Chapter 8

----

The mood was toning down in the club in Changkat. As I stood near the bar, my senses seemed to have gone on over-drive; I could almost see, smell and hear everything that was going on around me. I swear I could see every drop of perspiration on the bodies of the girls dancing, every pore, and smell every type of liquor in the air. I heard voices speaking, shouting, singing and squealing in delight. I felt pumped and primed, ready to take on anything.

Of course, this could just the four cocktails and one beer I’ve had over the past couple of hours starting to take effect. And that was a first; the first time I’ve had alcohol since… 3 years? I’m not too sure. But for a long time anyway.

Whatever. I was ready to score.

I eyed the club floor, looking for the right girls. I don’t know how I did it, or what actually goes on when I do. But I know I can do it, all the same. I rarely go for drunk girls, by the way. One, they’re usually too, well, drunk to be of any fun, and two, the chances of them vomiting on my pristine bedsheets is too much to ignore. And I hate cleaning up after vomit; happened to me once, and never again.

A group of three girls caught my eye as they left the dance floor and went to the lounge area where two guys were sitting down. All of them looked young, fresh into their twenties, eager eyed and ecstatic to be inside this club (one of the more exclusive ones in Kuala Lumpur). The guys greeted the girls and they sat together, bottles of Absolut and Jack Daniels and Coke strewing the table, shot glasses everywhere. The girls were very pretty; one had long, black hair with gold highlights, and was wearing a yellow, off-shoulder tube dress with a pink belt around her waist. Another, with bangs and a braided pony-tail, was in a tank top and jeans cut-off just below the buttocks, with knee high leather boots. The third girl had curly hair, and wore a backless blouse matched to hot pants and stilettos. The guys seemed to be totally awestruck by the three girls. They were simple looking, as if this was their first time inside a club (which probably was). They were probably hoping to score some, tonight.

Let’s have a change of plan, shall we?

I walked up to their little lounge area. The five of them looked at me. I knew the girls caught their breath. I was far better looking than these naïve little boys they were out with. These boys dressed in their imitation Hackett t-shirts and jeans and fake Paul Smith shoes.

“Hello, girls,” I said. “And you too, guys.”

“Hi,” said Yellow Tube Top. Up close, I could look down into her cleavage, which was shallow, aided as much as it could by what was most likely a push up bra. When she said hi, her two friends followed suit, greeting me, while the boys were quiet, unsure about this intrusion.

I smiled. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I can’t help but notice the three of you. May I know your names?”

“What’s yours first?” said Bangs, the one with leather boots.

“Ah, sorry,” I feigned forgetfulness. “I’m Dhani Ibrahim.”

“Hello Dhani Ibrahim,” said Yellow Tube Top. “My name is Farrah.” Then Bangs introduced herself as Qistina, and Curly said her name is Mya.

“Nice to meet the three of you; could I buy you three a drink?” I offered. The girls looked at each other as if unsure. I continued, “Just a drink.”

Then one of the guys spoke out; Hackett 1, let’s call him that. He seemed a bit bigger than me. But that was okay. “Dude, I think…”

“Dhani,” I said.

“Huh?” Hackett 1 said, dumbfounded.

“Call me Dhani,” I said, smiling. Hackett 1 seemed unsure.

“Whatever,” he finally said. “But I think the girls are fine, there’s no need for you to buy them drinks.”

“Yeah, ‘Dhani’, we’re totally fine,” said Hackett 2, finding his voice. He was scrawny and still had acne on his face.

“Girls?” I said, turning to Farrah, Qistina and Mya. They looked at each other and Farrah, who must be the leader of the three, said, “Sure, we’d love a drink.”

“That’s the spirit, only,” I said, “the drinks aren’t here. I’ll get you a drink somewhere else. Somewhere nicer.”

“Where is that?” Mya asked.

I grinned. “My place.”

The girls looked at each other. Then almost in unison, they said, “Sure.”

“Shall we?” I invited. The boys stared, jaws open.

***

But first, conflict. As we walked out of the club and I passed the keys to the valet attendant, I felt my shoulder being pulled. It was Hackett 1.

“What the fuck, man?” he said. He looked angry, but unsure of himself.

“Yeah man, what the fuck? The girls were with us!” Hackett 2 said as he joined in. A line of people still waiting to get inside looked at us. The Hacketts tried to look big and intimidating, shoulders back and chest puffed. The girls huddled together behind me.

“Really now? I said,” looking at the girls and then at the Hacketts again. “They don’t seem too keen on continuing the night with you two.”

“But we brought them here!!!” Hackett 1 said.

“And with me they are leaving,” I said. “Come on, did you seriously think the girls were going to spend the night with you?”

The Hacketts were quiet. They peered at the girls behind me, as if looking for support.

“From the looks of it,” I continued. “You two are young and very fresh to this scene. I mean, I appreciate the fact you went out to Uptown Danau Kota and bought the nicest Hackett shirts and Paul Smith shoes you could find.”

The Hacketts glowered at me.

“And I appreciate the fact you probably washed and vacuumed your Myvi to go pick up the girls.” Hackett 1 quickly shoved the clearly Perodua keys back into his jeans pocket.

“But the pimples on your friends’ face, and the packet of condoms I see bulging out of your rear pocket tells me that you guys are newbies. Try again.” Hackett 2 glances behind him like a dog chasing his tail and the packet of condoms drops out. He picks it up, looking embarrassed.

“And pulling my shoulder in anger?” I ‘tsk-tsked’. “Not cool.”

“So is stealing dates!!” Hackett 1 said, almost shouting.

“Now, now, be mature. Don’t be a kid acting like his favorite toy got nicked at the playground,” I said.

A big, muscular guy walked up to us. “Problem here?” He was Mahat, the club bouncer, and long-time acquaintance of mine.

“Nothing, really, Mahat,” I said and patted his shoulder. “I was just about to go home.”

“I see that. Take care Dhani. You two, eh Hacketts, got a problem?”

The Hacketts looked at Mahat, who stood a good six inches taller than them and probably outweighed them by 30 kilos or more. They shook their heads.

“Goodbye Mahat. Goodbye Hacketts,” I said just as the valet pulled up in my BMW Z4. The girls gleamed at the sight of the car. I got inside and lowered the roof. “Girls, you might need to squeeze in a bit.” The girls seemed ecstatic. This was probably the first time they were ever picked up. Farra ended up on my lap (which, admittedly, didn’t make for the best way to drive, mind you), while Mya and Qistina shared the passenger seat.

“Let’s go shall we?”

***

 

 When we reached my condominum, we didn’t even care for that drink. Besides I didn’t keep hard drinks at home anyway. Unless you count coffee.  

When the girls stepped into my unit they were very impressed. There was some attempt at small talk, the usual “Dhani, what do you do?” and etcetera. I found out the three of them were fresh graduates from a prominent public university in Shah Alam, and they, too, were very fresh on the clubbing scene in KL. I showed them around my unit, and lastly led them to the bedroom. I slept on a king-size bed, low to the floor, with sidestands (where I keep my little umbrellas, you get me). There were six pillows on the bed, and matching duvet and blankets. 

“And this is where I sleep,” I said.

“Where do we sleep?” Mya said, not bothering to hide the intent behind it.

I hooked my arms around her and Qistina, then Farra pressed herself against me. “That depends. Are you three okay with sharing?”

We sat on the bed and the touching begin. The kissing commenced soon. They were rough, inexperienced and didn’t know how to use their tongues properly. When I fondled their breasts and sex they made ‘noises’ that were a bit overdone. Farra was taking off my jeans while the other two unbuttoned my shirt and kissed me. Soon I was pulling off their clothes and looking at them on my bed, three young girls who were just entering the real world. They were perky and fresh, and their bodies tasted like salt and honey and pepper. I tasted every inch of their skin, their sex and revelled in the scent of their musk as they reciprocated and ran their hands, lips and tongues all over my body. I begin to fuck them, starting with Mya and alternating between all three of them. It was wild, animalistic. But not my first foursome.

We finished around 0330hrs, an hour and fifteen minutes after we left the club. The girls lay strewn across my bed in various positions, all of them naked and slick, the sweat drying off their bodies. Normally, I’d take a look at my nightly trophy and get to sleep.

But tonight I couldn’t. Something felt… off.

So I picked up their clothes, folded them neatly and set them aside. I picked up the three used condoms, wrapped them in tissue and discarded them. I put on a robe, took my phone and left the girls in the bedroom. I’ll get a cab for them in the morning, I suppose.

I went to my custom-designed, stainless steel kitchen and made myself a mug of hot cocoa with a dash of cinnamon and sea salt. Taking this, I went to my balcony. Sipping my drink, I looked out over the view. From a distance, I saw the Twins, though they were now shrouded in darkness. The city was still well lit, and again, I thought, “Oh the dreams your lights promise.”

I thought about tonight. Those girls. Soon they’ll step foot into the lights, and soon they’ll strive to achieve their dreams. The fact that they had just had sex with a stranger they met in a club tonight was of no consequence. In the end, the dreams are what they make it to be. I wondered if I was like that, once upon a time.

Suddenly, I thought of Damia. I thought, “I wonder if Damia has achieved her dreams. What are her dreams? She said she’ll let me know."

Then, unawares, I said this out loud: "What are you dreams, Damia?"