The Ball with the Woman in the Red Dress

The Princess of Paragon, the hier to vast amounts of Bangkok baht, extended her invitation to the ball held in her commercial castle. I knew her through a decadent friend of mine, Michael. Michael was a well known rake in the city of angels. The festivites were held on the fifth floor of the mall and the gates would be shut at 11pm, an idea the princess, Ploy, had thought of herself. The gates wouldn't allow anyone in, nor out, til the sun rose, its rays cutting through the thick, Bangkok smog.

I bought a suit at a sukumwit tailor's shop two days before, just for the event. It fit tight against my body and was the latest cut. I'd admired myself repeatedly in it, modeling it in front of a mirror prior to my depature.

When I'd arrived at 10:45 the other guests had already arrived. The party held society's nouveau rich, young popular models with bleached eurasian looks, fashinastas clad en masse in orange pants and women's blazers, high class whores with dark skin and flat noses, a small group of falang in suits, girl groups from Korea, and a boy band from Japan...

I moved about the party orienting myself. The floor was divided into a series of rooms depicting a separate fantasy of Ploy's creation in each one.

The first room was all white. A white sofa sat in the midst of the room. Several Thais lounged on the furniture talking in their indecipherable dialect. A white light shone down on the group lightening their skin to an alabaster hue. They bathed in the light.

In another room were a multitude of mirrors whose reflections shifted as you stared at them. I was as one man's image transitioned. His suit became more defined, his groin grew as if he had a sizeable erection or wore a cod piece. His broad smile became wider and his teeth gleamed a pearly white. The image was endearing, desirable. I wanted to live in that body to inhabit it completely. My head shook side to side and my eye caught the inspiration . The real man was a portly short beast with a mouth of rot for teeth. Disgusted I walked away.

I moved into another room reeking of lust. A nude woman stood on a stage and twirled candles through her fingers. She bent over backwards letting wax drip down her naked breasts. She became erect as her nipples and pioured the hot candle wax down her grown. The wax affixed itslef to her cunt lips.

In the corner of the room three young men sat on a couch chatting watching the woman slowly cover dance with the flames. The middle man's pants were pulled down and his shirt partially rolled up. A dark skinned Isaan woman kneeled before him. Her head moved up and down his white cock. Her hand played with his balls. I grabbed an unopened beer from a cooler and watched. The woman's lips ran down his dick and then she swallowed his penis. He looked at her and his body went rigid. A moment later and he relaxed. The woman got up and spat semen on the floor. His friends laughed. I left.

I moved about the rooms, watching each fantasy, each era, each idea brought to life. Occassionally I would join in the festivity if it struck my fancy. It was around one o'clock when I saw the rice paddy girl in her fine red dress. I wondered if she wore matching negligee. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into me. She spoke to me in her Siamese babble.

Slowly and loudly I said to her "Do you not understand... 'I am going to fuck you slut?'" Laughing I bent her over and pushed up her dress. She wore a scarlet lace thong. I guffawed and slapped her buttock. She laughed or sobbed, I couldn't tell which, nor did I care.

I left her and went to the toilet. The men's room was empty. I went into a stall and dropped my pants. I let the back of my legs rest on the toilet seat while my sphincter relaxed and tightened letting out the shit from my colon in six inch logs. I sat for a moment on the seat letting my eyes wander over my thighs.I popped a small pimple on my near my groin. The pus shot from it and landed on my naked forearm. I had rolled up my sleeve to make easier to wipe my ass after shitting. After snickering I took toilet paper from the dispenser and cleaned my sphincter.

I went to the sink to wash my hands. I looked up at the mirror above the sink. I noticed a red mark on my neck. It was a round bump, a hurtful pimple, an almost boil. Washing it did nothing. My fingers grasped it and pulled it away from my skin. It ruptured and a thick trail of yellow gooze came forth like lava from an erupted volcano.

While I cleaned the gooze, the woman in red ran into the bathroom. She spat on the floor and dived into one of the stalls. I could hear her retching.
"Perhaps I'll look at her gash, see if its worth a mash," I said out loud, my voice echoing in the urinals.

I took off my shirt in advanced preperation for my moments of coitus.I looked in the mirror. The image was handsome, moment by moment it became even more so. I put my hand in my pocket and fondled my cock. I turned back towards the stall. I looked downward at my erection and noticed that my upper arms were covered in pustules, little white blisters. I squeezed one and an almost clear liquid gushed out, it dripped down my arm. I washed off my arm in the skin. The open pustule still oozed. I rubbed it with soap, willing it away. I gazed the handsome reflection, it restored confidence. The my eyes went back to my body and I noticed a traill of pus filled pimples running down my thigh. I took off my pants. I slapped my thigh, trying to smash the pimples out of existence. My hand came up slathered in slime.

I washed my hands and washed them again.I ripped off the soap dispense off the wall and broke it open. The heavy bag of pink soap was still one third full after I'd covered my body in liquid cleanser. I let the cleanser sit on my skin protecting me from the bacteria in the air.

I sank to the ground. The woman in the stall laughed or sobbed. I couldn't tell which