Vicky Valentine’s Erotic Adventures Volume 5 (Sample)

I lost True to Dokdo Island.

Three months later, a downward spiral threatens to engulf me. True’s last moment haunts my mind replaying in every minute of every day in waking life. Alcohol and hashish become my only respite. I bury myself in those demons hoping for solace, but I find none. When I sleep terrible nightmares consume me. When I wake I want to die.

Somewhere, I lost the horizon and I now search Bangkok for hope.

Searching for a clue concerning Countess Carmilla’s whereabouts amounts to nothing. Information about True’s background rests with this mysterious woman. Meeting contacts becomes tiresome. Most Thai locals speak limited English and I speak little Thai. I spend my days meeting Crepax’s acquaintances and my nights frequenting bars in a drunken stupor. I try to bury my rage at True and Wilder’s betrayals. Grim before, now I must seem like a real stick in the mud. 

Bangkok is a beautiful city; there’s no doubt. It houses a vibrant street life, many cultural landmarks, and its notorious red-light districts. Haphazard city planning makes navigation a bitch. Canals make it worse, yet also more beautiful. Hot and sweaty, this colossal traffic jam called ‘The Venice of the East’ is a labyrinth of motorbikes, three-wheeled tuk-tuk taxis, and hustlers.

European diplomats and merchants used to live in the Old Farang Quarter during the early twentieth century. Now, I wander this dump all hours of night. Walking. Stumbling. Puking. Not caring if safety prevails. I stumble over to the Ratchaprasong, then to the sprawling Chatuchak Weekend Market, then over to the Taling Chan Floating Market. I enjoy the flowers at Pak Khlong Talat. At first, I savor the fresh durian and coconuts, but then this pleasure wears off.

I hate all of it because I hate myself.

My contacts produce little except for the Colt 1911 in my pocket and the brass knuckles in my handbag. Some are part of the criminal underworld with ties to other syndicates in Cambodia and Laos. Others are creeps. Crepax knows them all from his time searching out mystical texts for Diab. My only reliable contact remains a taxi driver, Boon-mee. Crepax vouched for him. I met Boon-mee in the slums concentrated near Bangkok Port in Khlong Toei District. Since then, we’ve formed a bond, so he’s the only one I trust. But I can’t really trust anybody anymore.

Nobody knows where to find this elusive Countess, and I grow tired of dealing with these people. They deliver rumors of blood drinking, but nothing tangible. She lives in a grand palace, but nobody seems to know—or they don’t want to reveal—the location.

Crepax went to Saigon to gather more intel, but I haven’t heard from him. For the first month, he e-mailed me, but weeks have passed since his last message. Did he give up? Did something worse happen? Maybe he’s too afraid to tell me.

At any rate, it’s twilight again. Charbroiled scorpion whiff assails me as I walk past shady tuk-tuk drivers selling coupons for ping pong shows. I enter a bar like countless times before. My mission remains the same: drown my worries in alcohol. I sit at the bar. A packed place surrounds me, but the Khaosan Road always draws a crowd because it’s the backpacker ghetto. I frequent here because life runs cheap and everyone escapes something. The backpackers run from jobs. The expats run from homelands. The locals run from boredom. I run from my past.

I order a Jack and Coke… The first of many.

The bar turns wild as the night progresses. Late in the evenings, bartenders place a board over the pool table and people dance on it. Nine drinks later, I disco atop the pool table with a small Thai girl who resembles True. I stumble over drunk. The little girl rubs against me. Our boogying stops. A deep kiss immerses us in ecstasy. Partygoers sway around us to glut’s rhythm.

Before we realize, we stagger into a thoroughfare. Nocturnal revelry ensues around us. People crowd the road as we stumble back to my guesthouse. It’s after hours, so the night clerk sleeps behind the desk. I’m not supposed to have people in my room, so we move quietly through the halls and head to my private area. Many people share lodgings. But with what befell True, I can’t face people. It’s too much.

I slide the key into the lock. I remember the key cards in South Korea and it makes me miserable. We stagger into the room. We hug and kiss deeply. She stands insignificant compared to me and I don’t even know her name. Does it matter? Not much. I fling her onto the shoddy bed, which is little more than fabric with springs on it. The cot makes a funny noise as she bounces. I place one knee on the bed and she almost rolls off because of my weight. At least this moves her closer. Once there, I kiss her again. The girl smells different from True, but she’s still desirable.

She says something in Thai, but my language skills remain weak so it means nothing. It could be something like “you’re beautiful” or “you’re insane” for all I know. Whatever it is, it doesn’t stop her from kissing my white breasts. Am I her first foreign lover? Who knows? Probably not.

To Be Continued…

If you want to read the bundled neo-noir erotic collection, please check out Vicky Valentine’s Erotic Adventures: The Bundle or for a print collection see Vicky Valentine’s Erotic Adventures: Volumes 1 – 4 (Collection + Bonus Prequel). Vicky also has a few more free stories HERE.

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