Pakistani Porn

Were the on-line hook-up sites for real, or just cons? Jafaar wondered.

         He didn’t know how to get on.

         On SingaporeGirl they advertised for a good time, seemingly girls out for a bit of fun. Could you believe that? (SingaporeGirl or something similar.) 

         Was it a scam? Did the girls want money?

         Jafaar hadn't been for his dialysis. Today was a holiday. Tomorrow. Four and a half hours x 3 weekly.

         One of Ja’far’s daughters bought him the tablet, half-size Samsung, still early experimental days. A Pakistani porn site came up last visit when Jafaar wanted to show what had raised his interest. A very fair girl in close-up staring directly at the camera, behind a very dark stem quite unidentifiable at first.

         Khan the cabbie and gemstone dealer took a seat uninvited. Five minutes Khan requested to tell the story of American domination in the Middle East. Uninterrupted, if you please; afterward you would get your chance. Raised hands of protest and impatience brushed aside.

         When Beechoo somehow managed to interrupt, the next 25 minutes was gemstones. 

         Khan wore a ruby on the right hand, his prize Alexandrite on the left. $12k offers on the latter didn’t tempt Khan. On Youtube you could watch it change colour depending on the light. One of its features. Ordinary, lesser stones could not do that.

         No-one had a torchlight. Khan’s phone was no good; you needed the old cheap phone.

         Jafaar’s stones were small, fake sparklers. Still, Jafaar said he preferred them and didn’t need better.

         — Thom-son the best one.

         — Tom Stone, Jafaar?... You mean Tom Jones?

         There were lots of the Welshman’s fans among the Malays in Geylang Serai. In fact the old crooner had toured only a year or two earlier, appropriate colour-tone helping with the big-number blast no doubt. Perfect karaoke fare.

         — Tom Jones…Tom Stones last one.

         Ja’far had a fair command of English. On the other end of the table the gemstones rattle interfered. Tom Stones?...

         ….Oh. Oh. OK. Fair enough, yeah Jafaar. Tomb stone. The last one.

         Last few weeks Jafaar had adopted an old forgotten Bee Gees number as his anthem.

          —……..tragedy…. It’s trag-edy….

         Fine swinging disco Jafaar thought funny.

         The Batam girl going by giving Jafaar the big eye.

         —  You know that gal Jafaar?

         After a short consideration, pacing the reply.

         — …I don’t remember.

         Another shortly after with the same eyeing got a cross in the air that she might have caught, followed by a repeat on the table-top for reinforcement. 

         Didn’t fancy that one for some reason, Jafaar, though she was younger and better loaded. Some history possibly.

         — You spending much dosh on the gals Jaf?

         Same as above for pacing.

         — …One or two hundred.

         With CPF of $500 monthly, Jafaar might in fact not have been kidding. Living simply as he did, camping at the mosque, every likelihood. A ladies man no bones about it. Softened everything.

         Jafaar after the Israeli orange. With his baseball cap covering a bald pate, smooth cheeks, dark sunnies day/night, you would not have guessed late-sixties. Named before the territory became Israeli. Jafaar was sometimes rendered with two F’s, sometimes two A’s. Depended on the official at Registry. Spring or stream in Arabic.