constantly strives for.
Perhaps it was the full oil massage that was the real eye opener. We had gone to massages before together; first feet and leg, then the full body massages side by side in the same room. But the spur of the moment one in separate rooms was something different. It all started off innocently enough, but then there was more of a suggestion of divergent paths to be trod as the strong, kneading of the inner thighs was engaged upon.. The young Thai lent over and suggested I removed whatever remaining garments I possessed, and what the hell, I obliged.
Was it a betrayal of values, of an established relationship with the girlfriend in the adjacent compartment? Perhaps so , but then the element of danger is so stimulating to those in their dotage. Quietly, covertly, conspiratorially , experienced hands oiled and stroked and massaged and scratched and squeezed that which had so recently given up the ghost. So this was the fabled " Happy Ending."
There are most probably in the history of mankind, better ways to go, but in the interim I could not recollect what they were.
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