The Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, winner of the 1971 Nobel Prize for Literature, mentioned in his autobiography an affair he encounters when he was young. One day, the poet and a friend met a girl on the street, and the three of them decided to spend time together. That night, the girl slept with his friend.
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In the middle of the night, that friend came to Neruda's room and said, "You should definitely sleep with this girl. I can't quite describe it, but you really should try." Soon after, the girl poked into Neruda's room.
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Afterward, Neruda described that when he entered the girl’s body, it felt as if he was touching the origin of all things, an extraordinarily wonderful sensation that led him to a realm of indescribable mystery. After discussing it with his friend, they both agreed: this girl was not to be trifled with. The next morning, they sent her off with a bouquet of flowers and a little travel expense, leaving her on the street as they made their escape.
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Tinjau is not a poet and doesn’t even know who Neruda is. Even if he were told the story above, he would not be able to understand the indescribable wonder of the "origin of all things". For him, making love is just making love. The pleasure derived from friction has no connection to the origin of all things, and he has no interest in exploring such matters.
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But at this moment, Tinjau completely understands the feeling of "this girl is not to be trifled with; we must escape".
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**DAY 40**
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In Hanoi, Tinjau spent an entire week locked up in a state-run hotel with the two promiscuous girls, without stepping out of the room even once. Even when room service brought food, they refused to stop, deliberately moaning in front of the female server.
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Since his one-night stand with Siupui, Tinjau had gone over a month without sex, and the frustration from several failed attempts made him act like a starving tiger when he finally hooked up with Martha and Vera.
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However, no matter how intense the desire, it cannot burn continuously for an entire week. They made love until they fell asleep, and upon waking, they continued, gradually losing track of day and night. His mind was filled with various sexual positions, leaving him absolute blank in his mind.
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Facing these two girls who became more energetic the more promiscuous they were, Tinjau initially felt a bit surprised, but later he began to admire them, even feeling a sense of fear.
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The act of having sex is definitely a drain on men. Such indulgence cannot be sustained forever. Even if one can accept such act psychologically, the body cannot keep up.
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After excessive emission, he began to feel pain in his ball on the next day. But after Vera skillfully massaged it gently with her fingers, the pain gradually subsided, even gives him a sensation that his ball was being filled with semen again. Coupled with Martha's magical fingers that constantly stimulating his sensitive spots, they were making him hard again quickly.
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Although he could feel his ball was in extremely pain, as soon as he entered their warm, wet bodies, the sensation transformed into a tingling pleasure. However, after finishing, the pain returned and was even more intense than before.
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The lustful moans of these two girls could be heard clearly even on the street. For a state-run hotel located in front of the Hanoi train station, such behaviour could potentially affect the country's image.
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On the eighth day, the hotel could no longer tolerate it and sent the manager along with two English-speaking police officers to politely escort the three of them out. In a country where moral boundaries are tightly controlled, the Vietnamese government did not need to expel foreign tourists who were engaging in a three-way debauchery in a state-run hotel; they didn’t even have to go to the police station. In Tinjau’s view, this treatment felt almost like a pardon.
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As for the two girls, they obviously have no idea what fear was. They even secretly taking off their underwear by the Hoan Kiem Lake, planning to have sex with Tinjau right there. Is it okay to desecrate someone else’s national system like this?
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Tinjau had reluctantly refuse the sexual request of these two beauties and took the opportunity to express that it was time for everyone to part ways and continue their respective journeys.
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"Our journey has come to an end because we have found what we wanted most."
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"You think you are able to run away from us?" Martha said. "Have you checked your luggage to see if your passport is still there?"
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"You... you two—"
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"We're going to take you back to Paris," Vera said. "Don't you want to try making love while looking at the La Tour Eiffel from the presidential suite at the Four Seasons Hotel?"
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"The 'Eiffel'... building?"
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"That one with the tall erection in front of the 'Arc de Triomphe,'" Martha said with a lewd smile.
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"Arc... what?" Although he didn’t understand the French term, Tinjau finally realized that the "La Tour Eiffel" referred to the “Eiffel Tower” due to the association with “erection”, and the "Arc de Triomphe" in front of the Eiffel Tower should be the "Triumphal Arch."
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If he were dealing with Vietnamese people, Tinjau's English communication skills might even be superior. But compared to European who have higher English proficiency, the mere difference in vocabulary was enough to put Chinese people at a disadvantage.
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Of course, landmarks like the "Arc de Triomphe" are located in Europe, and people are certainly more familiar with the famous places in their hometown. But Tinjau asked himself how many civilians in Beijing know that the English name of The Great Wall is called "The Great Wall" in English? Do all Hong Kong people know that Victoria Peak is called "The Peak"?
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The continuous communication barriers made Tinjau silently swear to himself that he must improve his insufficient English vocabulary. Terms like "Eiffel Tower" (or even London's "Big Ben") are considered "the vocabulary for kids” in the eyes of Westerners, and many Chinese people only know the translated names without knowing how to read or write the original terms, as these terms are rarely used in school or the workplace.
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Suddenly, Tinjau remembered that in the Europe-wide travel guide he had once read, there were dozens of pages of commonly used foreign language appendices which listing the original names of various European scenic spots and historic sites along with their English translations. It even included International Phonetic Alphabet to teach the correct pronunciation of those words.
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"Really," Martha sighed, "Keep speaking at cross purpose with you really ruined the vibe."
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"Tinjau, if you insist on leaving, we really can't stop you. You know that."
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Of course, he knew. However, the perceptive Martha took out his passport, waving it in front of him as if she intended to return it, only to slowly retract her hand and gently press it against her chest. She unbuttons one of her shirt buttons to reveal her smooth skin without any underwear underneath.
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Such a simple action brought all of Tinjau's inner struggles to the surface.
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He looked at the scene, struggling internally for a long time, and finally sighed.
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Forget it. He might as well go along with them. After all, such an opportunity would never come again in his lifetime.
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**DAY 48**
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After returning to Paris, the two girls immediately say goodbye to their backpacks and resumed their colorful social life. They held Tinjau’s arm nonchalantly, walked on the Champs-Élysées, went shopping in high-end stores, dining in upscale restaurants, and introducing him to their close friends.
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The designated program every night is returning to the presidential suite at the Four Seasons Hotel, pressed against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that occupied an entire wall, enjoying the panoramic view of the Eiffel Tower while they are having crazy sex.
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Tinjau had no idea how long he could continue this kind of life which completely dominated by physical sensations.
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Not counting the week in Hanoi, just the short eight days in Paris, Tinjau had already lose five kilograms. This unreserved burn off was something that no matter how rich and delicious the food was, it could hardly replenish.
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Moreover, authentic French cuisine usually served in small portions, focusing on taste rather than filling the stomach. The locals rely on bread to satisfy their hunger. Tinjau is not used to eating bread as a staple food. So, he has eaten less than usual in the past few days in Paris.
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People often say that the French generally have a tendency toward racial discrimination. But during these few days of personal experience, Tinjau felt none of that. Instead, he sensed that among the wealthy, promiscuous young rich women in Paris, they were quite attracted to the non-model like ordinary Asian men like him.
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Martha and Vera introduced Tinjau to a dozen of their close friends. Although they spoke French while commenting on Tinjau, from their eyes and smiles, he could tell that the content was probably about sex.
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One girl, who seemed to be a close friend of Martha's, appeared to be the only daughter of a telecommunications magnate. She boldly sat on Tinjau's lap, put her arm around his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, "Can I ask Martha to bring you over?"
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Without caring that they were in a high-end restaurant where the average bill exceeded a thousand euros, she reached into Tinjau's Armani shirt in front of everyone.
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Under the stimulation of this unfamiliar hand, Tinjau suddenly snapped back to reality.
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He looked around at the dozen beauties in front of him who were all top-notch in body and status, and his brain that had not been used for a long time suddenly started to move.
(Judging from the atmosphere, once the novelty of me wears off, Martha and Vera will likely take turns lending me to their girlfriends, right?)
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The opportunity to possess other women, even a whole bunch of them, was right in front of him. For a moment, Tinjau felt a strong desire to possess. But the same strong feeling of weariness suddenly washed over him, like a bucket of cold water being poured over his head.
(Does this make me a kept man? Do they regard me as a male prostitute? Have I become a sex slave to these women? Am I just a... stud to them?)
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After reaching this conclusion, Tinjau looked down at his Armani outfit worth thousands of euros, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on his back.
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He began to rack his brains to think about how to escape from this tender prison.
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That night, Martha had to return to her parent’s home to spend the night. Vera was obviously looking forward to it because it had been a while since she could monopolize Tinjau for an entire evening.
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For Tinjau, there was no better time to escape than tonight. He was always a bit wary of the perceptive Martha, feeling that whatever plans he had in mind could never escape her sharp eyes.
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Vera, on the other hand, was a woman without much scheme. Compared to the psychological desire for possession, she seemed more obsessed with physical satisfaction. After reaching climax, she would always nestle quietly against Tinjau's chest, sinking into a deep sleep, unlike Martha, who would show a strong possessiveness of "you are mine, and I won't let you go".
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That night, Tinjau's performance was the most vigorous and most persistence in the past three weeks. He completely ignored his own enjoyment, holding back from cumming at the critical moments, and using his breathing time to continue stimulating Vera with his fingers and tongue, trying to save as much energy as possible.
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By the end of the night, Vera's energy and desire had been completely burned out, she finally collapsed on the bed and fast asleep.
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**DAY 49**
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Opportunities only come once. Carefully removing Vera's arm and cheek aside, Tinjau quietly rolled onto the floor and hurriedly put on his own cheap clothes.
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After searching through the girls' luggage, he finally found his passport (thankfully, it hadn’t been taken by Martha).
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Before he could finish packing his backpack, Vera suddenly turned over and found her arm was resting on the empty sheets. She propped herself up with bleary eyes, looking around and murmuring, "Tinjau... Tinjau?"
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Fortunately, Tinjau was standing in a dark corner away from the window. He quickly ran into the bathroom and flushed the toilet. The sound of the flushing seemed to reassure Vera, and Tinjau heard heard her lie down on the bed again.
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After waiting a while and confirming that there was no movement in the room, Tinjau took a few deep breaths, lowered his head, dashed out of the bathroom, grabbed a piece of luggage, and rushed out of the room even without putting on his shoes.
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He ran recklessly through the streets of Paris, turning at every intersection until he saw Notre-Dame, where he finally felt safe enough to crouch down and catch his breath, laughing maniacally as he did so.
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If a police officer came to question him at this moment, how Tinjau explain what happened to him?
(I was imprisoned in the presidential suite of the Four Seasons Hotel by two very beautiful rich girls. Aside from pig out everyday, I was taking turns making love with them. I just couldn't take this kind of life anymore.)
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In order to get rid of these two girls and avoid being softened by beauty again, Tinjau planned to leave French border overnight.
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He took out his travel guide from his backpack and flipped to the page with the map of Europe. Tinjau frowned immediately. (There are just too many countries bordering France, which one should I choose?)
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If he headed south, he could reach Spain. The football matches in Madrid and Barcelona were very appealing to Tinjau, a standard football fan. Moreover, the weather in southern Europe is warmer, which Tinjau prefers.
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If he wanted convenience in transportation, he could choose to head east to the UK. Taking the "Eurostar" train would get him to London less than three hours. For Tinjau, London is one of the places he must visit in his lifetime.
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Heading west, he could pass through Monaco or Italy. Tinjau only knew that Monaco was the host country for Formula One racing, and he had no idea what else there was to see when there were no races.
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Italy, with its abundance of historical landmarks, was a very tempting destination.
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There are three countries bordering France to the north: Belgium, Luxembourg, and Germany. Thinking of Belgium reminded Tinjau of the interesting encounters he had with Siupui and Bianca. He wanted to try the famous Belgian Godiva chocolates, and going to Madrid to try the garlic bread there also seemed like a fun idea.
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While Tinjau was still pondering, a small denomination Euro note was suddenly tossed in front of him. He looked up to see two red-haired girls who had thrown the money, and a surge of anger rose within him: (Do they think I'm a beggar?)
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These two girls each carried astonishingly large backpacks, their faces showed the excitement and curiosity of tourist visiting for the first time. They smiled brightly at Tinjau, trying to break the unfamiliar barrier.
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One of them boldly squatted next to Tinjau, pointing at his luggage and asking, "May I touch it?"
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Tinjau stretched his neck to take a look and realized she was referring to the Tenor saxophone he had bought in Vietnam.
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"I love listening to old tunes. You know?"
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"Huh?" Tinjau was completely confused.
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"You’re a street performer, right? Artists travel around Western Europe with instruments…experience life, right? Really envy you for having such a skill."
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"If I knew…play an instrument or paint, I would definitely join you. Then, I wouldn't have to work so hard on a part- job…a whole year just to save enough money…go travel."
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"Ah... Well... actually I..." Tinjau still couldn't figure out what these two girls were talking about. Their wording was a bit strange, and their English was even worse than his. They probably didn't speak English as their mother language, or even as a second language.
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Did they see him as a street performer travelling around with instruments? What a compliment.
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"No need to say anymore. we understand..." One of the girls took out a piece of garlic bread from her backpack and placed it in Tinjau's saxophone case. "Business…bad lately, and you do not have money for living expenses, right?"
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"Alas, although street performing…romantic, life is actually quite hard. Is this spiritual training… you want to? Running out without a penny, relying entirely on the instrument in your hands for daily life and the next travel expenses... sigh... I…envy your perseverance..."
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As Tinjau listened to these two girls making up a story for him, imagining him as a dedicated jazz musician, he couldn't help but chuckle.
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Perhaps influenced by the local environment, surrounded by such a classical and romantic urban atmosphere, it is particularly easy to develop fantasies about unfamiliar strangers?
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This is the cased for Martha and Vera who grew up in France. Now these two female passersby in front of him, had already crafted an entire romantic story about him in their minds before they even heard Tinjau’s playing.
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No wonder whenever he mentioned "traveling in Europe" while chatting with friends in the past, they would almost always associate it with "Cross cultural romance."
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Tinjau smiled bitterly, thinking it would be unkind to shatter the girls' beautiful dreams. He unceremoniously ate the piece of garlic bread and drank a few sips of the sparkling water they offered, then hung the saxophone around his neck and began to play the only song he knew: "The Girl from Ipanema."
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"Wow~~ Latin music! I love this rhythm!"
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The two girls put down their backpacks and began to dance in the middle of the square in front of Notre-Dame. Tinjau had never seen such a languid and slow Latin dance, but this style matched his performance perfectly...
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