Simple America

Before the story progresses things may get a tad distasteful to some folks. While I’m not going to go into XXX mode, we will make it to the R rating. So make sure you have permission to read if you think you might need permission. My goal here is not to shock anyone, but rather explore a path I walked once.

 

Yesterday, I was reading JoMel’s archives and I ran across her December 15, 2005 post. As I read about her time as a College girl running from party to party it totally related to what I was doing throughout my time in the Army. I partied pretty hard back then, but I never really clicked with any particular group. I really spent a lot of time on my own. In fact I felt just like JoMel as expressed in her own words:

 

“The fact is, my dahlings, looking back now, I realise that I never really fitted in. I was leading a life that was not complementary to my being. I would return home feeling totally drained, and EMPTY inside. After all that highs, came the lows. Life cannot be a constant high you see. The law of gravity somehow dictates that too.

Has any of you ever felt that way before?”

 

Yes JoMel I did. I had been trying to make a similar statement for quite some time. Why reinvent the wheel when you can quote someone with the same sentiment. And that is the creature I am presenting in these memoirs. Do not think that this is me today. That would be a mistake. I have grown since then. In JoMel’s posting she talks about finding a balance, the Ying and Yang. These memoirs are of a boy who thought he was a man. But a man is not a man unless he has balance. Of course if I had balance there would be nothing to reflect upon either. So without any further interruptions I shall proceed.

 

Mama-san was on the phone. I recognized her voice from the previous day. “Got a pretty girl for you. You want? I sendy.”

 

The thought brought a smile to my face. I’m thinking where else can you get this kind of a call. (Now I know you can get this in any city, but I was naïve then) So I asked the all important question, “How much?”

 

“Twenty dollah, all night.”

 

Twenty bucks! My head was swimming. 20 bucks would not get you a hand job in Frankfurt for 20 minutes. No wonder GIs liked coming over here.

 

“OK,” I replied. Deal done.

 

“She come to your room. Bye-bye”

 

So like that I had a girl coming to my room. Then someone knocked on my door. I peeked through the spy hole and outside was Sarge and the Spec5. I opened the door and they were ready to go to the NCO Club for dinner. So I grabbed my jacket and joined them. No thought to the girl that was heading my way.

 

We caught a cab and took it to the NCO Club which was in the south part of Yongsan. Usually I could not enter the NCO Club, but since I was a guest of Sarge this was not a problem. The restaurant was nice, though I cannot remember it that well. It was my second day in Korea and I had not tried any Korean cuisine yet, so I ordered the Bulgogi (barbecued beef). This is the first indicator to me in reflection that I was opening up to Asia. A week before I would not have walked into a Korean restaurant. I could have easily order a steak or lasagna that evening. But I chose a Korean dish. And I enjoyed the food, though it was the worst Bulgogi I would ever encounter. I just did not know how below standard fare it was yet. Ate the whole meal without once mentioning Mama-san and the girl she was sending to me.

 

The ride back through the snow banked streets was uneventful. We passed through the lobby and waved to the clerks before catching the elevator. I walked into my room and hardly hung my coat up when the phone rang. Picked it up and said, “Hello.”

 

“Where you go,” Mama-san asked?

 

“I went out to eat,” was my reply. “Got hungry.”

 

“Is the girl there now?

 

“No,” I responded and then a knock came at the door. “Hold on. Someone’s at the door.”

 

Before Mama-san could respond I set the phone down on the table. I walked to the spy hole and there she was. A one hundred percent bonafide Korean babe waited outside my door. Without hesitation I opened the door and in she came. If she was angry or put out she masked it well. Koreans are very good at masking their feelings. Only the Japanese are better at this art.

 

She was short, probably 5 foot 1 (155cm) at the most. She had very black hair that touched the top of her shoulder blades. While her hair was straight, it possessed a twisted texture that I find extremely attractive. So one point in her favor already. She dropped her purse on the chest of drawers and I got a good look at her. She was quite thin, not unattractively, just an average Korean figure. She wore jeans and a rainbow striped sweater that coiled round her body. Her face was ordinary, not ugly, not pretty. Her nose was a little wide and flatter than most, perhaps it had been broken as she had some small scars about her face. Her skin was fair and creamy with youth. She had to be around 20 but I never asked. Her eyes were a dark brown and almond shape that captivated me, despite the hint of a small mean streak within them.

 

I walked back to the phone. “Hey Mama-san. Your girl is here.”

 

“Let me talk to her,” she demanded.

 

So I looked at the girl and gave her the phone. They chatted a bit and then the girl gave me back the phone.

 

“You likey?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“So it’s okay.”

 

“Yes Mama-san. Everything is fine.”

 

The woman said good bye and hung up. Now it was me and the girl. I cannot remember her name to save my life. I kept her occupied for the entire weekend so it’s kind of pathetic that I forgot. Lets just call her Miss Park and leave it at that. I expected that we would toss our clothes off and just bang the night away, but in retrospect the evening was more like the Dick Van Dyke show. Miss Park did not speak very much English and I did not have a Korean-English Dictionary. I pulled out my wallet to pay her and she shook her head, so I put it back.

 

She turned on the TV and sat on the queen-sized bed. I looked at her like what the fuck. She patted the mattress next to her, so I kicked off my tennis shoes and hopped besides her. As soon I was next to her she hooked her left leg over mine. I figured fun time was under way and I tried to kiss her. She adeptly dodged my advance and I learned anyo means no. Then Miss Park leaned against me, and despite now being a VERY horny GI, I was content to feel her next to me.

 

Miss Park had been with me for a little while when there was a knock at my door. I jumped off the bed and peeked out to see Sarge and the Spec 5 standing outside. They had talked about cleaning up and going out for a beer. I opened the door and smiled kind of sheepishly. They both looked over my shoulder and saw Miss Park on the bed. They smiled, winked,  and said see you later. I went back to the bed and snuggled up to the girl.

 

For two hours we sat on top of the covers watching Korean shows. I tried to talk now and then, but we had great difficulty communicating. As the time passed I wondered if we were ever going to get down to business. Thoughts of fish bars came to mind. A fish bar is a place where stupid men go and buy women drinks for ten times the normal price. The guy is led to believe he will get laid, but once the woman has fished all his money, she walks away and the bouncers become more evident. I had the feeling I was anticipating action that might never happen. But I still had my money too.

 

I guess her show ended. Miss Park went to the bathroom and I could hear the water being drawn. I just sat there, dumbly watching TV. The water turned off in the loo and Miss Park came out. She grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bed. “You makey clean,” she commanded. And it was off to the tub with me. I was hoping she might join me, but as soon as she scooted me inside, she stepped out and closed the door.

 

The whole thing seemed funny. I know a silly grin covered my face. So I jumped in the tub and damn she ran the water hot. I’m not big on super hot water and this approached being too hot for me. I scrubbed and washed quick, because I wanted the evening to progress. I wrapped a towel round myself and saw she had turned down the bed. She had the covers drawn down so I could hop under them quickly. Then she ran off to the tub and started running water for herself.

 

Miss Park remained in the tub for the longest time. And then she came out. She wore a towel and a naughty little grin. All the waiting was forgotten and forgiven. Park ran across the floor on tiptoes and ducked under the covers besides me. I distinctively heard the towel hit the floor. But before the fun could start she pushed me from under the covers and pointed out the lights. I turned them off which did not take too long. It’s funny how fast you can be when you want something.

 

Now it was just her, me, and the sheets. She was smooth, flat, and conservative. Typical of most Korean girls, the kinkiest thing Miss Park knew was the missionary position. She was not interested in a simple change of position, such as on top, for that would have destroyed a millennium of cultural programming. Even a simple kiss seemed impossible, as the Koreans really are not a touching, smooching society. Hard for a passionate American to understand. I wanted to swing from chandeliers over an oiled rubber mat. Maybe in Tokyo. Not happening in Seoul. No. Sex here was strictly bumping uglies while she lay on her back. Of course what did I expect for 20 bucks?

 

Anyone interested in Part VI?