White orbs and the white ceiling.
That was what my eyes glimpsed when my eyes tried to flutter open.
I remember thinking, I must be in heaven.
A faint beeping sound came from somewhere near me. There was also another sound that resembles what we hear when we try to ignite an engine but without the sputtering…it was just a sort of hissy airy sound that starts and then stops and starts and then stops.
I couldn’t move…my limbs and arms felt so heavy. I thought I could feel my toes but I cannot be sure. Tried moving but from somewhere, there was an ache each time I tried moving.
My throat felt strange like it was enlarged…my mouth was dry, devoid of any saliva. Something was taped to my face but I didn’t know what. Just felt unwieldy and stiff.
As my eyes slowly focused, realised those white orbs were actually ceiling lights.
Soon I was moving my eyes only, with the rest of my body immobilised. I looked as far as my eyes would see to the left and to the right. I glimpsed an iv on my left hand and a rubber clip softly clamping one of my fingers. Gradually, I became more aware of sensations and sounds in the room. Could hear the water droplets from a loose tap hitting the sink or the floor nearby..know by now the strange beeping sound came from a machine nearby me.
My entire body felt sore and achy…I feel like closing my eyes again. Fought the urge to sleep and willed myself to move and lift my right hand.
Raising a little and it fell back. The exertion seems too much.
A figure..appeared next to me and called my name. Managed an “um”. But I have so many questions to ask. But it was too much effort to will myself to talk. With the opioids running intravenously through the iv tap, I felt achy and dizzy when I moved my head.
Vaguely heard the figure call for the doctor. Surrounded by figures in white, and interspersed with a few other figures in other colours, my eyelids fell shut once more.
Was woken up by the sound of my mum’s voice. She was calling me.i felt the warmth of hands rubbing my cold limp fingers…. As I opened my eyes again, I saw my mum. Have so much to tell her but I couldn’t talk.
“..just rest….ah girl ah…” And then I heard sobbing and sniffing. I heard another voice, my dad. He just kept repeating that I’m safe now.. Fell asleep once more.
Over the next few days, as I slowly recovered and healed, I was moved out from the ICU and into a step down ICU care ward. Probably equivalent to the HDU (High dependancy ward in Singapore), the doctor would also eventually remove the ventilator on the 5th or was it the 6th day. And I would learn that I had undergone emergency surgery for a colonic perforation. Up till this point, I had not seen my own reflection in the mirror. The first time the doctor removed the ventilator, I breathed out as per their instructions but still my gag reflexes kinda kicked in although the entire removal process was quite fast. I was encouraged to breathe and the medical staff monitored a series of my health stats and appeared to be satisfied. Wayne and my mum was at my side when I requested for a mirror. I had heard snippets of conversation between the nursing staff and my family during my waking moments when they thought I was asleep. Wayne turned to my mum and exchanged a look. My mum fished out her pocket mirror and hesitated for a second before placing it in my hands. Almost couldn’t recognise the face staring back at me. I had a horrifically swollen bruise the size of a discus on the side of my forehead, the circumference of it ended near where the cheekbones started. My face was gaunt and pale, some abrasions on my chin and lips. I wasn’t the slim and slender type to begin with, but I didn’t know my face was capable of showcasing so little “meat”. I could see clearly the hollow of my cheeks. If the situation wasn’t so horrid, i would have whooped for joy at the achievement of a less cherubic face with more defined features.
As if the silence in the room was too deafening, Wayne started telling me, that I was in such bad shape when I arrived in hospital. They hadn’t seen me and had based it on what the staff had described. That the bastard was overdosed on some sleeping pills in the living hall when police broke in. And that’s when they found my body on the floor, half obscured by the mammoth bed frame. Think the Singapore consulate was notified as well because someone rang my parents up.
Wayne had alerted my parents immediately after I went unresponsive on the phone. My parents tried ringing Uncle Ted to no avail. Wayne had to request for help from a friend of another friend of his colleague who is living in Washington, to assist and see if they could send the police to the apartment to locate me.
All in all, my private limited command of hokkien only allowed me to use “sibei drama” to describe the whole incident.
The police sent a female representative of the force to take my statements. Over and over, I had to relieve the nightmare for them. Side track a little bit, but I’m amazed at the law enforcement personnel there. For 1 thing, their state troopers and their police force personnel a were all of a larger stature in size. They looked more forbidding and fiercer if I may say. And looked thoroughly capable of head slamming anyone who would try to do anything funny. It is totally different from our local police officers in uniform. I mean no disrespect to any samsters who are in law enforcement but it was just that aura the American ones had. They have that ‘don’t-mess-with-me’ aura which is probably because of size and height at the end of the day. Whereas more often than not, i encountered singapore’s uniformed police officers who were either scrawny lanky or who were growing sideways and shorter than my height of 1.66m. Hardly awe inspiring but I guess whatever works in Singapore.
Back to where I was at, learnt that the perpetrator was taken into custody ( and subsequently incarcerated under Class a or b felony). He would probably be eligible for parole by now or soon though I’m not sure, since we didn’t hear from the authorities there. He was also suspected of assault or was it spousal battery but which was dropped against him as his ex wife refused to give a statement. It all made a little more sense now.
As I finally grew in strength and added more “padding” to my frame, my final year exams were coming. My parents were conflicted as whether to get me home and retake the finals some time later when I’m better, or to allow me to stay on in US. My father felt extremely guilty that he indirectly caused the incident by entrusting me to someone he had misguided trust in. This guilt led him to be extremely protective of me during the remaining stay in US and initially during my first few months in Singapore. In the end, he relented and the arrangement was that my mum would stay behind with me and we would take the first flight out immediately after my finals.
Given that most of my lecture notes and my materials were still at the house, I had to borrow notes and all from my school peers. No one really knew what happened. Even my closest school mate cum friend thought I had chicken pox or some illness.
My finals came and went without much hoo ha. Prior to returning to Singapore, I told my mum I wanted to make a trip down “memory lane”. Needed a closure and to face the demons that has been plaguing me. Needless to say, she was reluctant but I felt that facing up to what has happened, would be better rather than everyone pretending the incident didn’t happen and which made me also pretend to my loved ones i was fine. My parents accompanied me; Wayne had flown back home as there were only so long that he could be absent from work. The apartment was cordoned off with police tape. We didn’t enter the apartment but I could see from the door the disarray of the living area and a partial view of the corridor leading to the bedrooms.. My parents were patient. I must have stood there in silence for minutes, contemplating what happened that night. There wasn’t any answers to be found but instead I felt deep down the blessedness of the whole situation. The saving grace of it all was that I survived. And that was all that matters. A perceptible nod from me to my dad, and we wordlessly turned and departed from that place.
My graduation came and went. Results were shabby but to be expected. Probably would have or might have gotten first class but I was just contented not to flunk and be able to graduate given the past. Where most of my peers were exuberant and displaying such joy and idealism at the event, I felt a tinge of sadness and realism. Knowing that my view of the world had changed.
Upon my return to Singapore, i was looking forward to a new beginning. I spent some time searching for a job and finally landed one in a good company. Upon successful completion of probation, and determined to put my past behind me, I invested my time and effort into work. The harder I worked, the harder I played. It was as if I was trying to compensate for the incident in US.
Wayne soon proposed. By then, we or rather I felt secure and sure enough of our relationship, to bring it to another level. My parents especially my mum, were needless to say, elated. For my mum’s greatest fear, and I reckon, most Chinese mums, were that their daughters would become spinsters, left on the shelf to grow old in mould. His parents on the other hand looked happy but his Mum didn’t seem over the moon like my mum. The first few times I met Wayne’s mum, she was polite and welcoming. On my 3rd visit, she enquired about my Chinese zodiac sign and upon hearing the word “Rat”, she didn’t seem particularly enamoured with my reply. Wayne who was seated beside me at that very first dinner that evening a long time ago, didn’t appear to take notice of this exchange. I did ask Wayne in private about this, fearing that she wouldn’t like me because of this. Wayne did let on that his mum had always felt that someone born in the year of the dragon was best suited to be with her son and to ensure good fortune and harmony at home. Wayne’s mum zodiac was monkey and his dad was born in the year of the sheep. As such, having a potential daughter-in-law who was a rat zodiac, probably isn’t a good idea. Don’t ask me how the zodiacs work, that is not my field of study. Anyway, I was worried but Wayne brushed it off, believing that it doesn’t matter.
Wayne’s mum didn’t approve of girls sleeping over at a man’s house before they were married. My mum thought the same as well. Since young, that was what my mum always said. Her theory was that which man and which future in laws would respect you, for no decent woman would do that. My youth, Wayne’s youth and of cos being wildly in love, made me plead with my mum to stay over the first time. Of course, with every first time, there would be a second and a third and so on..
After that very first formal dinner with his parents, I knew his mum didn’t like me much but it wasn’t evident when Wayne was around. Wayne’s Father on the other hand was cold and aloof, a man of few words. Being the only child, his parents focused all their attention on him since young. On him were the hopes that he would accomplish great things and fulfil their dreams for him and that included netting a partner who would be the ideal zodiac.
I would typically stay over at his place on fridays. On occasions when Wayne had to rush to office on a Saturday to tie up some loose ends at work for the upcoming week, I often stayed at his home waiting for him to return. While waiting, I would follow his mum and the Filipino helper to the market for groceries and fresh produce. Often, I would help to carry some of the items. It was hard work for me. And usually upon our return back at their residence, his mum would ask me to help the Filipino helper to chop garlic and whatever stuff needed to be prepared, for lunch. Occasionally, she would ask me to help hang the wet laundry as well. I did all these willingly, believing that it was the only way I could show her I was good enough and would be able to take care of Wayne as a wife.
The wedding date was set for when I would turn 24 or 25 that year near my birthdate. We had a year to prepare for the wedding. During this period, I was exhausted every day. On weekdays, I devoted my energies to work, determined to net a promotion and the accompanying increment.
On weekends, I would be hanging out with Wayne, sorting out wedding stuff. My fondest memory was when we went shopping for wedding gowns. Often, I would zoom in on something less flashy and more demure. If the gown had sleeves to cover my fat arms, that would be the first one I go for. If the gown had a A line skirt to hide my fat hips and butt, I would totally swoon over it. If the gown had a boatneck neckline to hide the boobs from sight, that would be the first gown I point to.
But Wayne had different ideas. And this was where the selection of the gowns took the longest for us to decide. Where I wanted to cover up and blend into the background, he wanted a dress that showed my shoulders and décolletage, and a hip skimming skirt that hugged my butt.
Apparently all the parts I disliked, he loved them all. And that was what he said. And I used to roll my eyes at this and go whatever… And we would both laugh. We eventually settled on an off shoulder dress with tiny delicate lace short sleeves
I wasn’t sure if it was because I was hard at work and he got busy with more responsibilities that came with the turf since he got promoted, that we spent less time together. It was around this time when he decided to sell his old car and opted to purchase a new European brand luxury make. I know both of us were making good money, especially him. I knew he liked the finer things in life. But I still felt it was an awful lot to pay for something that depreciates in value every year. I chose to let him be. For if he is happy, I am happy.
Over time, on weekdays he would be very busy. Where before we used to make it a point to meet for lunches in the cbd at least twice a week or call each other every night, it now dwindled to at most a lunch in a single week. 2 working days would pass by with a few messages sent in between. Often, he would always say he is busy at work and trying to complete the project at hand. He was never harsh nor irritated with me. And I understand what it was like to try to meet deadlines, having now entered the corporate world.
Other than lesser time spent together, there were no other signs pointing to any issues or problems in the relationship. Wayne did briefly mentioned a female superior of his who delighted in making the lives of her subordinates difficult. It didn’t sound like it was out of character of Wayne to say that. And he was just as loving and sweet as he always were. By now, I was frequently staying over at his place on weekends and his desire for love making didn’t seem to abate, if anything, it only seemed to increase in intensity. And he developed a habit of answering his calls in another part of the house from where his family and I was located at. He always said that it was too loud and was difficult to talk when his parents and I were chatting away. These were the only odd parts. Given that I’m always so dense, I really thought it was because he was at the age where he was incredibly virile and developed a bigger appetite.
2 odd months? Or was it 3 months…I can’t remember.. Together with his mum, we were drawing up the guests list and seating arrangements. He got increasingly frustrated as the evening progressed with her requests to invite more folks. It was like we couldn’t invite person A without inviting Person B and C. I knew his mum wasn’t fully satisfied with having me as a future spouse, so I wasn’t surprised when she brought up the fact that segregation is very important and so, out of 2 VIP tables, 1 would be for the bride’s family and the other for the groom’s family and where the newlyweds shall be seated at as well. As this wasn’t what Wayne had planned, he tried explaining that there is no need for segregation. His plan thus far was absolutely fair in that the newlyweds would be seated at 1 of the table along with parents from both sides and another 1 more family member from each side. The other VIP table would be equally shared in the same way.
When his mum disagreed, and rebuked Wayne for going against her wishes and forgetting the hand that brought him up, Wayne burst and stormed out to the garden. I sat there meekly, unsure of what I should say. His mother glared at me and said, “look at the ‘good stuff’ you have done.“loaded with full sarcasm.
stayed quiet for a few seconds, seemingly gathering her thoughts. The next, she strode out to the garden and I guessed, probably talking to Wayne. They both looked none the worse for tear when they came back to the living hall. And we soon concluded the guests list. The invites were set to be sent out the following week, providing guests, ample time to rsvp.
I will always remember …the week leading up to Good Friday.
I spoke to Wayne on Sunday night and we talked as usual. In the midst of it, he had asked me if I have ever thought of any regrets I might have by marrying him. I said no, none at all. He next asked me why I am so sure. I said, " because I love you and i trust and believe that you are a good man with a good heart. what is there to regret when you were with me through the darkest period”
Wayne paused. And I asked him why. “..nothing. Just wanted to know how much you love me. "
We soon ended the conversation and went to bed.
I had taken annual leave for the 4 days before Good Friday to run errands for the upcoming nuptials, meet with the hair and makeup artist to try out some new looks etc etc.
At 7am, I texted Wayne a chirpy “Good morning! Rise and shine! Love u”
And slowly walked to the pilates studio for a morning class on the reformer.
*the Reformer is a piece of pilates equipment, with a series of pulleys and springs to provide resistance while performing a certain action based on pilates theology of strengthening the core
.
At 8.30am when my pilates class ended, I took a quick glance at my mobile. Saw 2 missed calls from Wayne. And a short message from him.
“call me, need to talk to you.”
I dialled his number. It got through. But Wayne didn’t pick up.
Anal as I am, eager to rinse off the perspiration and change into clean clothes, I texted Wayne.
“baby, can’t reach you. Didn’t pick up. Let me grab a super quick shower and I’ll call you asap love u!”
Finished my shower in a jiffy. Changed into clean smelling clothes. It felt so good. As I stepped out of the pilates studio, I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to give Wayne a call.
Picked up my mobile. Spilt second prior to unlocking the iphone, I thought I saw the word “break” flash past my eyes in the preview. I took no notice of it.
Saw a missed call from a private number. Nah, I couldn’t be bothered who it may be. Most of the people I cared about, don’t use private numbers anyway.
I dialled Wayne’s number again. Again the call got through and rang and rang. Eventually I hung up. When I called again, the line couldn’t get through. Finding it really strange, I decided I was gonna walk home first and grab the car. Simultaneously, my thumb had automatically touched the Message icon and it was then I saw it.
“I can’t go through with the wedding. my mum knows what happened to you in US.
She has a weak heart, I can’t do this to her. I don’t want to live a life of regrets. Call me a coward call me any names you want..
you need to know something as well; there is someone else but she is not the reason behind this decision. I’m sorry. Deeply sorry. If you love me, let me go. Take good care of yourself. Don’t try to find me.”
* TBC
I’ll break away from the part where my fiancé dumped me when invites to the wedding was sent. And pause a little. I’ll continue the story soon. While
It is a relief to pour into writings what has happened; the reverse is also true. Extremely exhausting on me emotionally because it’s been 7, 8 years and I never did receive a closure for that. Even my own parents are not 100% aware of my thoughts of what I did during this period. Even for myself, recalling this part of my life after he left is also difficult because i have at best a hazy memory of what happened. Will probably continue tomorrow prior to starting “work” in the afternoon.
The compelling reason for me to write was to put into words how I felt about stepping into the field of FL.
Everyone has their reasons for stepping into this line. I’m no exception.
Prior to stepping into the line of FL, i did some reading of the threads as a guest. Each time, when I made up my mind, I would invariably read the sticky on rules for whoremongers under Matters of the Heart.
I would always read the first 3 pages and could read no further. I would then reconsider and think ok maybe another day..and another day…and another day.. For what was shared in the sticky is true. It’s the right advice. And the samsters weren’t wrong.
Reading it objectively, I know that would be something I would say to a friend as well.
In the end, I still stepped into the FL world.
I debuted last Wednesday. That was my first afternoon of paid sex.
That day, I woke up in the morning and headed for the part time job.
On the way to work, i visited that page again. I was considering telling Natsuki, maybe not. I stopped myself for it is not right to keep wavering. The mandarin saying ”万事起头难”. The start is always the most difficult. I hardened my heart and soldiered on. After the part time job in the morning, I had a small window of time to grab a quick lunch. But i honestly didn’t have the appetite. Ate nothing. A cold drink was all I had. And I read the sticky again. This time round, I shed a few tears as I sat alone at the cofeeshop. Read the sticky and the words stuck. I can’t remember the exact wording. But what it was saying was that whores are whores, regardless of whether they are WLs, FLs, ktv hostesses, massage palour chicks etc…whores are meant for f-king…whores are not meant to be wives nor girlfriends…" Those words struck me. Simply because all it meant to me was that a whore was all I am the minute I entered the hotel room later.
I swallowed my tears and headed for the specific hotel.
Prior to the arrival of the first client, I was jittery. I was anxious. Butterflies were in my stomach. I had bought along lavender essential oil to calm my nerves but it didn’t seem to do much good. In hokkien, I was like a kan cheong spider.
I didn’t know what to do. For goodness sake, I didn’t even know how to put on a condom. Had to seek help from Natsuki and she guided me via explaining what side I should ensure faces me so that it rolls down and pinch the tiny protruding rubber tip to ensure air pockets are pressed out, before rolling down.
Prior to the first client’s arrival, I had enquiried what else is to be done. What is catbath? Do we clean the client? Do we shower him from head to toe? What should we look out for etc etc..what should I say..
It’s akin to the standard corporate sales process.
Building rapport –> make small talk with the client.
fact find–> look out for boils or any strange skin phenomenon when showering together
Multiple Yes questions–> foreplay
Going for the close–> eventual intercourse or ejaculation
My first client was a newbie to FLs. And I am new. Some one had booked me as a surprise for him. I wasn’t sure what to do and we took a long time making small talk. Surprisingly he disrobed first. I was kind of taken aback but I bit my lips and followed suit. Followed him into the shower cubicle and I proceeded to shower him like what I would do, had he been my ex. Just pretended he was and it made things a lot easier. Only thing that stopped me in my tracks was when my hands touched the genitals. I wasn’t squeamish but felt awkward. I quickly returned to massage his neck and shoulder.
As we both dried ourselves with the towels, headed to the bed. I remember kneeling between his legs, willing with my mind to make him erect. Stupid right? Just didn’t know how to react. My mind was a blank. I held on to the condom sachet and the next sentence he said made me smile a little. " erect then can put on condom la.." I felt a little foolish as well.
And I proceeded to do whatever I could to make his manhood stand. Was so stressed out at that point, thinking I’m so dead I’m so dead…
I Almost gave a shout for joy, when I saw it coming to life.
This client was very kind or maybe he wanted to cut short the pain of having to bonk a clueless noob. I’m not sure if he was attracted or turned on by me. I’m that dense. Maybe he wasn’t, which explains his physical reaction.
As I said, he was very kind. He was the one who rolled the condom and put it on himself.
I climbed onto him and slowly inserted his erect member into me. It felt star felt snug inside and I proceeded to ride him. Midway, he stopped me and wanted to rotate around and do missionary. I’m clumsy by nature. A klutz at best.
Rotating was awkward but he soon for on top of me and started pounding away.
Soon he came.
Didn’t even know that. I actually asked what’s wrong? Why did you stop? “Came already la.” At this juncture, I felt like slapping my forehead and go “alamak, ah doi”. But I also felt like crying. This is like what guy friends has said before;, cover the face and f the base.
We proceeded to the bathroom to wash up.
He put on his clothes as swift as the speed he disrobed.
He handed a wad of cash. Inexperienced me didn’t count. Not that he didn’t pay the right amount. Just that it was a risk that FLs take on. Someone could effectively bonk you and not have the money to pay.
I didn’t check, because I have been brought up with the notion that it was impolite to count cash in front of someone or to watch someone take out cash from his wallet.
Swiftly he departed.
And that’s when it hit me.
The relief of the departure of the first client. And the sadness that overwhelms. I was officially an FL.
It’s a very wretched feeling to say the least.
I shared with 1 of the clients that, working as a FL will eventually make you a broken person.
Why, you may ask.
Because for the subsequent clients I serviced that day, I put in my heart into doing it with them. I can’t play act. I can’t pretend. I just don’t have the ability to. Yet. Perhaps.
As such, every client departs from the room, taking with them a small part of you. A part no matter how tiny, can never be recovered. And that in itself renders you a broken person, a broken soul.
Eventually I guess I will reach the point where there is no more parts left in you. And perhaps that is the day one becomes numb to it all.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
alexmason86
hi sis. sad to hear ur story. not meant to be jerk. think you should have save enough money in this line to pay off your debt and call it a stop right?
you should able to find a decent job and quit FL. don’t tell your future hubby your a FL and just get marry ?
Never thought of you as a jerk.
In life there are a lot of “should have”, “could have” but it often doesn’t turn out the way you want, despite our best intentions.
For eg. I could have become a lawyer or a doctor but boh pian my parents stay in a 3 room flat and my grades are shit. Or I should have married that hot chick I used to bonk in poly; dunno why I chose to marry the sullen money minded wife. Etc etc
As for saving enough money in this line, I debuted last Wednesday.
The last I checked, I don’t think I charge $5k for an hour.
Had that been the case, by the end of this week or the next, I would personally make time out to meet each of the client that has helped me raise the funds, and buy them a coffee and express my gratitude.
Leaving this line is still a dream at the moment. But thanks for providing this uplifting moment. Even the mere thought of the day I finally stepped out of this line, makes me smile a little
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Alexxander
Came in here for a erotica but intrigued by the torment and darkness of the story…
Alexander means protector of men. Reminds me of Alexander the Great, whose military tactics and maneuvers are still being taught these days.
Sorry for digressing.
Sorry for disappointing you; my writings pale in comparison to the erotica genre that are usually posted. For such a forum, I have sought to avoid the usage of some depressive words. Only wrote down what has happened and I have yet to master presentation of the story in black humor.
Debuting last Wednesday as a FL was what propelled me to write. I’ve always preferred comedies over sad stories. And so I wrongly assumed that people would be turned off and not read this thread.
For those to whom I caused irreparable damage psychologically or depressed you guys, I’m very sorry. Didn’t meant to. And please for the frequent FL visitors, please don’t let what I write stop you from visiting a local FL.
Like what the header on the FL Dome Local- support local enterprise please
Each FL has their own story but just 1 point to note when visiting a FL or anyone in the industry, is to follow what the sticky on rules for whore mongers state.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
TBonez
I don’t normally read on “stories” or “accounts” because I feel that they’re just posts to generate points and powers (no offense guys).
But this thread has got me hooked and heart aching at the same time. Sorry for all the things you went/ are going through.
Thank you. Don’t be sorry. It’s just something that I have to go through.
Everyone, even you would have your fair share of hardship and pain as well.