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Friday night is when I
usually hunt. My haunts can be anywhere in Kuala Lumpur; clubs, bars,
restaurants, shopping complexes, basically wherever I can find prey. And
believe me, I have found them everywhere. These girls I’ve bedded (and will
bed) have come from all walks of life and backgrounds.
Some are quite obvious; the
weekly revellers and clubbers who throng the Kuala Lumpur nightspots like ants
to sugar. The girls I’ve acquired from clubs are usually younger than I am;
that makes sense, I suppose.
Most of the clubbers are between 21 to 27, though
I’ve scored some nubile 18-and-19 year olds who have somehow managed to sneak
in the clubs, too. These are the girls who come to clubs to dance and get
drunk, and insist they’re having a good time. Usually they’re dressed in
skimpy, skin-tight garments (though not always to the desired effect, I must
say) and often they’re there as if they have a point to prove. Look at me I’m a clubber hahaha dance dance.
Whatever. Most times, they’re energetic, acrobatic sometimes, in bed. These
are girls that always seem to ask for more, even when I really think they’re
just trying to seem experienced. Ultimately, they become boring because they’re
so… shallow, and naïve, and they follow me home thinking they’ll become my
girlfriend or something.
The girls I’ve acquired in
bars and restaurants are normally classier; working executives in their late
20s or early 30s. These girls have done the club scene, found it too
superficial, and are just out to have a good time without having to put on
something slutty and dance like you’re on Ecstacy (which I suppose most of them
are). These are girls, nay, ladies, who are prepping down for an after work
Metropolitan, or meal, or coffee, or even a refreshing stein of beer. Good,
intelligent girls that have sex to fulfill a craving, but not to show off that
they’re fuckable. They’ve been some of my best one night stands, not just for
the physical engagement, but for the fact that they acknowledge that it is, in
fact, a one night stand. They’re mature enough to understand that it is just
sex, nothing more. I follow you home, we fuck, we part ways the next day, with
no conditions.
I’ve also had girls whom I’ve
seemingly picked out of nowhere. Some have been nice, although I will freely
admit I’ve made some mistakes, like this one rempit girl who, for all the right
reasons was beautiful in face and had a stunning rack and ass, but who made
these awful, annoying and horrible noises when being fucked as if it was the
sexiest thing in the world, and who, when I was thrusting between her legs,
used a ‘baby voice’ and spoke in baby gibberish, saying “’uat-uat ye cayang, uat-uat, fak me uat-uat.” Whatthefuck. I
finished and sent her home. That was nasty.
In some ways, bringing a girl
home is like playing Russian Roullette. You spin the barrel, and just see if
you get hit. So far, I’ve been lucky. And I’ve learned to be more selective. I
do not want another girl calling me ‘cayang, uat-uat ye cayang’ ever again when
I’m banging her.
I was mulling over these
thoughts one late Friday afternoon while sipping coffee at my offices’ staff
lounge. I loved our office staff lounge; it was a great one to catch a break
in. Plush leather sofas, a flatscreen TV with ASTRO, four iMacs, three snack
vending machines, and best of all, an honest to goodness, real coffee grinding
coffee machine. None of that Nescafe shit here.
I sat in one of the sofas,
absently reading a magazine (National Geographic: Was Darwin Wrong?), and
sipping my strong coffee. At the same time I wondered where I would go tonight;
which hunting ground to go to? As I was thinking all this, two gentlemen walked
into the lounge, talking and begin to mix their coffee. I knew them as Khairul
and Hadi, junior executives from the legal department. They were talking quite
audibly.
“So what do you think about
the new chick?” said Hadi.
“Whoa, that girl?” Khairul
said. My ears pricked and I realized they were talking about Damia. She was in
Khairul’s department, after all.
“Yeah, yeah, what’s her name
again? Nadia?” Hadi said while sloppily stirring his coffee. Ugh.
“Damia. She’s okay, very
smart. The other day she corrected some of my work. And told me, in this konon
baik way, to be more careful. I know la I made mistakes, but pukimak punya
awek,” said Khairul.
For some reason that offended
me. And that’s a surprise.
“Well you gotta admit she’s
smoking hot though,” Hadi said and blew a whistle. “Kalau aku dapat, aku selak
kain tu, pergh.”
“Ah, no use la. She seems to
be anti-social, as if all of us in the office are not worthy of her company. I
asked her for lunch, she turned it down. Macam bagus je. So far, everyday she’s
been having lunch alone,” Khairul said.
Was she now? Hmm.
“Eleh, entah-entah you’re the
one that’s scared to ask her out,” Hadi said.
“What about you?” Khairul
said. “Cakap orang. Bet you’re too chicken to ask her out too.”
“Fuck you. I’m not. I’ll ask
her out today, then? Wanna bet?”
“Fifty bucks says you fail.”
They walked out of the
lounge, which I was thankful for. They’re speech was grating to my ears. The
matter of their speech, however, was interesting. I haven’t forgotten about
Damia. I just haven’t seen her much, which made sense as our offices were one
floor apart, even if we work for the same company.
I looked at the clock;
1654hrs. Time to leave, and get ready for my hunting tonight. I finished my
coffee and went straight to my office. I packed my stuff into my sling-bag,
locked my office and proceeded to leave. I thought about my hunt, about where I
was about to go, about which girl I might bring home tonight, what would she
look like, sound like, taste like and feel like. I thought that I would drive
home, shower, take a short nap, cook a small meal, eat, get dressed and then
hit the city. That sounded like a plan, the usual plan for most of my hunts.
But when I got to the
elevator, I pressed one floor down instead of twenty-two. I stepped into the
lower floor of our offices and walked to the legal department. As I pushed the
glass doors open, all nine of those that worked there, excluding the two
managers, looked at me; Damia, four other ladies (two of them married, the
other two single), and four guys including Khairul and Hadi. All of them knew
who I was of course; Dhani Ibrahim, hotshot, four times so far this year
employee of the month. I ignored them, anyway, and casually walked straight to
Damia’s well equipped cubicle; apparently she hasn’t gotten a room yet.
“Hello Damia,” I greeted her.
“Hello Dhani Ibrahim,” she said,
smiling that half-smirk, half-smile of hers, albeit slightly bashfully. She was
wearing a yellow hijab with an off-white kebarung. A brooch in the shape of a
butterfly was pinned to her left shoulder, and she had on these exotic looking
bangles on both hands. Her eyes studied the room, as if to see if the others
were staring at us.
“I remember asking you if
you'd like dinner, sometime?” I asked. “And I was wondering if that sometime
would be tonight. That is, if you have no prior plans.”
Her eyebrows furrowed for a
moment and she suddenly wore a serious expression on her face; but it
disappeared into a gentle smile when she said, “Sure, that’d be.. that’d be
nice.”
I was surprised. “Would you
like to go home first, or would you like to go… now?”
“I think I’ll go home, first,
to freshen up and change. Is that alright?”
“Sure. Sure. May I have your
number, then, to reach you?”
She gave me her number, and I
texted her phone so she could have mine. I asked if I could pick her up, but
she declined (politely) and said she’ll meet me wherever. I told her KLCC at
830pm if that was alright and indeed it was.
“I’ll see you then,” I said
before making a move.
“You will,” Damia said. A
faint redness tinged her cheeks.
I left her cubicle, and
before I left, I looked at Khairul and Hadi, who seemed unbelieving despite
witnessing that I had just asked the new hot girl out. I smiled at them
apologetically and shook my head. Finders keepers losers weepers.
Now I have to go home. I have
a date to go to.
But wasn’t I planning on
going ‘hunting’? Wait; why aren’t I going out
hunting tonight again?
Oh, right.
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