She was watching cartoons when I got back to the room and that's when I figured I’d break the news to her -- Felix and Bimbo were probably finished. She said we should go out and celebrate but that she would need to get her hair and nails done before dinner. I gave her a bunch of reals and she ran downstairs and found a beauty salon somewhere. About an hour later I went downstairs and sneaked through the lobby to smoke a cigar. While I was outside in front of the hotel I recognized someone approaching. I didn't remember his name but I'd met him earlier in the week and we started to talk. He’d just been down to Porto Alegre for a few days and told me about what a wonderful time he had down there. I began to think that if I continue to fuck up in Rio it might be the ideal place to hide. Somehow this site came up and he mentioned that he was Sekr60 and I told him my handle was Jaguar then quickly averted my eyes. We continue to talk for a few minutes and then all of a sudden he stopped in the middle of a sentence, looked at me intently, raised his hand and pointed his index finger at me and said, "You're the one who tortures himself, aren't you?" “Yeah,” I mumbled politely. Then I wondered where could he possibly get an idea like that? Right after that Miss Bubble Lips glides up to us, I introduce them then try get her out of there as quickly as possible for fear that Sekr60 might mention something about termas. You know how she reacts to that word, don’t you? He’s real cool and keeps it polite in front of her, we say goodnight go upstairs and fuck like teenagers.
Dinner causes the usual commotion and, oh yes, we fucked up another restaurant. You would think these so called high class people never saw a beautiful girl with her tits almost falling out of her blouse. The least attractive middle aged women hated us the most and I absolutely loved it. The first bottle of Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon was brought to our table by two wine stewards and a waiter. They took their time opening it, I tasted it, they slowly poured two glasses and then we toasted Felix and Miss Bimbo. “Too bad it didn’t last long, but it lasted too long,” was my short and thoroughly confusing toast. Watching their relationship soar and collapse was as torturous as watching a bad Steven Seagel movie, I remember thinking. Hey wait a second, that’s a double negative and they always fuck me up. If that line stumps you just think about it for a few minutes, it will eventually come to you. Now where was I? Oh yeah, fucking up the restaurant.
Waiters continue to hover around our table, pouring wine and pissing off the other customers because they’re not paying any attention to them. This always happens because what the shit, if you were a waiter working for crap wages who would you much rather look at, some old bag or Miss Bubble Lips with great tits? It’s no contest! We always manage to get the best service wherever we go, usually at the expense of the other patrons and this quickly brings out management to handle the situation. That’s when the managers fuck up right along with the rest of them as soon as they see her luscious tits covered by the thinnest, clingiest blouse highlighting her prominent hard erect nipples. For some inexplicable reason they seem to hang around too, go figure?
As were eating dinner I'm suddenly heartened by the prospect of watching Felix and Miss Bimbo who he's been constantly bickering with for the last 8 days spend their last night together at Help. This should be really interesting because their relationship deteriorated and imploded somewhat faster than his third marriage. I won't go in the details but it was fun to watch the dynamics of their tenuous relationship unravel bit by agonizing bit. We were not disappointed at all! Unfortunately as things were reaching a fevered pitch I had to leave to take a wicked piss. I wanted to somehow press the pause button so I wouldn’t miss anything but I couldn't. Miss Bubble Lips who usually doesn't drink much more than wine and beer is now doing shots of tequila to ease her pain and anguish. Things were moving at a fevered pace and I didn't want to miss much of the action, this promised to be spectacular. I quickly dash across the dance floor into the john and as I'm leaving I give the attendant a R$1.00 coin. I feel sorry for him because every time I'm there nobody pays any attention or tips him and since I have practically alienated everyone in Copacabana, I feel the coin might buy his friendship.
On my way back to all the excitement I pass the bar near the men's room and a girl grabbed my arm and asked me, "where's your Namarada?" I shrugged my shoulders in an effete attempt to avoid the question and again she said, "Namarada?" Persistent bitch I thought, and then she stops in my tracks by pointing down my pants. Momentarily, I thought the cialis had kicked in again. I look down but I don't see anything strange and again she repeats "Namarada!" What the fuck is she getting at? She steps forward and accusingly says, "Namarada," then grabs the hairclip that's positioned on the edge of my right blue jeans pocket. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I've been marked for the past nine days and didn't even know it. I know that might not strike you guys as being out of character, but I never suspected the daily act of clipping an extra hairclip to my pants or belt loop as having any significance, but clearly I was wrong. This was like putting a sign on me saying, "Radioactive Medical Waste," nobody but nobody was going near me and if I approached them, well, let's just say I never got near another garrota the whole time.
Hair Clip
Luckily for me when I return Felix and the Bimbo are still fiercely arguing over sex or the lack thereof and then he finally pulls the trigger and sends her packing. Unfortunately, Miss Bubble Lips had to relay this information to her as gently as possible. She's on her third tequila shot and the effects are starting to show in that her Brazilian accent is becoming more pronounced and she’s sprinkling her conversation with Portuguese words. I want to stay sober so water is my beverage of choice this evening because I don’t want to miss one precious minute of this drama. I'm having a great time just sitting back and watching things develop; this was better than watch one of those crazy Brazilian novellas. He tells Miss Bubble Lips that he intends to pay the Bimbo for the past eight days despite the fact that she did not live up to her end of the bargain. The Bimbo goes ballistic! Miss Bubble Lips gets a confused look on her face then tells the Bimbo that Felix is letting her go and will take her back to the hotel to pay her everything that he owes her. Now both girls have confused looks on their faces and I'm just sitting there smiling and watching everything fall apart.
After they depart she asks me, "What just happened?" I explained to her that because the Bimbo wouldn't give him all the sex needed whenever he wanted it; he was getting rid of her. She understood this then said, "But why pay her for all 8 days?" "An American Custom," are the only words I can think of because my brain is still hibernating. Again she asks, "Why pay her when she doesn’t earn it?" I agreed with the merits of her case but told her that Felix felt he had to live up to his end of the bargain regardless of whatever happened. Apparently he read in some report that a guy often tell a girl that he wants her for a week then after a couple of days jettisons her only to move on to the next one. This can place enormous strain on the girl because she has often rearranged her schedule to make accommodations and suddenly things have radically changed. I think Felix was a gentleman; I know I would have been a lot tougher on her. You guys know how tough I can be, don’t you?
I tried to give her an extremely simple explanation of this “American Custom” that suddenly went south very, very quickly. "In America when a man and a woman get together the first time they have great sex but after time they have much less till they have practically none," I said in a halting fashion. She drunkenly nodded that she understood this concept; it seems it’s universal in nature. "After a while they decide that despite the fact they have no sex they still have each other but then that gets to be a drag also," I said as things were getting worse and worse. This part is where I really fucked up when I said, "When they move apart the man gives the woman a lot of this money just to get rid of her." A great big smile came across her face and then she said, "What’s this custom called?" My startled brain wakes up, says two words and then goes back to sleep, "Community Property!" "I like this custom," she happily responds and she adds one more thing, "Did your ex-wife like this custom too?" You bet your ass she did, so did her fucking lawyer I quietly thought to myself, not daring to say another word for fear that I would only fuck up more.
As the lovebirds depart she turns to me and says all she wants is a man who doesn't want her to go to Help anymore. Shit, I didn't want her going there anymore and I tell her that in these exact words, "I don't want you to go into Help anymore." With those words said she starts crying and puts her arms around me saying that she so happy. What did I just say and how was it misinterpreted? I suggested another tequila and R$9.00 later she sucking one down. Doing tequila shots at Help is exactly like doing them in a McDonald's full of hookers. Why you might ask, well listen up. Usually in the States when you do tequila shots they come in a fancy shot glass with a nice wedge of lime and a cute little salt shaker to accompany your shot. Here you get a small flimsy plastic cup and they give you little packets of salt just like those in a McDonald's which she has to rip open and sprinkle on her wrist. It definitely loses some of its magic using the packets, but fortunately none of the memory erasing effects of the tequila is diminished.
After the fourth shot she says, "How much can you send me each month?" That's when I realized the full scope of my blunder. Tequila, Honey?" "Si," is thankfully all she can manage to say. Suddenly she goes into a Portuguese tirade for about two minutes and I figure that she's doing what most women do -- venting their frustrations and anger. Apparently this is universal too. When she's done venting she looks at me and smiles, gives me great big hug and another big wet Muppet kiss and says, "James I love you so much, give me a baby." For a second I think, I don't have any baby to give you, what do you mean? Then it hits me hard and all I can mumble is, “One more tequila Honey?”
Miss Bubble Lips is getting real frisky in the taxi and I'm loving it but I can't understand a word she saying because she's speaking Portuguese. As the elevator doors close behind us, she drops to her knees and starts to unzip my pants and I remember thinking, I'm really going to love this ride. I keep my finger on the door close button just so we're not interrupted like we were the last time when the door opened and wait for my dreams to be answered. Then her knees started to hurt. Somebody should tell the Princess Copacabana to put carpeting in the elevators instead of the granite that's there right now. See, even when I don't fuck up something always manages to fuck me up.
She can barely walk by the time she gets to the room and decides to blame it on her hurt knees rather than the six shots of tequila she consumed earlier together with a whole bottle of wine at dinner. I'm sober as hell because all I had was the other bottle of wine at dinner and water for the rest of the evening. Now guys, you probably know there's nothing worse than a drunken Brazilian girl because they either want to do one of two things: fuck you or barf. Fortunately for me, she decided on the first course of action and threw me on the bed and ripped my clothes off. She stood up, bobbing and weaving, and attempted to do a sexy strip tease for me but I guess she must have really hurt her knee in the elevator because the next thing I knew she was on the floor.
Lifting her off the floor in my arms she gave me one of her great big Muppet kisses and said those three dreaded words, "I love you." I think that was almost the last English words I heard that night as she slipped back in the Portuguese for most of the rest of the evening. At one point when she was on top of me she looked down and said, "nao spankie mi, spankie mi." I didn’t quite know what it meant but I knew the word Spanky was in there somewhere so I started slapping her bottom, gently at first then slightly harder. This really turned her on and before you know it she was up on her knees asking me to enter her. Then she said something in Portuguese that contained the magic word, "bunda?"
Since I'm much more sophisticated now I knew I didn't have to say Presbyterian to get what I wanted. I whispered, "Si." She said, "Now," and when I tried to gently enter her she kept on saying, "Now, Now, Now!" She was anxiously moving away and trying to play hard to get and although this was something new in her repertoire of sexual games; I decided to play along with her fantasy but I was going to get her ass one way or another. She kept on screaming "now, now" and I kept plowing right ahead until we were coupled together and she looked around at me and smiled and then fucked my brains out. She was amazing, coming twice with her gorgeous sensuous bottom before I could satisfy myself. God can she scream!
Within minutes of finishing and uncoupling she got up to go to the bathroom and I heard some of the most god awful sounds coming from in there. It sounded like someone was dropping a grapefruit or oranges in the toilet and I was getting nauseous just listening. A few minutes later she came back to the room and I just laid there pretending I was sound asleep. She lay down next to me, started to cuddle up to me when all of a sudden she leaps out of bed and runs back into the bathroom making more horrid sounds than before. With the fuck was going on in there? I was just a little bit curious but really didn't want to go in the bathroom to find out. I was sure I'd find out in the morning. As I fell asleep I remember thinking, well, that's the end of all ass play on this trip.
The next morning when I went into the bathroom around 8:00 a.m. it wasn't as bad as I expected but there was toilet paper all over the place and towels all over the floor. The trash receptacle next to toilet was overflowing with used toilet paper and for life of me I couldn't figure out what happened last night. She even used up the extra roll that was up on the towel rack; it was now only a cardboard tube. Whatever happened in there I was just thankful that it wasn't decorated in a similar fashion to that lavatory on the Continental jet. She didn't budge one bit, didn't move a muscle or open an eye until I was leaving the room at 9 a.m. to meet Felix.
She told me her head and ass hurt and that she was sorry she had too much to drink the night before. She said that she knew why her head hurt but couldn’t figure out why her ass hurt too. “Maybe you used that Palmolive soap again by mistake,” was the best I could come up with on such short notice. I gave her two aspirin, got her a wet washcloth and told her to put it on her forehead after I left the room. I was praying she didn’t look like anybody familiar like what happened in the Will Smith incident. With my luck, she would probably look like Charles Barkley or something like that and because of that I didn't want to take a chance of seeing her with a washcloth across her forehead.
Felix was sleeping in, but came downstairs shortly after I called his room. He seemed happier now that the Bimbo was gone: quite a bit more now that I think of it. From all indications, he was able to settle up with her and she moved right out. Today was his last full day in Rio, he was flying out the next day at 7:00 a.m. so he wanted to find someone quickly to keep him company for the next precious twenty-two hours he had left. Once again, I kept my fingers crossed. We walked over to Sandman's apartment to return Felix's cell phone and while we were there Sandman told us all about the infamous boat ride bust and he pulled up articles on his computer for us to read. Boy was I glad I wasn't invited on a trip. As I looked around the room, I saw an umbrella that I had left there back in March and thanked Sandman for taking such good care of it. Fucking Felix pipes up with, "Is that the umbrella you bought twice?" "No, that's not it and shut the fuck up," I said, wondering why everyone takes such great pleasure in pointing out the error of my ways.
Recalling how mad I got at Felix made me lose my train of thought, where the fuck was I? Yeah, still in Sandman apartment. Now, I don't know about you guys, but I've seen some of the pictures on Sandman's computer and I can only say that I have what you would call "Hard Drive Envy." He has one of the most amazing collections of photos on that little laptop all of them categorized in every imaginable way. You know how much I like to look at photos but since Felix was interested in finding his dream date for the day, I had to move away from the computer and just stand there like an idiot. Because Bubble Lips was incapacitated and could not act as an interpreter they had to find someone who spoke passable English and within moments they found a delightful girl whom I nicknamed the Porcelain Princess because her skin was so light and luminescent. She also spoke impeccable English. Sandman gave Felix her phone number, he called her and they arranged to meet for lunch around noon. Crossing my fingers definitely helped.
I went back to the hotel and woke up Miss Bubble Lips, telling her that I was going to go down the beach to soak up some sun. She rose up on one elbow, looked at me intently and asked me, "Did you fuck my bottom last night?" "Why do you ask," was the only answer I could think of at the moment. "Because it hurts and I think I remember having fun doing it or was it a dream?" Now this juncture I had one of two choices, to lie and think of other excuses or tell the truth and take the consequences. For some unknown reason, I chose the latter. "Yes honey, I made love to your bottom last night, you told me you wanted me to take you Now," was my feeble admission. She then proceeded to give me an explanation that absolutely stunned me. "You idiot, I wasn't saying Now, I was saying NAO, which means NO!" Oh, shit! I got to learn Portuguese quickly, very quickly!
"You were so drunk that you didn’t know what you were saying, and I couldn't understand you anyway because I don't understand Portuguese," was all I could manage as a retort. God bless her little heart, she hugged me and kissed me and once again said those three dreaded words, "I love you." Since she had seemingly forgiven me I decided to ask her how her bottom felt, especially after the problem she had in the bathroom last night. She then shook her head from side to side and took her index finger and put it in her mouth, which is a signal she always gave us when Felix got up from the table to go to the bathroom to puke. In other words, she was barfing, which as we all know is another option that Brazilian girls often take when they're drunk. Simply put, she was a "twofer" last night. I haven't quite figured out whether that makes me very lucky and very unfortunate that the same time or whether they both cancel each other out like nothing ever happened. I’m truly perplexed, but very satisfied.
She still had a wicked headache coupled with a horrible ass ache so she decided to stay in bed and rest both of her sore body parts. In two days I was going to be hopping on an airplane headed back to the states so I decided to make the best of a sunny day by enjoying some well-deserved rest and relaxation on the beach, not to mention all the lovely sights. Since I was a seasoned veteran in Rio I figured that I couldn’t get into any trouble by going alone and as usual I was dead wrong. How wrong, just read on? When I got down there Fernando was building his little Mayan sand pyramid which he uses to display his inventory of lotions and oils.
I told him I needed only one chair today because I was solo and he was naturally curious to find out why Miss Bubble Lips wasn't joining me. He brought over a chair and sat down next to me and questioned me extensively for about 10 minutes, unfortunately his side the conversation was in Portuguese. I nodded and smiled and then I heard the Portuguese word for "tomorrow" and little while later I heard him say "chuva" which means rain. At one point he was apparently asking a question and in an effort to get rid of him I said, "Si." He went away smiling at what I didn’t have a clue, but least he left me alone.
Fernando’s Pyramid
Within minutes four fat pink skinned Europeans came strolling down the beach towards me. What the fuck was going on? Now they're coming down to sit near me, I wondered why. Sure enough they asked Fernando for four chairs and while he was getting them I noticed two of the Europeans were holding hands. Oh fuck, not only are they fat but there also most likely queer. After they settle in their chairs they decide to rub suntan lotion all over each other and I'm not positive, but I think I saw one of them kiss the other one on the cheek. Why do these things happen to me? Within a few minutes the fucking vendors start to pester me with a vengeance including one of those four piece bands that comes around and plays that god-awful music till you pay them to go away. If you don't pay them enough, they just stand there playing longer. Simply put, it's extortion in its simplest form.
I get a good deal on a large bag of cashews and sit there merrily munching away. As I reach into my pocket of my bathing suit to pay the guy for the cashews, I notice that God damn hairclip attached to my suit effectively taking me out of commission. A few beach whores come down and sit nearby so at least I have something more attractive than the queer fat Europeans to look at. These Europeans are so fat that each has tits larger than the beach whores sitting right in front of me. Why the hell are they using me as camouflage? Did Sandman or one of the other guys put them up to this I wonder? Regardless of who put them up to it I'm not moving because I'm too fucking lazy. An hour later I hear one of those band guys coming up behind me playing his guitar and as he approaches my chair from behind I decided to just close my eyes and pretend that I was asleep. The bastard stands there and plays for about 30 seconds the nudges me and when I open my eyes I go fucking ballistic.
Cashews
Sadistic Clown
It's that vicious clown trying to attack me and I quickly run down near the ocean which unfortunately is only about 25 feet away because the tide is coming in. Circumstances are certainly not in my favor. The fat Europeans are howling with delight and if the clown wasn't between us I'd go over there and punch each of the Queens right in the mouth. I knew it, this fucking clown has been stalking me for the past week just waiting for an opportunity to get me alone and now he had me at his mercy. He took two steps towards me and I motioned him to halt which he immediately did. He then held his guitar up like an offertory plate in church, pointing to the hole in the middle indicating that he wanted some extortion money now. I shook my head from side to side letting him know that I wouldn't give in to him and then he took a step towards me.
I screamed bloody murder! I was yelling for Fernando and despite the fact that the bastards always within 20 feet of me, he's nowhere to be seen when I absolutely need him. The queers are laughing hysterically and then I notice a familiar head bobbing up and down behind the queers' parasol -- it's fucking Fernando enjoying my frightening dilemma. To make matters worse, the daily tour bus comes by dropping off about 50 elderly Japanese tourists each with a camera who then decides to take pictures of the crazy gringo and the clown. Now I've become their entertainment too. What do I do to get rid of this fucking clown? I had to come up with something quickly and you guys know that I am not real good at that and then I miraculously came up with the ideal solution.
Japanese tourists
That little unique marking device that Miss Bubble Lips has been putting on each and every day was finally going to save my life. I unclipped it from my suit, reached in my pocket and pulled out a R$5 note and attached the clip to it then threw it about 10 feet to the right of me. I then pointed at it and pointed back at the vicious clown indicating that when I walked away he could come down and get it. Then he made one of the strangest gestures I've ever seen, similar to the gesture we used to make when playing touch football indicating that someone should go long for a pass. He was pointing further down the beach, as a matter of fact, way down the beach. What the fuck did this mean? I looked over to where he was pointing only to see that he was indicating that some little kid was running down the beach with my hairclip and R$5 note in his hand. At this point as I'm backing into the ocean I didn't know who I was madder at, the hideous clown, the fast little kid or the fat European queers, oh what the fuck, let's throw this Fernando in there too.
Once again I yelled for Fernando and the God damn fucking Europeans were sitting there watching me get tortured and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls. Fernando started to feel sorry for me, perhaps it was due to the fact that I was standing in waist deep freezing water attempting to avoid the sinister clown who wasn't going anywhere until he extorted money from me. Fernando waded in and with various hand signals let me know that he would be glad to pay the clown to go away but that he needed compensation for his effort. What the fuck is this -- I'm suddenly caught in a weird multilevel extortion scheme with me as the intended target. I extracted two water soaked R$5 notes and let him know that he should give the menacing clown one and keep one for himself. Slowly he walked out of the water, too slowly for my liking and gave the clown his extortion money then the clown turned towards me and gave me one of those freaky clown grins, you know that frightening kind then he departed.
Within minutes Felix walks the Porcelain Princess down to the beach to introduce us. I feel like shit because I’m still dripping wet from avoiding the clown and look like I just had a nervous breakdown. I don’t think I made a good first impression and then I opened my mouth and I’m sure her opinion of me declined rather rapidly. She’s really cute and speaks impeccable and I do mean impeccable English. So good in fact that I naturally felt a little self conscious talking around her because as you guys know, grammar is not my strong suit. My sister, the English teacher, pointed that out when I emailed my first report to her by mistake. Enough of my mistakes, you guys don’t want to hear about them; you want to read about my fantastic sexual exploits and Rio’s highly advanced and vibrant pleasure culture, don’t you. Back to my story, now if I can only remember where I left off. Ah, I remember. Felix is once again in love and I’m happy for him because this time at least he can communicate with his date. I take a lovely record shot of the newly weds with Sugarloaf in the background which is identical to one I took of him and the Bimbo, we say good-bye and they go off to his room despite the fact that he has to pay an additional R$100 guest fee. I hate to see Felix getting ripped off; he should listen to me more often and whenever I tell him that he just laughs. Why does he do that?
The four queens sitting not more than 20 feet from me take a keen interest in everything I do. Each and every vendor that hassles me is something for them to talk about. Why don’t they get a fucking life of their own, why intrude into my life? Yup, I just saw two of them hugging and giving each other little pecks on the cheek. Why do they have to perform such flagrant displays of affection on the beach? I feel like barfing! Suddenly, who appears out of nowhere still sporting a hangover, but Miss Bubble Lips. “How’s you ass feeling Honey,” was my not too sympathetic inquiry, but I was somewhat distracted because I was keeping a sharp eye out for that fucking clown extortionist. “Fine thank you, but you’re not touching it again,” was her terse reply. I thought, once there was memorable enough for me this trip, Honey!
Back to reality; I told her I had been a good boy then pointed at the queers and said they were watching me closely so I had to be good. She leaned against me, ordered a Coke then after a few minutes started an argument about the four queens nearby. “They’re not gay.” “Of course they are, just look at the way they touch, kiss and rub each other and, let’s be honest, who would want to fuck them, look at their tits,” was my thoughtful and concise observation. I guess they heard us arguing about them because they looked at me angrily then quickly got up to leave. Fuck you too, I don’t need you as friends either. That’s when I reconsidered my harsh judgment of them; perhaps they’re not lesbians after all. Bubble Lips could be right, maybe it is two heavy set middle aged European sisters with their two fat daughters at the beach for the day. I’m not totally convinced though.
After chasing the lesbians, pardon me, I mean the four lovely fat Europeans off the beach Miss Bubble Lips decides she wants to walk down to Ipanema and I agree if her ass doesn’t hurt too much. Fernando comes over to settle up and he and Bubble Lips have an extended conversation. What could they be talking about; I remember thinking when all of a sudden she sits down on the chair looks down at the sand pondering something profound. “What’s wrong Honey? “ Did you have a talk with Fernando without me around,” she asked accusingly.” Yeah, so what,” I shot back.’ Well, you promised to give him a bonus today because it’s going to rain for the next two days and you won’t see him again this trip,” she hissed at me. “Say what,” was the most intelligent reply I could come up with.” I told you not to talk with anyone when I’m not here,” she scolded me as though I was a child. “I knew you didn’t want me talking to other garrotas, but I didn’t think that included Fernando too.” “He was the one I was worried about, you idiot,” she again hissed at me. That little “Si” answer cost me an additional R$50 but Fernando decided to give me a bonus and that’s when he told her exactly when it was going to rain over the next two days. Now he’s a fucking meteorologist but guess what, he was 100% accurate right down to the minute when the rain would begin. As much as I bitch about him, he’s really the most honest of the bunch. Although after saying that I think recommending him over anyone else is tantamount to having to choose between John Wayne Gacy and Jeffry Dahmer as your cellmate.