Chinese Women, Asian Women, Online Dating & Things Chinese and Asian
I spent 20 years punching a time clock... then decided there had to be another way. Right now I'm sitting in a comfortable chair on a beautiful beach. There's a sweet, soft breeze in the air. In front of me, on the clear blue water, a boat drifts by. Maybe I'll go snorkeling this afternoon, or work on my tan. This is my kind of tropical paradise... cheap and unspoiled!
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By Ken Silver About Asia
2928 Views | 1 Comments | 6/1/2010 1:18:46 AM

Fully clothed she was riding me like a surfboard, going up with my breath and down with my breath. She rested partially on my body, partially on her arms, as she gave me a light, skillful, most welcome massage. I could feel when her attention was drawn away by the flashing screen of the TV in my hotel room. Up, down, up down, my breathing moved me on the bed and she rode me both ways. Taking the tension out of my back muscles as an old John Wayne movie played on the screen. Big John raised his rifle and her hands ceased their movements. Lowered it and she began massaging me again. In the mirror I could see her serious, beautiful face. I began to seriously wonder about the instructions she had been given concerning me at the council of women.

Her name, so she had told me, was Spider Girl. A joke, of course, from the years when she had sold postcards as a kid to tourists at Angkor Wat. Now all grown up, she was a ticket taker at the entrance toll booth there. We had hit it off, and I had bought her dinner a couple of nights running on Pub Street of nearby Siem Reap. Just because she wore a "Angkor Wat Historical park" uniform didn't mean she wasn't impressed when I spent a total of ten dollars USA on both of us for dinner. I had come to town hoping to meet a beautiful, honest, intelligent Asian women and perhaps I had found one.

Tonight had been her turn. We had arranged to meet at the Cambodian night food stalls just outside of Pub (Bar) street. Simple, tasty, propane lantern lit meals served to travelers and natives packed closely together at long tables. Nothing over $1.50. I got there early, to enjoy the march of crowds in the pleasantly warm night. Pub Street gets the Italians, the British, the French. The night stall street gets the Cambodians on parade.

Spider Girl arrived, looking beautiful in slacks and blouse and heels. I offered her a seat, but she shook her head and pointed to an empty table lit by a single candle. I joined her there.

In a moment three middle aged women joined us, one clearly the leader. They sat down, spreading out around the empty table. I picked up the simple one page paper menu. "Amok Soup", I requested.
The oldest woman studied me for a moment, then began to speak in rapid Cambodian to my date. Spider Girl listened intently, glancing at me from time to time as if I was some puzzle, some bicycle that needed disassembling, some lock that needed opening. Maybe the old women was going through my pros and cons as a long term partner. The other two women chimed in form time to time. Spider Girl looked at me again. It was a cold, calculating glance, but it wasn't to unpleasant. Her eyes were too dark, her hair too black and soft, for that. Maybe I was a puzzle... and maybe I did need some disassembling. And maybe the older women was giving her beautiful apprentice the instructions that were going to turn me into Spider Girls' fly...

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#2010-06-05 19:53:41 by thedragonb1 @thedragonb1

Whoa! Whoa!!! Wait, the story is over?!!!
C'mon, we need to hear the REST!!! She's a beautiful woman, don't leave us hanging, man!!! WHAT HAPPENED?

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