Shanghai - Home of Courtesans, host of the mistress

It was the October of ’06.

It was 5am.

With shaking hands, puffy eyes and tasteless buds, I sipped my hot coffee impatiently. Impatient to burn the stale whiskey smell from my breath; impatient to perk up after a heavy night of partying; impatient to fill my empty belly with thick, hot coffee; impatient to find a hangover cure;

Impatient to get on the plane.

***

I took a deep breath. I could smell amazing culture. I could smell years of air pollution. And I could smell the old-world-meets-new-world appeal of modern Shanghai. Skyscrapers and stacked highways cast a heavy shade of grey on the low-rise has-been nightclubs, big cars swung out around corners, barely missing the thousands of cyclist by a hair, and the occasional arm-less kid lurked around the concrete corners looking for a hope to cling on to.

Shanghai – home of the courtesans - and its modernization, crawled to a slow completion.

I took another deep breath, and I could smell the approaching air of burnt rubber.

Hello Shanghai. Hello Grand Prix. Hello Boys.

***

We were at the Grand Prix. We understood this to be an event with lots and lots of men. Lots and lots of booze. And maybe something to do with cars. Ten gorgeous girls on the prowl at the grand prix meant the air was full of testosterone and what some scientists call – promiscuity. We hopped around a bit. Stood up and cheered at the right moments a lot. And flirted very much. By the end of Day One Heats, we were exhausted, but we knew the night had just started.

***

A shower, and ten perfume sprays later, wearing the smallest black dresses, we arrived at the Hugo Boss Party. It was game on. There was no pretense, no excuses and no embarrassment. We see. We like. We conquer. Princess M and Hottie-two-shoes and I stood by the side and watched the other girls at work. They were getting drunk and snogging each other, while the crowd cheered on. What an effort, we thought.

I took out my latest pick-up tool. A Chinese fan and fanned it out. And like Chinese magic, the cute guy I’ve been eyeing appeared next to me and asked me to cool him down. I graciously obliged. Hottie-two-shoes got busy talking to his friend who was clearly more interested in a conversation with her tits. Princess M on the other hand, took one for the team and spoke to the pimply 16-year-old who hasn’t quite got over the chewing gum phase. 6 of us had 18 shots. 6 of us took 3 cabs. 6 of us went to the definitive club in Shanghai – Bar Rouge. The night was getting wild, and lucky me, had the cutest guy in tow. He was attentive… and generous and… whatthe#@&*%^

He kept kissing me in mid sentence

Me: Wow. This place is wild! Look at tha…
Him $%^$%# *pushes his face on mine and starts kissing me*
Me: *successfully pushing him away* whoa… haha. Slow down! Where’re your fr…
Him: &^%^#$% *kisses me again*
Me: hey hey hey! Noooo!
Him: kiss kiss kiss
Me: okok, we get it. You’re a great kisser but can we n…
Him: %$%#$& *kisses my neck instead*
Me: ahh….

No girl should fight a cute guy off when he kisses her neck.

Me: So what are you guys doing in Shanghai?
Him: I live and work here, but my mates work in Hong Kong, so they come up here to party a lot. Much like you Singaporeans party in KL
Me: oooh. You know your stuff.
Him: They’re here for the Formula One. So it’s gonna be a weekend of partying.
Me: Oh really?! So are weeee!!!!!!
Him: Everyone’s here for the Formula One, beautiful, half the people you see in this club are going to be there.
Me: well, I’m here for more than that.
Him: that’s where I come in… &^#@&*^

*

Him: So who do you support?
Me: Alonso.
Him: Ooh, not sure I can fraternize with the enemy.
Me: keep them close, remember?
Him: Good answer. I intend to do just that. Is this close enough…? &^%$%#

*

Me: Stop it, we got an audience.
Him: they’ve forgotten how to kiss. We need to give them some ideas
Me: Very.Funny.
Him: Can I get you another drink?
Me: Yes.
Him: After this kiss… &$%#$%

*

Him: You’re soooo good to kiss
Me: *takes a deep breath and quickly answers* thanks. #*$@$^

*

Him: After party at mine.
Me: Now?
Him: Yes. Now. If you’re scared, you can invite your nanny. *points to Princess M* But let her know we will be in the bedroom if needed.
Me: haha. How sweet of you.
Him: Anything to get you home. ^&$#@

*

By now we were all over each other and just a layer of fabric shy from a shag. The people in the club have chosen to ignore us, partly because some Russian chicks decided to get on the bar top and start pouring beer on themselves. The club was pumping. And I was to make a decision quick. I looked to my left and Princess M had already disappeared with some dude. I looked to my right and Hottie-two-shoes was preoccupied with yet another guy. I looked at my guy. He’s cute. I entertained the thought of him being a psycho killer but I balanced it out with the fact that he’s a good kisser. I thought about finding myself in a bathtub of ice and a missing kidney and decided I couldn’t be so lucky. Drinking makes me a brave girl. So one thing left to find out. – I reached down and teasingly brushed the back of my hand against him. W.O.W. what a deal-sealer.

***

his place was like something out of the set of Fifth Element. White leather and silver bars. Spiral staircase. Glass door in-house office. Automatic everything. And the other deal sealer: a Jacuzzi in the middle of nowhere. We took a bath – Shanghainese style Ginseng and Ginger bath bubbles sizzled like champagne on my skin. More drinks. More kissing.

I got back to the hotel at 8am, to a cafeteria of girls at breakfast. Hottie-two-shoes was not back yet. I missed breakfast and was smiling all the way to the tracks.

It was the October of ’06.

I was at the Grand Prix.

Fernando Alonso and Michael Schumacher had a tight match - But who came first?