I was settling in. Having followed Dr Martin's blueprint, I now had 18 Asian women employed in my new department at Monash University. I only needed another 7 for my target of 25. My only problem was how to organise a sexfight between the Filipina, MeryLu, and the Korean, Cho. Both were under the impression that they were the chosen one for the sole position of my PA. A sexfight would decide who my PA was. Yes, I was sure that the late Dr Graham Martin would approve of my steps to emulate him and would also have the answer to my problem.
So, I opened another random file from his memoirs that I had found in the second-hand desk that had belonged to the great man and started reading. It was labelled 'Eating in Singapore', and I became lost in his words, hoping to pick up new insights. So that you can share this experience from the late 1970s with me, I post it as though I was reading.
The plane landed at Changi Airport, Singapore and after passing through their efficient customs I saw the uniformed driver holding the sign with my name on it and soon Elena and I were on the way to Four's mansion. Four was his nickname and short for four eyes and the glasses he wore. He was my closest friend from my last 2 years at school and Uni. Mainly because he was even more of a non-athletic nerd than me and made me look better. In my opinion, he wasn't as handsome either, though many said we were so far at the bottom of the list when good looks were handed out so it didn't matter.
Four, or more properly, Zhi Ng, was a Chinese from Singapore, who had lived with my family in the caravan in the driveway of our Melbourne house when he studied in Melbourne. He not only obtained his Master's degree with first-class honours but did enough of my assignments for me to scrape through and achieve a bare pass, before I happened upon the married Dean fucking his secretary when I was breaking in to alter my student records. From that time, I did not need to study in my ascent to the top. After Four graduated it was back to Singapore for him, working the Singapore grind: work hours of 8.30am till 9, 10, 11pm or whenever the job was finished. But now as a successful business tycoon, he was only worried about the quality of the meals at the Raffles.
I hadn't seen Four for years, but some business interests which involved ideas I had given him, the different tax rates between Singapore and Indonesia, counterfeit cigarettes and cosmetics, fast boats at night and payments to Indonesian customs officers in the Bengkalis, Battan and Dumai region had made him very rich, which still made him a friend as far as I was concerned.
So, I was overseas for pleasure itself, not, as usual, my pleasure plus using my fraudulently acquired qualifications and underserved University and Government positions to make money for me. Yes, I was in Singapore to catch up with my old mate Four and his wife and catfighting protege of 15 years, Li, and match her against my current PA, the Filipina, Elena.
Elena was 37 years old, solid and slightly portly, short-haired, round-faced, big-bellied, thick thighed, large-nippled, 5 foot 1, 35C 29 36 and in love with me, or at least the money that her position as my PA, that had been gained by her sexfighting ability, gave her. She was not the classiest woman and her hot pants (remember this was the 70's) and braless crop top had the Indonesian Muslim women transiting through Singapore en route to Mecca tut-tutting and elbowing their husbands in the side when their eyes strayed.
I looked out the car window and reminisced about my student holidays visiting Four. As everyone knows, Singapore girls are only interested in the size of your wallet not the size of your cock, and definitely didn't put out for penniless students like Four and me. So, each Sunday we would be at the shopping malls to size up the flood of Filipina and Indonesian domestics pouring in on their one day a week off. For a very small outlay like a meal at Mcdonald's and a promise of some Singapore Dollars or a job, we would have a few back at Four's parent's apartment. Luckily, they worked 7 days a week so it was vacant on Sundays.
Those were the days. We were young and could cum as often as a telemarketer's phone call. It was at the hands of these Filipinas and Indonesians we both developed our interest in mature Asian women, and, as our confidence in what they would do increased, both sexfighting and catfighting. Four always had better taste than me and needed the servants to be good-looking and capable of intelligent conversation, even turning some down. Me, I went for quantity. Take it while you can. You never knew when the honey pot would dry up.
"What's Four's mansion like and more importantly what is Li like? Wouldn't we be better off at a hotel?" Elena queried.
I smiled to myself. Four and I had a long weekend planned for both women that catered for our tastes and we had been planting the seeds for months. "Don't worry. The house is a bloody palace and Li, his wife is a bit arrogant and snobby but drop-dead gorgeous: long legs, slim, cultured, and comes from one of the most respected Singapore families." I could see her tense up. Slim, long-legged she was not and her sophistication ended when she left school after year 6. "Anyway, if you don't get along, the house is big enough to avoid her and her friends."
Meanwhile, Four at his house had been dropping hints about Elena's larger tits and sluttish looks, playing on Li's insecurities about her small tits and her cultured, cold upbringing.
Two hours later the Ford Laser taxi (Aussie made and exported) dropped Elena and me at the gates of Four's mansion and the driver drove off swearing in Hokkien when he discovered why Australians are known worldwide as the smallest tippers. The uniformed guard with 2 rottweilers straining at the leash escorted us up the driveway to the palatial mock Grecian entrance. Four had grown out of luxury apartments and now needed to make a statement.
Four and Li greeted us. Fuck, how could it be? The bastard still looked young, slim, smooth-skinned and with a full mane of strong black hair. Contact lenses had replaced the glasses. I tried in vain to suck in my large gut and ran my hands through my thinning, disappearing hair. Christ, I used to be the one that pulled the chicks for him. Li was draped in skintight designer slacks and top and towering heels that revealed both her wealth and her slim, taut body: ten years younger than it should be.
Early on, when Four had taken her to watch the underground apartment catfights in Singapore, she had taken to the scene like a duck to water, eager to please. Over the years, she had dozens of matches against other Asian women, from housewives to hookers that Four hired to try and take her on. About five years ago, they did a Fight Tour of China, taking on seven or eight of China's best catfighters in clubs and apartments from Shanghai up to Beijing. In match after match, Li emerged victorious, her foot planted on her opponent's face, arms raised in victory.
