I  wanted nothing to do with Susie.

She'd cost me. They all would cost me.

I ordered some more McNuggets, checked my reader count and then crossed the road back to my hotel.

I had downloaded a terabyte of porn.

Pirate Bay had saved me many times.

I was going to watch a movie.

Maybe Pirate of the Caribeans.

The mosquitos were swarming around in the cramped bathroom.

No, you couldn't even swing a towel around it.

I lit up a Dunhill and inhaled.

I shouldn't be smoking inside.

But I needed some real time out.

After I put the cigarette out and channel surfed.

Indonesia television was more racey than they'd ever let on.

Boobs were plastered on the boob tubes.

Alright, they have covered up boobs but you'd have to be blind to not see the Indonesian mysticism reaching out to the mostly male audience.

Don't think because they had Islam as their religion on their I.D cards meant that they were devout Muslims.

Indonesian mysticism was about tormenting the male with big tits.

Everyone wanted a visitation from one of the god's of lust.

And that night, sound asleep, I was visited just by such a god.

'It was a fucking wet dream,' said Max, over the morning coffee.

Perhaps he had a point.

Maybe I'd need to visit the Asia Hotel again and release a few of my restless swimmers. 

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