Meat Market

That was the first thing that came into my mind when I rounded the corner to Hard Rock Café. I turned to Sajitha who was walking beside me and asked, "What - did a ship come in?"

"Yeah, probably," she said.

Littering the stretch of malls from HRC to Wheelock Place (at least, that was the stretch we walked) were more than dozens of bulky white males with buzz cuts.

I imagined myself as one of them - presumably not having gotten laid for months, and then docked at a (possibly) 'exotic' Southeast Asian island-city - and suddenly, I was aware of the sheer number of mini-skirts and sprayed-on capris on the street: a droolworthy selection of pussy.

And, since I was right beside Sajitha, I had an unobstructed view of the sailor-boys stopping dead in their tracks while their heads and eyes continued tracking her.

Having walked behind behind Sajitha, I will vouch for how fucking great she looks walking away - a sprightly gait with an assertive cadenced swing at the hips; she was petite, but she was lithe and curvy - an elfin version of Malaika Arora.

I can only imagine how she'd look walking towards a guy who hasn't gotten laid for a long time - or even just your regular hot-blooded hetero/bisexual Joe: something pretty damn close to nirvana, I'll bet.

Boys and girls on the Atkins diet who like their meat white and chewy ought to make a trip to the meat market these coupla nights.