TRICKING A JUNGLE PRINCESS
(Readers beware: this might not work on an American woman.)
The Jungle Princess, from our earliest acquaintance, impressed on me how much she loved jeans. That worked for me. Thai women in general seem to be built more attractively in the rear
area than other Asian women. That is a feature they flaunt in tight clothes.
The Jungle Princess has a derriere that would be average on a black woman, which is to say, it’s sensational on a Thai, which is to say, she looks great in jeans.
I did not discourage her jeans addiction. On the contrary, I became her enabler. To twist an old adage, it was like giving candy to a baby. Little did she know she was falling into a diabolical trap.
We shopped often which should be no surprise to other older men who hook younger beauties. I enticed her in the jeans section of large stores, letting her see, touch, smell, and finally try on various styles. But in the end limited her to one selection. It was exquisite torture.
And then (kettle drums beating, woodwinds locked into a persistent high note, and finally a trumpet screeching a pitch only a bit below that which only dogs can hear) I sprang the trap. She went into a Gimmee Frenzy in a large department store. Jeans here, jeans there, jeans everywhere. She had to have ‘em.
I let her pick out a bunch then said, “This is it. I buy you these and that’s all, no more.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said. You know how addicts are.
“I mean it,” I said. “No more. Ever.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said. You know how addicts are.
So I read her her rights. “You understand that by accepting these jeans…” Etc. Etc. Etc.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said. You know how addicts are. They’ll agree to anything to get that next fix.
Flash ahead 10 months. She has a wardrobe filled with jeans. She comes to me complaining how tight a pair are. It’s hard to button the top button. They leave a red mark around her waist.
“Gee, that’s too bad,” I say. “What’re you going to do about it.”
She stares at me. I stare back.
A month later she shows me how well her jeans fit now. It’s amazing what exercise and dieting can do.
I may not be the smartest man in the world but I have to be in contention.
The Jungle Princess, from our earliest acquaintance, impressed on me how much she loved jeans. That worked for me. Thai women in general seem to be built more attractively in the rear
area than other Asian women. That is a feature they flaunt in tight clothes.
The Jungle Princess has a derriere that would be average on a black woman, which is to say, it’s sensational on a Thai, which is to say, she looks great in jeans.
I did not discourage her jeans addiction. On the contrary, I became her enabler. To twist an old adage, it was like giving candy to a baby. Little did she know she was falling into a diabolical trap.
We shopped often which should be no surprise to other older men who hook younger beauties. I enticed her in the jeans section of large stores, letting her see, touch, smell, and finally try on various styles. But in the end limited her to one selection. It was exquisite torture.
And then (kettle drums beating, woodwinds locked into a persistent high note, and finally a trumpet screeching a pitch only a bit below that which only dogs can hear) I sprang the trap. She went into a Gimmee Frenzy in a large department store. Jeans here, jeans there, jeans everywhere. She had to have ‘em.
I let her pick out a bunch then said, “This is it. I buy you these and that’s all, no more.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said. You know how addicts are.
“I mean it,” I said. “No more. Ever.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said. You know how addicts are.
So I read her her rights. “You understand that by accepting these jeans…” Etc. Etc. Etc.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said. You know how addicts are. They’ll agree to anything to get that next fix.
Flash ahead 10 months. She has a wardrobe filled with jeans. She comes to me complaining how tight a pair are. It’s hard to button the top button. They leave a red mark around her waist.
“Gee, that’s too bad,” I say. “What’re you going to do about it.”
She stares at me. I stare back.
A month later she shows me how well her jeans fit now. It’s amazing what exercise and dieting can do.
I may not be the smartest man in the world but I have to be in contention.
posted by Walter Guest at 3:01 AM
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