Cheryl Tan - Sarong Party Girls

“I guess… we should have that drink I promised you,” he said, looking carefully at the fridge—at the bottles, not the price list! It was the first time I’d seen anyone go to a hotel minibar and not look at the prices at all.

“I noticed you drinking Chivas at Carlyle’s—is that all right?”

I just nodded. So he opened a medium-sized bottle of Chivas and poured two glasses on the rocks, bringing one over to me by the window.

“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass with mine. We both took a few long sips, standing side by side, looking out at the lights. I could feel him slowly rubba-ing my back, stroking my hair—it was actually feeling bloody good. I bet he gives a good massage, I thought. He bent down to kiss me, very slowly but very sweetly. A warm warm soft soft one. I could feel his cock pressing my thigh—not only was it bloody hard already, but it was also damn bloody big. Wah, that Sharon—lucky girl!

I moved my hand over to rub his cock but he stopped me.

“Not yet,” he said. “Can you take your clothes off for me?”

I started to pull my blouse off but he stopped me again. “No—sweetly, slowly,” he said, walking over to sit on the couch. He put his glass down on the gold-rimmed coffee table so he could hold his hands up, using his thumbs and index fingers to make a rectangle, as if he was taking a photo of me standing in front of the window. Then he smiled and put his hands back down again.

I was beginning to think this was turning out a bit strange. These types of hookups usually are never like this. (Not that I do this that often lah—you must believe me, this is really true.) But these types of things—usually are just fast fast hard hard type; no storybook kind of set up. Married guys, especially, usually have to go home quickly after all, so the moment they’re inside the room, pants come off already. But this one, it was as if he was shooting blue movie in his head. I wasn’t sure what to do with this—and if I should be offended. The way he was bossing me around, it made me feel a bit like a pro! I’d never experienced anything like this before. But I had already gone this far—I didn’t want to offend him or make things not nice. So I thought—why not? It’s quite simple to just go along with this—at least for a bit.

So if Alistair wanted a show, then I decided I would give him a show. Guniang was already inside the room—might as well go all the way. Besides, it could be fun? First, I took another sip of whiskey, then licked the entire rim of the glass before putting it down on the floor. Then I leaned back against the glass window and spread my legs a bit. Slowly, slowly, I peeled up my skintight red blouse. I could hear him sighing loudly as he slowly saw my black lace push-up bra appear. Then, I unhooked the back of my skirt and unzipped it—but this one, I couldn’t control how slowly this went though. The skirt was flared, so the whole thing just fell off in one second. Alistair had already see my red lacy panties before but still, he couldn’t stop staring. Good.

Next, the bra was unhooked. I covered my breasts with one hand and used the other one to throw the bra at Alistair. He was staring so hard at me, waiting for me to take my hand away from my chest, that he couldn’t even react in time to catch it.

“More,” he said. “Please?”

When I moved my hand away, he sighed damn loud. I know my boobs and butt are not say as nice as Fann’s lah. But I been told before that my body was like a little Japanese girl’s body—everything is small and tight. This kind of body is actually quite popular with ang mohs—I think they have some fantasy of being our uncles and protecting us or some shit. And I guess if your wife is now a fatty, maybe you really miss this kind of look. Poor Alistair.

I refused to take my panties off though.

“Kitchen closed,” I said. “Now—you.” I started to unbuckle the straps on my heels. After all that, my feet were really hurting.

“Don’t,” he said, standing up and walking over. Were we going to fuck by the window? Not bad—I had never done it facing all of Singapore before. Instead, he suddenly picked me up and carried me like a baby to the bedroom, throwing me on the bed. Damn strong! Guniang here was starting to get quite horny and tried to unbuckle his belt.

“Not yet,” Alistair said, pushing me back on the bed and pulling down my panties, spreading my legs apart, stroking my feet and high heels. “I think I should finish cleaning you up first.” And then he started licking me all over, from my toes to my legs to, OK, you know where. All the way up and back down again, then he kept licking me there. Guniang here don’t want to say too much lah so I’ll just say I didn’t have to fake anything. In fact, all I could see for a while right after that was large white dots. This—confirm—had never happened to me before.

By the time Alistair took off his clothes, guniang here was so high that I didn’t even care that his body was not great—not fat, mind you, and you can tell he does work out, but his skin all over was super pasty, like those oily white Hainanese chickens you see hanging on a hook in the hawker stall, and his chest was filled with curly gray hair.

By that point, I couldn’t think. All I could do was stare at him while he fumbled to open a condom wrapper.

“Oi,” I said, giving him a bloody dirty look. “Hurry up!”

Alistair laughed. But he did hurry up. By the time we left the room two hours later, the pack of three rubbers he said—as if—he bought for a friend at 7-Eleven earlier that night was all habis.

Thinking about it the morning after, I started to feel a little hot all over again. And then I felt terrible. Jazzy, what’s wrong with you? Even if you’re feeling lonely and sad for yourself and horny—there are so many guys in the world. Why would you go with your schoolmate’s husband? In fact, after Alistair sent me home—for real—it was all I could think about. The guy was even nice enough to ask if I was hungry and wanted to order anything off room service right after, but all I could think about was whether Sharon was going to give him hell for creeping home at five in the morning. So, I just hurried us both out of there.

I had no answer for why I did what I did. But now that I’d done it, I couldn’t stop thinking about how good Alistair felt. I needed to snap out of this. But how?

“Ah Huay!”

Perfect timing. For once, I was happy to hear my mum’s voice. “Yes? What?” I said, getting up and opening my bedroom door before she could even put her hand on the knob. When it swung open, she just stared at me a bit shocked. This eagerness to see my mum had never happened before.

My mum paused for a second and said, “I know you’re always very busy—don’t know doing what in this messy room of yours,” she said, looking around and sighing. (It’s true lah—I hadn’t swept the floor in a week now. Dust and Her World magazines were all over the floor.) “But I need your help in the kitchen.”

Once again, she looked shocked when I just nodded and followed her out. From the slight smile on her face though, I could see she was happy.

My mum had the table all set up in the kitchen already—one giant tub of bean sprouts. “This whole thing of tau gay—can you peel for me?” she asked, pointing over at the bean sprouts. When I just walked over and sat down, drawing my plastic stool closer to the small round kitchen table, I could see her raising her eyebrows. (I bet the old lady was wondering who was this person and what happened to her real daughter.) My mum paused, as if she was thinking of saying something, but then she turned around and went to the sink to drain a tub of green beans she was soaking,

Bringing the tub over to the kitchen table, she pulled up a stool and sat down next to me, starting to snap the beans one by one. The kitchen was dark—this one, cannot help it lah. When our first flat was old enough that we were finally eligible to buy another HDB flat, there were a few blocks of apartments in this neighborhood that suddenly opened up. This neighborhood is damn central—few minutes to Orchard Road, the financial district, Marina Bay and everything. So everyone wants to live here. So the moment the government announced these new buildings, everybody wanted one! My mum spent days and days nagging my pa to quickly go and apply for one, since they had just become eligible for a new flat. But of course he was so lazy—and so hates to be nagged—that he purposely ignored her for a while. By the time he got off his backside to file the application, all the high floors had been snapped up already. That’s how we ended up with a third-floor flat that’s not only quite small but one with a kitchen that’s super dark because it’s blocked by other buildings from the sun and also faces this wall of gigantic rubbish bins. On really hot days in Singapore, the smell—aiyoh, you don’t want to imagine.