PROMPT - naked women

Derrick John wakes up from his afternoon nap to the stifled laughter and giggles of his wife, Irena, and her friends playing mahjong in their downstairs living room. He pictures them in his head, as he lies in bed, even as he shuts his eyes close, the image crowding in his brain: five thirty-something women sitting naked as their hands fiddle with the ivory mahjong cubes. What pleasure do these women get in taking off their clothes when amongst themselves, knowing that an old man lies upstairs in his bed, trying to rest and enjoying his retirement?

Derrick John does not stir but plays a game in his head. He hears a laugh and matches it with the face of the women. Since he married Irena, his mail order bride from Cambodia, two years ago, this scene has been a regular in his home, every Wednesday, from noon until midnight. She allows Irena to invite her friends so she does not feel lonely. By now, he has already learned which laugh belongs to which woman. There had been many times when Derrick John would leave the bedroom to go downstairs to eat. Of course he has to eat and while the mahjong session goes on, Irena, forgets to feed him, he, Derrick John, who pays for the clothes, shoes and food she would never have had if she was still in her country, in that far flung village where she lived with two dozens of her relatives in a hut smaller than the restroom of his house. The first time he saw these five women naked in his living room, he was shocked. Not so much at the sight of nicely shaped legs and bouncing breasts and swaying hips, but the fact that they were all naked, and unabashed at the sight of him.

He pictures Carmencita, the Filipina, the one who sounds like a man as she sits beside Irena. With very dark skin, cropped black hair, face resembling shooting practice board – she had a bad case of acne as a teenager back in Manila. Carmencita does not only sound like a man, she also looks like a man. Her firm round breasts with charcoal like nipples, tiny waist and long legs could not rouse Derrick John’s desire for women.

Freeda sits opposite Irena. He imagines a glass breaking every time Freeda shrieks into a laugh. Her laughter annoys him to no end but he has imagined many times having sex with her. Who wouldn’t? Her silicon breasts that rest on the edge of the mahjong table are huge and he, Derrick John, is the “breast” kind of man. Her long Sri Lankan black hair covers her bronze colored back, tracing the little curve and reaches just low enough to cover her ass. And, unlike Carmencita, Freeda sits with her knees together.

Dolores starts her laugh with a slow ‘ha’, ‘ha’, ‘ha’ and a heave of her chest that makes her drooping English breasts sway left and right. A cigarette hangs from her lips, unlit, of course, for he, Derrick John, would not allow anyone to smoke inside his home. Dolores has the same effect on her as Carmencita: nothing. Blonde, light eyed women never appealed to him.

Kasuko, a Japanese immigrant, sits around with a smirk on her face, not playing with the others, just looking at them, cracking the occasional jokes and giggles like a school girl, her eyes disappearing into tiny slits. Why she takes off her clothes when she does not play is beyond Derrick John’s comprehension, but he isn’t complaining. Kasuko’s naked image can play in his mind anytime. Maybe he should suggest to Irena that they should have a ménage a trois with Kasuko – it might just be what he needs for his waning interest in sex. After all he personally knows how those geishas can satisfy their men. Hmmmm, there's an idea.

And then of course, there’s Irena, his wife, the one who laughs like a hyena. She pumps the table with her fists and stomps her feet on the floor as she laughs, head tilted back, her small breasts moving up and down her bony chest.

In another place and time, Derrick John would have had an all night orgy with these women, like the ones he had in Asia when he was the International Executive Director for BP. Yes, every country he visited, women came to his feet, begging to be had by him; young women, not prostitutes, who were willing to do anything in exchange for a few hundred dollars or in the hope he could bring them to Canada. Women whom his first wife Deborah hated and called primitive prostitutes and having found out he’d gone to bed with not just one but a number of them, she held out sex from him and filed for divorce. He smirks to himself as the thinks of Deborah, the old bag, who took most of his investments and properties.

The sudden loud laughter takes him back to the present.

Derrick John guesses that the women are laughing again at Irena’s story of how his manhood had died a long time ago. “Dead like those people in the mortuary where your husband works,” she says, pointing at Carmencita. Carmencita’s husband works as a make-up artist, for dead people, especially those who died in horrible accidents, preparing them for viewing by relatives. The best make up artist around, but not good enough to do anything about Carmencita’s face.

“Well,” Carmencita says, “at least those dead people are stiff.” And Irena, Freeda, Dolores and Kasuko laugh until their sides ache.

“Okay,” Irena says between laughs. “It’s limp like a… a gum that had just come out of one’s mouth.”

They continue to laugh.

“Dead and limp,” Irena says.

“Is that why you’re wearing black panties today?” Kasuko butts in and they all broke into loud laughter.

“Oh, yeah, that’s because Maria here is in mourning!” Irena slightly raises one side of her body from the chair and points at her bottom part, the flaps of Kotex wings visible as she moves. She high fives with Kasuko and Dolores.

They laugh, and howl, and stomp their feet and pump their fists on the table.

“Enough of this shit,” Derrick John whispers. He takes off his pyjama bottoms and gets out of the room. He sees his reflection on one of the wall frames and combs his thinning hair with his hands. He stops at the top of the stairs and waits for the women to notice him. When they do, they laugh and howl louder, except for Carmencita, who places two fingers in her mouth and lets out a loud whistle. They continue with their ruckus laughter until they all fall on the carpeted floor, hugging their stomachs, uninhibited in their nakedness.

“Darling,” Irena says, mocking evident in her laughter, “what are you doing there (laugh) showing your dead (ha-ha-ha!)… showing your…” She falls on the floor again, her hands grabbing the sides of her body.

Derrick John walks down the steps, deliberately slow, his drooping penis bouncing slightly with each step.

“Oh, look at his…” Freeda says, a finger pointing at Derrick John, “his balls are up to his knees.”

“You are so lucky, Irena,” Dolores interjects, “I understand when you said he has a sizeable asset.” She laughs so hard, her unlit cigarette falls on the floor and gets crushed accidentally by Kasuko's flailing legs.

“Derrick John!” Irena shouts. “What are you trying to do? Didn’t I tell you to stay upstairs when my friends are here?”

“Yes, dear,” he replies.

“So why are you here?” Irena stands there in front of him, hands akimbo, her naked bony body full in his face. “Why?” she asks then she breaks into another laughter.

“Well,” Derrick John says slowly, “you keep telling your friends that my penis is dead.” The four women behind her tried to stifle their giggling.

“So, dear, I decided we should have a viewing.”