Thursday, February 01, 2007

Up with the goddesses

Santa Monica was rather quiet around Midnight. There were still traffic: may be one car every few seconds. Some restaurants were still open, but they were pretty empty inside. I didn't remember why I was there and what I had been doing. One thing was certain, it was hard to find anybody on standby at those hours. I didn't remember I had this Tantra goddess on my short list, or I found her through some free publications on the streets. But I had been wanting to try.

Like the uncertainty principle in quantum mechanics, the more pretty the girl, the less she provides. If one can sell full body sensual massage for $200, there's little motivation to sell her kitty for more. At the extreme, there's a generation of all American Vietnamese girls putting themselves through college, or finding temporary employment after high school, providing nothing other than an excellent massage. From my limited experiences in strip clubs in Vegas and LA, these skinny girls will cause a riot if they appear. Tantra could be somewhere in between; some girls just want to get away with a hand job. Of course others are well trained.

Her temple was in a dense apartment complex by the freeway. The parking lot was full, meaning lots of people, but there was silence in the air. The moment she opened the door, I could sense the manufactured looks about her. She stretched her arms horizontally, resting on both sides of the entrance, also a gesture of arm opening welcome. She stood there tall and bare foot, with one leg slightly in front of the other, like a model post. Harmonious light came from behind her, highlighting her silhouette, which was that of a fit, leggy, curvy Brazilian mix.

I didn't remember what she had on. It was bright green, something tight and tiny, a body suit, a tube top, or just a vest. What I remembered was a bright red piece of cloth, that she used like a bikini cover-up, a tiny triangular short skirt. Of course I went inside without hesitation. The colors and pattern of her outfit was rather unique, which could be derived from a mixture of Far East, South Asian, and Middle East.

Her temple was spacious, clean, well decorated with Tantric symbols. I didn't remember much about the massage, which had to be pretty average. I was sure that that I could not get anywhere with her, to my disappointment. But then if I followed her down the Tantric path, I could have the goddess worship after a few sessions. At least that was what I heard in a semi-conscious state.

Finally the hand job came. It was different as she was seriously talking through the theories and techniques along the way. Now I can think of why Japanese porn are good: they are so serious that you just can't laugh whatever they are doing. The atmosphere can easily leak through the screen, or you being sucked into it.

Continue tomorrow perhaps. Sleepy.

1 comment:

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