Guest post by Randy Anonymous
The Amazon abounds with legends of siren like beings capturing men with either song or seduction. Iquitos holds true to this adage as my own tale will reveal.
I arrived here some months ago with a casual partner and her undisciplined brat of a son, an attachment I had not been made aware of prior to my arrival in her home country. Thus a pall of doom hung over our staying together and soon enough she and his lordship departed for whence they had come, leaving me free, footloose and horny. Altogether a dangerous combination in this wild city of vixen. My initial meeting occurred on the afternoon following her departure on a rainy day when I kindly offered shelter to a woman of doubtful morals but low expectations monetarily. This proved a serious error as whilst she accepted the token sum tendered she persisted in sitting down with me on sight to request feeding, watering or assistance with her newly arrived dental bill.
Resolving to move on I located a similar young lady and quickly discovered a repetition of history excepting that instead of a single undesired partner at my table I often had two, openly and actively competing for my pocket, without the slightest interest in my virility or charming personality.
Realising that strong measures were necessary I asked a Peruvian male friend if he knew of young ladies of a respectable nature that may find this stray gringo attractive and was instantly ushered into several houses where I met several mamas, several pretty girls and alas, several broken dates, all with watertight excuses such as “my son had a fever” These fevers were too coincidental and accordingly the unwelcome notion that they just found me unappealing dawned and stuck. Plan #C involved a walk to the Plaza de Armas at night, the later the better I had been assured by a fellow gringo with deep experience in these matters of love after dark.
Plan #C proves somewhat disastrous as my foray into the Plaza reveals that ladies of the night patrol in pairs, ask for outrageously high prices and are not always what they seem to be. I bring one most of the way home following some sharp negotiations and sit down beside her at a near to home café. We are enjoying a shared beer when a pal approaches, nudges me in the arm and suggests that her gender may be other than appearances suggest. Accordingly I make inquiries and eventually extract from “her” that “she” is indeed HE! The liaison is cancelled post haste.
By now feeling like Simon and Garfunkels Boxer,” I do declare that there were times when I sought some company there” (amongst the whores on 7th Avenue) I resolve to return to the Plaza on another evening and inspect anatomical features such as adams apples closely prior to any selection.
Again a mistake as visit 2 sees yet another young lady induced to return to my upstairs apartment. Again we pause for refreshment before the short walk to my home, whereat she gazes at the stairway, glances and gestures to her high heels, bends to remove them in what I consider a reasonable action to ensure her safety, and having done so promptly demands “give me money” My polite but firm refusal is met with “show me money”, which I foolishly do and then in a trice find her stiletto heels rammed hard into my stomach, bending me over in pain, the money in my outstretched hand snatched and the offender barefooting up the street at close to the speed of light.
These two experiences leave me poorer but infinitely wiser and so the Plaza is dismissed and once more I revert to the tactic of imploring my Peruvian comrades to assist a man in serious need. Navidad is close when the plan seems to take a significant upward turn. One amigo arrives on the boulevard with an attractive young lady at his side, introduces us and quietly tells me to “treat her well” before leaving us together. Her smiles and flirtatious manner leave no doubt as to her intent and soon enough we indulge in a delightful afternoon romp. The total cost has been a meal and a couple of soft drinks yet she stays for a couple of hours and proves laughing company. I resolve to see her again and this is accomplished on the following day with similar consequences. Christmas Eve is pencilled in as rendezvous number 3 and then the scorpion reveals its tail, demanding 250PNS for gifts to children and family prior to any considerations of relief for my yearning anatomy. I decline and introduce her to a fellow gringo in a similar position to me.
Christmas thus passes lovelessly and even when she showers my window with small projectiles at 2 in the morning I refuse admission and pretend shes not there. Sleep is hard however.
The days that follow see another pick up in a café who makes outrageous gestures in public such as burying her hand in my jeans in full view of staff and public. Naturally to lessen her embarrassment I hasten us both to my apartment, suggest a shower which she readily agrees to as she undresses both of us with skill and plunge into the bathroom. I leap into the shower, she chooses a squat, then vanishes back to the bedroom. Suspicious, I abandon the shower, turn into the bedroom and find her with my wallet in hand. Thus captured red handed, I advise an egress sans cash, count my remaining money, find it to be intact and so see her to the street.
Throughout these adventures, or should I say mis(s)adventures, one woman has caught my eye regularly over the weeks. All attempts at contact have sadly failed and so in desperation I ask a friendly waiter to convey an invitation in Spanish as she stands nearby. She declines on the grounds that we could not communicate and that she has seen me with another woman. Later that evening my killer smile finally induces her to sit beside me and we chat through an interpreting friend. I learn a little of her life, her broken heart and assure her that my healing hands can aid. She goes home but returns frequently and we often eat together in the coming days, yet my requests to visit “mi casa” are met with either a firm shake of the head or “autre dias” New Years Eve sees a melting of the polar caps and we finally consummate our long celibate relationship. A week later and a Lima trip together our communications are fine and her suitcase is installed, all 10 tonnes af womens apparel within it, in my room.
So in conclusion love in Iquitos DOES exist, yet remains as elusive as those Amazon sirens of legend.
Adventures of A Randy Male
Guest post by Randy Anonymous