What the fuck just happened at the end of Part Three? Did I pay Lurch R$50 for the privilege of walking her across the street? Man, I can’t afford to do that very often. Then I wondered how this sudden horrible turn of events was going to affect me for the next fifteen days. Oh well, I probably won’t run into her again anyway. What are the chances of that?
Below is a photo of the apartment building where Lurch was staying. You can clearly see the gate she went through as well as the convenience store two doors to the right.
I slink back to the apartment, spray my injured toe with Curad spray bandage, lie down on the couch, look up and see that fucking projector TV hanging from the ceiling, swear it’s begging me to play with it, and think that I can figure it out. That’s the last thing I remember as I slip into a deep slumber. I wake up around 10:00am and figure I better get some food in me. Lurch won’t be up and about at this hour so all I had to worry about was MBL; she’s definitely sleeping too, but I’m sometimes wrong. After I’m about two blocks from the apartment, I realize that I forgot my hat. Now I have to come up with a disguise alternative real fast. This is where I come up with a real winner.
About a block behind me is a newsstand so I turn around, go back there and buy a newspaper as my disguise. You’re probably wondering how I can possibly disguise myself with a newspaper Well, this is my twisted logic: Everybody knows I don’t know any Portuguese, so if you were looking for me, would you bother looking at someone holding up a Rio newspaper while they’re sitting at a table? Of course you wouldn’t. Quite devious, huh? I walk over by Meia Pataca sit down, order a pot of coffee and Airton, one of the waiters, spots me and comes over. He has horrendous news for me, “Your namarada from Buzios was looking for you yesterday. “Check, please.” Oh shit, Fawn’s in town, too! Today isn’t shaping up very well at all.
I remembered that Don told me about a great place to eat right around the corner from Help called “The Office”, which seemed like the perfect spot to hide out in for a few hours. Actually this place is right behind Help on Rua Aires Saldanha and since I can’t pronounce the street name very well, I simply call it Salad Alley. This place is fantastic for several reasons. First, the food is delicious and plentiful at a reasonable price. Secondly, it has free internet, so you can post on CH at will. Lastly and perhaps most importantly, I’m confident that MBL, Lurch or Fawn do not know of its existence. I say that because this is also the only drawback to the place. There are no garota de programa girls in the place so there’s a distinct lack of eye candy in there. Right about now, it suits my purposes perfectly. Breakfast is wonderful!
As I leave the office, I see one of Tigger's criminal associates standing at a kiosk that's located about 20 feet from the front door of The Office. Yeah, he was at my rock demonstration and was one of the guys sitting on the ledge who tried to knife me on Easter night. You’ll never guess what this kid was doing there. He was getting his knife sharpened at the key kiosk! Apparently, the previous night was very busy. I quickly turned and went the other way because I didn't want to tempt fate once again.
I meet Don at around 4 p.m. as he's having a pot of hot tea and the first thing he says to me is, "Do I have to be with you again today, every other day works much better for me?" What the fuck does he mean by that? "Yes, you have to be with me today, you have to take me Vila Mimosa tonight. Remember, MBL thinks I get into Rio tomorrow so today is my last day of freedom," is my short and sweet reply. Reluctantly he agreed to take me there, but only after we ate dinner first.
He asked, "So how was Lurch?" "Great, but she lives across the street from Sandman's apartment." He snorted hot tea through his nose and when he regained his composure he decided to mess with my severely dysfunctional mind. "You better hope she lives at the rear of the building," he said. "Why's that?" "Because if she lives in one of the front apartments, she can look out her window and watch you and Miss Bubble Lips each and every day," he gleefully chimed. "Don, would you call over the waiter for me?" "What for," was all he said? "Tell him to bring me that bottle of scotch and leave it here," was about all I could say. My day was rapidly going down the fucking tubes.
After he finishes his tea and I have two shots of scotch, we slink over to The Office and find the place practically deserted. Foolishly, I switch from scotch to beer and we start slugging them down. Our drinking is only interrupted by our dinner, and then we resume pounding them down. Around 8:00pm we decide to go to Vila Mimosa so we walk over to Alcazar and meet Roberto our driver. Fifteen minutes later we’re pulling into a parking spot that one of the local street urchins directs us into. His valet parking skills cost me R$2. Roberto locks the car and we walk down the main street towards all the action.
Since we got somewhat parched out on the trip over, we stop at one of the first bars we come to re-hydrate ourselves. There are quite a few girls walking around and several of them look like they’re the Bear’s older sisters. Numerical there are a lot of women, but on a qualitative scale there are virtually none. I take out my camera to take a few shots and the street suddenly empties in seconds. Where did everyone go?
We decided to take a brief walk around the interior to see if there were any girls that appealed to us, we didn't find anything except Roberto lingers around an impromptu tattoo pallor set up on the curb and decides that he will get one on his upper arm. For some strange reason he decided to have someone, who I must admit was one of the filthiest individuals I have ever seen, stick needles in him and inject color dye. Why in God's name he chose this place to get a tattoo is beyond me, particularly given the vermin crawling around, not to mention various strains of every bacterium known to man floating in the air and probably on the God damn needle. Don and I retreated back to the bar for a couple of skols.
As we're waiting for Roberto to return, Don pointed out someone then said, "This guy looks more out of place than you do Jaguar." I have to admit that I agreed with him when I saw who he was pointing at. It was a young Asian guy, approximately 25 years of age, somewhat overweight, with a backpack on his back. Who the fuck wears a backpack to Vila Mimosa? The answer is either an idiot or a terrorist suicide bomber. Because we're drunk, we immediately ruled out the suicide bomber alternative. We correctly assumed that nobody in their right mind would go to Brazil's most infamous strip of whorehouses to blow it up. After all, it is controlled jointly by the Mafia and the Policia and who in their right mind wants to fuck with them? Consequently, we immediately put this guy in the idiot category and his ensuing behavior immediately justified our snap decision.
If any of you have ever watched South Park, you know the character Kyle and his cousin from Connecticut named Kyle Two. Picture that character, a short stocky individual with short dark hair, thick glasses and tiny eyes, well; this guy looked exactly like him except without the brains of Kyle Two. Every couple of minutes he would walk up and down the street, stop in front of the bar next to us and gawk at one of the girls. After watching him do this several times, we became very curious to find out what he was watching so we went outside and stood behind him for a few minutes. One of Bear's older sisters was standing at the railing in a red mini thong with a white see-through fishnet halter top on. She looked absolutely stunning; at least that’s what Kyle Two thought.
Don and I didn't find her very appealing at all, but apparently this kid thought she was the equivalent of Beyonce and couldn't keep his eyes off her. He was looking at her the way a 13-year-old looks at a Playboy magazine for the very first time. You know that look; we all do, we were once there. As he stands there he starts to shake uncontrollably in sort of an orgasmic rhythmic motion that we found quite disturbing. We look at each other and wonder what kind of party he was having in his pants at that very moment. Yep, Don was certainly right; this guy was definitely odder than me.
Alcohol has a slight tendency to corrupt my moral compass more than normal and also impair my ability to process critical information correctly. Tonight was no different from other times when I get somewhat inebriated in that I typically do very stupid things. Remember that promise I made not to eat at VM ever again, well, let’s just say I fucked up a little. Don was getting hungry again so we walked down to the BBQ stands, which are located in what Don affectionately calls the Culinary Court, at the end of the street to see what tasty treats they had on the grill.
Evidently the local food inspector had not been through since my visit last January because the same deplorable conditions were clearly present on this visit. Although I have to admit, the food looked quite inviting. Don had read A Dummy in Rio so he knew the story about my last gourmet encounter there and didn’t even attempt to suggest anything on the filthy grill. He did, however, convince me to try the delicious looking garlic bread sitting on a plate next to the grill. Okay, I decided what the hell; absolutely nothing could go wrong with just eating garlic bread. Once again I was way off base.
As soon as Don ordered it, I knew I was in for an experience. The chef and I use that term rather loosely, picked up a slab of garlic bread smothered in coagulated garlic butter and threw it on the frightful looking grill to toast it. Don said that would kill all the germs on it, but he was only half right. Half of the bacteria survived to take revenge their on me with a vengeance. After a few slices Don says, “How long do you think that stuff has been sitting out there? Do you notice the flies don’t even land on it?” I was so drunk, that remark flew right by me totally unnoticed.
Surprisingly, the bread was quite good and within a few short hours I would regret my stupid decision to eat it, but after all I was in VM and I should enjoy the total experience. After the bar, the bread was the second piece of this sick and twisted montage. Now, what else was there here to try? We’ll get into that in a few minutes, but now back to Don and the bread.
Garlic Bread
Since Don has lived in Brazil for a number of years his immune system has acclimated to his environment and he’s practically impervious to every known species of germ indigenous to Brazil, my immune system is at the other end of the spectrum, making me susceptible to the invasion of any and every fucking bacterium living in Brazil, especially those living in Vila Mimosa. In other words, I’m like a bubble boy without his bubble. They were going to have a field day with my digestive system and I just wondered when their onslaught would occur. I prayed that I would be near a toilet when it hit me.
Right about that time as we were walking along the sidewalk, I slipped on the curb and my foot, the one with only four toenails and a bleeding nail bed on it, plunged into the ever present watery mixture that slowly flowed alongside the curb. I remember thinking through my drunken haze, that’s not good. Now, not only do I have to worry about my asshole, but my toe has suddenly popped up on my immune radar screen.
We go back to the first bar we were in; I buy a bottle of water that had a broken seal, go into the restroom and pour most of it on my toe, then wash out my shoe in the sink. For about a millisecond, I considered drinking the rest of the bottled water then thought better of it. Who knows were it was refilled? For entertainment we watch Kyle Two do his thing and that’s when we spot a beautiful clean cut blonde walk by and enter the maze of establishments. Don told me that he’s heard rumors of some office girls that, after leaving work in Centro, go to VM once a week or so to make some extra money. I wanted to do whatever possible to help this beauty make ends meet.
This is where I didn’t properly put together our strategic and tactical plans so that they complimented each other. Because we had just gotten two beers we decided not to let them go to waste and, consequently, we waited till they were finished before beginning our quest. In retrospect, I realize this was a severe tactical blunder on my part because, by the time we went inside, she was nowhere to be seen. Where was she? We knew she hadn’t exited the place because we had our eyes on both exits. Then Don broke the bad news to me. “She’s probably upstairs somewhere getting fucked right this very moment. And there’s undoubtedly a group of guys already queued up.” “Maybe we shouldn’t have finished those beers,” he astutely noted. I agreed and the moral to this story is: If you see a beauty in VM, don’t let her out of your sight.
We take one more tour of the place and still come up empty. I’m getting pissed at myself for letting that gem slip right through my drunken fingers and that’s when I decide to call it quits. Man did I fuck up tonight! First I poison myself with the garlic bread, then I expose myself to God know what in that slimy puddle, I get drunk, can hardly take a photo of anyone and, finally screw myself out of screwing that honey. Tonight is just a continuation of the way the day started with my R$50 stroll across the street.
Back at Alcazar I again fortify myself with a few skols and ponder my next move. Once again a complete lack of planning will doom me. Ever girl that walks by resembles Fawn, Lurch or MBL in some obscure way and this cause my undo stress. Fuck, even a transvestite walks by and I think it’s one of the three girls. About this time I’m wondering why I haven’t been alternating between beer and water this evening and that’s when I realize that I feel much better when I’m drunk. I knew I shouldn’t have attempted to give up drinking in August, but at least I had good intentions before I came to Rio.
As its approaching midnight I totally crack because I have somehow convinced myself that MBL will walk by any minute and see me, then kill me. Don’s absolutely no help because he agrees that with my luck she’ll be coming around the corner shortly. “Remember what happened last night with Lurch sitting right behind you,” was all he needed to say to drive me over the edge. “Alright, call her for me and tell her exactly what I told you to say, that we are Alcazar now, and I remember thinking that she’ll be here in no time.” I give him the number, he dials and when she answers he tells her exactly what I told him. She wanted to talk to me for a second and I told her I got into Rio a day earlier so I could spend more time with her. I was proud of myself for coming up with that so quickly. Then Don hung up and gave me the bad news.
She’s about a half hour away from here and will get a taxi as soon as she can and be here in forty- five minutes. “What the fuck are you talking about, she lives six blocks from here,” I stated. “She’s at her girlfriend’s house on the other side of the lake, that’s why she’s going to take so long getting here,” he replied. “Ah fuck, if she’s over there why did you tell her I was in town,” I practically screamed at him. “Because you told me to say exactly what you told me,” was his lame excuse. “I’m drunk; I don’t know what I’m saying or doing. Why did you listen to me in the first place?” Before he could answer I lashed out at him again, “Why the fuck would I want her to meet me here if she’s way over on the other side of town and no possible threat to me?”
Don was finding out that dealing with me could be a little exasperating. Then he threw me a curve, “What if Lurch comes by while you’re waiting for Miss Bubble Lips? That will really burst your bubble, won’t it?” Oh shit! For the next forty minutes every girl over 5’10” looked exactly like Lurch to me, it was driving me crazy and yet at the same time very entertaining for Don. In an effort to cover my tracks, Don and I concoct a foolproof alibi for the past twenty-four hours.
Sure enough forty minutes later MBL shows up and I introduce her to Don. Her first question is, “Why did you not call me when you arrived in Rio?” That was rapidly followed by, “How much have you had to drink?” Thirdly, she asked, “You weren’t with any other women were you?” In a rapid fire series I answered all of them at once. “Honey, I came to town early so that Don and I could look at apartments and you couldn’t come along, a lot to drink, and to answer your last question, “Of course not.” There, I was off the hook or so I thought.
Randomly throughout the next half hour she would sprinkle in innocuous questions to try to trip us up. “Where were the apartments? How big are they and how much is the rent?” We kind of fucked up a little describing the places and quoting prices because we often gave contradictory answers, but I blamed that on my drinking. Apparently our foolproof alibi had a lot of holes in it and was leaking like a sieve. When she sensed a clear advantage she changed subjects and started to ask about other women. “Did I go to Help,” was the first in a long line of questions. “No!” Did I go to the termas to be with other women,” was the next one. “No, not that I can recall,” I honestly replied. Okay, I lied a little with that answer. But after all, I’m a guy and our first inclination is to lie, I really didn’t remember anything anyway. After a few more minutes of the third degree she must have figured that she had fucked with the piggy bank (me) long enough, she grabbed me and gave me a Deep Muppet Mouthed French Kiss (DMMFK) and told me to take her home. At last I was out of the woods!
Roberto gives us a ride home and on the way I ask him if his tattoo hurts. Oops, that was not a smooth move as she tries to get more information from Roberto. Fortunately for me, Roberto is much smarter than me and aptly deflects her questions about where he got the tattoo. Whew, I was safe at last and all I needed to do was keep my stupid mouth shut till I fall asleep. When we get to the apartment I take out my presents for her and she immediately tries on the fishnet full body outfit.
God, she looks spectacular in it, I grab her and try to throw her on the bed and I fall down in a drunken heap on the floor. I tell her to watch out because the floor’s very slippery—she doesn’t believe a word I say. Next she tries on the two dresses, one fits perfectly, but the other doesn’t fit at all. Actually, I loved the second dress on her the best because her tits squeezed out the top and looked phenomenal. She said she couldn’t breath in it—who the hell cared if she could breath or not, her tits coming over the top more than compensated for that little drawback.
Before she can initiate another line of questioning, I started to get frisky with her in my clumsy attempt to derail her train of thought. It worked! She started cooing, rubbing her body in sexy ways and posing for me the way girls do in Playboy. I was in heaven and knew what to expect next. She came over close to me, kissed me very deeply and started exploring my body with her hands. First she rubbed my chest in a sexy teasing fashion then down my stomach and finally gently holding me in her hands. I was about ready to explode! That was followed by many deep kisses and she took one of my hands and placed it on her breasts and move closer to me so that I could kiss both of them.
She then took my other hand, placed it between her legs and deep into her moist pussy, extracted my fingers and brought them up to her lips and put them in her eagerly awaiting mouth. Oh man, this was getting great, but with all the blood in my body rushing to one spot I was starting to get a little lightheaded and the room was starting to move just a little in a clockwise motion, if you know what I mean. She then straddled me and started rhythmically rubbing her moist pussy against my cock.
I knew she was really turned on because I could feel how wet she was and I couldn't wait for what was about to happen next. She started kissing my chest, lingering on my right nipple and then moving to my left and finally, slowly moving her way down towards my belly button. She lingered there momentarily, looked up and said, "You’re going to love this." Slowly she kissed me below the bellybutton, grabbed me in both hands and that's the last fucking thing I remember. One thing, however, I did learn on this trip: Regardless of what side of the equator you’re on, the room always spins clockwise.
When I awoke the next morning my right leg was over the side of the bed with my foot firmly planted on the floor. What the fuck is this, I remember thinking, but let it pass till I took a leak. When I returned to the bedroom MBL was awake and told me that I put my foot on the floor to stop the room from spinning. Apparently it didn’t work too well. She then told me that I was an animal last night and asked me what had gotten into me. I told her that I really cared about her and wanted to show her exactly how much I missed her. Inwardly, I was wondering who keeps slipping those fucking fast acting, slow duration ruffies into me all the time. Isn’t this pathetic, I’ve gotten laid three times by three different women in two days and all I can remember is just one of them. And she lives across the fucking street! Wolf will have another field day with me when I tell him about my memory loss.
Since I don’t recall the previous evenings complete sexual encounter just preliminary parts of it, I decide to fuck her again and start my day with a bang. God, she is so comfortable, sexy, loving and affectionate; I don’t want this to end. We make love for what seems like about fifteen minutes then I finish in a series of splendid spasms and just hope that I had as great a time last night. In typical fashion she wants to go back to sleep because it is after all 7:00am. I decide to go for my daily walk to see if I can find Tigger and his merry band of criminal associates. Nope, they’re not where they usually are so I continue on, avoiding several shit flickers along the way. Who the fuck do they think they’re dealing with some idiot or something? They should know better than to try and outsmart me.
I walk down to the Marriott, grab a copy of the New York Times Digest and stroll over to Mondego for breakfast. Shit, I can't believe I'm doing it again! Felix isn't even here, yet I'm acting like he's with me again. How can I break this horrible cycle? I decided to outline what I wanted to do today and this is what I put down on paper: supermarket, Beach, lunch, fuck, nap, dinner, Help and finally, fuck one more time. Looks like a splendid plan to me, now all I have to do is go back to the apartment and wake up MBL. On my way back to the apartment, I stopped off in the supermarket, got her a container of orange juice and then went around the corner to get her a cup of coffee.
Its 9:00am when I return to the apartment and she doesn’t want to get up so I decide to read my senior citizen formatted book till she awakens. Oh yeah, I sneak the camera out of my shorts and change the SD memory chip. Don’t want to repeat my mistake with Lurch, do I? I put the offending chip in my briefcase along with my reading glasses and spin the combination lock. Everything is safe and sound or so I thought. I pick up my book and can’t see a fucking thing, and then I realize that my glasses are locked in my God damn briefcase. Unfortunately, my eyes are so bad that I can’t read one fucking numeral on the locks.
To further complicate matters, this is where I have all my money locked up so I can’t very well ask MBL to dial in the combination because then she would know how to open it. That would really fuckup my foolproof security program. Also, with my luck the SD chip would fall out and she would want to look at it. On the bright side, I already have converted US$1000 into reais and that’s hidden elsewhere in the apartment—that should keep me afloat for a few more days. All I have to do is remember exactly where I hid it. I remember thinking, that’s a piece of cake.
Around 11:00am MBL gets up and I show her my master plan for the day. She makes one suggestion that makes a lot of sense. Why not go to the beach first, then lunch and finally to the supermarket? Sounds like a great idea to me so I tell her to get ready; we walked to the beach and are immediately greeted by Fernando. Fernando starts talking a mile a minute to Miss Bubble Lips and I'm standing behind her putting my finger up to my lips to signify that he hasn't seen me before. In retrospect, this was a stupid move on my part. Fernando continues talking, MBL turned and gave me a funny look, I just gave her a stupid look back and Fernando walked us to our awaiting beach chairs.
Miss Bubble Lips as a very subtle way of approaching things that is quite a bit more successful than my stumbling direct approach. After we settled in our chairs, she applied suntan lotion to me, ordered two drinks, grabbed her book and started to read. I was confident that everything was all right until about an hour later when she decided to tell me what Fernando had said to her.
Apparently Fernando was telling her how good it was to see her again until I made that signal and that's when he launched into a contorted explanation about not seeing me several days ago. "I thought you came into town yesterday," was her first question? "Yup," was my one-word answer? "How come Fernando tells me that he didn't see you on Sunday?" "You know how Fernando is; he gets things more confused than me. Of course he didn't see me on Sunday, I wasn't here, that's probably what he means," was my bewildering answer.
That's when I decided to go on the offensive and said the following, "Look honey, if I was in town one of your friends would have seen me, told you about it and you'd be ready to kill me right about now, correct? Nobody told you I was in town because I wasn't here, end of story. Fernando's just terribly confused." Believe it or not, she stopped asking me questions, but I knew she was dying to get Fernando alone to get the whole story and I couldn't allow that to happen. Now, not only did I have to worry about keeping MBL away from Lurch, but also from Fernando was well. Oh God, why do you tease with me so often?
Within minutes God decided to tease me again by allowing that sadistic clown to attack me once more. I get up and scream MBL looks at me like I’m totally deranged as I back away from our chairs. She runs over to me and asks me what’s wrong. Since she was busy talking to the Bimbo we he last assaulted me, she never heard my explanation to Travelsrr and Felix last June. Now I had to relive the whole horrible event all over again by telling her about it.
Her first response was one of sympathy, then as she saw me standing there shaking like a leaf she burst into hysterics. “How can you laugh at me?” Because it’s so funny,” was her prompt and short reply. “Well get the fucking clown away from me, he’s vicious and hates me,” was all I could say. She went over to him as he was approaching me menacingly, said something to him, he turned and left immediately. “What did you say to him?” “Never mind, you don’t want to know,” was all she was willing to tell me. Oh God, what will happen to me if she talks to Fernando or, worse yet Lurch? In a few days I would have the answer to both questions.