The Accounts

Phuket City,

I want to start off by saying this is not a sex trafficking story. In fact I had just finished some counter trafficking work in Thailand and I had a week to get back home, so I decided to stay in Phuket for a few days. 

Phuket was one of those cities that foreigners visit to relish in their own anonymity, regardless of what the locals are left to clean up, mentally or physically.

The city is full of indulgences from food to alcohol and sex, and everything was affordable.

I’ve never been turned on by the idea of prostitution in these countries specifically due to the high sex trafficking likelihood. 

So I spent most of my nights declining these attempts while trying to enjoy a drink and people watching (as a profiler you never really stop reading people).

Although eyes locked with a girl that had noticed me when she entered the bar.

Our eventual conversation came quickly after, she was a 22 year old Burmese girl that spoke impressively fluent English. Her dark hair fell down her back and ended right at an ass that turned every head in the club. I didn’t ask why she was here, Neither did she ask me, I feel like we had a basic understanding set in stone the moment we locked eyes.

Our talk lasted over a period of time only measured by empty beer bottles. 15 of them sat on the counter next to us, listening to our every word. She looked up from her phone after checking the time, shooting a look that any intelligent man knew what meant. Then abruptly stood up and grabbed my hand as she gracefully moved to the door.

I followed her reluctantly through the busy street, my eyes locked onto her ass in her white dress, almost hypnotically.

I knew the risks of girls being used as bait to pull tourists into alleyways to be robbed at knifepoint, and me being off duty meant that I didn’t have my gun on me. But something told me that this wasn’t what I’d expect from a Thai alleyway robbery. 

She shuffled through her keys to open a poorly installed steel gate entry way to an apartment building, painted blue with grey and black flowers lining its bars. Then up what felt like a hundred flights of stairs to a bright blue door she opened with another 2 keys.

Her studio apartment was almost pitch black, the only lighting was from her wall of a window looking right into the neon city street. Flashing lights and neon danced all over her countertops to her black silk sheets. She walks to her bed, slowly letting her dress fall from her shoulders and dive to the floor. She looks back at me and smiles while she crawls into bed, now stripped down to extravagant black lace lingerie. She lays on her stomach propping her head up with her hands like a school girl studying, except she was studying me. 

I had accepted that she wasn’t going to rob me as a walked towards her, reflection of neon lights glowing from her perfect ass. I kissed her ears and made my way down her spine, I hadn’t even made it to her waistline before she had my belt undone. I’d never forget her smell, her taste, the way her perfect ass spread perfectly in my hands as I bit into one of them before running my tongue down her, sending shivers down both of our spines. I could see her goosebumps begin to form as she wrapped her lips around me, her tongue dancing on my head. And then she surprises me yet again, a girl not weighing more than 100lbs manages to fit me in her throat, clicking noise and all as she moans with her mouth full. I rolled her over with her head hanging of the bed, using her throat as I please while burying my face into her. Her reaction to my hand spreading her as and my lingering fingers answered my next question as my tongue lingered, followed by my fingers. 

I could’ve stayed like this the whole time, but my need for exploration forces me to grab her arms and lift her up, pushing her body against the panoramic windows.

She braces her hands next to her head against the window, too high for the casual onlooker to see us but enough of a possibility to thrill us both. Her bra and panties come of as I slide myself into her from behind, grabbing her hip bones and pulling them into me, getting as deep as I possibly can. I can see her breath fogging the window as the humid apartment begins to frost the glass from the edges. She presses back against me, arching her back more and more as if she’s begging for me to go harder with every thrust. 

The sounds of the city and music and cars are all drowned out by her whimpers and moans until she refuses to keep quiet for the sake of her neighbors. The moans and screams follow her entire body shaking, her ass vibrates against my hips as I pull her hair back to bite her neck. She grabs back at my hair as I can feel her dripping down both of our legs to the floor. 

She pulls back forward against the window and turns around as I fall out of her before she drops to her knees again. I smiled as I could clearly tell she enjoyed tasting herself on me. Then she pushes me back on the bed and climbs on top of me, sitting on me completely before finding her rhythm. She studied my face intently, trying to decipher how close I was with every stroke in a simultaneously forward and backward and up and down motion. As I get closer and closer I looked up in her and asked the only question of the encounter...”where.” 

She smiled and put her finger to her open mouth, giggling as she ran her finger down to her chin. 

I flipped her off of me as she dropped to her knees on the budget hardwood floor. Her eyes and lips glistening in the now pink neon light as the almost fluorescent stream hit her lower lip. Her tongue reaching out to catch every last drop before she wipes her face and sucks her fingers clean. 

We moved into a rainwater fed shower in a bathroom without a door on the other side of the studio, washing each other almost silently besides the occasional giggle and laugh. The both of us fell into bed, buried into sold sheets she drew crop circles down my chest.

I woke up to a city that didn’t shut an eye, the only difference was the sun was out. She was gone, and I should’ve been gone 30 minutes ago for a 1300 flight towards home. I didn’t have an opportunity to recollect myself until I was sitting on the plane, I must’ve replayed it in my head 100 times before we were wheels down. 

I can’t help but look for her face in every crowd the past few times I’ve been back to Thailand.

One of the oldest cities known to man. The oldest cities I’ve ever been to.

Beirut has come a long way in the last thirty years. I had been to Paris on numerous occasions from work to pleasure and had never seen something quite like this place. As if an old forgotten world was bursting from the veins of its very own grandchildren.

“I could lose my job for this.” I remember fondly muttering in the very fundamental French I knew. I’ve always been extremely cautious about how close I get to the family I’m being paid to protect. This was one of the only times I was willing to risk it. It being his daughter I was probably risking more than my job, my life was potentially at stake. Lebanon was very much still a country that people “disappeared” in; I knew that all too well.

Somehow we ended up in a small alleyway en route to “a friends” house. It was no surprise the 20 year old rich girl without a care in the world would lead me on a chase through some random neighborhood in Beirut. Even if her family was so notorious they needed to hire people to protect them.

We ended up in a van sized alcove opposite of an overgrown community garden. She sat on a ceramic countertop in a flowing short dress, her hands grabbed me at the wrists and yanked me closer. I could see the way she’s stared at me the past few days, I would’ve never guessed she’d been this forward. 

She started to decipher my belt, I pulled my sidearm from my waistband and placed it on the counter, along with my handcuffs and back up knife. I could’ve cared less about who may have been watching or following us. At that moment I forgot about everything, my career, my personal history back home. As she checkpoints her lips down my chest and to my waist my mind is only on one thing.

Her hair was natural and thick, the kind you get your fingers lost in when you run your hands through them. The kind that’s easy to control when you grab ahold of it in the right place. Her throat was an endless abyss, she could breathe underwater. 

We touched every square foot of this little garden wash area. She felt every inch of my being, I tasted every ounce of hers. 

She was placed on the countertop where so many plants had been prepared with love, whether it’d been for beauty, or consumption; She was mine for both.

Her half stripped body was placed against walls older than our family names. Her ecstasy filled breaths pushed the dust away from the both of us, leaving parts of her face and chest marked with a powder of a red hue. 

At times we were quiet, most of the time we were a symphony. What lasted 30 minutes felt like a lifetime. Before she ended up where we started, on her knees.

It felt like she had a job to due, she worked tirelessly waiting for my physical approval. Before opening her mouth and releasing me with zero care as to her aim. I spilled my entire soap into her mouth and on her face.

We exchanged smiles and put ourselves back together. We barely talked the rest of the job, maybe it was because I wasn’t very good at Arabic or French. Maybe it was because we both got what we wanted out of this relationship. But I’ll never forget the “Paris of the East.” How well it treated me and a specific daughter I’ll never be able to mention by name.