One day, as I was thinking about the past and the limbo I was in now, I looked at my lock pick and noticed that the yellow scale had gone up. But hadn’t Randy assured me that this was an outdated option and that yellow meant nothing?
That night at the club, I cornered Randy and demanded an explanation. He took the mediator, twirled it over in his hands, and looked at me suspiciously: “Dude, when did this happen?” “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention before. What’s wrong?” “Oh, nothing. I think it’s a glitch. It happens with older models. Listen,” he suddenly changed the subject, “aren’t you tired of screwing around?”
“What do you mean?” “Well, you are a cool guy, but you live like a bear in a stinking den with cockroaches. No rest, no visiting chicks. Or don’t you like chicks, dude?” Randy poked me playfully in the side. “Just say a word and I’ll have it set up in no time. I’ll get you a boy or a girl, or both at the same time. What do you say? Are you ready to have some fun?”
“Are you going to bring the lady-boy here?” I asked. I’d seen these gorgeous girls on the beach. Beautiful faces, busty breasts – they meowed something in their own language and wiggled their hips invitingly. One of these beauties twisted her leg, so I went over and offered to help. The girl, caught off guard, replied in a voice so low I was numb. The guys sunbathing nearby laughed, thinking that I was trying to pick her up, but miscalculated because my inexperience. I learned from them that it’s very easy to recognize a transvestite, you don’t even have to go up her skirts – it’s the Adam’s apple that gives it away. From then on, I tried to stay away from tall, pretty Asian women.
“To hell with lady-boys!” Randy told me. “Regular girls are what we need!” “Ha! Where are those girls? I grinned.
Unlike men single girls rarely vacationed on the Island, usually coming with someone, a boyfriend or fiance. One such couple from foggy Albion, oblivious to anything or anyone around them, were my neighbors at the “Sands”. John, a macho twenty-years-old, cocky and muscular, and Sarah a slender blonde with shoulder-length curls – they had recently arrived, and as soon as the door slammed shut, they made love on the creaky countertop.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
The bungalows here almost side by side and you can hear sounds as if there were no walls at all. John’s mating growls and Sarah’s voluptuous moans often kept the neighbors awake at night, but the Brits, raised in the best tradition of “an Englishman’s home is his castle,” had no idea anyone else could hear them. I wish!
Sometimes my neighbor behind the wall, a burly, balding Frenchman, could not stand the pangs of passion and would run out at midnight to find a prostitute. In the morning I would meet these slanting priestesses of love. For some reason, they were afraid of me and straightened their skirts, moving away with small steps on their crooked legs. I never had the urge to stop them. I preferred to dream about young Sarah to the sound of the table creaking…
Maybe old Randy was right, and I really was a fool? The club was full of girls in the club, so what was stopping me from going on a date with one of them? But I couldn’t.
“Oh, come on!” Randy winced. “Are you a man or not?” “I think buying love with money is low.” “Try it before you tell me.” The bearded man snapped back without malice. “So you want me to dive into a cesspool to see if it stinks?” “Well, smarty pants!” He looked at his watch impatiently. “You think it’s okay to jerk off to a pretty English chick, but your conscience won’t let you take a Thai chick home for the night. By the way, does John know what you do in your fantasies with his girlfriend?”
“Wait a minute!” I froze. “Where do I get these fantasies?” I hadn’t noticed this before, thinking that libido, like hunger was unknown to the dead. A hunch hit me. I quickly pulled out the lock pick – the yellow scale was at zero. “See,” Randy looked over my shoulder. “I told you it was just a glitch.” And before I knew it, he was offering to join him on the hunt.
“Do you mean the hunt for the Golden Ticket?” I couldn’t help bit blurt it out. “What did you say?” The bearded man flinched. “How do you know about that? Well, I guess. Actually, I was talking about another hunt, but since you mentioned the Golden Ticket, I think I can take you along. Just remember, you won’t get anything out of other people’s wishes. Don’t even dream about the ticket, it’s mine, is that clear?” “Okay,” I nodded. “I’ve always wanted to know how you do it. You pull hairs out of your beard and blow them into the wind, don’t you?” “You’re so weird.” Randy shrugged. “Where do ‘they’ find guys like you?”
To be continued