"Ouch!" I exclaimed for the dozenth time since we'd started dancing in Helios, a packed, slightly shady, bar in Itaewon largely frequented by black U.S. soldiers.
See barely had a word of English, but she saw it hurt all right. She was smiling. "No, lady," I felt like saying, "this isn't playful. I feel like I'm being savaged by an attack dog." It was no use. She wouldn't have understood anyway.
She may also have been the first girl I've met to sexually assault me. That's probably dramatic, but the notion of consent wasn't something she really paid any attention too. She's certainly top of the leader board in the violating yours truly Olympics. But, hey, men never say "no", right?
I'd put bought her a gin and tonic, which for some reason she insisted on giving me back orally with every lip-chomping kiss. I was becoming hammered, and I'd bought the drink for her. "No more!" I insisted after several recycled mouthfuls. She didn't listen. She kept lunging for me, unstoppable as a tsunami. I tried holding back her shoulders. My arms folded like paper cups against a rushing train. It was no use. She was too strong. She docked. I had been violated.
She was Mongolian. Mongolia - there was a place you didn't read about everyday. My only knowledge of the country was that it was once ruled by Genghis Kahn and a vast army of brutal warriors. Conquering and violent - judging by this girl, I could well imagine it.
When I woke the next day my upper lip was blue. It looked like I had been punched in the mouth. A punch would have been less sore. Still, I had (some) fun.
You know, modern genetic research suggests that 8 percent of men in a large part of Asia are descendants of Genghis Kahn. I wonder what the figure is for women?
I think one of them might be floating about Itaewon, Seoul.