She Listened to the Singer’s Voice

Young and in love, I followed the girl to the ends of earth. We were in the middle of our Great Adventure Across Asia, stranded in a small town in Mongolia. We had no money for a train ticket to move on, and the economy of the place did not allow for strangers to make a single dime. We tried to sneak on board, but security was tight, as if the guards were desperate to prove themselves for a chance to get out too. Or making sure nobody leaves was their way of punishing the State for making them suffer.

The girl was a sexual being, so she used it. She approached one of the guards, a chubby young Asian fellow, who luckily spoke Russian. They talked for a minute or two, and then he nodded a short disdainful agreement. They walked to the back room where she would work for our tickets. I watched the side of her face as she was following the wobbly man. Her jaw was strong, her lips full and enticing, she carried her head high. She put the headphones on before she disappeared in the narrow door.

I was left alone for a few minutes, in the stuffy, noisy waiting room, with all the rich smells of the Mongolian country. Why did I even follow her? Out of money, strung out and hungry, I was made her slave by the hormones that simmer in my balls.

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