Singapore Story

Singapore Story

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My Singapore spouse issues me his standard bullish fucking, then gets up to leave. I lie in bed listening to him piss in the lavatory. The shower taps on, snaps off. His shaver taps on, snaps off. At 6am decisivelymy i-phone goes off; the auto is here to take him to the airport. He's running late. I hear him knocking about and swearing and he leaves without saying farewell. As the entryway snaps shut, I feel a blend of emptiness. I move over to stay away from the wet patch, pull the spreads down, and nod off.

I lie there for a considerable length of time, napping, imagining. I'm still in bed at ten when the entryway snaps open once more: the servant. "Fuck," I mumble, then get out "Hi!" The servant shows up in the room entryway. She looks humiliated and says "so too bad."


My Fling With A Singapore Servant


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It's another young lady, I see, dim cleaned, perhaps Indonesian. Our eyes meet, and neither of us turns away. Quiet. Something goes between us then; I don't realize what it is. Seconds go as she stands there in the entryway. In the long run I look down, and hear myself apologizing back: "no, I'm too bad. Simply allow me a couple of minutes and I'll be out of here". She holds up in the lobby while I pull on a pullover and trousers and slip out of bed.

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