Nightclubber Chow Kah’s amorous exploit backfires

Nightclubber Chow Kah assures me this story is a hundred percent true.

In his reminiscence, Chow Kah parks his car in a hotel on Ipoh Road and goes to the lobby lounge.  He takes a seat at a table near the entrance.  A girl, early twenties, enters and scans the lounge.  She’s wearing  a brown tee-shirt and jeans. Standing at the doorway, she pulls out her cell phone and calls her client. Chow Kah’s phone buzzes and he waves his hand at her and she joins him.  On her lithe figure rests a domey head with long hair, her features are finely chiselled, her complexion is as white as japonica rice. They start to chat over coffee and raisin scones. 

 

 

[Pixs of models for illustration purpose only]

A family of five people enters the lounge. The mother in the family, a satchel-mouthed woman  sees Karen and walks straight to Chow Kah’s table.

“Lay Ping! What a coincidence meeting you here!” the satchel-mouthed woman says. “So, when’s your graduation?”

“Next – next year – two more semesters to go.” The words stuttered between her lips, her face turns red. 

Chow Kah smiles and greets the satchel-mouthed woman: “Hello, Auntie.”  She nods, her eyes stabbing into his, and she re-joins her family at a nearby table.

“Goodness! She’s my mother’s friend.  From my hometown Kuantan. Must be in KL for a holiday. Can we call this booking off? I feel very uneasy.”

“What? I can’t. I’ve produced my credit card, signed the guest form and have been assigned a room.” He slurped his coffee. “So what, your mum’s friend saw you having tea. Is it a crime? Just say I’m a friend.”

“This woman’s a real busybody. She’s sure to tell my mother. Honestly, I’m worried. Can I suggest something?  Can we forget about using the hotel room?  We go to my apartment instead. It’s in Wangsa Maju.”

“You’re staying alone?”

“No, with my best friend. But I’ve a room of my own.”

“You don’t mind she sees you with me?”

“She’s knows my part-time work.”

They leave the lobby lounge and proceed to Karen’s two roomed flat.  A stocky woman, early thirties, is watching TV in the living room; she ignores them.

In Karen’s room, while yang is in yin, her cell phone beside the pillow rings. She ignores it. It rings again. She looks at the screen. “It’s my mum!”

“Ignore her.  Call her back later. Say you were bathing.”

Karen breaks into a sweat and pushes the phone away. Soon, she brings Chow Kah to his peak, and with lips atingle and loins aching, he tries to pull away. She can’t release him.  He tries again. They can’t be separated.

Chow Kah screams: "Let go of me!  Let go of me!"

“I’m trying, don’t shout. The neighbours may hear you.”

After two more attempts, Karen reaches out for her cell phone and calls her flatmate. "Winnie, it's me and my partner. We’re in deep trouble.” She pauses. “We’re stuck.” She pauses again. “Yes, we’d sex and we’re stuck.”
Moments later, the wooden door is slammed repeatedly from the outside.  The screws at the doorjamb holding the latch come off, tearing grains of wood. The stocky woman, ambles in. Karen and Chow Kah, locked in an embrace, cringe in embarrassment.

“Aoooooooooh! How can this happen?” Winnie, eyes widening, stifles a giggle. “Relax, try to relax.” She goes to her room and returns with a bottle of Kwan Loong Medicated Oil. She applies some oil on Karen’s temples and under her nose. “Take deep breaths.”

Chow Kah and Karen try to separate but fail.

“Let me think of something else.” After considering for a moment, Winnie goes to the bathroom and gets a bucket of water.  Returning to the bedroom, she splashes the bucket of water on the twosome.

 “Nggggggggggh!” the couple shudder, muffling their screams.

But they are still stuck.  She drenches them a second time. No use. A third bucket. But the student hooker and her client are still in union.

"Aoooooooooh! Why can't it work on humans?" exclaims Winnie. "I've separated mating dogs with this method before.  No choice, but to call a doctor.”

“Get a lady doctor,” Karen says.

“No, no, no, I’ll die of shame,” Chow Kah shrieks. “Call a male doctor.”

“Male or female doesn’t matter. If I can’t get a doctor, the last resort’s a hospital ambulance!”

Chow Kah shakes his head. “Jesus! How embarrassing!”

“I’ve to go to my regular doctor now,” Winnie says. “I don’t have her number.  Better pray she wants to come.”

Thirty minutes later, Winnie returns with a female doctor who injects a muscle relaxant into Karen.  Yang and yin manage to separate.

“The patient suffered a bout of vaginal muscle spasm,” the doctor says. “Causes are psychological, such as anxiety, panic attack, or feelings of guilt during sex.”

 

When I got home, I Google “penis captivus”. Here’s what Wikipedia says about it:

 

In her memoir An Impossible Woman (1975), Graham Greene’s friend Dottoressa Elisabeth Moor recounts how she was once urgently called to the Hotel Eden-Paradiso in Anacapri, Italy. "And there I found a young German girl, in the bathtub in a pool of blood, who begged me to do what I could; I should help her as she was bleeding to death" from "a tear in the vagina". The girl had been having sex with a man and her vagina had clamped tightly around his swollen penis. In freeing his penis, the man had inflicted "a heavily bleeding tear. A very deep wound." He had then fled. After Dottoressa Moor had staunched the bleeding, she and a colleague she had summoned stitched the girl up. "She healed very well." Dottoressa Moor adds, "These cases are not as rare as you think." She mentions — though only as hearsay — "a much worse case" involving a Swiss girl and a black man that occurred in Lucerne, Switzerland, during the war and resulted in "dreadful injuries" when the man panicked: "they had got stuck inside each other. It needed two or three doctors to help to undo them.”

 

 

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