Noodles

Eva. Beautiful Eva. Who looked as though she had quietly stepped out
of a Rodin sculpture. We spent weeks together in which our souls gently
began to collide, speaking softly and touching each other as though we
could crack at any minute.

One night, sitting in a Thai restaurant, I saw that Eva was holding her
menu as though it was a holy text that had just been uncovered, and was
visibly shaking with excitement. I was a bit confused by this because
to me the dishes didn't appear that special. But she was - smitten. She
kept stroking my leg under the table with her foot and mouthing in this
incredibly libidinous way 'Tom Yam Kung' - that's Prawn Soup. And she
worked her way through the whole menu, the rubbing getting more
intense, her lips moist as she murmured the dishes in an increasingly
excited fashion. By the time she got to the Sankhaya - that's Steamed
Custard in Pumpkin Shell - my shanks were bleeding and the waiters were
trying hard not to giggle.

When we got home she told me that she had never been so sexually
aroused in her entire life, that she was utterly embarrassed by the
whole affair. For the next three weeks we couldn't make love. Somehow,
she said, it just didn't seem right.

And then I had an idea. Standing in front of a mirror holding a black
marker pen I wrote, with some difficulty, the words 'Kai Phat Khing' -
that's chicken with ginger shreds, across my chest and walked into the
bedroom. It was incredible. It was as though we were liquid, twisting
and bending like the currents of two rivers that were coming together
to join the sea.

From that night on all I had to do was to come up with another dish to
inscribe on my chest and we would make beautiful and passionate love. I
had never been happier.

But there was one problem. I could only use each dish once. Only one
'Narayana Bantom Sindhu' - that's Vishnu in the sea of milk; only one
'Kaeng Khieu Wan Pla' - that's Green curry of fish.

As time went by the dishes became less and less exotic and our love
making became more and more desperate as we sensed that this story of
ours was coming to an end. I had bought every Thai cookbook in
existence and spent many many hours on the phone to the Thai embassy.
But it was no use. When I found myself writing the words 'Extra
noodles' I knew that the end was at hand.

And so one night Eva takes off my shirt and my chest is bare. I have
been unable to come up with any dish whatsoever. She reaches over,
picks up her lipstick, scrawls the word 'Coffee' on my stomach, makes
love to me one more time and then leaves. And I never saw her
again.