"This is the book of life I should have read before leaving university in London.
It's got it all.
Sex, sex tourism, drugs, alcohol, alcoholism, prostitution & suicide.
In my search for sex and sobriety I travel from London to Amsterdam; to San Francisco, California; to Bangkok & Pattaya in Thailand and to Manila, Angeles City & Subic Bay in the Philippines.
Don't end up a loser like me.
Read this book."
- Paul Pisces
Chapter 15: The Far East Calls
Several months have passed and I am drinking heavily again. It's the old routine. I am spending a fortune on booze and my savings are dwindling. I've about two thousand pounds left but in six months that'll be gone. I haven't had a shave. I haven't had a haircut. I haven't got a new job. I haven't been back to see the doctor and I haven't had a shag for so long that I doubt I'd recognise pussy if I saw it.
Fuck it. Fuck it all. Two thousand pounds. I've always fancied a holiday in the Far East. Go out with a bang. Look, holiday in the Far East. Blow two thousand pounds. Get laid if I'm lucky (very lucky from the state of me). Then suicide. It's a cunning plan. I like it. I have even thought of an epitaph for my gravestone. 'Live fast, die middle-aged'.
I call a travel agent who's been advertising holidays in Asia. You know the sort - 'Lads Tours of the Far East Ltd'. I receive a brochure and discover that they are doing a special Philippines and Thailand group tour beginning on 14th October. It's 800 pounds for flight and hotel; eleven nights in the Philippines and 7 nights in Pattaya in Thailand which is supposed to be a beach resort with a hectic night-life.
Today is Saturday August 20th and I begin drinking early. This morning I am on whisky; cheap whisky and by 10am I am feeling sufficiently relaxed. I ring the travel agent and book my place. I hope I am not making a terrible mistake.
It's 14th October; the day of the flight. I have to check in at Manchester airport at 3pm for the 5pm flight to Frankfurt, then it's on to Manila via Bangkok. I am trying not to drink too much. By 1pm I am packed and a little bit merry. I decide to have a nap.
I wake up with a start and look at my watch. Three fucking thirty. Oh my God,
it's three fucking thirty. Thank God I'm packed. Frantically I dial for a
taxi. I'm sweating and still a bit drunk.
"The taxi will be with you shortly" says the dispatcher.
Fucking marvelous. Look, it's three fucking forty now and it's at least half an hour to the airport and that's if the traffic is light.
I'm sweating profusely when the taxi finally arrives and at the airport the sweat drips off me as I run to the check-in counter carrying my heavy bag. It's four thirty by now and I have no idea if they will let me on the flight.
Oh joy! What relief. I sit back and try to relax in the overly small airline seat I have been assigned. The Far East calls.
The flight is depressing. I don't like crowds. I don't like enclosed spaces. Like most alcoholics I am a bit paranoid. Getting enough to drink to keep me calm on this long flight could be a problem but I have had the foresight to pack a little something extra into my hand luggage. It's a two litre plastic lemonade bottle containing one litre of vodka and one litre of lemonade.
After what seems like forever, we touch down at Ninoy Aquino International
airport in Manila. It's late (10pm), very hot and I am overdressed. I badly
want a shower. I am met by a bald, overweight guy with a gravely voice and a
gravely face. The group leader, George, is in his fifties and slowly he
assembles the motley looking group of six individuals he has the dubious
pleasure of supervising for the next 18 days.
"Welcome to the Far East," he says as he shakes each one of us firmly by the hand.
We are taken by minibus to 'The Jasmine Inn' in the Ermita district of Manila and assigned our rooms. The staff all seem to be gorgeous looking filipinas. Everywhere I look there are gorgeous looking filipinas. The Philippines must be full of them. By 11-30pm we are all showered, refreshed and assembled in the reception. George is going to take us to the 'Las Vegas Cafe', which is a bar not far from the hotel and full of gorgeous looking filipinas. By now I am starting to get the picture.
The seven of us sit on comfortable stools around the large, circular bar. I am at one end of the group. We order drinks and make introductions. I am the youngest here - that makes a nice change. A gorgeous looking filipina in a bright red, long, slinky dress and bright red stilettos approaches me.
"Hello Honey, what your name?"
"Paul," I mumble. The other guys are talking amongst themselves led expertly by George. He has done this many times before.
"Where you from, Honey?"
"England" I say. God she's beautiful. A little bit chubby but she has a beautiful face, no bra and I don't think she's wearing any knickers. I am pleased to find that I instantly recognise the outline of her pussy through the thin material of her dress.
"Where you stay?" she asks.
"The Jasmine Inn," I say. At this she visibly brightens, if she could be any brighter that is.
"Honey, you want good time? 500 pesos. At Jasmine. I suck you, fuck you. 500 pesos, Honey. Yes?"
Five hundred pesos is only about ten dollars. I turn and see that the rest of the group are now all looking at us. I look at George. He shrugs. I think that's the all clear.
"Suck and fuck for 500 pesos? It's a deal" I say.
Back at the hotel she is true to her word. I am careful and keep the condom
on, although I don't think that she was that bothered. I remove the condom,
knot it and throw it to the floor. She dresses quickly (she has no panties -
just a dress and high heels). I find my wallet and hand over 600 pesos. She
has earned it. I give her a kiss and a hug.
"Bye, Honey. Thank you," she calls as the door closes behind her. I quickly fall asleep.
In the morning I get a call from George.
"The bus is leaving for Subic Bay in half an hour. Don't be late."
Subic Bay is a large beach area four hours from Manila, which used to be used as a naval base by the Americans. Now it is trying to attract foreign tourists to the beaches and night life and it is here that we are to spend the next 10 nights.
The coach trip to Subic takes ages. The traffic in Manila is wall to wall
chaos. Finally we are on the freeway and make better time. The bus has a
gorgeous filipina attendant who serves us cold bottles of San Miguel beer.
On the journey George tells me that I might have set a new record for getting
laid on one of his group tours.
"I don't think you finished your first drink," he laughs.
"Would the Guinness Book of World Records be interested?" I wonder aloud.
We finally arrive at 'The Nippa Lodge' in Subic at around 3pm. You will not be surprised to learn that the hotel is populated by gorgeous looking filipinas. One waitress in particular catches my eye as she walks past our group gathered in reception. I quickly read her name tag. Marcia.
Settling into my room, I take a shower. It's so very hot here but the air-conditioning is working efficiently and I soon cool down. We are to meet George in the hotel restaurant at 6pm. By five thirty it is starting to get dark as I walk over the road and into the hotel restaurant. It is a giant Nippa hut and has a very tropical feel to it. I feel at home. I sit at an empty table and a waitress approaches me. It's Marcia. I don't know why I like her, I just do. Maybe it's her smile or her long legs. Maybe it's an air she has about her. I definitely like her.
"Hello Sir, something to drink?" she asks.
"Rum and coke, please Marcia." I smile. I am not a prize by any means but at 36, compared to the rest of the guys in our group, I am practically an Adonis. Marcia smiles back warmly. I think she is interested. Well, why shouldn't she be? I've found out that waitresses in Subic earn about 2 dollars a day. Comparatively speaking, I am a millionaire. Everyone in our g roup is a millionaire. All foreigners are millionaires. Even ugly, aging, alcoholic millionaires are attractive.
Marcia returns with my drink.
"Can I buy you a drink?" I ask. I already know the answer. Even if I were a homicidal maniac she would let me buy her a drink. Do you know any homicidal maniac millionaires? They are probably attractive too, in their own way.
My drink costs a dollar. Marcia's drink costs two dollars and of that she gets half. That's half a day's pay. As we drink she tells me that she finishes work at eight. Would I like to take her out bar-hopping? This wouldn't happen in England. This couldn't happen in England. Unless I was a real millionaire. The choice isn't difficult. Bar-hopping with 21 year old Marcia or bar-hopping with George and his band of geriatrics.
"I'd love to take you out," I say. "I'll be back at eight."
Back in reception, I see George and explain my plans. He understands. Well he has seen it all before.
Just after eight, I return to the restaurant. Marcia has changed her clothes. She looks very sexy in low-slung, 70's style, hipster jeans and a bright pink body-hugging top. She has small breasts, no bra and her large, firm nipples are pressing hard on the material trying to break through. Is she wearing any panties? Maybe later, if I am lucky, I'll find out.
Bar-hopping in Subic is fun. Marcia takes me to a few bars and I drink a lot of rum and coke. I am feeling a bit light-headed. In one of the bars there is a stage and dancing girls, wearing bright blue bikinis, gyrate their hips in time to the music. The song playing is a favourite of mine; 'Backstreets Back' by the Backstreet Boys. There are no other customers in the bar so I decide to get on stage and mimic their dance action. I am rather good at it - I like dancing a lot. The girls are all laughing. Marcia is laughing too. Then, someone brings me a spare blue bra and panties. They are the tie-up sort so they could be made to fit. I slip off my shirt and tie on the bra. There is almost a riot. The girls are practically fighting to get a view of me. Spurred on by this, I slip the panties under my own briefs and tie them in place. Then I take off my shorts and underwear. As I sway to the rhythm of the music, the girls clap and the bar owner brings me free drinks. Suddenly, the door opens and George's group bursts into the bar. A star is born in Subic. I never, ever live this down but hell, that's life.
"Do you play pool as well as you dance?" Marcia asks when I finally get my
clothes back on.
"Yeah, I love pool." Drinking and pool tend to go together. Most alcoholics can play pool, though not many can dance. Marcia takes me to her favourite bar and I buy drinks for her and her two girlfriends who work there. It's the least I can do and I am still working on the panty angle so I don't want to seem cheap.
Marcia's a good pool player but even drunk I am better. I let her win a few
"Shall we bet?" she asks.
"OK" I say. "How much?"
"One frame. 500 pesos. OK?"
This is a lot of money for her. A week's pay. She must think she can win. I think about letting her win but decide against it. It's a close game but I win on the black. She is upset but hides it well as she hands over the money. I take it from her. She is crestfallen.
We have more drinks. I am trying to find the right moment to give her the
money back. Eventually, her friends are playing pool and I seize the
"You shouldn't bet what you can't afford to lose" I whisper and slip the folded note unseen into the palm of her hand. She realises immediately what I have given her.
"Thank you, Paul. I love you. Paul, can I stay with you tonight?"
No prizes for guessing my answer.
I am lying butt-naked on my back on top of the bedspread. My dick is rock hard and the condom is already in place. Marcia is standing at the foot of the bed and is naked except for her panties. Slipping out of them, she hops expertly on top of me and guides my dick into her warm, wet pussy. Her nipples are as hard and erect as my dick and nearly as long.
She rides me wildly and it takes all of my willpower to avoid ejaculating.
I want to prolong this moment for as long as possible. Finally, it's over
and she collapses on me, panting heavily.
"I love you, Honey," she says. I believe her. I am, after all, a millionaire.
Sometimes a change in perspective can help. I decide to stop drinking. I don't need to drink; I am happy. I am in love. I explain things to Marcia a nd she's marvelous. The first couple of nights it's difficult because I want to drink. I have the shakes and paranoia. Marcia takes me out and protects me. I like to sit and watch her talking to her friends. They speak in Tagalog and I don't understand anything but it's beautiful just to watch them laugh and giggle. I drink coke and sprite. At night Marcia fucks me every which way but loose. It's heaven.
By the end of our ten days together our love has blossomed and my health has improved. In the morning I leave for Manila. I give Marcia 8000 pesos (150 dollars).
"Thank you Granfa," she says as she holds my hands up to her forehead. It's a sign of respect. I don't know that I deserve any. We exchange addresses and I tell her I'll be back in six months. I see Marcia on and off for the next six years.
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