(Part 2 of 2)

In our last installment, our hapless hero fled Copacabana for the backwaters of Parati.

- Day 8 -

I thought I might wake up early to see the town in a different light. However, one look at my watch indicates I missed the sunrise. It is well after 10AM. I clean up and enter the house proper.

The hotel is really just a large home, with subdivided rooms, that had been converted into a hotel This is typical of nearly all the places in Parti. My room is right in the middle of the place.

In the room beside me, a large family gathers their gear for a day of touring. There’s plenty of talking and lots of sunscreen being slathered on. The dining room, which consists of the whole of the entrance hall, is laid out for breakfast. Well, laid out in that coffee is ready and the remains of some sort of bread products are in evidence. I take my coffee and grab a seat along the far wall and observe the family.

It occurs to me that I need to get a photo of this place and set up my camera. I put on the self-timer and get in position behind my table. The owner sees what I’m up to and starts jabbering and gesturing, grinning all the while. I have no idea what he’s going on about. The girl who works the desk, quite probably his daughter, enters the room at his beckoning. He gestures some more and says something to her. She comes over and sits down beside me. Now I really have no idea what’s going on, but I play along and take another picture, this time of me sitting beside Fabian. I show them both the picture and they’re as pleased as punch. They thank me, I thank them, and she goes back to work while I try to figure out what the heck just happened.

I go for a walk around the town, but it’s not nearly as interesting in the midday sun. All the tourists are piling into the boats on the wharf, off for a day of snorkeling and beaches. There are no beaches in Parti to speak of.

I check my e-mail and decide that I should do some exploring outside the town. I get the lowdown on a nearby beach, Trinidade. The pictures make it looks outstanding. Half an hour later I’m watching the surf crashing against the enormous boulders on the beach.

Out in the water, I join the swimmers for some alligator surfing (body surfing). Near the rocks, the bogie boarders are tempting fate. Back at a beachside restaurant, I consume another uninspiring Brazilan lunch while watching the surfers.

At dusk I find myself another hotel. Although a bit expensive, it is quite nice. Most importantly, it has hammocks in front of every room. In the evening, I pour myself a drink and catch up on my pleasure reading while crashed out in the hammock.


- Day 9 -

I am bored with Parti. After breakfast I take a final walk through the town, buy a few souvenirs, pack up and take off.

Getting back to Rio is a breeze now that I know the way. The trip back is not as adventurous as the trip out, but I make the most of it by stopping by the Club Med.

I’ve never been to a Club Med, but the few people I know who have been there swear by the place. They go on and on about all the activities, the sports, the facilities, etc. This is probably as close to a Club Med as I’ll ever get, so I pull into the parking lot and introduce myself to the security guards (who haven’t a clue as to what I’m saying to them).

I’m given the grand tour. The guard captain escorts me through the hotel complex and shows me a top map of the facilities. On our tour I see the weight room (not up to my standards), squash courts (very nice), archery range, restaurant and a few other facilities.

We walk along the beach and see the guests lounging in the sand. In the bay I see sailboards and sailboats. The captain points out the people waiting to try water skiing. In the little river, kayaks and paddleboats are in evidence. In the big swimming pool, kids and teens play Marco Polo. In the lounge area, their parents are busy with a game of BINGO.

So, this is Club Med.

The staff are REALLY friendly. They speak many languages, but oddly enough only a few know any English. They want to know if I’ll be joining them tonight. I explain how I have an appointment in the city. I leave out the part about the appointment being in a club with sex starved bikini clad babes eager to chow down on my BINGO marker. I depart Ricardo Montebalm’s fantasy in favor of something more in keeping with the imagination of Hugh Hefner.

I get the car to the dealer and it passes inspection. My only problem now is to find a place to sleep. I know Don has some apartments available, so I give him a call. No answer. The dealer knows someone who rents rooms and offers to call him. I decline telling her my friend is expecting me. I leave my bags with the dealer and head down the beach in hopes of running into one of the boys.

I stop by the apartment building where ‘J’ lives. He told me that the rates are inexpensive and they usually have a room if you’re not too picky. I pantomime to the security guard that I’m looking for my friend. He tells me that ‘J’ left, flown back to the US. I know he was planning to spend a few more weeks here. Did some emergency arise that caused him to leave unexpectedly? Did he loose it, marry his girl and take her home with him? A mystery to be solved at another time. I ask about apartments, he indicates that I have to return in the morning.

Back on the street I hear a familiar voice call out to me. I turn and see ‘J2’ giving me a big smile. We catch up on the news and I explain my predicament. “That’s no problem at all,” he intones, “let’s give a Rhonda a call. She’ll set you up with something.” He calls Don’s sister. There is a place available right now, but my pal tells me it’s noisy and hot. I pass and he tells Rhonda to get in touch with Don as soon as he gets out of whatever Terma is holed up in.

I go back to the car rental place and collect my bags just as they’re closing the place. I’m still pretty fresh, so I haul my bags down the beach on my back. The waiters at Alcazar know me by now (“Ah, o amigo de Don!”) and they let me stash my bag in the restaurant.

Here’s an important tip for anyone. Find a place like Alcazar (hell, use Alcazar), go there a lot, get known and you’ve got allies during those tired and desperate times when you need support.

I get something to eat and try Don again. He’s in a restaurant in Ipanema. I decline his invitation to join his gang and agree to meet him at Alcazar at 11PM when he will take me to my apartment.

Walking up the beach, touts try to lure me into their clubs. The entrance fee is about the same a Terma, so I don’t bother. The one that has free entrance has drinks starting at 15BRL. The tout encourages me to go have a look, so I join him. The bar is smaller than any Terma I’ve seen. There are half a dozen women there, most of whom are overweight. A few come up and encourage me to sit with them and have a drink. They are not terribly attractive, but they’re friendly. I’m the only guy in the place. If the drinks were cheap, I might stay for one or two just for kicks, but this place is not my idea of a good time.

I show up at Alcazar the appointed hour. The table is nearly full with both guys and gals. I spot Camilla milliseconds after I see Don. She’s with a few other girls whom I don’t recognize. I say hello to everyone, sit down, order a drink and tell the guys where I’ve been.

Camilla is sitting beside ‘J2.’ I can’t help but notice her slipping her hand beneath his, caressing his arm. “Well, that explains why I was stood up. At least he’s a nice guy.” A better man than me, I admit ungrudgingly. I find myself attracted to one of the girls, a tall, thin blonde with short hair. I missed her name during the introductions.

The four girls and ‘J2’ decide to go to Help. A few of the guys suggest they may or may not go tonight. During their goodbyes, Camilla gives me a peck on the cheek. I smile and give her a wink.

I collect my bag and Don takes me up to the room. He shows me how everything works and we return to the restaurant. I talk with a fellow who just arrived that day. Keemo is eager to see Help, but no one else seems interested. Don says he’ll take him in, but doesn’t want to stay very long. I tell him I’ll play host tonight, as I had no plans otherwise. We get cleaned up and meet back down at Alcazar.

We head over to Bar Atlantica and just take in the scene. My new charge points out that he can’t hear the music from Help. I’ve never noticed before. It’s plenty loud inside, I assure him. After hanging around for a bit, we go to buy our tickets. A few girls are looking for escorts. My pal already knows the score on them, “They just want us to buy their ticket.” This man has done his research.

Inside the door, he has to deal with the cashier to exchange some of his US currency. While we wait, I watch the girls making their way inside. A light bursts inside my head. Angel! Angel is here. I look at the girl, unsure whether or not she’s my Aeroporto sweetie. They look so different when their naked bodies aren’t wrapped around yours. She is swept up the stairs with the crowd.

I play tour guide, explain how the drink tickets work and where to go to catch a breather. We make a few circuits of the club. We’re both impressed with the dancing and the ladies. After we discuss our preferences, he analyses my taste in women, noting my attraction to women with short hair. I concede his point, but point out that I’m also attracted to women with very long hair. “It’s the shoulder length hair I don’t like; it’s neither short nor long, like she can’t make up her mind.”

A couple of girls hit on us. Keemo plays them up, good-humouredly. They want us to join them … join them for the night. It’s still early so we move on.

“See anything here you like?” he asks me. I spot Camilla, the lanky blonde, ‘J2’ and another guy on the dance floor.

“Yeah,” I say.

I’ve written off Camilla at this point. While the ‘Black Widow’ still has a piece of my heart, there’s enough left over for her blonde friend. After watching them for a little while, we decide that the two girls are among the best dancers in the place.

Camilla spots me and runs over to say hello. She tells us her other two friends are here and keen to meet some guys. She makes it a point to tell me they’re not looking for money, just some fun. I decline as the two did not appeal to me in the least.

During our next circumnavigation, I see the woman whom I’m half convinced is my Aeroporto sweetheart. “Angel?” I ask. She smiles and introduces herself. While she speaks English, she’s not my Angel. I hide my disappointment lest she read something more into it. She’s attractive, but a bit too strong in the jaw. She comes on a bit aggressively, working too hard. I make my excuses and wander off.

Keemo spots a pal he met earlier. Introductions are made. ‘L’ is dancing with one of the girls from the Terma he and Keemo visited that day. Another girl from the Terma is with them. Keemo knows her too and they connect very quickly. The five of us are talking, dancing and drinking on the stage.

Not wanting to be a fifth wheel, I announce that I’m going to look around. Keemo, being the gentleman that he is, insists on accompanying me, since we came in together. I contend that he stay right where he is quoting the sanuker maxim “If you find a better offer, take it.” He asks me if there are any girls who appeal to me. “Yeah, but she’s dancing with another guy.” The blonde has been hopin’ and boppin’ with the same guy for quite a while. I turn my attention to the rest of the room and scout around.

I notice a girl I saw on my first night. At the time, I was convinced she and her date had stumbled into Help by mistake (“Hey Honey, this looks like a fun place to dance!”). She and her guy were huddled against the bar that whole first night, deep in conversation. On my second night, I saw her going into Help so I knew I was mistaken.

She is remarkably plain looking, wearing no makeup and sporting short dark hair. She wears a classy little black cocktail dress, totally out of place here. For some reason, I find her rather appealing. I say hello and attempt to talk to her. Despite my ear-to-ear smile, I don’t get so much as a lopsided smirk from her. She speaks English, but is not interested in talking.

My Angel look-alike is dancing on the stage. Her long dark brown hair and colorful gypsy skirt flies every which way as she grooves to the tunes. Although she’s dancing by herself, she has a happy smile on her face. I figure she’s a bit loopy and redirect my attention.

Back on the dance floor, the blonde is alone with Camilla and ‘J2.’ I maneuver into a better position and determine she’s still alone. I look around wondering what happened to her dance partner. Surely something horrible happened to him because I could not imagine him leaving this energetic babe for someone else. Camilla’s two friends are nowhere to be seen.

A good song comes on as I make my way over to them. ‘J2’ shakes my hand and Camilla encourages me to dance with them. While we get down, my sixth sense extends into the room to find the blonde’s dance partner. I conclude that some ghastly fate has befallen him.

We dance through several songs. The girls are wonderfully choreographed despite their individual dancing styles. While Camilla rolls her gorgeous posterior like the Copacabana surf, her friend is a wound spring uncoiling to the beat of the music. They are mesmerizing and energizing and I’m having a terrific time.

Every time I try to get her name, I hear something different. It’s driving me nuts. We share her vodka cooler and try to talk over the music. She knows only a few words in English, so not much talking happens between her and me. The other two act as translators whenever possible. I learn that not only do both girls work at Loumo, but they live together as well.

Camilla asks me if I want to go with her friend. I resist the urge to sit up like a dog and beg, tongue hanging out. “You bet!” I say. She asks me if I’m still at the same hotel. I explain how I’ve moved into one of Don’s apartments. ‘J2’ tells me that she’ll be glad I’m in one of Don’s places because she knows them and trusts Don, ergo trusts me.

Camilla passes the news to her friend and she gives me a big smile and a kiss. “Whoa! Is this my night, or what?” They agree we should leave after the next song. We dance up a storm then make our way downstairs.

The girls spot a friend coming in. They excitedly talk with her, exchanging gossip or worldly issues. The blonde pulls me downstairs to get their purses while Camilla continues to chat. We spend several long minutes waiting in the checkout line, but I’m so enraptured with my new sweetheart that time passes in an instant.

Out on the street, we grab a cab. We need to go to the girls’ home so they can get their change of clothes for work tomorrow. While they are inside, we wait in the cab and shoot the breeze. I’m given the opportunity to learn the girl’s name. I tell him the various mispronounced versions I heard. “No, no,” he says, “it’s Giiovana.”

The girls return and much discussion ensues. “Change in plans if you’re up for it. The girls want to go to VIPs. Is that alright by you?”

Earlier in the week, the discussion around the Alcazar round table was this very love motel. A few of the boys, including uwphoto and seaman, decided to have a blowout bash at this place. They described it in great detail. It sounded like a fantasy hotel, something from a high-end erotic film. I didn’t think I’d ever see the inside of this place, but here the opportunity was presented on a silver platter (complete with a flute of sparkling Italian wine).

I agree. We stop by my apartment so I can pick up my toilet kit and camera. Twenty minutes later, we roll up a long driveway into VIPs. The room prices are posted on the booth. While I try to figure out what’s what, the girls are going on about Sol. I note that Sol rents for 300BRL. “I’ll spring for this,” ‘J2’ says from the back, “you weren’t expecting this.” I protest, but he’s shoved a wad of bills to the driver who, in turn, passes it on to the gatekeeper. He hands back a key and the taxi takes us to our room. While Giiovana and I work out the payment for the taxi, Camilla and ‘J2’ open the door. We follow moments later.

I’m standing in a white room. Stone colored tiles cover the floor. To my left is a lounge area with two reclining patio chairs. Behind them, a tasteful rock garden with plastic plants and flowers. On the wall, more plants and a statue of Venus set in an alcove and lit from above. The glass door of a bathroom is on the adjacent wall.

Protruding from the wall three meters in front of me is a chrome shower with a large rainspout showerhead. To the left of that, a sauna and a steam room. To the right of the shower are two patio chairs and a window looking out on the ocean. Just in front of me, off to the right is a light blue Jacuzzi, large enough to hold three people. Beside it is a large screen TV.

By now everyone has gone up the narrow stairs in the wall to my right. I hear voices and squeals of delight. I remove my shoes and go up after them. At the top of the stairs is a tiled living room with a stuffed chair and love seat. A large window looks into another room, a dinning room.

To my left is the bedroom. It is a queen size bed with a mirrored headboard. The ceiling is also mirrored. A large TV occupies one corner of the room, a tubular chair-like contraption the other corner. One wall is mirrored, but it is on tracks. I pull the door sideways and see the inside of the bathroom. It is officially the second largest hotel bathroom I’ve ever seen. However, it is the most exquisite hotel bathroom I’ve ever seen. A beautiful chrome designer sink is set against the wall, on the other side, a fancy looking toilet. Next to the toilet, the bidet. The long wall of the bathroom is covered in glass; it is the sliding doors to the largest shower I’ve ever seen. There are separate showerheads on both sides. The far side shower is equipped with something with terribly exciting possibilities: steps and chrome handles. This shower is designed for recreational sex. The lady steps up on risers and grips the handles while you do your thing. I am impressed.

Back in the bedroom, I take anther glance at the tubular chair bolted to the floor. It is a sex chair.

Past the living room, I step through the sliding doors and go outside. A few lounge chairs surround a respectable size pool. Water cascades from the top of the wall and into the pool. Another chrome shower is off to the side. This one includes side jets if you want to keep your hair dry. The glass windbreak wall facing the ocean promises a spectacular view.

The girls are excited and jabbering away. They’re busy loading a CD in the player and trying to figure out how it works. The music comes blasting out and both girls start dancing.

I explore some more. Off the dining room I find a swinging partition leading to a door. I open the door and am shocked to see a man standing there. Giiovana is suddenly at my side. The man tells us we still owe another 61BRL for some reason. I give him the money and he leaves.

Back in the rooms, Giiovana is bouncing around like Tigger from Winnie the Poo. She throws off her clothes and splashes into the pool. Camilla, curiously modest, wears underwear or a strange bathing suit. I take out my camera to get some photos. Giiovana spots me, wags her finger and says, in no uncertain terms, “No pictures.” I don’t argue and put the camera away.

She’s back in the water, splashing like an otter. I toss my clothes onto one of the deck chairs and dive in after her. I manage a quick kiss before, seconds later, she’s back on the side, prancing into the dinning room area. She comes back with a vodka cooler in either hand. She tosses one to me. Fortunately I catch it. I am about to lecture her on the dangers of throwing glass bottles around a cement pool or any tiled surface, but I know it will fall on deaf ears. She bounds off to the bedroom to get ‘J2’ and Camilla into the pool.

The Brownian motion of her activities leads her back to the pool where she splashes down beside me. We kiss under the waterfall and I try to hold on to her. She’s off again, a coiled spring. I find myself wondering if Heisenberg had a girl like this and what affect it had on his uncertainty principal theory.

‘J2’ and Camilla are in the water. I get to talking with my friend when there’s some sort of commotion going on with the girls. He thinks Giiovana has chipped a tooth. I get out, wrap a towel around me, try to figure out where we might obtain some milk while I wonder how bad it is.

When I see her in the bathroom, it turns out she’s only smashed her face a bit. She’s cut her chin and given herself a big lip (and her lips are already deliciously big). Because it’s a face cut, she’s bleeding a lot. She keeps applying tissue paper and pulling it off. I try to get her to leave the tissue on. I scramble around looking for something she can put on her lips and chin in lieu of a bandage.

Giiovana is suddenly excited. She knows exactly what she needs. She returns to the bathroom with a package of sugar. Before I can snatch it away from her, she’s dumped it into her hand and applied it to her face. I try to explain that sugar won’t do a damn thing. Both girls are convinced that sugar is the sure way to stop the bleeding. I remember my bandana. It’s clean. I grab it from my kit, apply it to her face and tell Giiovana not to remove it. After several minutes the bleeding stops and she’s calmed down.

By calmed down I mean she’s not jabbering on with Camilla. She has just as much energy as she had before. She apologizes to me that she can’t kiss. I tell her that I’m just glad she’s OK and give her a hug.

We go downstairs and try out the steam room. I bring the soap and my razor. Giiovana offers to shave me. She playfully threatens to shave off my goatee. I offer to shave her … well, let’s just say she has a five o’clock shadow … but she explains that she’s getting waxed the next day. I regret she didn’t get waxed today. The only thing closer than a steam room shave is a wax job.

I turn the water on the Jacuzzi and we go upstairs. Camilla and ‘J2’ are drinking their vodka coolers on the deck chairs. Giiovana and I climb into the pool (well, I climbed in, Giiovana vaulted) and join them. At one point Camilla goes inside, I ask her to check on the water in the tub. She doesn’t come back and ‘J2’ goes to check on her.

Meanwhile, I’m checking out Giiovana. She’s lost no energy and, despite the wounds on her face, still looks terrific. We towel off and go inside. She leads me to the bed. Thirty minutes later, she’s hammering down on me like a pile driver. I cannot fathom from where she gets her energy. We try several positions while I admire the view in the mirrors.

From downstairs, we hear Camilla crying out in passion. Like a dog hearing another dog barking at night and joining in, Giiovana is soon moaning aloud. I am keen to try the chair and suggest we move there. She doesn’t want to leave the bed. I suggest the shower, but she’s determined not to move. When we finally finish, I lay down beside her.

Giiovana’s not tired. She wants to go downstairs and see how her friend is doing. Donning a robe, she descends the stairs. I wrap a towel around my waist and follow her. The other couple is wrapped in each other’s arms, lying on the tiled floor beneath the shower. Camilla’s curves are all over the place, accentuated with strands of long black tresses. I can’t tell if they’ve been under the shower or just perspiring a lot as they are both drenched. Giiovana and I go to the steam room.

When we come out, they’re in the tub washing each other. We go back up to the pool and reclaim our drinks. They join us after a bit and we talk.

I’m talking to my buddy about this and that as we watch the sun rise over the ocean. It’s a big red one. We can see the huge swells on the sea. There’ll be good surf today. I notice Giiovana is crashed out on the bed. I suggest that it will accommodate all four of us if we put the girls in the middle. He waves me off as not being tired. I go over to the bed and snuggle in close to Giiovana. Her nuclear pile had finally been dampened.

I awake to a presence beside me. Camilla is on the bed. She is on one side, Giiovana the other. In other circumstances, I’d be pretty excited to be between these two in bed, but everyone’s too tired. I wake up after a while and wonder where ‘J2’ is. In the mirror, I see his robed form lying on the hard tiles beside the bed.

I pull Camilla toward the middle of the bed and climb to the other side of Giiovana. I tell my pal to get on the bed. He tries to wave me off again, but I show him there’s room for him too. He pulls himself in next to Camilla and I go back to sleep beside Giiovana.

When I wake again, Giiovana is gone. I find her downstairs, smoking a cigarette, pensively looking out the window at the morning. I ask her if she’s OK. She says she is. I try to talk to her, but she’s in a quiet mood. She finishes her smoke and moves to the lounge chair. She turns on the TV and flips the channels, settling on a sitcom. We watch for a while, but I’m bored to tears. I suggest we try the hot tub and she agrees. I wash her back and try to massage her, but she’s just not in the mood.

After the tub, she lies on the lounge chair and dozes off. I try to sleep on the other chair, but I’m not tired. I go upstairs. The other two are sound asleep on the bed. Camilla is a series of curves, curves everywhere, nothing but curves.

Outside, I relax in the sun and read my guidebook. I alternate between the sun and the shower. Giiovana comes out with her phone, talking to someone. She makes a few more calls on her two phones. I try to engage her in conversation, but she seems impatient. She’s gathering her things. “You want to leave?” She says she’s calling a taxi. “Do you mind if I leave too?” She doesn’t mind.

I gather my clothes and my kit. Camilla (all those curves) and ‘J2’ are still sound asleep. (Buddy, if you’re reading this, I didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for everything; I owe you one, pal.)

I meet Giiovana downstairs and we leave. On the taxi ride back to Copacabana, I try once more to talk to her. She’s more interested in talking to the driver. I take what’s left of my money, just less than 200BRL, fold it up and slip it into her purse. She thanks me. During the whole ride, she barely makes eye contact with me. Whole ride? Whole morning more like it. I scour my memory trying to think what I might have done wrong, how I might have offended her, how I might have transgressed some rule. I come up with nothing.

The cab drops me off and I say goodbye to Giiovana with a kiss on the cheek. As the taxi pulls away, she doesn’t even glance backward. I cross the street and go back to my apartment.


- Day 10 ½ -

I have mixed feelings about the most recent events. I had a terrific time with Giiovana, but her attitude in the morning left me disturbed. I change into my beach attire and walk over to Alcazar. A few of the Merry Men are already there, sipping their coffee. I join them for breakfast.

A few new fellows have joined us. Introductions are made as more of the boys arrive. Don shows up and I pull him aside. I explain what happened during the night. “Don’t worry about it,” he drawls, “she’s like that. It’s strictly business with her.” While I feel better, I don’t feel good.

Don tells me he’s leading an assault on 4x4 that afternoon and that I’m welcome to partake in the expedition. I’d thought of going to 65, but there were plenty of babes in 4x4 to keep my interest. I decide to hold off on 65 until tomorrow.

I go down to the beach to look for my pal’s beach vendor. I walk the beach in front of the Orthon, but don’t see the white haired vendor anywhere. The beach looks very different from the week before. The pounding surf has totally rearranged the topography of the sand. A vendor tries to rent me a chair. I ask him how much. When he gives me his over inflated price, I am doubly determined to find ‘J’s’ vendor.

As I try to tell the vendor that I’m looking for my friend, a black woman comes and tries to tell me something. I assume she’s another vendor until I hear her mention my pal’s name and “amigo.” I smile and she leads me through the sand to the white-haired woman’s tent. When she sees me she gestures that ‘J’ is in his hotel and will be down soon. I wonder if she knows he’s left, but she insists that he’ll be here.

I want to dump my gear and hit the waves. Before I get a chance, a white woman is standing in front of me. “You speak English,” she says with a mixture of concern and pleasure. I nod in agreement. She looks to be in her late twenties, not bad looking, but not a Brazilian. “We’re just sitting over here,” she gestures to the other vendor’s territory. I thank her and tell her I’m OK. “We all speak English. We’re drinking (some drink I don’t recognize). Why don’t you join us?” I ask her where she’s from. California. I explain that my friend will be by soon and I’m only staying for a swim. “Oh, is he a surfer?” I picture ‘J’ on a surfboard and struggle to erase the vision. I shake my head no. She starts to tell me how I should be very careful on the beach. “You can’t trust just anyone.” I’m thinking of all the precautions I take and how I’ve already been warned about rapacious predators like her.

Think you, gentle reader, that I judge her too harshly? On the surface, she appears to have all good intentions, but where did she come from? My vendor’s employee led me a good 25 meters down the beach. The only way she could have heard me speak was if she was near either vendor, which she wasn’t. What prompted her to seek me out to join her company? I, despite my ego’s self-image to the contrary, do not possess movie star good looks. What was she doing on THIS beach? She was obviously intelligent enough to know the score, why approach a single male here? Had it been a guy who approached me, I might have bought the act (comrades in arms and all that). However, I concluded that she was nothing more than a shill for the previous vendor. I have been duped too many times. A good dose of healthy paranoia has kept me from getting taken more often.

I leave my gear with my vendor and hit the beach. A sign in Portuguese is pointing out to sea. “Probably says ‘Surf’s up, Dude!’” I say to myself. There are no swimmers in the water. I see some boarders further out, but the only other people in the water are waders playing in the wash. “Bunch of pussies.” I approach one of the guards and try to explain that I’m going in for a swim and that he shouldn’t get up from his comfy seat to warn me off. He tries to warn me but I insist that I’m a good swimmer and he needn’t worry. He makes a dismissive gesture with his hand and I walk to the shore.

The surf is beautiful. The water is calm and the breakers roll in in well-spaced sets. Making my way into the surf, I’m awed at the sheer size of the waves. While most are around two meters, some are cresting at nearly three (honkin’ big). I struggle to get through the wash, using the undertow to pull me toward the next wave. I make it through and face the breakers.

The safest place to be is just beyond the spot where the waves crest. Getting there is the tricky bit. The water is now over my head and the larger waves are still breaking further out. As a wave crashes in front of me, I dive to the bottom to avoid its full force. It yanks me from below and tosses me about in the wash. I swim back to where I was and try to tackle the next wave by digging my fingers in the sand and keeping as low as possible. I’m still yanked up, but I don’t get pulled shoreward quite as far.

In a break between sets, I manage to get into much deeper water. Most of the waves are breaking behind me, but the big suckers are still breaking another 25m out. Do I really want to surf those? “In for a penny, in for a pound.” I start swimming. I figure I’m in a good spot to catch a big one since the waves are breaking well behind me now. I see the ridge of a wave approaching. “Oh, baby!” I try to judge its speed and figure out where I need to be to catch it. It’s a big one. “Uh, boy!” It starts to break ten meters from me. I dive down but it snatches me up and tosses my like a cork.

I come up sputtering. I’ve never been hit by such a big wave. I notice, with some chagrin, that its friends are in hot pursuit. Another wave is bearing down on me, cresting. I swim toward it and dive down again. Again I am flung about like flotsam. I survive the third wave and head out deeper. I ride over the next set of big waves. They seem to come every five minutes. When the next set arrives, I decide to let the first two go and catch the third wave. This way the next one won’t nail me when I come for air. I’m in a good location and start swimming to catch the wave. Despite my excellent position, it races right past me. The wave is moving so fast that I don’t have enough speed to catch it.

On the way in, I get pounded by another set of big waves, but I’m better prepared. I decide that I’ll stick to the relatively smaller waves today. Even those waves are hard to catch. The only way I can get a ride is to grab the wave just before it breaks. Unfortunately, it breaks right on top of me and the result is that I am hurled into the sea bottom by a big frothy hand. After a few of those I admit defeat and let the waves wash me back to shore.

Back on the beach, I give the lifeguard a thumbs up. He ignores me. As I stagger up the beach, I see a cute blonde getting her chair organized. She looks vaguely familiar. I consider chatting her up, but I’m too exhausted from my bout with the sea. I try to calculate how much I should pay the vendor when who lumbers up but my friend, ‘J.’

“I thought you left town,” I tell him as I explain the story of the security guard. He has no idea why the guard would think he left. We pass it off and join him at his chair. The girl I had been eyeing turns out to be my pal’s squeeze. (Oops, sorry, buddy!) I stay to talk for a while before heading back to my room to clean up.

Back at Alcazar, the boys are gearing up for some 4x4 action. A few guys drift off, but there’s still two taxi loads of horny guys raring to go. Our taxi arrives at 4x4 first (thanks to Don’s instruction to the driver, we avoided traffic snarls). We stand out front and watch the street. Some of the girls are on their way to work. A few say hello to Don or stop and talk before going inside. We watch the security guys hovering around the front. Don tells us they’re moonlighting cops. This place doesn’t fool around with security.

We take our tokens and go inside. The guys discuss the pros and cons of wearing underwear under their robes. Knowing the girls propensity for reaching inside, I always go freestyle. Don begins a tour for the newcomers; I tag along just in case I’ve missed anything. We settle into the bar and the new boys get their first look. I grab a drink and check out the girls.

Karin, my busty sweetie from my first visit, spots me, gives me a smile and comes over. I bend to give her a kiss on the cheeks, but she plants one right on the lips. I hold her and ask her how she’s been. I tell her about my travels and how I’m here with my amigos. I can see she wants me to stay with her, but I make excuses to join the crew.

I grab a seat with Keemo and keep my eye out for Myara. I figure my amigo might enjoy her looks if not her company. It’s still pretty early and there are not many girls working yet. My friend has done his research well and picks out a few girls in the room by name and reputation. I find myself asking HIM for recommendations. He points to one of our party with an arm around a pretty blonde. “That’s Rebecca,” he says, “a lot of guys go for her.” I can see why, she’s very attractive and has an impressive front suspension. “They’re real,” my friend tells me without prompting. I consider her for a second course.

We get hit on by one of the more aggressive girls. I fear that Keemo will be drawn into her trap, but he’s playing it cool with her. I see Karin watching the other girls and my heart goes out to her. I like her and would go with her again, but I’m in need for some more variety.

We’ve been watching a couple of girls near our table. We call them over and they join us. We’re both interested in Annabelle, a 22-year old mulatto. My pal valorously steps aside to let me get to know her better. Annabelle passes all the tests and we retire to one of the cabines for further study. It is a pleasant, but unremarkable, hour.

I visit the steam room then clean up in the showers. I’m still digging sand out of my ears. I figure I snorted enough seawater that day that I won’t have to add salt to my food for a week. On the back to the bar, I see one of the premium suites’ doors is open. Inside, one of the cleaning women is changing the sheets while a girl adjusts her bikini in the mirror. I am astounded at the ordinariness of the room. These suites rent for big bucks, but they are not even as nicely outfitted as Aeroporto or 65. There is a big bed and a mirrored wall, but other than that …

Some of the boys are still missing when I return to the bar. I see Rebecca. She’s alone. Knowing her popularity, I move in and attempt to chat with her. Unfortunately, language gets in the way yet again. I enjoy her company however, so not all is lost.

Sitting beside me is one of the boys. ‘E’ is totally distracted by the girl squirming all over him. He’s a good deal older than me, but in fabulous shape. The smile on his face is priceless as she tries to maneuver into his lap. I finally get his attention and we spare a few minutes conversation. He tells me a few guys have taken off elsewhere. We are both of the opinion that once you’re here, where else could be better?

Rebecca and I go up to the cabine. I have a wonderful time running my hands all over her. The sex is excellent, but not earth shattering. I heard that she was a three-door model, but declined my suggestion for rear entry. I was not disappointed because she was such a pleasure to be with. I experience a strange sensation during my encounter with her. While toiling away in the missionary position, I suddenly taste seawater. My earlier battle with the waves permeated my sinuses and only now, during my most strenuous exertion, were they loosening up — a peculiar experience.

After a good scrub in the shower room, I’m back in the bar. It’s as crowded as I’ve ever seen it and there are plenty of girls. As I scan the room, a voluptuous babe gives me a sensuous smile and eases over to me. Did you ever notice how a very plain looking woman could suddenly become incredibly sexy just by the way she looks at you? Well, this gal practiced that look a lot and it was working on me. I rank her at about a seven; while she’s a bit overweight, she is hot. She puts her hands around the back of my neck and gives me a long slow “Helloooo.” I put my hands on her hips and pull her closer (what the hell!).

She turns away from me, arching her back to press her derrière against my loins. She can tell I enjoy the posture. I caress her thighs, stomach and breasts. When I go to run my hand over the front of her bikini bottom, I discover another hand already there — she’s playing with herself.

I figure that given the ratio of girls to guys (close to 3:1), the fact that she’s not the fittest bird in the roost and it’s still relatively early (7:30PM), she probably hasn’t been bagged yet. She’s taken matters into her own hands in an effort to finish off her week with a bang, so to speak.

She grabs me by the wrist and guides my fingers into her suit. My index finger find its way through her short pubic hair to her magic button. I massage around gently while nuzzling her neck with my lips. She pulls my hand to her mouth, licks my fingers and slips them back inside. The extra lubricant does the trick. As I hold on to her with my left arm, my right hand tickles her fancy while passersby ignore us completely. Had I a condom in my pocket and a few drinks in my belly, I might have pushed aside that suit and nailed her right then and there.

She turns toward me again, asking me if I’ll take her upstairs. She promises me good time (of that I have no doubt whatsoever). I explain that I’m too pooped to pop but would be happy to meet her outside of work. She’s keen on this but wants me to take her to a room in order to exchange data. I really am too tired and tell her I might see her next time I’m in the bar. She pouts, but I have to go.

On the way out, I check the bill before paying. I see a charge of 10BRL for lubricant. “What’s this?” I ask. Rebecca had used a bit of lubricant during out session, but surely this can’t be an additional charge otherwise they’d be charging for condoms. Besides, for this amount I could buy the whole tube. They agree to remove the charge. The Japanese gal hits me up for a tip, but I’m prepared. “You give me a discount,” I utter in a stage whisper, “and I’ll give you a tip.” She tells me she can’t and I shrug my shoulders.

That evening, I drop in to Bar Atlantica to catch up with the latest news. I manage to stick around until midnight, but the lack of sleep is getting to me. I bid my comrades good night and return to my apartment.


- Day 11 -

I wake up (relatively) early and go for a walk on the beach. It’s a glorious day and the waves look inviting. Despite the bruises on my ribcage from yesterday’s aquatic exploits, I am keen for more. I take some photos then go back to my room to change. I manage about an hour of surf wrestling this morning.

I drop into Alcazar at noon. About half a dozen fellows are gathered, making their plans for the day. “I’m going to the mall, then Santa Teresa to ride the tram, then Corcovado. Anyone want to join me?” Most are too tired to site see. In fact, they’re impressed with my meager itinerary. “I’ve been here for a week and a half and haven’t seen the damn city.”

People and drifting in and out from our table, including some of the guy’s dates (quite a common occurrence). I spot a face I know well; Giiovana has joined our table. I recognize her silver wraparound sunglasses instantly. Lost in conversation with another girl and playing with her phone she either doesn’t see me or is ignoring me. When she gets up from the table, I walk over to her. She recognizes me and gives me a lopsided smile and a kiss on the cheek. Her face still hurts. I ask if she’s OK. She’s had to take a few days off work but she’s all right. She returns the table to talk to her friend.

I almost don’t make it out of Copacabana again. I stop by the beach to say hello to ‘J’ and get caught up with the latest goings-on. He’s befriended a young ex-navy submariner. The young guy doesn’t ‘get’ the whole Rio thing. Being a decent looking fellow, he claims to get all the sex he wants from a couple of girls back home. I tell him to wait another twenty years and see what he thinks. He’s never visited a Terma and can’t see what the fuss is there either. “I can’t tell you,” I say to him, “it’s beyond description.” He presses me for details. “Sorry, you have to be there to understand.” I’ve planted the seeds of doubt.

At 3PM, I leap to my feet and bid my friends good day. I start down the promenade to the other end of the beach; I’m a man on a mission.

My camera is around my neck, ready to grab a shot of whatever action is taking place. More often than not, it’s girls in bikinis lying on the sand, but in all fairness, I also shoot some girls in bikinis playing volleyball. Actually, I try my hand at some more challenging action shots trying to get a good photo of the football/volleyball many of the guys play.

As I stroll along, a woman stops me and suggests that it is dangerous to carry a camera on the beach. “That’s OK,” I reply, “*I* am dangerous.” She laughs and asks me where I’m from. It turns out she’s a researcher from Brazilia on her way back from a conference in Rio. Her English is excellent. In talking to her, I discover she’s well educated and has worked in some of the places I’ve visited (including Cambodia). She tells me she is a widow with three kids.

We connect well and make a date for 8PM that evening. I suggest Alcazar because I don’t know any other bar or restaurant other than Bar Atlantica. I get the impression she’s not on the program, but I don’t mind a night off.

I visit the mall (underwhelming) then get a taxi to Sanata Teresa. I arrive just in time to catch the trolley up the hillside. The ride is a real treat for someone who has never been on a trolley. The car rolls past old homes, stately villas and restaurants as it makes its way along the route. The highlight is crossing the downtown viaduct.

I walk around Centro a bit before deciding the time is right to go up the mountain. One of the guys asked me to call him when I was ready to ascend Corcovado. Unfortunately, I can’t reach him (he was busy entertaining a young lady in one of the Termas, as it turns out). I make my way to the train and listen to the taxi touts give their spiel. One offers to take me to the top of Corcovada AND some other hill for the low, low price of 70BRL. As I walk away, the price falls to 50BRL; I don’t hear the final offer, I’m climbing the mountain on the train! Which only costs 25BRL, by the way.

I arrive just in time to catch the 6PM ride. It leaves every half hour, but it takes, I discover, 30 minutes to climb to the top. I take in the view and watch the sun set. It’s taking a bit longer than the hour I budgeted. I’m really enjoying the view, but I am concerned about my 8PM rendezvous. I miss the 7:30 train. I contemplate taking a taxi down the mountain, but they are waiting for their fares. I convince myself the ride down the mountain will only take a few minutes and my date will be late enough for me to arrive by taxi and not spoil the mood. By the time I get to the bottom, it is already 8:30. I grab a cab and pull up to Alcazar fifteen minutes later. There is so sign of my girl. I check with the waiters, no one asked about me, no single girl stopped for a drink. For the first time recent memory, I hope I got stood up. I dine at Alcazar on the off chance she happens by.

I take a long walk on the beach promenade. Afterward, I stop in at Bar Atlantica to say hello to the boys and get the gossip. My beach bum buddy ‘J’ has taken one of his vendor’s employees out for a drink. He doesn’t speak a word of English, but he’s having a good time. I decide against Help tonight, I really did want to relax. I go back to my hotel and do a bit of reading before turning out the light.

It’s 3AM; I’m still lying here. I think about how, in one week, I will be lying in my bed trying to sleep, the same as every night. Only next week I can’t get up, walk a block, find a girl and give her good seeing to. I pull on my clothes and go for a walk. I scout around the entrance to Help. There are plenty of hard cases there. A few girls, looking way too young, are angrily walking way from the club. There are some girls sitting at Bar Atlantica, but none that I recognize (or appeal to me).

I notice a familiar face come out of the club. It’s my Angel look-alike. She breezes down the stairs, a happy smile on her face. While not a top shelf model, she’s nice enough even if she is a bit loopy (hey, in this business, it probably helps). I catch up with her as she walks around the corner. I call out a hello and she stops to look at me. “No boyfriend tonight?” I ask. She laughs and tells me she doesn’t go with just anyone. She has to like him and he has to be nice.

I decide to take a chance on her. The girls I saw leaving the club were either scowling, had a guy, or both. I negotiate 150BRL. She wants to get something to eat at Bob’s burger joint before we go to my place. I offer to pick up the tab, but she insists on paying telling me it’s her food. I think how many other girls would be adamant that their customers pick up the tab for everything.

We go back to my apartment. I give the security guard a wink and he smiles back. I manage to unlock the door without fumbling the key (my usual method of operation) and we go inside. I show her around, she likes the place even though it isn’t decorated. She sits down to eat while I try to figure out where to hide the key. “Always hide your key and your money,” all the guys tell me.

We talk while Simone takes a few bites of her burger. She’s 22 years old (I put her at about 26) and has a 2-year-old girl. I learn she shares her home with another girl with a child. The two of them can afford a live-in nanny, who also happens to have a child. She was married to an Englishman and moved to London for two years. This is where she learned English. She divorced him and returned to Rio last year. She hated the cold and he didn’t have enough money (I am glad we negotiated up front). However, she plans to return to England in the summer so she can work and so her daughter can be exposed to more English.

Leaving half the sandwich and nearly all the fries, she announces that she’s done. I suggest a shower. She strips off her clothes with the same casualness as one might remove a parka when coming in to a warm home. I pull off my clothes and toss them on the couch. The fact that she is totally relaxed sets my mind at ease.

The next big challenge is getting hot water. The shower uses a small gas furnace to heat the water for the shower. The pilot light constantly goes out, so I have to light it with a match. I have to be in the shower when I do this, and it helps if the hot water is turned on. In other words, I’ll be in the running shower with a box of matches, trying to light one. I explain this to Simone, she’s not the least bit surprised.

After a few attempts, I get the shower going. We adjust the water and begin washing each other. She’s one of the few girls I’ve met who wets her hair. After I attempt to excavate some more sand from my ears, I use my razor to shave off the bristles that had grown since the morning. “You like I shave?” she asks in her singsong accent. I give her the razor, thinking she wants to touch up her legs. She takes a handful of lather and spreads it over her pubes. Her wispy pubic hair, which did not require trimming, let alone shaving, is quickly dispatched. I finish my own shave, we towel down and head for the bedroom.

One activity that I really enjoy, and the ladies usually appreciate, is cunnilingus. Once Simone had practiced her oral skills, I return the favor. I had been busy appreciating her clean-shaven delights for some time when I look up to gauge my performance on her face. Normally, if she’s not vocalizing, her head would be tilted back or swaying side to side, eyes squeezed shut or rolled up, mouth half open, maybe biting her lower lip, but Simone looks totally peaceful. Hmm. I alter my technique to see if I can at least change her breathing pattern. Nothing. I come to the sad conclusion that my girl has fallen asleep under my ministrations. Ouch!

With condom on, I wake her in the most opportune manner. She smiles and kisses me, arms thrown around my neck. “Having a little nap?” I ask. She laughs and apologizes.

When we move into doggie, Simone indicates that she’s up for some rumpy pumpy. I decide it’s time for my secret weapon. I reach into my toilet kit and pull out the hitherto unused Pocket Rocket. As I thrust gently, I reach under her and position the vibrator. “Oh!” she says. “Ohhhhhhh!” She moans quite deliciously. She makes me stop after a while so she can see what contrivance has such an effect on her. “I like!” she announces. She relieves me of the tool and its awesome responsibilities so I can redirect my attention to the task at hand. In every position, she tries to work the vibrator in somehow.

The fan is working at full blast, but we are generating tremendous heat. To my horror, I realize we are out of bottled water. We relieve our thirst with what’s left of her soda and the dregs of a small bottle of water I find in my bag. Note to self: always have more water than you think you need.

When our appetites, including our carnal desires, are satiated, we clean up, crawl beneath the sheets and pass out.

Photos: Happy Simone 01 02 03 04

- Day 12 -

At 9AM we wake and we go for another 2-hour session then hit the shower. Before she can get dressed, I ask her for a photo. She gives me a big smile. I take a picture of her face. She expresses her disappointment that I don’t want a full-length nude portrait. I pop off a few more to satisfy us both, including a few of the two of us, and put the camera away.

While she dresses, she asks me if I’ll go to the beach today. I agree to meet her at 1PM. She needs to go home and see to her daughter. She leaves and I try to figure out what to do until then. After stopping by my favorite juice bar, I pick up a couple of water bottles and stash them in the fridge.

At one o’clock, I am standing on the beach, looking for my girl. The usual bunch is hawking chairs, but I manage to put them off. I’m trying to decide whether or not she’s stood me up. I walk up to the coconut kiosks to see if she might be waiting on the promenade. I spot her from 10 meters away. She’s sitting at one of the tables wearing a skimpy bikini; sipping a drink while she sways to the music, smiling like she hasn’t a care in the world. I try to sneak up on her but she spots me and gives me a big hug. We have a drink together before we head for the sand.

I’m looking everywhere for the white haired vendor. I can’t believe she wouldn’t be set up on a Sunday, but I don’t see her anywhere. Simone suggests her usual vendor. I cringe at the prices he’s charging, but Simone negotiates a slightly better rate. She tells me she pays only 5BRL when she’s by herself. The vendors are eager to have pretty young things to attract the wealthy geezers.

We get arranged and Simone cranks up her CD player. She tells me she can only play it for a little while before switching to the radio. It eats up batteries. Simone talks to the vendor and he goes off on an errand. He comes back and hands her a 45-minute phone card. She hands him 6BRL. “Why did you do that?” I ask her. She tells me the phone cards are more expensive on the beach. “For 6 Real you can get a 60-minute card right next to the pay phone. That guy’s ripping you off.”

The vendor returns, asking us if we want towels. Using sign language, I learn that a big beach towel rents for 3BRL. It’s a lot more comfortable than the plastic cushions, so I ask for two. He brings over half a dozen towels, asking me which one I want. He spreads out a nudie towel on my chair and grins at me. “I don’t care,” I tell him. He leaves us two towels and asks for his payment of 60BRL. I realize that he’s trying to sell them to me and the three fingers I understood indicated a 3, was actually a 30. I toss the towels at him and tell him to get lost.

She’s not interested in going for a swim, nervous about the big waves. I go in and play for a bit before returning. She tunes in a good music station and for nearly an hour she dances in the sand beside me, a big smile on her face. I am suddenly stuck by the similarities of her dancing style with that of my old girlfriend from Thailand. They both use a lot of hand movements and playful eye contact. Piyanee, unfortunately, was much too shy to dance on the beach. Simone occasionally goes down to the surf to cool off, and then has one of the water boys soak her with fresh water.

She’s on the phone. Her friend and nanny want to come to the beach. She asks me if I mind. “Of course not! Bring ‘em down!” Twenty minutes later, the two other women, three kids in tow, join us on the sand. I am introduced to everyone. While the women organize their offspring, I blow up the inflatable kiddy pool. Simone hires a water boy to fill the tub from the sea. When the nanny and the friend take the kids to the water, we get a few moments to ourselves. I remember again why I don’t really want a family. Although I’m enjoying myself with her pseudo-family, I enjoy intimate relations far more.

After about an hour, the kids have had enough and the women gather them up to go home. Simone and I are left to ourselves. I tell her I want to make plans for the evening. It takes a few minutes to come up with a translation for plan. (Is it possible that this is the reason why Brazil is not a world power today? The concept of planning seems totally lost on the carioca.)

I tell her I’d like to take her to a really nice love motel. She is keen on the idea, but is also interested in how much I will pay her. I tell her 200BRL. She agrees, but wants 50 today and the rest in the morning. This sounds reasonable to me and I agree. I tell her a bit more about the motel, without giving away too much. She’s very excited at the prospect. I want to make the most of those eight hours we can rent the room. If you get there too early in the evening, you are woken way too early. If you get there too late, you’re tired and end up sleeping your time away. We agree to meet that evening at one of the other resto bars near Help.

As I sit at the end of my chair, she nestles into my arms contentedly. Before we get into a full-on snogging session, submariner arrives. I introduce my girl and invite him to use the other chair. We talk for a bit, but I’ve become too lazy from the heat to be coherent.

Simone spots a panty vendor and calls her over. Panty vendor? Yup, I’ve seen vendors of every type of product, but this one I’d not seen before. She shows Simone the selection and she picks out four or five lacy thongs. At 10BRL it’s a good deal and I pay the vendor. Simone is very pleased.

Before long, ‘J’ and his girl join us on the beach. My friend is surprised not to see his usual vendor. I ask them to join us. He tries to hire a small chair, but our vendor pulls over the more expensive lounge chair, claiming none of the smaller ones are left. When he hears the price, ‘J’ decides there’s no way he’s going to let the little cretin have his money. The two girls, meanwhile, are getting to know one another and fussing over Simone’s music selection. They stay with us for a while, but Simone and I are ready to call an end to our day in the sun.

On our way off the beach, we watch a samba school practicing for carnival. I loose Simone in the crowd, but manage to catch up with her after a bit of hunting around. We walk past a couple of phone card touts and I point out the considerably cheaper rates offered just across the street from the beach. “In Centro,” I add, “you can get a 60-minute card for five Real.” She gives me an exasperated look. “I’m just trying to save you some money!” I respond defensively.

Back at my apartment, we take a shower and hit the sheets for some warm-ups prior to the evening’s festivities. She goes back to her place to check on her daughter and I run some errands.

I spend a couple of hours at the computer café burning my photos onto CDs and checking e-mail. I am exhausted. I fear that by the time we arrive at VIPs, I’ll pass out. I can’t come up with a viable solution; I’m just too tired.

I take a walk to try to reenergize myself. It doesn’t work. I realize that it was the sun that sapped my energy. I decide to take a rain check with Simone. I arrive at her bar and see her sitting at the back of the terrace. Meia Pataca is one of the favorite hangouts for the Help girls. You’ll see plenty of punters there too. It’s a short walk to Help.

I sneak up on her this time and she doesn’t see me standing beside her. She looks hot. She’s wearing a short, simple black dress with spaghetti straps, black pumps and a red leather purse. Although the old familiar stirrings are taking place, I know I don’t have the vigor to follow through.

She senses my presence, looks over at me and gives me a big smile. I pull up a chair and ask her how she’s doing. Fine. I confess that I’m exhausted. I ask her if she would mind that we go to the hotel the following night. I tell her it’s my last night in Rio and it would be a fitting end. She readily agrees. I ask her if she’s upset, but she tells me she understands.

I tell her to go to Help. If she doesn’t score she can come visit me. She stands up so I get a better look at her outfit. She does a slow turn. With both eyebrows raised she asks me if I think she won’t get picked up. I concede her point. She looks so hot only the dead wouldn’t get a rise out of her. It starts to rain and we grab a table inside until it stops. It is close to midnight.

I walk her to help. I don’t feel the least bit odd that I’m sending ‘my’ girl into the club so she can get nailed by one or more guys (possibly YOU). It’s her job. She enjoys what she does. I enjoy what she does. I tell her she can come to my apartment to sleep afterward. (She doesn’t like sleeping at home because inevitably, one of the kids wakes up crying.) She smiles in acknowledgement. I give her a kiss, a slap on the bum and send her off to get laid by some stranger.

I stagger back to my apartment. Using my vast command of pantomime, I tell the security guard that a girl may come to visit me in the early morning hours. In my room, I take a shower and fall asleep in an instant.

I wake when I think I hear a noise. It can’t be Simone, she’s in some other guy’s bed by now. I hear the door buzzer go again. With nothing on, I pull the door open; Simone is standing there with a big smile on her face and a paper bag in her hand. I kiss her and close the door behind her.

While she eats her meal, she tells me about her evening. While we were in the restaurant, escaping the rain, a man was eyeing her. He was surprised to find her alone in Help later, assuming that the two of us left as a couple. It turns out that this guy is a friend of her ex-husband. He was very eager to screw is pal’s ex-wife and hounded her all evening. Simone finally capitulated, but for a short session only, and at a greatly inflated rate. They went to his hotel, he got his rocks off in about a half hour and she left, unsatisfied. She could have gone back to the club, but new I’d take care of her. After a quick shower, I did just that.


- Day 13 -

We wake at 10AM. She’s not up for another bout of play, so we get a shower. I tell her that I’m feeling more energetic today and am ready for my last night in Brazil. We arrange to meet at her café and I see her to the door.

I run into my buddy ‘L’ on the street. After determining that I have no confirmed plans, he suggests we go to his favorite restaurant for brunch. We tolerate the light rain and arrive at a restaurant used primarily by locals. It’s a pay-by-weight place and the food looks tasty. I help myself to a generous portion of everything that looks good. I am one hungry wombat after yesterday’s activities.

Over our meal, we discuss our mutual interest, shagging babes around the world. I am astonished at the places he’s visited. It looks like I have a lot of catching up to do. We leave the restaurant. He gives the waitresses very large tips. “You know,” he says, “we give all this money to these girls we meet, and many of them are hardly worth it. I like giving these girls money because they work hard and don’t make very much.” I vow to be a bit more generous with my tipping. I remember that the 10% added to the bill rarely goes to the server.

My friend wants to stop at a health food shop. I need to pick up something for the light cough I’ve just acquired; a good dose of Echinacea ought to do the trick. I find what I want and pay up. My companion is still sniffing around. “I’m a bit embarrassed to ask one of the girls for help. If it was a guy I wouldn’t mind.” Surprised at his embarrassment, ‘L’ is a really gregarious fellow, I offer to take the heat. I pull aside the clerk that helped me and, using pantomime of course, explain that we’re looking for manly energy enhancers. She shows me a few things that come close, but when I spot the product with the two elephants, one looking a bit downtrodden and the other with his trunk raised high in the air, I know we were in the right area. I indicate the product; she gives me a grin and points out a few more.

Very pleased with the price, ‘L’ decides to buy a dozen. He plans to offer them to the boys, half jokingly. “At this price, it will work even if it’s a placebo.” I decide to buy one myself. Hey, it’s going to be a long night!

Back at Alcazar, the Knights of the Rectangular Tables have gathered. A few members have departed, but newcomers take their place. The rain makes any kind of sightseeing impossible. I want to visit the botanical gardens, but not in this weather. I figure I might squeeze a couple of hours into club 65 if I time it right. Uncle Don informs me he’s leading another expedition, this time to Monte Carlo. I remember meeting Lebara at Bar Atlantica. I say I might join them.

After a couple hours of gabbing, I decide I should take a nap so as to be ready for the evening’s endeavor. A 2-hour power snooze later and I’m feeling terrific. I had wanted to see Monte Carlo, so I decide to meet the boys there. At 6:30PM, I introduce myself to the receptionist. I tell them that I’m here with Don, happy to up his reputation at the club.

I get changed into my robe and head upstairs. The shower area, clean and comfortable, is located on the second floor. On the next floor, I find the bar. It is quite nice, but the smallest I’ve seen. The small bar is on the far side of the room. The whole place is decorated with mirrors, including several decorative columns near the benches running along the two walls. Near the entranceway is a tiny stage barely large enough to raise a single dancer a few inches from the floor. The lighting is the most interesting feature. Pot lights in the ceiling shine down on strategic spots in the room (like the tops of the small tables).

There are quite a few girls in the room, but I see none that tickle my fancy. Bikinis are the order of the day, as usual, but a few girls have clad themselves in outfits more befitting carnival. The music is good, the mood is good, and I feel pretty good.

A few of the fellows are lounging on the bench. I say hello to everyone I know and have a quick talk with Don. I express my surprise that the place only has 45-minute rooms. That’s barely enough time for me. He agrees, but is even more amazed that the place is expanding the locker rooms when they so desperately need more cabines.

The music changes and the lights dim. One of the girls takes a chair into the middle of the club and starts a dance performance. I regret that she is not particularly attractive or talented, but I enjoy the show nevertheless. During her routine, she removes her top and bottom, completing the act in the nude.

While everyone watches her, I scan the room looking for potential mates. A few intrigue me, but there are no heart stoppers. After the performance, I ask Don for recommendations. He points out one of the girls I’d been eying. He tells me she’s from the Amazon. He doesn’t mean that she lived there; he means that she’s autochthonous (go on, look it up, I’ll wait for you). He tells me that she’s very popular so I’d better grab her if I’m interested.

He calls her over and introduces me to Tiena. She’s very friendly, but speaks barely a word of English. Despite this fact (that she doesn’t speak English, not the friendly part), we hit it off. After we’ve sat together for a while, then danced a bit, I suggest we go to the cabine. She leads me up to the next floor and leaves me at a door. Some of the girls are coming down the stairs, their session complete. Some of them are absolutely gorgeous.

Another couple comes up the stairs. She instructs him to wait while she goes into the room. He slyly follows her through the door. I hear excited squeals as the girls discover the intruder. She pushes him outside, but he follows her back in again. This goes on for a minute or two before he gives up. I congratulate him on his tactics and we chat while waiting for our girls.

Tiena come out and leads me up the stairs. I can’t help biting her ass on the way up. The room is as small as the 4x4 rooms, but there’s no shower. There is a mirror covering the entire side wall however. We smooch for a while as we begin our foreplay.

Halfway into our time, we’re both sweating like prizefighters and the mirror is so steamed up we pause to write our names on it. She checks the air conditioner. Sure enough, it’s set for fan instead of cooling. She’s more used to the heat than I am so she mounts me and we resume our play. She gets a kick out of me licking the sweat from her face and neck.

Eventually, the room cools to a comfortable level. Unfortunately, we have only a few minutes left. I call it quits. She’s a bit annoyed that I haven’t come. I point out that she didn’t come either. She tries to tell me that she did, but I know better. She shows me how wet she is for proof. She tries giving me a hand job then sucking me off in an attempt to get me to come.

The fact is I don’t want to come. I know that I’m going to have a fabulous night of debauchery ahead of me and want only to prime the cannon. She’s a sweetheart though so I try to talk with her. I explain how I am leaving the next day. She begs me to stay here with her. I beg her to come home with me.

She pulls at my finger, asking me if I’m married. I tell her I am quite single. She’s got a ring one finger. She takes it off to show me the inscription, a gift from her parents. I take the ring, get down on one knee and ask her if she’ll marry me; she laughs. She then goes through an elaborate series of gestures with our hands and her ring. She finishes by giving me a kiss.

I wonder if I’m now married. The next time one of you guys see her, ask her if she’s married for me, will ya? If she says yes, get the hell away from my wife you degenerate!

We exit the room and I leave her at the girls’ room before going to the showers. I take a steam bath and get good and clean. Back at the bar, I meet up with the few boys remaining and check out the new girls. Monte Carlo has some nice looking women; it ties with Club 65 for that honor but falls well behind Luomo.

Tiena joins me on the couch. I buy her a drink and we just sit there enjoying each other’s company. I note that I have to be on my way and try to say goodbye to her. She tugs on my arm, tempting me to stay. I ask her to come home with me; she pantomimes being cold. I gesture back that I’ll keep her plenty warm. She walks me to the elevator and keeps kissing me until it arrives. I open the door to enter and she tries to hold me back. I make a sad face as the door closes and the elevator descends.

I quickly change, pay my bill and walk down the road to my rendezvous with Simone. Tonight she’s sitting inside Meia Pataca, out of the intermittent drizzle. She’s just started a drink so I sit down with her at the table she’s sharing with an older man and another woman. The couple is not talkative; they basically just sit there.

While Simone makes a phone call, I finally engage the guy in conversation. He’s a Swiss national, well past retirement age, who’s moved to Brazil and owns a house somewhere. That was as much I got out of him. He looked burned out, the girl too.

I tell Simone we should go. She wants to take a cab to my apartment because she wants to protect her pretty white pumps. I contemplate carrying her the two blocks, but when we go outside the rain has stopped. We walk.

When we get to the apartment, she has a surprise for me. I had picked up a couple of Kelly Key CDs as I really like her music. I’d asked Simone to translate some of the lines in one of her songs, but she just kept going on about Playboy. I couldn’t imagine why she’d sing about Playboy. Simone reaches into her overnight back and pulls out a copy of last month’s Brazilian Playboy magazine. Guess who the centerfold is; Kelly Key! I love this country.

I gather my stuff. She makes sure I have the Pocket Rocket. Before we go to the hotel, she wants to go to the pharmacy to buy some lube. She tells me she doesn’t like mine, she wants “Kay-somethingorother Epsilon.” We get into the shop just as they’re pulling down the security door. At the back of the shop she grabs the KY jelly. I pay up and we hop a cab.

I tell the driver where to go but he’s not sure where it is. Through Simone, I give him the general directions (I mean, it’s not THAT hard to find this place, is it?). As we get closer, Simone turns to with a really odd look and says “We’re going to VEEPS?” I nod. She squeals in delight, throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. (I guess that ‘vee eye pees’ meant nothing to her since she’d always heard it pronounced ‘veeps.’)

“Whoa,” I’m thinking, “what’s she going to do when she sees the room.” I’m really blowing the budget on this, my last night, but I don’t know when I’ll be back. I know that Simone would logically prefer the money to the room, but I figure she’ll appreciate the treat I have in store for her.

We pull in and I order the Sol suite. Had I done more research, I would have picked a different room for a lesser price, but I knew Sol would do the trick. The driver drops us off and I open the door for Simone. She is beside herself when she walks in. I show her the sauna and steam room before she notices the stairs. She goes up and squeals some more as she checks out the place. She’s curious about the love chair and finds the wall attachments in the shower very interesting. I show her the pool and she starts laughing she’s so impressed with the place. I’m rewarded with lots of hugs and kisses.

I put one of the Kelly Key CDs on the player and get comfortable. Simone starts dancing as she takes off her skirt and top. She’s showing off a special pair of red panties she wore for the occasion. They’re very nice lacy things and probably cost a lot more than the ones we picked up on the beach.

We get naked and go into the steam room. I bring along soap and my razor, complete with a fresh blade. Once we’re good and steamy, I go to work on her puss. She’s not satisfied with my efforts and takes the razor from me to finish the job. I remove what stubble I have on my neck and cheeks before we go upstairs to the pool. Before we go up, I start filling the tub.

On the way, Simone comments about the cost of the room, comparing it to what I’m paying her. “Yessss?” I intone, “Would you rather be in my apartment?” She smiles apologetically and gives me a hug.

When we go out to the pool, we discover that the rain has cooled the air far more than I would have liked. It’s a bit chilly outside and Simone can only stay in the pool for a few minutes before she gets cold. Back downstairs we take to the Jacuzzi to warm up. Once the water is to the right level, I turn on the jets. While we neck, she puts her legs over the side and squirms in close to the water jet. She’s soon moaning with delight.

After a while, we towel off and go upstairs. She shows me the Red Bull she brought for an extra bit of energy. She mixes it with a vodka cooler then goes into the bathroom to get prepared. I remember my elephant capsule, open it and drink it down. It tastes like liquid dirt.

We move to the bed. During my oral examinations of her nether regions, I fail to find a trace of stubble. Mmm. She doesn’t fall asleep this time.

We go hard at it for about a half hour before it occurs to me to try the chair. She climbs on then changes her mind. She puts on her white pumps and gets into position. “More fun like this,” she explains. I’m inclined to agree. Sitting on that chair she simply cries out to be fucked hard.

We fuck hard. That chair is amazing! With my weight resting on my feet instead of my knees and arms, not only do I have more leverage than ever before, I can put more muscles into my performance (e.g. my toes!). The result is that I’m a fucking machine. This chair is to sex what a bicycle is to walking. I am capable of going at twice my normal speed for at least four times as long.

Simone is thrashing beneath me. She tells me she’s never been fucked so hard in all her life. She demands to know if I’m a professional (porn star). I laugh, but she was serious. She wants to marry me. “I love you fuck me,” she says.

A quick aside regarding Simone: As far as performances go, she actually ranks below average for me. We hit it off well and that made all the difference. If one of you picks her up looking forward to a fantastic time, you’ll probably be disappointed. She doesn’t much like to do the work herself, but she’s very appreciative otherwise.

She stops me so we can drink. She finishes her cooler and I pull out the spiced rum I acquired at the airport. We have no mixer, but I tell her it’s terrific straight (it really is). She doesn’t want to try it so I put some on my lips and kiss her. THIS she likes. I try a bit more and let some dribble into her mouth. She loves it, but I won’t let her drink it any other way.

We start out on the bed, but before long, we’re back on the chair. I love this thing. I can see taking every future girl to VIPs. The price of the room is worth it just for the chair. Don, if you’re reading this, I have an idea as to how you can rent more rooms.

Simone is hungry and wants to stop and eat. We move to the bed and look at the menu. I resume our play while she places her order. She gives me a dirty look but doesn’t try to stop me. I move her back to the chair and we try doggie. Her heels help raise her tail up and I rest my hands on the grips to give me lots of leverage. We’re still hard at it when the bell rings. I redouble my efforts for a few moments, grab my robe and answer the door. The waiter puts the food on the table and leaves. I dash back to the bedroom; she hasn’t moved. We keep at it for another fifteen minutes before we stop. I don’t want the food to get too cold.

After we eat, I’m ready for more love. She’s nearly exhausted, but humors me. While I’ve outlasted plenty of women, I’ve never had the energy I have tonight. We go for another hour before I let the poor girl sleep. I ask her to leave her shoes on because it looks so damn sexy in the mirror overhead.


- Day 14 -

We wake an hour before we have to leave, having slept for three hours. I make good use of that hour in the chair. The phone rings indicating that our time is up. We quickly shower and dress. The doorbell rings and the waiter brings coffee. This we enjoy while watching the sun fail to come up behind the rain clouds. We gather our belongings and get into the waiting cab.

On the ride down, she begs me to leave the Pocket Rocket with her. She’s used it during half our play that night and really, really loves it. “It’s yours,” I tell her. “You’ve got it in your bag, right?” She was squeezing that thing so hard last night, her fingerprints were probably etched into by now. I assumed she stuffed it in her bag with everything else.

“No,” she tells me. I instruct her to check her bag. I go through mine just in case she dropped it in my toilet kit. Neither of us have it. I tell her how much it costs and she instructs the driver to return to VIPs. I don’t understand the traffic patterns in Rio, but they change the road direction on a regular basis. The road we were now on was one way so we couldn’t just turn around. The driver had to circle the hill, a long drive in rush hour traffic.

We go upstairs to find the cleaning staff busy readying the room. They haven’t seen her vibrator. We get back in the cab and go back to Copacabana. She’s convinced that one of the workers saw it and kept it for himself. I promise to send her a new one.

I give her a fifty for the cab ride and hop out near my apartment. She waves at me as the cab pulls away. We agreed to meet later in the morning, after she’s had a chance to look in on her daughter.

I grab a drink at my juice bar and go up to my apartment. I spend an hour organizing my bags, trying to fit my two hammocks in with my clothes. I search through my bag again, just in case the vibrator is there. It’s not. I’m so tired I stagger to my room and pass out on the bed.

I hear the buzzer and go to open the door. Just to be sure, I check the peephole. Simone is with her nanny and daughter. I grab a towel to wrap around my waist and let them in. I give her a kiss and return to the bedroom to dress. The nanny has a messy baby bottom to deal with so I get them set up.

Simone goes into my room and collapses on the bed. I crawl on top of her and nibble her ear. She tells me she won’t have sex all week. “All week?” I ask, dubiously. She thinks a moment and tells me maybe two days. “How ‘bout right now?” I ask, having left her ear and moved down to her neck. She squirms a bit and tells me that her nanny is very conservative so this wouldn’t be a good time or place. I was only teasing her, but how the heck does she explain to the nanny where she goes every night?

She tells me she’s decided to move out of her friend’s place. She’s made an appointment in my building as well as a few others in the neighborhood. While she’s upstairs checking out the apartment, I return to packing my bags. When she comes back, I take her to the internet shop to set her up with an e-mail account. I soon discover she’s never so much touched a mouse in her life. I teach people how to use software for a living. This was the most challenging task so far, teaching basic computer skills to someone with only rudimentary command of spoken English. I had to switch her to a Brazilian account and figure out the links by sense of touch. Eventually, we get her set up and we exchange test messages. She’s off to visit another apartment. I wish her luck. We promise to write and kiss her goodbye.

I take care of a few errands and stop by Alcazar to say goodbye to whoever is around. I learn that Uncle Don is planning a trip to Luomo that afternoon. I figure it’s a fitting final chapter for my first trip so I agree to join them (hell, I’m already over budget, may as well go for broke). Over lunch I hear they’re organizing a bit of a celebration for Don’s nephew. Today is his last day and they want to get him laid. I learn that he’s not been shagging babes by the truckload because the poor guy is broke and has been so since he arrived. Here I’d been thinking what a lucky bastard he is when all this time he’s been a pitiful bugger watching all the old farts bagging the babes. That’s gotta hurt.

At the appointed time, I drag my bags from the apartment and meet Uncle Don and his Merry Men at Alcazar. We taxi to Luomo where I drop my bags at the counter. We go through the robe ritual and get comfortable in the bar. Only a few girls have arrived, but it’s still pretty early. Don’s nephew is sprawled across the couch. He’s already made his choice for the evening’s entertainment. He’s just waiting for Bia to arrive.

I start working the numbers in my head. My finances are pretty much shot, but this is my last day. What’s working against me now is time — that’s something that just doesn’t have an overdraft. I have enough time for one session so I’d better pick wisely. I look around the room at the girls. My thoughts are full of curves, dangerous curves, oh so sensuous curves.

My fantasy is interrupted by a bouncing tigger. Giiovana is in the room, a nexus of mayhem in the otherwise tranquil setting. She comes over to me with a big smile and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I inspect her chin and lips. She’s got a bit of scrape still, but her lips and kissable. I learn she’s been off all week and the girls are anxious to see what happened to her. She starts telling her friend what happened. She refers to me at one point, so I know I’m part of the story. Behind Giiovana’s back, I pantomime to the girl that the two of us got into a fight and I hit her on the chin. The wide-eyed girl is looking back and forth between Giiovana and me. I pull my robe open to show the bruises on my ribs and point to Giiovana. She looks back at her friend with considerable respect. I manage to pull this off one more time with another of her friends before being found out.

Giiovana circulates then gets down to dancing. I get the same feeling as the first night I saw her. I don’t want to take her again though. But she looks sooo hot.

She comes over to me to talk some more. She asks me if I want to take two girls. This catches me off guard. I never imagined her as being bi. I raise one eyebrow and tug and my goatee in thought. She smiles and returns to dancing, watching me. This presents a fascinating possibility. While I think about it, she keeps dancing and smiling. Bitch! She knows I want her and she knows there’s nothing I can do about. “Who’s the other girl?” I ask.

She looks around the room as she dances, then stops and sips her drink, a Red Bull mixed with something equally potent, I’m sure. Using her eyes, she gestures to a girl near us. She’s not particularly attractive. I shake my head slightly. I tell her she owes me a lot of kisses from last week. She sucks the breath out of me with her kiss. I’m hoping I don’t make it out of Luomo alive.

A few minutes later, another girl starts talking to Giiovana. She’s petite, cute, creamy white skin and quite friendly. Giiovana looks over at me. I make a rocking motion with my head as if to say maybe. She introduces me to Babbette, a 19 year old who speaks only a few words in English. I ask her if she’s interested in a dupla. She glances at Giiovana, gives me a big smile and nods her head vigorously. I’m not sure if she’s the one, so I give her a test kiss. She passes. I indicate to the girls I want to see them kiss. They give each other a girlfriend kiss. I roll my eyes and shake my head. No, this will not work.

They see my disapproving expression and make another attempt. This time they’re kissing like lesbian lovers too long separated. “Yumpin’ Yiminy!” I nearly drop my drink watching the two of them go at it. They break apart and look at me. I’m grinning like a hyena. They grab my head and the three of us are in a tongue-wrestling match that would warm the heart of Stone Cold Steve Austin.

“OK,” I say, coming up for air, “go get us a room.” Giiovana bounds out of the room, her understudy in tow. Ten minutes later, they’re both wearing their white robes and smiling at me from the entrance. I put an arm around each one and head for the cabines. The corridor is too narrow to walk side by side, so I content myself with fondling their tight little fannies as we make our way.

The room is the usual Luomo cabine with the raised bed. Both girls have their arms around me, tugging and kissing. I’m trying to undress them, they’re trying to undress me. Giiovana climbs on to the bed, stretches out and goes down on me while I’m busy making out with Babbette. After a few minutes, I have them switch places.

When we’re all on the bed, I’m eager to go down on both girls. I start with Babbette. When I go to kiss Giiovana, she makes a face pointing to my lips and Babbette’s puss. “Terrific,” I think to myself, “the old ‘Over-Promise-and-Under-Deliver’ ploy.” During our play, I learn that it’s OK to come up from between her legs, kiss her, THEN kiss her friend. I was getting the hang of things.

When I roll onto my back, they pop a condom on me and Giiovana climbs aboard and starts slamming down on me like a steam piston. Babbette positions herself above me to continue the feast where we’d left off. When they switch, they change condoms.

The sex is good, but it’s not amazing. Either girl alone would have been just as enjoyable. While I’m in missionary with Babbette, she asks me to come for her. I’d already decided on that option and worked to oblige her. Giiovana, meanwhile, gently massages my nuts, something at which she is particularly skilled.

Afterward, there’s still some time left over. The girls share a cigarette, but my oral fixations are better satisfied elsewhere. When the phone rings, I’m busy between Babbette’s thighs. She takes my face between both her hands, looks me straight in the eyes, sincerely tells me how good I am and gives me a long wet kiss. When we dress, I hug and kiss each of them, thanking them for making my last few hours in Rio so memorable.

I have just enough time for a steam and a shower. I finish quickly so I can go back to the bar for one last drink. The first thing I spot is Camilla, entwined in the arms of one lucky guy. She spots me while I get a drink. She gives me a big smile and a wink. Only a couple of the guys are still with Don. I notice that his nephew is gone. Obviously Bia has made it to work and is giving him some terrific Rio memories. Babbette and Giiovana are working the room.

Don suggests I’d better take off. With the rain, he suggests a little more time is needed to get to the airport. He tells me he’ll arrange a cab for me while I get changed. I say goodbye to one of the guys in the locker room, then head for the front desk. I have to pay by credit card, of course. I estimate the cost of the taxi and airport incidentals and I’m not left with much cash. I shake Uncle Don’s hand, thanking him for his assistance. What I think I can afford, I tuck into his robe pocket.

The cabbie is waiting right at the door and helps me with my bags. Despite the rain, we make it to the airport in plenty of time. The lineup at the airport is another matter altogether. While waiting in line at customs, a handful of guys are discussing their vacation exploits as casually as they would if they were sitting at Bar Atlantica. Later, I see one of them hitting on a girl waiting for another flight. These guys are obviously leaving too early.

The flight is delayed so I have an opportunity to pick up a few last minute souvenirs. When the coconut rum, the coco butter and the guava paste are long gone, I’ll have memories to last me a lifetime. Ah, but I’ll be back again. Oh, yes, I’ll be back!

Great report. Will be there in 12 days. Had
given some thought to a night at VIPS and now is
definitely on my agenda. Keemo broke his mongering cherry with me in Costa Rica. Have run
into him several times and is a great guy. Sounds
like he is a full-fledged international monger
now.

Long time no see Costaricardo! I remembered your prescription for the post relationship blues and decided to get a big dose of it in Rio. I'm just trying to figure out when I can go back for another treatment.

BTW another benefit of the Sol suite is its on the corner overlooking the coastal road and you can wave to people riding by on the bus as you do your thang.

Outstanding report Wombat!

What an enjoyable report, Wombat.... Many thanks to you, mi amigo for sharing the adventure.

I am so glad to see that you were able to walk the fine line of being your own man, forging towards new loacals and garotas and not just doing the cumdumper merry-go-round. Such tactics are lame and soooo, un-needed in Brazil.

Again, thanks for the stellar report; 'twas as if I were there.

What is the 'cumdumper merry-go-round'?

Wombat: Do not take Giovanna's morning change in personality personally. She is always like that in the morning. She has two speeds--full throttle and off. I happen to know she likes you very much, so it was just her usual morning self.

Costaricardo,
. . . You are going to have a terrific time in Rio. It's not your first time, is it? Be sure to check out the VIPs website to pick the room you want before you go. It looks like they all have "The Chair."

Keemo,
. . . I hope we get the opportunity to hang around again, you're great company.

Wilco,
. . . It was pretty tough tearing my self away from the Knights of the Rectangular Table. They were all a terrific bunch and easy to hang around.

Rich,
. . . I think Wilco's remark is similar to another one I've encountered, the "Beach-Terma-Help Groundhog day." While it was a tough routine to break, I sure wish I was doing it now.
. . . Thanks for the insight regarding Giiovanna. Don mentioned this as well, but it sure put me off my game. She was an awful lot of fun to be with, but I wouldn't be able to handle her dichotomous emotions for very long.
. . . I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to get to know you better, Rich. You seem to lead a very interesting life. (I wish I had you introduce me to the favela family you met; I never did make it up into the hills.) When you have a chance, please pass along my regards to Don and Jason. Oh, and a peck on the cheek for Giiovanna.

Not my first time. Have been twice several years
ago. Pretty much stayed on the "cumdumpers
merry go round"-Meia Petaca, terma and Help-I did
hear that they had a beach and some big statue to
look at, but I didn't bother. Was just what I
needed at the time-great therapy. This time I
might just go completly native and add VIPS to the menu, just to say I did some sightseeing.
After all, you don't see any chairs in Houston.
Wilco is going to take me on a terma tour as soon
as I drop my bag off, so I know that I will be
getting off to a good start with a reprobate
guide.

Wombat: You dog you. For such a cool guy you sure heated up your suspension system. I would have never guessed the tough shagging you have been through. Although, when I think of it, I was into the termas in the afternoon and everynight I spent at Help. Two a day, each day adds up.
By the way, are you coming over to visit the island this summer?
"L"

Larryb3! THERE you are! TWO girls a day? You must have saved all those elephant energy drinks for yourself! During my two weeks, I only averaged one different companion per day. It looks like I'm going to have to go back to Rio as I've some serious catching up to do. Actually, Thailand is my next destination -- maybe even Cambodia (the political unrest means fewer tourists). Drop me a line! wombateightyeight @ yahoo . com

LOL, CostaRicardo.... And no real offence meant to you CH gents about the 'cumdumpers merry-go-round'. I just feel as if Rio is sometimes approached (especially by first-timers)as you would TJ where the possibilities are miniscule by comparisson. Even when on a whirlwind terma tour I try to connect with a garota distinct and preferably not reviewed. Yes it's damn easy but not risky at all.

Indeed, if you are in Rio you can hardly fail; follow your instints and throw chica reports out the window.

Mi amigo Costa Ricardo should have a very unique take on things... Dude is MUCH less likey to fall in with the tried-and-true than even I.... One week and counting bro

Great report, Wombat. Giovanna's a good lay but just a little too greedy for my taste. Glad our VIPs reports lead you to go there.

I had plans to escape the cumdumper merry go round and my fellow knights. Actually, I had many plans. Problem was, its a tough ride to get off (pun intended!). On day 16, I finally went to Corcavado, in part 'cause Solarium was on the way home!

I think we're hooking up in Montreal next wk with Kickstand and Godfather. Perhaps will will find the Holy Grail.

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