Jack was settled in.
He owned a hotel in the village.
He owned a coffee shop.
He owned the whole fucking town.
He was a self-made man.
He could retire now.
Retire.
'Well fuck that,' he said.
He'd never been so busy.
The whole village ran off solar.
He had the latest batteries to store the Javanese sun.
He also ran a bar and a five-star restaurant.
Frank loved his food.
He had the best meat and seafood daily shipped in from overseas and sourced as much of the local produce as he could.
The nearby mountain climes were perfect for growing carrots, potatoes and in the village's garden, they grew all kinds of salad greens and herbs.
'Cow dung, boys,' said Jack to Frank and Max, who were amazed at how Frank had made this place a veritable resort. 'But human excrement is the best for tomatoes, they thrive on that shit.'
Jack didn't capitalize on eco-tourism. His ideas were based on common sense.
He had created a mini-Bali, 'without the bullshit.'
The Hindus love of money had soured many a tourist's holidays.
'They don't control the whore trade here,' he said, gesturing to his girls who were sunbathing around the Blue Lagoon pool.
Well, who does then? asked Max.
The girls, said Jack, ' spread their legs as much as they want and when they want. They can refuse clients. They can work in the cafe, bar or even the kitchen, it's really up to them. If they want to trick or treat, that's fine. They are paid top dollar.'
'So who are the clients,' asked Frank.
'Me, dummy,' huffed Jack, 'do you think I'd share my whores with the mostly Euro Trash that come to Bali? No Sirree!'
The fact of the matter was that the village of Sweet Smelling Water was a commune.
Everyone was so happy and carefree, the idea of prostitution entering their utopia was as remote as Balinese out to make a quick buck.
'Ok, I'll come clean with you,' said Jack, who winked at the boys, and I noticed that the girls lounging around the pool in their hot bikini outfits winked back and blew him kisses, 'these girls are my assassins, not only beauty contestants but the best assassins in Asia mostly hired out to foreign nationals. Since the Bali bombing, my girls have been taking care of the wannabe terrorists who make their way over to Bali on boat or ferry. It's a cozy arrangement with the Indonesian goverment..'
'We have used your services before,' said Max, who was keen to get down to business...
'And I'm thankful for the CIA,' said Jack. 'Now it's time to taste Cindy's cooking, she's been laboring in the kitchen for hours. Here's your time to prove your courage.'
Just not getting a hard-on looking at Cindy in her pink bodysuit as she served up lunch was going to be one of Frank's biggest challenges for today.
'And they say my tangerine lip gloss is irresistible.'
'You're such a tease Cindy,' said Jack who motioned Frank and Max to follow him to the Spicy Clove where a bevy of swimwear babes were waiting to serve.
He owned a hotel in the village.
He owned a coffee shop.
He owned the whole fucking town.
He was a self-made man.
He could retire now.
Retire.
'Well fuck that,' he said.
He'd never been so busy.
The whole village ran off solar.
He had the latest batteries to store the Javanese sun.
He also ran a bar and a five-star restaurant.
Frank loved his food.
He had the best meat and seafood daily shipped in from overseas and sourced as much of the local produce as he could.
The nearby mountain climes were perfect for growing carrots, potatoes and in the village's garden, they grew all kinds of salad greens and herbs.
'Cow dung, boys,' said Jack to Frank and Max, who were amazed at how Frank had made this place a veritable resort. 'But human excrement is the best for tomatoes, they thrive on that shit.'
Jack didn't capitalize on eco-tourism. His ideas were based on common sense.
He had created a mini-Bali, 'without the bullshit.'
The Hindus love of money had soured many a tourist's holidays.
'They don't control the whore trade here,' he said, gesturing to his girls who were sunbathing around the Blue Lagoon pool.
Well, who does then? asked Max.
The girls, said Jack, ' spread their legs as much as they want and when they want. They can refuse clients. They can work in the cafe, bar or even the kitchen, it's really up to them. If they want to trick or treat, that's fine. They are paid top dollar.'
'So who are the clients,' asked Frank.
'Me, dummy,' huffed Jack, 'do you think I'd share my whores with the mostly Euro Trash that come to Bali? No Sirree!'
The fact of the matter was that the village of Sweet Smelling Water was a commune.
Everyone was so happy and carefree, the idea of prostitution entering their utopia was as remote as Balinese out to make a quick buck.
'Ok, I'll come clean with you,' said Jack, who winked at the boys, and I noticed that the girls lounging around the pool in their hot bikini outfits winked back and blew him kisses, 'these girls are my assassins, not only beauty contestants but the best assassins in Asia mostly hired out to foreign nationals. Since the Bali bombing, my girls have been taking care of the wannabe terrorists who make their way over to Bali on boat or ferry. It's a cozy arrangement with the Indonesian goverment..'
'We have used your services before,' said Max, who was keen to get down to business...
'And I'm thankful for the CIA,' said Jack. 'Now it's time to taste Cindy's cooking, she's been laboring in the kitchen for hours. Here's your time to prove your courage.'
Just not getting a hard-on looking at Cindy in her pink bodysuit as she served up lunch was going to be one of Frank's biggest challenges for today.
'And they say my tangerine lip gloss is irresistible.'
'You're such a tease Cindy,' said Jack who motioned Frank and Max to follow him to the Spicy Clove where a bevy of swimwear babes were waiting to serve.
