Sarong Party Girls

by Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan

  I was quite surprised to see what Sean’s wife looked like though. He never brings her to office functions and his desk at work is very empty and clean, so I’d never seen her or her photo before. Because he was Eurasian I always thought his wife confirm was Eurasian—­that’s how they are. The Eurasian boys will sometimes date Chinese or Indian girls for fun, maybe even keep them as “serious” girlfriends for a few years. But when it comes to marrying, they confirm will prefer to marry other Eurasians one.

  “We are such a small, unique race,” one of them explained to me a long time ago. This was after we hooked up, when he was explaining why we can be fuck buddies but he can never bring me home. “We really owe it to our ancestors, to Singapore history and identity, to try and preserve the purity of it. Otherwise the Eurasians will just gradually disappear!”

  When he explained it like that, I guess I had to understand. Tradition, of course, is very important. So we were quite happy fuck buddies for four and a half months until he started getting serious with a Eurasian girl from church that he ended up marrying.

  Lydia, though, was not Eurasian. Not only was she Chinese-­Singaporean, but she was not a good-­looking Chinese! Aiyoh. I really hope they don’t have kids, man—­otherwise not only is Sean going to have non-­pure Eurasian kids, but he’s also going to have backside-­face kids. Lydia was one of those slightly chubby face, wear glasses, small flat nose Chinese ladies. No matter how good her personality was, it confirm must not be enough for someone like Sean to marry a face like that. I guessed that she must be very clever, have a lot of money, or come from name-­brand family.

  “What would you like to drink?” Sean asked. “I’ve sent the maid off to sleep so I’m afraid I’ll have to be the one making your drink.”

  “Well,” I said, quickly looking at what was on the coffee table. I couldn’t quite see what they had been drinking but it was obvious that they had been doing it for a while—­not only were there peanut shells and half-­cracked melon seeds all over the table but there were also a dozen shot glasses and a few larger ones filled with clear drinks. “I guess I’ll just have what everyone’s drinking?”

  “Good!” he said. “Another gin and tonic, then.”

  Looking at how mabuk some of the girls looked—­the two girls on the edges of the sofa were so tipsy they were leaning their heads on the shoulder of Su Fen in the middle—­I was starting to wonder when they actually started drinking. Also, I was wondering—­where is the rest of the party? I thought this was an official party, with different editors, their friends, maybe even some potential ang mohs to date, that kind of thing. Walao—­guniang here even wore nice nice clothes and all! But this just looked like one of those sit around with your old secondary school friends, drink until mabuk and tell cock stories and sex jokes kind of party. Bloody hell! Never mind lah—­maybe I could just have a quick drink and say I have to leave. Tomorrow we must work, after all.

  “Here you go,” Sean said, handing me a big cold glass. “Come, Jazeline—­sit next to me.”

  So I followed behind him as he walked to the other side of the sofa and sat on a wide armchair, patting his hand on the arm of his chair. Aiyoh—­there?

  Sean must have seen me pause and think a bit because he said, “Well don’t just stand there—­come on?” he said, patting the arm again. So, no choice.

  Of course it was uncomfortable because it was quite high and I’m not that tall, so even though my backside was resting on the arm, it was almost as if I was half-­standing.

  “Good girl,” Sean said, tapping my backside a bit. Walao! Guniang here was so shocked I almost spilled my drink! Some more, after Sean finished tapping my backside he kept his hand there. And his wife was just one meter away, sitting on the beanbag! At least she wasn’t looking over at us, though. Thank god. But my goodness—­this one was really too much. I squirmed my backside to give Sean a hint but he didn’t move his hand.

  There was nothing more I could do so I just sipped my drink. But the first sip I took—­kani nah, I almost spat it out. So bloody strong! Su Fen must have noticed my face, because she started laughing.

  “Sean dear, did you make a really strong G and T for—­what’s your name again?” she said, nudging Mabuk One and Mabuk Two next to her and pointing at me. “Look at her face! Priceless.”

  Sean also laughed. “Jazeline—­you have to catch up, my dear,” he said. “We’ve been drinking since after work. Now go on—­drink it all!”

  Su Fen started clapping and the Mabuk Twins started staring so aiyah, OK lah—­bottoms up. Plus, if I finish my drink quickly, maybe that would give me an opening to make an excuse and leave faster.

  The drink was so strong, this was not easy—­my throat was burning, my eyes were wet, so wet I had to close them for a bit. But I did it. When I opened my eyes, I could see Su Fen had gotten up and was making another drink.

  “Um—­no more, no more! I can’t stay long,” I said.

  “Rubbish! You just got here,” Sean said. “Now settle in,” he added, tapping my backside again!

  I made sure to slowly sip my second drink, which was as strong as the first and had no lime so—­babi, the alcohol tasted even stronger.

  Sean was telling some story now—­something from his time as a hotshot foreign correspondent in Manila or some shit. Only Su Fen was asking him any questions—­the other girls were just half-­listening but mostly giggling here and there. I guess they were super high. His wife seemed a bit mabuk too—­judging from how rosy her fat cheeks were—­but she didn’t say one word. She just sat there, only smiling a very tiny bit but still looking quite serious. If I had to guess, I would say that she’s a lawyer or some banking exec. She just had that perfect “don’t blow smoke up my arse” look.

  At this point, all the girls started laughing, even the Mabuks. Sean’s story probably reached the punch line or something. So I laughed along also. After we all finished, there was just silence. Maybe now was a good time. I bottoms-­up the last third of my glass and started to say I have to go but Sean—­my god, he really noticed everything—­said, “Lydia—­Jazeline’s done. Make her another one, OK?” And before I could say anything, his wife just got up and did it.

  “Well . . .” Su Fen said. “Is it time?”

  Shamini and the Mabuks, who I guess had gotten their second wind after all that pretend laughing, said, “Ooh, yes!” So Su Fen got up again and disappeared into what’s probably the dining room door, and came back with a big white cardboard box. The Mabuks quickly cleared the coffee table, brushing all the shells and seeds onto the floor so Su Fen could set the box down and take off the lid.

  The girls all got off the sofa and the beanbags so they could crowd around the table and start pulling things out of the box. I couldn’t see anything at first because they were all crowding around, but one by one they started holding things up, looking at them and then setting them aside on the coffee table. I wasn’t quite sure what they were at first but the more I saw, I understood.

  Sex toys!

  Shamini pulled out a set of what looked like handcuffs ringed with small red feathers, Serene waved around a long black stick that suddenly started making a buzzing sound when she pressed a button, Vidya started opening small vials of lotions, dabbing some on her wrists and smelling them. There were several masks, some sort of board game and a set of large dice with words instead of numbers printed on each side.

  I looked around the room to see where Sean’s wife was in all this. What could she possibly be thinking?

  Lydia was standing by the bottles of alcohol—­she had already finished making my drink but she wasn’t bringing it over. Instead, she was just standing there, leaning against the table of alcohol, slowly sipping a shot of something, just casually staring at everything with a bored, patient face. Obviously, she’d seen this before.

  But surely, she could stop it?

  The gir
ls were squealing louder now, taking more and more things out of the box.

  “What shall we start with this time, Sean? The dice?” Vidya said, taking off her cardigan, pulling the rubber band out of her ponytail and shaking her head a few times so her long wavy hair fell to her shoulders.

  “Yah! Yah! The dice is always a good icebreaker,” Su Fen said. “Especially for newcomers!”

  Newcomers? Lumpar lah!

  I looked back at Lydia, who downed the rest of her shot and firmly put down the glass, grabbed my drink and walked back over. Good—­it was high time the woman came over here to set her husband and everyone else straight.

  Lydia walked over and handed me the glass, not even looking at me. Then she sat back down on her beanbag and cleared her throat loudly.

  “Just pick one lah,” she said. “Tomorrow is a working day—­let’s not go too late this time.”

  Walao! Guniang here was feeling a bit paralyzed, I have to admit. This kind of thing, I could never have imagined. KTV girls, yes. Prostitutes, yah, I can imagine. But this? Professional girls from my own office? With the foreign editor and his backside-­face lawyer-­banker wife? My god.

  Just then, Sean said, “OK, come, come, come—­wifey said, ‘Let’s go!’ ” And he patted my backside again, harder this time.

  Guniang jumped up right away. “Sean, I’m sorry—­but I really think I have to go,” I said.

  I couldn’t even look at any of the other girls or Lydia as I ran out of the door. As I was putting on my heels, Sean was suddenly standing next to me. He looked a bit confused.

  “Jazeline—­are you OK?”

  “Yah—­I just . . . I just need to go home,” I said.

  “I’m sorry—­I thought . . .” he said. “Well, this is just a bit of fun we have around the office sometimes . . . it’s a rather select group, actually. And it’s nothing very serious—­just lighthearted games, really. I don’t just invite everyone over. And I had assumed that, well, you seem to go out clubbing a lot and have a lot of fun, and well, I had just heard some things and . . .”

  “And? And you thought I would be interested in being part of your sex-­toy New Times harem?”

  Guniang here was getting a bit angry now. Which is not bad, I thought—­better than losing it inside there around all of them. I thought I had been damn patient all night already. But after ­everything that happened over the past week, guniang here honestly was losing patience with everything.

  At this point, I could see Sean’s eyes change a bit. He straightened up and said, “Should I call you a taxi?”

  “No, no need,” I said. “The main road is nearby. I can just walk. Thank you though. And thank you for the drinks. Please also say thank you to Lydia for me.”

  Before he could talk again, I quickly started walking to the gate.

  “Jazeline?”

  “Yah?” I said, turning around just as I opened it.

  “I hear congratulations are in order, by the way,” he said. I could see him smiling. “When are you moving to circulation?”

  chapter 19

  Whole day long I was sitting at my desk, thinking about how to bring up the box of sex toys.

  Not to Sean of course, but to Albert. I had managed to avoid Sean all day—­which wasn’t hard because I’m sure he also wanted to avoid me. I did see Su Fen once or twice though and each time she not only didn’t quickly look down or avoid me—­bloody hell, that girl is really not shy! Instead, she just stared at me, blinked once and then walked away.

  Every time I tried to talk to Albert though, he just either rushed right past me and said he had a meeting to go to (even though I know it’s lies—­hallo, I am the one who keeps his schedule after all) or really must go to the loo. After about the fifth time he did that, I figured out that he must be avoiding me too.

  But like that, how? This was the first time guniang really needed his advice, man. Plus, what was this about circulation?

  I decided to use my lunch break to kaypoh a bit.

  Once Albert had safely disappeared to his business lunch in the financial district, I headed straight over to the next building—­the decrepit old one where no one in the newsroom, except Albert, ever went. To the right of the lobby, which looked like it was still firmly in the 1970s, was a big sign: CIRCULATION.

  A Malay receptionist greeted me the moment I pushed open the door. “Good afternoon, miss!” she said in a cheery singsong voice. “How can I help you?”

  “Oh, I’m here from the news side,” I said, flashing my New Times pass. She smiled and nodded. “I just wanted to look-­see a bit,” I added. “Can?”

  “Of course, of course,” she said, waving me in. “Just go right in.”

  Past the reception area, there was a large cavernous room filled with neat rows of desks, all in a grid. Even though it was lunchtime, the room was filled with women, some eating sandwiches at their desks, others gathered together, chitchatting over cups of tea. At first I thought I didn’t know anyone here but a youngish woman caught my eye in the far corner—­wasn’t that Michelle? Albert’s assistant before me? And that woman she was chatting with—­that was Pauline, the one before Michelle! I had met Michelle when I first arrived but knew Pauline from a photo Albert had once shown me. In another corner of the room, I spied a woman I sometimes saw having coffee with Albert in the cafeteria. Could she be another former assistant? I had thought all along that these women left for jobs elsewhere—­perhaps they became executive assistants to men higher up than Albert, or for CEOs along Shenton Way. But no, here they all were, in some apparent dumping ground for the assistants Albert had outgrown. As much as I’m sure Albert was going to paint this as a good career move, this was essentially a cemetery for aging women that the New Times—­or rather, Albert—­didn’t want anymore!

  I was so shocked I didn’t even see that Michelle had spotted me. She was waving vigorously by the time I noticed.

  I knew what I should do, but I simply couldn’t. No, this was not a place for Jazzy—­not today and definitely not in the near future. I quickly turned around and walked out, back across the parking lot and into my shiny, clean building. My heart didn’t stop racing until I was safely back in my plump swivel chair. “Jazzy,” I told myself. “You need to use your brain to think! This cannot happen to you. It simply cannot.”

  Albert returned from lunch just slightly mabuk, though still ignoring me. He didn’t say a word to me for most of the afternoon. Toward the end of the day though, just as I was starting to put files away and clean my kopi cup, Albert popped his head out of his office and said, “Jazz, can you come in for a minute?”

  Finally! “Yes, boss!” I said, and quickly went in.

  “Come, sit, sit,” he said, opening his drawer and taking out his specs.

  Was he doing this to get a better view today? Oh, that’s right. Guniang was wearing a skirt today. I started to walk over to his sofa, wondering if I should offer to mix him a drink first, when Albert said, “Not today, Jazz—­I’m late for drinks already, so I don’t have much time. Just come sit on the chair over here.”

  OK—­guniang today was actually wearing nice panties and all, since I had that dinner tonight with Roy and his company. If Albert didn’t care about peeping, it’s his own pasal. I just walked over and sat on one of the black metal chairs in front of his desk.

  Albert was quiet and looked like he was thinking hard about something. I didn’t want to interrupt him but I had decided last night when I got home—­if he doesn’t know what is happening with Sean, he should know. This kind of shameful thing can be very bad for the New Times, you know. I may not read the newspaper but I always look at the headlines, so I know that the New Times really likes to splash stories about politicians and CEOs having scandalous affairs all over the front page. If word about Sean’s sex-­box parties gets out—­die lah! The New Times will have no more face already. Bes
ides, if Albert sees me as a valuable person who can give him information about his underlings in the newsroom, maybe I won’t be moved to circulation after all?

  No, Jazzy must be brave. Even if I might get in trouble for being the one to tell on Sean’s parties, better to just do it.

  “Albert, I really need to tell you something,” I said, starting to launch into the story I had been trying to tell him all day. But Albert cut me off!

  “I know,” he said, looking a bit serious and sad. “No need to say. Actually, I really don’t want to hear the details, but I know.”

  Know? Know what? And how can he know? Babi . . . did that bitch Su Fen tell him something? What did she say?

  “No, Albert, I really need to tell you . . .”

  “I know, you went to Sean’s party,” Albert said; his face looking a bit red, patches of it appearing all over his forehead even. Everyone knew whenever that happened, Albert was truly embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “Look—­I know what happens there. And I hear the party was a big success, everyone had a good time, et cetera, et cetera. Sean already told a few of us about it after the morning meeting. Wah, that Su Fen—­is she really as talented as he says? Wait, don’t tell me. I want to find out myself.”

  What? What did Sean say? What should I say? And then I realized: what can I say that Albert would believe over Sean’s word?

  “Hey, Albert, you know what kind of girl I am—­I didn’t . . . I mean, I did go but I didn’t . . . I can’t . . .” I said. Damn bloody irritating. The story I had been thinking about telling him since I got home last night and practiced during all those hours when guniang couldn’t fall asleep suddenly wasn’t coming out.