Advent Day Two

Advent Day Two

December 02 2015

Susan A. Eames

Sex and Socks and Rock ‘n’ Roll

Glass of chilled Singha Beer

“You want see Ping Pong Show?”

“Good grief, no.”

Maud hurried to find Alfie. He was rummaging through packs of socks on a market stall. In the notorious Patpong area of Bangkok, surrounded by Go-go Bars featuring skinny girls in white bikinis gyrating to rock music, Alfie had nevertheless been distracted by socks.

            “Look at these, Maud. Five pairs for the equivalent of a quid. Do you think I should buy some?”

            “Forget the socks, it’s time to go. I’ve just been propositioned.”

            “Really? Do you want me to thump him?”

            “It was a ‘she’.”

            “Really? How… interesting. Was she, um… pretty?”

            “You’re disgusting sometimes.”

            “Maybe she was a lady boy?”

            “Hardly. She was a middle aged, bandy-legged crone, and she asked me if I wanted to see a Ping Pong show.”

            “And… do you?”

            “For heaven’s sake, Alfie. Why would I want to see girls doing unnatural things with ping pong balls?”

            “Well, you know. Just out of curiosity. We said we’d explore the local culture after all.”

            “Don’t be absurd. That isn’t culture.” Maud fixed Alfie with a hard stare. “You want to go, don’t you?”

            “Maudie, Maudie, I’d say you are just as inquisitive as me. And you’d have quite a story to tell when we get home.”

            “Good grief, I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

            “What happens in Bangkok, stays in Bangkok?”

            “Whatever would people think of us?”

            “OK, we won’t tell your friends at the gardening club. Where’s the show?”

            “Slow down, Tiger, I haven’t agreed to anything.”

             “Come on, Maudie-kins. Admit it. A little bit of titillation never hurt anyone.”

            Maud frowned. “We’re too old for this lark, Alfie.”

            “No, I won’t accept that, Maud. The day we admit we’re too old for a bit of slap and tickle is the day we may as well lay down and die.

            Maud looked at Alfie, shocked. Then she unexpectedly laughed. “All right, let’s do it… but you must promise not to tell.”

            “Don’t fret, old girl, I won’t tell a soul.” Alf suppressed an excited giggle. “Hang on while I buy these socks.”

About the Author

Susan A. Eames left England over twenty five years ago to explore the world and dive its oceans. She has had travel articles and short fiction published on three continents. After several fascinating years living in Fiji she has relocated to West Cork in Ireland .

Susan blogs at: http://susan-a-eamestravelfictionandphotos.blogspot.ie

Published December 02 2015