Hell in a Bordello.

he stepped onto the wet, rained on pavement of bangkok city streets at half past midnight. closely following his comrades. the night was young, was fresh, the scent of virginity boiling over with the brightness of a yellowed, pale moon. he was ensured that this night was the seal of a deal. for the entirety of the day he had sat in an office with his partners negotiating fertilizer sales. the thai had a strong air about them, he could see that very well the way the people he passed looked at him. in the populated, non space encompassing aura of the city. unlike new york, they walked without being in a hurry, and their eyes suggested some sort of tranquility that could never be had in an american state.

"the red light district of the asian contries are some of the best that i have been to." so goes the dialogue of a business associate of his.

"to think, we are working, selling our fertilizer, increasing our companies profit, while at the same time, getting a bit of fun to be had for us, increasing our body size, what we do for a profit, i'm sure i'll see myself in hell the minute after i die, yet i have no worry of sin."

so the second dialogue of said business associate, showing no care of actions, only to do whatever is possible to increase a sale and gain the commodity to the business. perhaps, is why the theory of walking to red light districts on business trips had no conflicting viewpoints to them. as is practiced in this area of business, the women are treated as things that can be bought or sold for the acquisition of a dollar or any form of currency. that a woman can be violated was of no concern, for the woman herself was only making a business deal, increasing her sales, making new counterparts to increase the satisfaction of her boss.

however, this being the first encounter for him to turn a woman, perhaps not even a woman, but a very young girl, into a sale. this was his first journey into a brothel, thailand no less, where women and the sex trade are common practice in developing countries.

stepping into the room, smelled of a veneral disease; dim, low lights and a red, chipped away, painted wall. his associates had made themselves comfortable in other rooms on the same floor, situating themselves in blissful comfort. the bed lay strewn with green sheets, and housing the again washed stains of semen.

there would be no way that he could find himself in a state of comfort, queasiness approaching his legs and shooting straight through his veins like heroin.

the preteen walked into the room with a red velvet dress on, her face plastered in cosmetics. the dimness made her seem a bit older than she was, but the fact could not be escaped that she was obviously underage.

her face show no emotion, and she did not understand english, the only words she could only seem to mutter were from what she had learned working in the brothel..."Would you like to lay with me?"

he did not answer her, and unwillingly the man found himself on top of the piss stained sheets with our young innocent thai. she seemed to him like a child, and he could not contain that the people of his company did this with no guilt in their eyes.

he could feel her placid skin, and the whiteness of her body absorbed him. her entire bottom and front lay bare to him, and he was so hesitantly inserted inside of her. not that she wanted, but that it was her obligation to make him feel that he was getting a good lay, a ready piece of ass; because it was in her job description to make him feel pleasured, that he was a man, and that in the twisted occupation of Bangkok red light districts, it was the whores job to make their customers feel that they had some masculine dominance over them...



she was only 15, but had no way of escape; her parents being dead, and this the only source of her money. it could have been a first time for her, but she was unaware, and every time she had been penetrated could not matter, for she learned to not feel pain when 10, perhaps 20 or 30 new man would enter their way inside of her.



that he had came into her place of business, because it was the duty that he must fulfill to his work compatriates; to his corporate bigwigs that had so happily sucked him; he being a miniscule particle, and the company corporation he was working for the giant vacuole that would continue to pump their right wing and corrupt business practices into each newly arrived associate. that yes, this was company policy as part of the traveling branch; you were part of a corporation, and your mind, above all, was superior to others; victimizing underage women was part of the trade of these traveling businessmen, especially in lower developing countries such as Thailand, where our victimized average joe had found himself in; as part of the pigs that had been led to the slaughterhouse.



so it was in his very new nature, that he must impress his work bretheren, in so doing, he must victimize this little girl...



the bed they lie on was one of white piss coloured sheets; a small room, with a dimly lit red lamp. when he penetrated inside of her opening, it did not matter, for she had learned not to feel pain, and her breasts did not grow erect, for it was not a matter of arousal for her, and while he squirm inside of her, no emotion was shown on her face; only a dead and weightless emptiness, for she did not stare at her american partner, but only at the ceiling that lay above her, and the white paint smeared on the walls of the room. while he lie there glued to her body, he was stunned at the way how her eyes appear dead to him. yet while he was violating her, she only stare at the ceiling and curl her hands in a praying motion, uttering a prayer in thai. perhaps she could also be crying, but he was unaware. he also could not look at her while he was pushing himself inside of her, he only thought about his slowly diminishing mindset, and the fact that all his life he had been average and had lacked the self esteem to see himself grow to potential in a terrible and frightening world. yes, he only thought to himself while he was with an innocent girl, that he must do this for his company. one fuck up and he could lose his job, and thus his newly acquired mode of living and existence.



she lay under him, and he knew the time when he was about to come, slowly approaching itself, it had taken him much longer than most times; perhaps because of the fact that his tension was at a heightened sense, and his nervousness and the pace of his heart had seemed to increase during this time. the fact that he was encouraged to lay with a girl of 15 years old, in a different country was part of the plan he had to follow; the consequences of morality and immorality were not part of his brain as of yet. the time for him to come had arrived, and when it happened, again; the girl show no emotion in her eyes, only the blank stares away from her partner, and directed towards the ceiling....



he quickly engulfed his seed inside of her, and then threw on his clothes to escape the dimly lit poverty stricken room he had found himself in...

The Mountain: 2

for her, the eyes of the mountain, the very possibility of its existence, seemed to astound her. and in the moutain, she found some source of wonderment that perhaps, could awaken her from the mystery that she had so often pondered to herself; of what life itself was, and why her life had happened so far as such? the well was her resting place, where she had time to think, but the mountain solidified her curiosities, furthering her intellect and the planes of her mind. she appeared to be searching for some type of answer, and she had supposed that nature could provide her with a way to understand the environment that she was born in, and the extent of what happened around her, and in fact, why it happened. she had not the time to ponder on any other occasion, only when was to gather water from the well for her mother. living in a squalid house, a shanty on the outskirts of the village, she was to provide water for the daily intake of breakfast, lunch and dinner, and so that her mother could wash clothes. herself, she was with a certain closeness to her mother, while at the same time, a distance herself from the woman that she had sprouted from. she was unaware of the existence of her father, and had no idea who he was, or where he was. she assumed that he had perished long ago, but her mother had never mentioned the idea of a father to her, and since, had learned to keep it out of her mind. but, there was an emptiness there in the girl, the beautiful girl that felt she could see souls all around her, not only in people, but in everything that surrounded her. her loneliness would draw closer to her each night that she lay to sleep in her dark room with the windows opened, and no blinds to keep the wind out. she would stare expressionless at the deep ceiling, as if trying to communicate to it with her eyes. she would stare and stare, as if waiting for some form of communication to begin. one could assume that this irregularity of staring at the ceiling and walls each night, was in her own way, a unique calling to find the possibility, that love could breathe, and in fact, was an entire seperate entity from life itself. she was a girl of transcendence, her brown, dirt colored eyes, the tanned skin covering her body, and her twilight covered hair. a poor girl in a squalid home, with only chores to occupy her. but moreso, the well and the mountain to guide her hopes, that one day, she may trek over the naturally constructed monument and she may reach the top of the snow peaks and see what could lie over her; over her body, outside of her mind, outside of the space that she occupied, and perhaps, she could find love or some idea of what love was. yes, that would be the answer to her life, to journey to the mountain, to look out amongst its overpass, standing atop the white sprinkles and reaching out her hands to somehow latch onto what she was missing. the mountain that was both a physical barrier and a mental barrier that guarded her village from threat, and that also hindered her from seeing what lie on the outside world from her. that the village was not a world, but a tiny space where she had not chosen to live, that she was born into. something that she did not choose. perhaps, she thought, that if she saw over the mountainscape, she could pinpoint the direction that she wanted her life to take, and thus, her idea of love could sprout roots, and allow itself to grow...