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Ariff, follow me, I said.

I had to lure him out his comfort zone, the hotel where he solicits most of his clients.

I’m staying at a short time hotel, which wouldn’t surprise you.

And across the street is China Town. They are a sensual race of people and love hot chicks working the coffee bars. It works, I’ve drunk more coffee than is good for an aging old fart.

But how can you not consume? Ekka, the owner of Mc Cafe has bills to pay, and if it means I need to order more coffees to keep his hot staff employed, I’ll do the hard yards and drink more.

I ordered us both a coffee at the Chinese Cafe where the Chinese owner with the shrine tattoo on his calf does a great impression of Kim Jong-il. He’s his double, cloned by Putin’s KGB. That much I’m sure. He quickly calls his sister who is a cleaner at a hotel in Sydney. Her name is Veronica. I’m teaching her daughter some English. I’ve got nothing better to do and mum seems happy enough.

‘I want Dangdut,’ requests Ariff. That means he wants to see sexy Thai coyote dancers. I get the wifi sorted out and play him a few numbers. His massage technique is now half-hearted. He’s only massaging my neck and back. I can’t say I’m feeling any better but as Ariff says, he has four children to feed so I don’t mind using his services, the cash is always going to a good cause.

We are creating quite a stir. Those Thai coyotes of sound systems are always a winner here.

Ariff is talking about big tits now.

I say the dancer in pink has  a big set. Implants of course.

He argues, as a yellow nymph starts her gyration cycle, that she has even bigger tits.

He can get me a set of big tits.

‘But don’t tell anyone at the hotel.’

Of course, what is said here, stays here.

As he said, he’s got kids to feed, and if it means pimping a set of big tits, he’ll do it for the family.

The price was fantastic.

He is using a mini phone, the ones that don’t have any graphics. It’s almost a toy. It’s not a smartphone and it’s so small I’m surprised how Ariff manages to use it with his big clumsy hands. So there was no checking out the merchandise. As far as pimping goes, he has a long way to go. He has nothing on the hotel staff who have the photos to back up their moonlighting services.

I’m still getting over one shot. I could see her tonsils.

Ariff comes up with a swing ball, center left.

His grandfather was Chinese and converted to Islam.

That explains his Chinese looks. Seems everyone is converting to some religion or another and shooting out their gene pool in any available vagina. This is Darwinism at it’s best.

‘Blood, in tooth and claw.’

Ariff is well read too. I said maybe we’ll check out the big hooters tomorrow.

Ariff is downstairs and it’s now today. I better see what’s up. He might have another surprise for me.

Meanwhile, I’m heading to the ATM. The dentist is sucking me dry.

 

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