by Niall Doherty


We walked hand in hand down the nameless street, towards a taxi waiting at the junction. It was just after the dawn. Her flight to Thailand was leaving in a couple of hours. We were out of time.

I’d met her two weeks earlier while walking through Thamel. She was from Japan, traveling alone, dressed in a funky style all her own. We chatted for twenty minutes that first time. She had a playful positivity about her, and laughed easily at my stupid jokes.

We next met a week later, and kissed goodnight outside her hotel. She was reluctant, I was persistent. I’d later learn that she hadn’t kissed anyone since the last Olympics.

It got messy after that. I liked her and wanted to meet again, but she didn’t trust my intentions. We chatted endlessly by text and spoke for hours on the phone, gradually revealing more and more of our true selves.

Then it was her last night.

By phone the previous eve I’d pushed deeper with the personal questions. I’d made her cry and she’d hung up on me. I’d abandoned all hope of anything sexual happening between us, believing it wouldn’t be in her best interest. But I still wanted to see that smile one more time before she left town.

I sent a text. She replied. We met twenty minutes later. She smiled that phenomenal smile, and then I kissed her forehead and wished her well. I sensed some hesitancy from her as we said goodbye, like she didn’t want it to end just yet. But it was there that we left it, and I felt content on my ride home through the darkness.

The phone rang an hour later. I was in bed but awake. I felt it again as we talked, that hesitancy. And so I asked…

— Sariska, do you want to come spend the night with me?

We slept for maybe an hour. The rest of the night was spent talking, laughing, touching, kissing. We never got close to sex, and it was perfect that way.

When the dawn broke, I walked her down to the taxi. The shoulder of my shirt was damp with her tears, the stains of a tough goodbye. We both felt like we were just getting started, and now we were finished.

I watched the taxi drive off. She never looked back. I took a deep breath and turned away as the first glints of sunlight broke through the mountain haze. It was a beautiful morning.

Note: If you’re my mother, consider this the end of the post. Turn off the computer, throw on the kettle, and go think about how nice and sweet your youngest son is while enjoying a lovely cuppa cha.


“I fucked my brother.”

It was fast becoming apparent that I wasn’t going to win this game. Just a minute earlier I’d told Biszaya about my craziest sexual experience. She’d raised an eyebrow and replied with a devilish smirk that I might as well be a virgin. Then, unprompted, she’d shared a few stories of her own. As it turned out, incest was only the tip of her perverted iceberg.

It occurred to me that this girl was easily the most sexual person I’d ever met. Rather than try suppress and ignore her natural urges, she’d fully accepted them and strived for a life of complete congruence. As such, I couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of respect for her.

We’d made contact via an adult dating site. Her profile was full of faceless pictures and rules for safe sex. Via text the previous evening she’d invited me to her hotel in Kathmandu. Her last message read, don’t talk to me when you come into the room.

She’d opened the door and pulled me into darkness. It was only after we’d had sex that she turned on the light and I saw her face for the first time.

Now it was a day later, and we were exchanging stories on the terrace of the Galleria Cafe. She didn’t talk much about who she was or where she was from. My best guess was France. She told me she’d run away from home as a teenager, fed up with her parents constant condemnation of her sexual exploits. Now she split time between Kathmandu and Kuala Lumpur. Aside from meeting guys online, she’d often approach attractive men on the street and ask if they’d like to keep her company.

She was leaving in the morning, and I was glad. I figured one more night with this girl would be all I could handle. But before she jetted back to Malaysia, I wanted to try some things I’d never tried before. Her next words opened the door…

— So what should we do now?
— I think we should go back to your hotel.
— And do what?

With a lump in my throat, I told her exactly what I wanted to do, sexual fantasies I’d never dared speak aloud. As I finished speaking, that devilish smile reappeared on her lips.

— Okay, but I’m going to pretend to be asleep the whole time. You have to do all the work.

A minute later we called for the check, paid up, and left.