We were a special threesome. Duc, James, and me. Duc had the connections, James had the looks, and I was the comic relief. It worked brilliantly to ensure a 66% success rate for James. It wasn’t a lack of charm on his part, girls could see James’ immediate qualities, but they needed to be reassured by our smoke and mirrors act that he was about more than just gunning for their genitals. Girls felt safe around Duc; he was that vital vegetation in the food chain wherein the absence of would cause an ecological collapse. The girls grazed and frolicked there with a pastoral peace of mind. I was a lurking predator, with a mouthful of sharp, caustic liners, waiting to rip into soft exposed underbellies. The girls of our game reserve bounced between the two extremes, hiding in the safety of Duc and occasionally proving their courage and worthiness in my domain. Through this ordeal of cruel nature, they would learn to trust the gentle, groping hand of James enough to eat out of, and to have faith in the warmth of his hearth.
Duc and I had our good share of the spoils, and gained many fond memories. One particular memory that plagues our daily vernacular is Nhung. She has a particularly odd inflection on her phrases that sounds like this. It wasn’t altogether attractive, but it did elicit all sorts of juicy phrases in my mind. Another thing, she was substantially thin. This girl was about 5′3 and must have weighed no more than 80lbs. I told Duckie (Duc) my hypothesis that her deflowering would result in a horrible bone-crunching “you broke my bone!” wail. Her face was pretty, mostly. With makeup, she could look very fine indeed. She had striking eyes, a delicate nose, and a gummy smile reminiscent of Lolita-esque braces. We once coaxed her into mocking Mexican slang, ESE!” and that was riotous. Duc and I would sometimes spend all day speaking to one another in her infectious accent. It was like verbal soy sauce.
She was the ideal incest fantasy, that plum combination of sister, flirt, and vixen. I used to get jealous of the gifts she bestowed upon the evil Duckie, and sometimes pretended to accidentally forget them at my house. When it was my turn to receive her attentions, she was always generous and thoughtful. I would delight in wondering what would be my next favorite thing.
But she didn’t last very long. James’ interest in her waned with his increasing obsession with the mothball smell of her clothes and the ill-timed discovery of her minoxidil-9.