I should also have added “masochistic” to the title, since my first trip to Dubai was a hilarious failure, and yet I still felt the yearning to return to the Jewel of the Arabian mingering sea, called Dubai. (Well, also Fujairah, but we won’t talk about that because even I have limits to my sense of Humour.)
The first thing to note is that KLM is a really basic airline. But hey, so is the price. Really basic. Also, the advantage is I could stop off in Amsterdam, have sex, and get beck on the plane and sit there without getting embarrassing hard on for those Dutch Goddesses in their strict schoolmamish blue skirts and black stockings. Oh dear, this reports going downhill already is it not.
So I land in Schippol, get the train in, go to Alanna from the DR and wash off in the sink. Then, stinking of hormones and cheap hand soap I check out my all time favourite in OZA, Agniezka, but my lovely but expensive little puppy-doll is not working, so I just get back in time for the plane Islam’s version of Sodom and Gomorra. I never really got that phrase you know. I mean, I know how to Sod ‘em, but not how to Gomorr ‘em. Maybe the latter is just too perverted and never made it into the King James version of the big book that the Beatles outsold one year. Never mind, perhaps I think I should go into FKK World and ask for some Gomorremy and see what I get.
So, if you are still reading, you have probably guessed by now this is no ten-girl in three-day FKK report. Well, I am getting older, and frankly the attraction of actually having sex once in the evening then falling asleep with a girl, then waking up and getting an early morning alarm call, whilst answering important business calls asking why I am late for that certain working breakfast really appeals. That’s Dubai for you. It may be a one-shot deal and hard luck if you make the wrong choice, but for value for money, you just can’t beat it. That is if you are sensible about your choice and take your time over it. I really will have to invite the FKK crowd over here in Dubai one day. We can all get the hotel, then meet up at 3am and boast about our conquests in the lobby, whilst wearing our Ice-Bear robes for realism. Or perhaps not.
So the sex. Well, after typical, clinical hop-on hop-off sex in the Singel, I was up for it. First night was a typical annoying midnight arrival. Next day, business meetings, so no mid afternoon takeaways from the local Chinese. Just as well really, since I promised Piper I would be up for LT with his young discovery in Rockafellas.
To cut a long story short, I arrived in this little nightclub with the decidedly out-of-tune incomprehensible Russian cabaret band, with the hilariously bad line of inter-song chit chat that sounds like the announcer at Paddington Station. Well, perhaps the bimband’s lead singer’s English was a little better than that, but it shows just what kind of level we are talking. Nice legs though, all three of the girls up front had nice legs actually, but not “working” as far as I know so therefore they don’t register on the Richter scale. Nice legs though, did I mention that?
It was getting late, but I could not see any angel faced CIS girlie with short blonde hair, near the door accompanied by two friends. I was bitterly disappointed. So I consoled myself talking to some Ozzie construction workers who were looking as drunkenly and single-mindedly at the women-folk as a legless wombat on Ciallis in a marsupial ho’house. But hey, it stops you looking like all the other saddo businessmen stood around on their own, leering at girls half their age. I now looked like a saddo businessman stood in a group leering at girls half my age, which is much better apparently. Anyway, the girls leer back which is something. Its amazing how attractive being in Dubai makes you. “I fucking LOVE Dubai” as my newfound Oz-pals so eloquently put it.
Then I/We saw her…..short blond hair, mid twenties sat on a reserved table…only the girl Hilary Clinton wanted to be in her widest dreams. My new found Aussie compadres put it much better than I could.. ”Fucking hell Pommie, look at that hot bitch over there, I bet even you could get yer dick up for that mate!”. Although I could hardly match the direct simplicity of that statement, I just had to agree to that one. I was so fixated I could hardly take my eyes away. Even brass can be intimidating however. Imagine a girl that looked like a more glamorous, younger version of this,
http://www.edge-online.co.uk/archives/t ... -thumb.jpg and you have some idea of what she was like (although I know the HC image may be off-putting to some). She was so posh, I bet her shit was made out of toothpaste. I was certain this was Piper’s bird. Then I remembered he said he dare not ask the price. If an experience mingerer like him won’t ask on his own turf, how was I going to approach this beauty? Every time she went to have a piss, she had a bouncer escort. Maybe she is not working I think? But no. They are all “working” one way or another. An older Omar Sheriff type, whilst she remained looking bored out of her head was plying this one with buckets of champagne. So something’s going on, I think to myself. In fact it rather reminded me of Fred sitting downstairs in World with Jacqueline. Then something happened. Yes, she looked at me and raised an eyebrow. At me… it was just like being in fifth form when the tall blonde girl from upper sixth who does all the armature dramatics spots you drooling at her and she slyly smiles at you in that “ah, isn’t he cute” way.
There was no way I was approaching this woman. I was outclassed, out of my territory. Fortunately, before my masochistic tendencies kicked in, making me do an unwelcome approach, she and her young (ish) beau made a hasty retreat. This one is on my hit list, when I am rich enough to afford champagne in a cheap joint like Rockafellas.
So, there was nothing for it, but to find a body for the night and fuck it. I looked and looked, but none of the youngsters suited, although there was one nice blonde with waist long straight hair near the entrance turning down offers. Not quite a tennis player, but cute in that spice-girls kind of way. Then I surprised myself. I was in MILF mood. Not quite GILF mood, but fairly old. So I looked for MILF. No problem, lots of that.
A cheeky piece of mature Armenian Cheddar called Marie caught my eye. She challenged me, took the piss out of me, negotiated well down to 800 Dhs for all night with confidence and aplomb. She still had the thick black hair, the killer body, and all the sophisticated charm and experience that an older lady-skank has. In short, she was mine and the deal was done.
I think it is worth a word about the Hotel, the Jumera Rotana. Hotels don’t get much more GF than this. I just walked in with my swishy date, hips swinging and all (that is hers, not mine) and not even a raised eyebrow from reception.
In the room, I still cannot bring myself to ask for photos like the other old Dubai warhorses do. I think some habits from the Wallen and the Fatherland are just ingrained too deeply. However, with some training I think we shall manage that in the near future. Marie, however, needed no photos. She is there, working in Rockafellas and somewhere called “Alamo” or similar. Anyone can have her, and she says she is busy 6 nights out of seven on average. We really hit it off, and if you want proper, decent GFE with early morning alarm call, multiple shots and the full works, then this lady is the one for those of you who want an experienced hand at the helm. (Or mouth at the testicle, depending on your preference). This girl knew how to kiss indeed. IT was a total “use me any way you want to” fuck. Just the way I like it, and a grand finish in the trap! One funny moment came when the bathroom mirror frosted over to leave a love message to “Mike”. I spent the whole night thinking “how cute” only to realise it was from a previous room’s occupant, showing how GFE this hotel really is. Hardly the 4* rating it pretended to be though.
On the next night, there was no ability to go mongering. I had to go with colleagues to a club called the “peppermint” at the Fairmont, where my contacts were friends of the owners. That would be the big hotel with the hole in it. I was assured though, that there would be one, maybe two working girls there, though they are generally discouraged so that women who get paid by the life, rather than the hour could work. Certainly I was told, there is always “Emirate’ screw” there. So called because the stewardesses crave attention from the rich guys, and tend to have an isolated lifestyle. Once in the club, getting a reserved table did the trick, and soon, three English stewardesses came over to chat, wearing orange, white and green garlands for St. Patrick’s day. Frankly though, even though I got the green light from one of them, it seemed too much like hard work, to pretend to be a nice guy and have to talk and everything, only to get an amateur performance in bed. Christ almighty, I might actually have to please HER. I just decided to leave it alone and call Marie for an escort service later. There was one CIS there working, but would not have touched it with Wicked Rodgers, so I left alone and awaited my Armenian time served professional in my Room. Marie came up, and was not even challenged by the reception. Excellent hotel!
The repeat performance was just as good, but not having the change, Marie accepted LESS money by 50 Dhs and just said, “Oh, give it to me next time you are back” rather than make me go down to reception. She was a far cry from the next girl.
On the last night of clear Mongering, it was Saturday night and my miserable flight was a 5am start. I started at the Regal in Rockafellas, and saw Marie and the terrible Bimbetes from Khazakstan or Somethingistan, but it was a touch early. I saw Marie, who tried to pget me going with a young friend of hers, knowing I was not going to do a third night. This was very sweet, because she did not know the girl but was only just talking to her. She had dark hair and a pageboy hairstyle. Yougng, pretty, nice eyes with a slight anxious look. Apparently she had a real bitch of a boss and had to pay (I think her, but not sure) $20000 USD per year or its F off back to Romania. I went through all the options, I said, if you have no boss, why cant she go independent. But apparently, the debt carries back to the home country, so she owes the money one way or the other. Sad really, and no chance of a visa to Germany or Holland either. I declined her services though. On principle, I prefer to avoid my hard earned money going to a pimp, wherever I can manage it. I won’t encourage this situation, even though I mostly have no chance of being able to tell. After an unsuccessful trip to Rockafellas, I went to the Premiere at the Hyatt Regency. Lots of top class blond CIS there. Some of the girls, just looked too stunning. I just knew the price would be sky high and the service prissy at best if not miserable. Trust me, I’m a Skanker! I did however, approach one girl with long blonde straight hair, but slightly fatter than perfect (because I like ‘em big) but on asking the price was 2000 DHs. I thought I would negotiate, and came in at 700 Dhs. She was so disgusted with my cheapskatedness, that she said “700 Dollars?” I said “Dhiram, of course”. She said “I think you should go now and find yourself another girl” and that was it, no more negotiation, though I would have paid 1000 for that one. But if that was the attitude to business, the attitude in bed would have suffered also.
In the end, some girl who’s name and country I do not really remember something like Rumania or Hungary and something like “Alanna” captivated me. 25 years old and the cutest little face and nose. She had black page-boy hair and was about 5 foot 3. I settled before 1 am for 700 Dhs and stay till 5 am. She had great little titties that were real but looked false, and a great, tight arse.
On the way into the Hotel, I got questioned for the first time. “Sir, please?” as we walked past. The look on his face when I said indignantly, “This is my wife. We are booked in”. Oh, Sorry, sorry.” “Your room number please”. I shouted the number. He said “Mr Mike???” Then I winked at him as he looked through the register and he smiled and let us go.
Having got through with such aplomb, I thought this was going to get me brownie points, but it really freaked the Girl out, who wanted to go back and hand her passport in. But she settled for me promising to escort her out properly afterwards.
One big tip, and obvious one at that, is to bring the right change!. I only had 700 dhs. Unlike Marie, I had to hand the 1000 note over. I was Gutted. Still, my own stupid fault and not one I am likely to repeat.
Other than this, I refuse to write much about her. Basically she was pleasant enough, however the kissing was not there during sex and the BBBJ was not to be had. covered only. In the end I said, OK, you can finish me with HJ but I want serious deep kissing. What followed was extraordinary. Knowing she would loose potential future sales I think, she proceeded to give me a tongue bathing, reminiscent of when you come home to a 6 month old puppy after leaving it at home all day for the first time. Extraordinary, funny and just a bit yucky. Anyway, she achieved her goal, then promptly put her clothes on. I said “Hey, what about the 5 am finish – its only 1 am”. She said “I am sure we didn’t mention time did we?”. No, only about 5 times I said. Anyway, she kept trying to say she was really sorry, and she didn’t want me to think bad of her, but I just clammed up and told her to get dressed and go. She asked me to see her out through reception to prove to the guy on the desk everything was OK, but I said, I was tired and needed to sleep. She left, and I never thought of her again until I wrote this report. In short, probably worth it, but for goodness sake, get the negotiation tight.
On the way back, I managed a quickie in Amsterdam with Vick from Hungary in St. Annenstraat Always apleaseure, and a quick bite to eat with Wim. Also always a pleasrue.
All in all, a much more exciting trip as I learn the ropes in Dubai. If business goes well, then off I go again. “I fucking love Dubai”. Right on, my Aussie pal!
