I had kept Selvia up to date on what was happening with Hannah and she gave me unquestioning support even though they were friends. I realized she kinda ticked all the boxes -- she was smart, kind, funny, beautiful, sexy, loyal, and a little bit crazy.
She was a Real Girl ™ (i.e. not doing it for cash), and all of a sudden I wasn't sure what I was doing to Hannah was going to be my biggest danger -- I was heading for "Big Trouble in Little Vagina".
Hannah was maintaining radio silence with me, so I guess she was calling my bluff. Was it a bluff, though? That was something I had to consider. I had already decided that I wasn't the victim of her dishonesty and was thinking I'd probably give the money to Seven if I got it back from Hannah. I had even considered letting Hannah keep it, if she'd just make the gesture to agree to give it back.
Anyway, that wasn't happening, so I let another 24 hours slip by after Hannah's deadline and realized I was going to have to make a choice.
When I got back to the hotel after work, I opened up Facebook and sent Gavin a message. "I'm really sorry to have to tell you this, and I've struggled with it, but I would feel wrong if I didn't let you know... " Blah blah blah, I'm sure you get the idea. I hit send.
Seven was at work that night, so I knew she couldn't come over until she finished at 1am. I had time to kill. I was thinking about heading over to Red Square to get a few vodkas and some freelance eye candy, or maybe hit BATS or Blok M.
Now don't think I'm a monster. This felt like an important thing to do, since I was heading into difficult waters with Seven, and needed to keep myself a little bit detached. I was only going to hurt her if I let myself get attached.
I was a little bored with all the places I knew, so I fired up Google and started researching cool places to go in Jakarta. I knew there were some really sordid filthy places in Jakarta and maybe that would be exactly what the doctor ordered to restore some semblance of non-pussy-whippedness.
It's funny researching mongering destinations, because you have to type the strangest things into Google. "jakarta hooker nightlife blok m freelancer massage blow job bar happy ending". It's like a brain dump of the kinds of stupid male impulses I used to have almost constantly every day.
I sometimes feel embarrassed admitting such thoughts to Google, but then almost everything I search for comes up in the search suggestions, so I feel solidarity with the guys who have used exactly the same search terms as me.
Indecisive, I was about to resign myself to ordering room service, drinking all the Bintang in the minibar, and staying in, when I got a text from Seven asking if I'd like to come visit her at work. I thought, well, that's one way to go, why the hell not?
Even though it completely went against every single logical thought I'd just run through the pink fleshy calculator in my head, I texted Seven that I'd love to.
She gave me the address and it looked familiar. I thought for a second and realized it was near one of the places I had been researching. I checked again and I was right. Seven's restaurant was located just a couple of blocks from Hotel Malawai, which I had read had a bar on the 14th floor full of prostitutes. I had been meaning to check it out for years, so it seemed like a good idea to prove I still had a functioning penis by stopping in there first.
I went there and sheepishly told the concierge I wanted to check out the bar on the 14th floor. He smiled knowingly and pointed out the elevator. I went up and when the elevator doors opened, I was met with almost complete darkness. I popped my head out and looked each way.
The hallway was chock full of girls, just standing against the walls in the dim red light. I steeled myself and stepped out, the doors closing behind me. I walked through the corridor of girls and they started grabbing my ass and junk. I said, "hi ladies, where is the, er... bar in here? I thought there was a bar?"
Eventually I stumbled into a tiny room with a bar and a couple of decrepit red leather couches. It was a real class act.
There were no girls inside the bar, so I assumed they were told to stay in the hallway for some reason. There was a guy at the bar with a really hot girl, so I parked my ass lightly on one of the couches at the back, checking first for any white man-glue that might adhere my pants to the imitation leather.
Every time I looked at the door, a gaggle of prostitutes waved enthusiastically at me and blew me kisses. I could barely see if any of them were cute, and either way, it was all way to in-your-face for me, so I tried to avoid eye contact.
Over at the bar, the girl left the guy alone and strolled out into the dark hallway on her long sexy legs. The man she left behind seemed pretty drunk, so I wasn't that keen on talking to him, but he noticed me as the only other customer and waved me over to sit with him. I didn't really have a choice, so went over.
He asked what room I was staying in and I told him I wasn't, I'd just read about the place and decided to check it out. He said, "ah first timer, huh? Ain't this a mind fuck? You must be shitting in your pants!" I laughed.
He started to point to each one of the girls in the doorway and give me their vital statistics, name, sexual preferences, 2 holer, 3 holer, good blowjob, etc. They could hear him, but they didn't seem to mind. Some even giglled and nodded to confirm his evaluation.
I was truly impressed by this guy's encyclopedic knowledge of Hotel Malawai hookers. It occurred to me that he should probably have his brain frozen and preserved in the national archives somewhere.
He also told me that Canadian Club whiskey with soda was the only fucking drink any man should ever fucking sample and set about organising one for me.
There was no bartender, so he reached over, grabbed the bottle and poured me a nice strong one. I thanked him and drank it dutifully. As soon as I was done he poured another, stronger this time. "Dutch courage," he said. "Even though I'm Canadian, haHA!" I drank it and he poured another.
I was conscious Seven was waiting for me, so I started thinking about excuses to leave. I told him the place wasn't really my scene and I was just going to head off. He said, "bullshit, come see the room. You've never seen a room in this place, right?"
I said, "are you sure? I don't want to impose... "
He said, "what, do you think my wife and I are going to rape your asshole or something? I mean, SHE might, but I'm into girls! HaHA!!"
He got up and dragged me by the arm out into the hallway. He took me through the corridor of girls, and with three or four Canadian Clubs under my belt, I was kinda enjoying their molesting ways this time. He took me into a room and said, "I stay in this room every time I'm here, and my wife and I take a different bitch each night. My wife loves it more than I do. It's fucking awesome!"
On queue, his wife came out of the bathroom and causally said "Hi again". She was wearing some kind of semi-transparent lingerie and I could totally see her nipples and breasts through it. She seemed nonplussed, and continued to randomly strut her long legs around the room like an Ibis in a good swamp.
This was all a bit weird for me, so I stayed very close to the door and said, "well it's a nice room, good for the... er... price. I've got someone I've gotta meet, so I think I'll just, er, shoot off now. Thanks..."
The Canadian guy said "Fucking bullshit! Stay, I've got some CC in the fridge." He headed toward it, but clipped the bed with his hip and stumbled onto the mattress face first. He lay there, not moving. His wife looked at me, rolled her eyes and shook her head slowly. "He never fucks me anymore. Too drunk."
I made my excuses and headed for the elevator as quickly as I could. I never did pay a bill there, so hopefully the alcohol was free. I've not been back since to find out, and from Googling the subject recently, it appears the whole Melawai scene is now, sadly, long since closed down.
I wonder what the Canadian Club guy did with all that encyclopedic knowledge he built over the years. I hope someday he starts a Wiki for posterity.