I mean, she’s married, I even played golf with her hubby once. I was quite shagged out anyway, you know what I mean, I went straight from Geylang to the airport and into the damn meeting and there I was, wired on coffee and just kind of winging it. We were in the hotel bar afterwards, and I was just thinking about my big, fat bonus, and it turns out she was thinking about my big fat boner… Sorry, lah, sorry. I know, I know, don’t cover your ears, it’s okay, I just get carried away telling the story. So damned sweet.
‘Anyway, there we are, in the hotel bar, at the bar, drinking Chivas and green tea to celebrate. I’ve got one eye on her, one on the television, which is showing the news, nothing interesting, no football, just some kind of riot being put down in the Philippines. And she says “So how is Mrs Lim?” and I’m like “She’s a wonderful woman, I would do anything for her, she’s a saint” because I’m in such a good mood. And is she pouting just a little at this? I don’t know, they always look like they’re pouting a little bit anyway, and anyway I don’t notice, and she says “Your wife really understands you, then?”. And I say “Well I suppose she does, as much as anyone understands anyone else” because I’m kind of a philosopher sometimes, you know me.
‘Anyway, then she says something like “I have a wonderful marriage, my husband is taking me to Bintan next weekend” and I say that’s nice, and I drink some more Chivas, and she gives me a really long, kind of weird look, like I’ve said something really irritating, and after while, she says “How about Champagne?”. And I say “I think that is a very wonderful idea, and the company would be delighted to pay for us to drink Champagne given how we have nailed the Jakartans and all”, and so she orders a bottle and we polish it off in about twenty minutes, and by this point I suddenly start to think perhaps she might be MBA in more ways than one…
‘What? You never heard that one? Married But Available… ha ha… anyway, at this point I am definitely starting to suspect that something may be on the cards, so I’m thinking, well I will just try something subtle, so I say “Have you checked the movies on the hotel TV?” and she says “Let’s go check them now” and she orders another bottle of Champagne and off we are going upstairs, leaning on each other and the walls but we get to her room, and…
‘No, lah. No, I know you don’t want to know the saucy details, man, but seriously, her ass is the cutest thing I ever saw. Oh my god. Sorry, lah. Sorry.
You’re such a good guy. I think it’s just my hormonal make-up or something.
I am overactive in that department ever since I was—hey, beer, over here!—well, you know me.
‘Well, if you insist. Yes, we did. Yes, she was. I mean, seriously, I never… the things she can do with those hands, even though I was a bit drunk and all. And I hardly had to move a muscle, just lay back and let it all happen. There was a movie on the TV too. It was a funny one, you know, that American one, with the students. Pie something.’
3. Marlene
She cannot decide whether he is an Epic or a Romantic. Clearly, according to the theory, he must be one or the other. So, she must work it out: which one is he?
It was not clear at first even that he was one of those two. It has taken her some time to narrow it down. But now he is inside her, pushing into her over and again, and she is lying there on her belly, her face muffled in the pillow while he shunts behind her and she tries to work it out.
Clearly. Repeatedly. This is obvious. And he doesn’t feel guilty. The Romantics still do it, but they have this tragic look on their faces, like they hate themselves. He doesn’t have that.
On the other hand, he clearly knows what he wants. There is a routine to this for him, she can see it. There is not enough adventure in this for him for it to be an Epic encounter.
So, it’s an enigma. Unless, that is, there might be a new category. What would she call it? She frowns.
He finishes with a grunt and rolls over. She waits the usual length of time before showering, puts her clothes back on, checks herself in the mirror, and kisses him on the cheek.
‘Thanks,’ he says.
‘Welcome,’ she says, and heads out to the street, getting into a taxi.
When the driver drops her off at the shopping centre, she picks her way up a halted escalator to the second floor, and shows her ID at the entrance to Club Island.
Inside, the band has started. A group of Western guys is being served beer. She stands nearby. One of them is very drunk, wearing a fright wig, a dog collar and a pair of frilly pink panties over the top of his jeans. ‘My fiance,’ he is saying, ‘is the best… the best… you know. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Lovely Keiko. I bloody love her.’
Marlene walks into his line of sight and gives him the look. He glances at her and smiles.
As she is walking over to the group, it comes to her.
4. Keiko
5. Brett
No work this week. Only essential travel to the Philippines is advised. Unrest has spread from the cities to the countryside. The rice fields are alight. Some flights are cancelled, including the ones he was due to pilot.
He arrives at Boat Quay at seven-fifteen and takes a table by the river, ordering a Heineken. Jazz drifts from the bar next door. Luminous towers dwarf the shophouses.
She arrives. He checks her out—small, cute—he approves—before standing and waving to catch her
