The Russian That Got Away (Part 2)

I quickly turned in the direction of a nearby bar. I felt noticeably drunker than the Russian so I decided it would be in my best interests to challenge her to a bucket drinking competition. Somewhere in between my Red Bull induced buzz and my vodka haze I made the devious ploy to pretend I was sucking the drink as fast as I could through the eight or so straws I was provided with. There was something incredibly hot about a girl who could maintain strong eye contact whilst finishing an entire bucket of alcohol.

“My brain is freezing!” She screamed as she dropped the empty bucket on the ground and crouched down, nursing her head in her hands. The pain seemed to distract her from the fact that I had fooled her into a drinking competition that only she was participating in.

At that very moment I remembered back to the Ukrainians in L’viv that Lionel and I had invited over for dinner. Not only were they complete retards when they drank alcohol, but they were also quite adamant that their vaginas weren’t to be touched until we had spent an exorbitant amount of time with them. I was secretly hoping Russians were completely different.

After a few hours of dancing and flirting back and forth we found ourselves alone on the sand comparing our hand-stand skills. I continued the flirting by announcing that she was no match for my “technically perfect” hand-stands. Our eyes locked, her smile was the biggest I’d seen for the whole night; it was time to kiss her. As I leant in she turned her head away as if to think I was going to whisper something in her ear. I decided to go along with it.

“What are you doing?” I whispered

“What do you mean?” She replied returning back to deep eye contact. She was noticeably confused.

“I was going to kiss you, but you turned away.”

“I don’t kiss until the second or third time I meet a guy.” She said slowly tucking her hair behind her ear.

This seemed to be the standard response from any girl originating from the east of Europe. I decided against a verbal response. I took her hand and pulled her body against mine. “Her breasts are a lot larger than I initially thought” I remember thinking to myself as I ran my hands up past her neck to the back of her scalp; lightly grasping a fistful of her salty beach hair. I felt little resistance as I pulled her head towards mine, our lips touching for the very first time. As expected from any Russian, she used a lot of tongue. It was as if she was taught how to kiss from watching porn and porn alone.

“Let’s go get a drink.” She squealed as she grabbed my hand and pulled me off the beach and back towards the bar. We ordered two more drinks and downed them within a few minutes.

“I have to go home. I have a big day tomorrow and have to make sure I get some sleep.” She said displaying one of the biggest ‘sorry faces’ I had ever seen.

“That’s okay, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” I replied. I had decided that breaking the ‘rule’ of kissing her on the first night was enough. I would focus my energy on fucking her the next time I saw her. After exchanging phone numbers we parted ways and as I was now low on energy I decided to make my way home and prepare my body for the final two nights in paradise.

The following day the Russian and I exchanged a few text messages, but she had decided that she would be staying in, but promised to see me on my final night on the island. This would obviously mean I would have to seal the deal on my final night, which didn’t bother me, I just would’ve preferred not to of put myself under that kind of pressure.

The night played out like I thought it might have: get drunk, dance like a fuckwit, kiss random sluts, but all I could think about was having sex with the Russian.

I would spend my final day wandering through the tourist orgy that are the streets of Phi Phi. For lunch we decided to grab a bite to eat at the burger place across the road from our hostel. I was halfway through my burger when I received a text from the Russian.

“Hey, I can only come out for a little bit tonight. Long story.”

How I was I suppose to secure sex with her if she only coming out for an hour or so? Should I just fuck her off and find another random girl to have sex with? A million questions were running through my mind at the same time, all of which were easily answered with “Find another girl, you’re wasting your time.” However something about the Russian made me look past seeing her as a conquest. Maybe it was due to my balls being unusually full of semen, but I couldn’t quite figure it out.

With Lionel successfully coughing up blood and shitting himself at pre-drinks I would be heading out with the two South Africans that were living in the room across from ours.

By 10pm we were drunk. The Russian said she was going to be arriving at 11.30pm so I had a little bit of time to plant seeds if the Russian refused to let me stay over.

By 11pm I had spoken to half a dozen girls, one of which was cute enough and seemed keen enough to rendezvous with once the Russian had decided to go home. She was half Australian, half Chilean; a 7 on the old scale.

“Hey!” The Russian screamed after spotting me deep in crowd of party-goers on the dance-floor.

She immediately hugged me as if she hadn’t seen me for years. As we both loosened our grip our eyes locked, our lips met and once again 95% of her tongue was rammed down my throat. Somebody seriously needs to go to Russia and teach public kissing etiquette in classrooms.

Over the next hour the grip of her hand seemed to tighten, her eye contact would linger longer than it had before and, if possible, her kisses were just that little more passionate, it was on…or so I it seemed.

“Okay, I have to go now.” She blurted out

“I’m coming with you.” I replied confident that she was horny enough to oblige.

“No, I can’t have guests in my room, but I will come and see you at pier before you get on the boat in the morning.”

“Sneak me in.” I suggested trying to keep my cool.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said kissing me goodbye and disappearing back into a sea of buckets, glow sticks and cheap singlets.

WHAT.THE .FUCK.

My penis was furious. I had wasted two nights in Phi Phi on a game playing Russian.  Both my penis and I would stop at nothing to find redemption. My eyes darted across the beach, I was looking for the half Australian, half Chilean. I knew it would be a miracle if I were to stumble on her again, but it was getting late and she was my best option.

I decided to head back to the bar that I had met her in and by nothing else but pure luck she happened to still be there. She was with her friends who seemed to have met a group of guys. Perfect.

“Oh hey there.” I said acting as if it was a mere coincidence I had seen her again.

“Hey, where have you been.”

“Around. I’m getting a drink, want to join me?” I replied maintaining strong eye contact and flashing her a cheesy smile.

“Yes.”

I had been fucked around for the past two nights. She was now alone with me and I was too pissed off to play any games. I decided to go for broke.

“So where are you staying? I’m kind of sick of the loud music wanna go chill at your house?

She flinched. I could see that she was deciding whether on not she had heard correctly.

“That’s a little forward, but I suppose we ARE on holidays.”

Game. Set. Match.

We were back at her apartment within 20 minutes. I took out my two days of frustration out on her vagina and ravaged her like I had been tied down and made to watch porn for the past 10 years.

I following day I would walk around the pier in search of the Russian for 30 minutes before I boarded.  I had been using a friend’s phone so there was no way of contacting each other. I would leave Phi Phi without seeing the Russian again.

- Gavin Madden