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Chapter 35
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Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 36
Lala watched the thirsty flowers wilt in the hot breeze which blew across the plum orchard plain. Sometimes she fiddled with herself when she could be bothered. Her carer now long kept her disapproving looks and gasps of shock to herself, having been told once too often that if she did not like it, she could either join in or fuck off. Nothing so much as a protracted show with a dildo, though again, if she could be bothered it would have been what she preferred, but just a mindless fiddling with her parts as she sat on the Parker Knoll and drank her vodka or gin and smoked her spliffs. Shaky Trevor had taken to coming around and joining in, largely for the free stream of drink and drugs on offer. He had even had, on one occasion, the temerity to suggest that he could provide her with his sexual services should she require them. Lala’s laughter soon disabused him of the notion, and her telling him that she would rather fuck a dead cat confirmed the futility of it. Sh
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret About the Author
About the AuthorDanny Campbell began writing articles and undertaking editorial work for Sulak Sivaraksa in the late 1990s, while living in Thailand. Sulak encouraged Danny to write, and published his numerous articles, essays, novellas, and short stories about Thailand, and one (his personal favourite) set in Aceh, Sumatra, Indonesia.The themes for these books about Southeast Asia are the struggle to survive for people living on the edge of the diminishing wilderness, their political plight, and the plight of the incredible wildlife and nature which surrounds them. A Siamese Story is a brief biography of the Thai social critic and Danny's former mentor, Sulak Sivaraksa.One of Danny's first reading loves was in the horror genre, devouring Poe, King, Herbert and others as a child, and he has recently developed a side line in writing horror shorts for the author and compiler, Samie Sands, which he enjoys very much.Danny now lives in France, and his book, A Tale of Aquita
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 1
Lala woke up, as she did most mornings, naked and shaking. A narrow sunbeam shone through the slightly open grey shutters, giving a sparkle to the old cobwebs rolled round by wind and rain. The windows swung slightly as a hot breeze blew across the plum trees on the plain below, letting in more sun, illuminating the high ceiling of the wide room. A musty, cast aside woolen blanket lay in a heap on the unvarnished wood of the herringbone floor next to the bed and its jumble of occupants.Lala closed one of her eyes in protest at the searching light. The other scoured the floor beside the bed for the glass of vodka and red bull she had started but not finished last night. It lay beside the book she had been trying to read. Graham Greene, Travels with my Aunt. She had read it once, years ago, long before her life sounded like a chapter from it and had been trying to read it again for nearly a year. She had only managed a third. She pulled her leg from under another
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 2
On market days in Monsègur, and on fine, early summer mornings before the canicule arrives and burns everything under an African sun, the locals mingle with English, French, German, American, and Dutch tourists, and those who own second homes. Then there are those, like Lala and Teddy, more firmly expatriated. Each tribe is identifiable with a little practice: the locals, farming stock, short and square and, for the men, badly dressed in nylon pullovers and royal blue work trousers, with flat caps and the occasional Basque beret covering their heads like yarmulkes or taqiyahs. Their faces, sometimes wall-eyed with glasses, all shapes of round, or sallow melting splodges like Dali paintings. The gummy, tooth few grins and scowls, reveal the plaque devouring hanging remnants of incisors, thin or thick lips clamped tightly on cigarette butts aplenty. The women make more effort with their appearance, but still clearly belong to a tribe once residing in the 70s, with burgun
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 3
There is a sign on a wall in Chateau Duras which says: During the Hundred Years War the entire inhabitants of Duras were pitilessly slaughtered by the English. Slowly, as in the ages of time all things must move, the centuries bestowed both better and worse until eventually, a concorde was signed, a handshake across La Manche, and after the shedding of so much blood during the two great wars, French and English brothers and sisters could only dream of peace. Since the 1960s and 70s the tourists arrived in a benign invasion, and many stayed, falling in love with that lush region of France once ruled by the English crown for 300 years, an era nearly long as the Romans ruled Great Britain. Duras is one of those little French towns where English seems to be spoken as much as French, especially in the long summer months when, as in Monsègur, their rosy hued faces throng the cobblestones and slender alleys, and mill about the chateau and its museum, and, of course, the obligator
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 4
Lala woke up alone, as did Teddy, while Sèdonoudè was in bed with Linda. They had spent time talking after leaving Lala to Quentin and found in each other, a growing emotion shining in their eyes. Quentin left once he had satisfied himself, but not Lala, and returned in the early hours with stinking breath to the wife with only bedclothes tucked up against her chin, to protect her from his drunken verbal assault. She breathed easier once the brute fell into a deep, snoring sleep. Billy woke, to his utter confusion, with the long, pale form of Jeremy Baden-Flogg lying next to him. Of the flood of ambivalent feelings which overcame him, the first and most stubborn was a feeling of shame. Once subsided, it was followed by a sense of relief, because he had known about this unfulfilled aspect of his sexuality for a long time. He had led a troubled life, and periods spent in young offender institutions, including as part of a gang of youths involved in the death of an old
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 5
The Port of the Moon The sun was high above the poplar trees as they drove away from Chateau Nullepart, which looked, as it always did in summer, like the fairy tale castle of naïve children’s books. Teddy put on his sunglasses and waved away the pungent smoke from Lala's spliff. He unwound the window to let the air in and the fumes out, which caused a drip of ash to fall from the dog-end in Lala's lips and leave a little smudge on her summery dress. Her shaking was better now, and though sometimes an unimportant imperfection, like a smudged dress or a smile out of place, was the kind of thing to provoke a mountain of rage, like the proverbial straw which broke the camel's back, this morning, for equally obscure chemical reasons, she was able to resist. The Girondine countryside slipped agreeably by, agreeable as all countryside vistas are, especially to those starved of them. Inversely, Lala and Teddy enjoyed the occasional trip into town. They drove along the rou
Lala's Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret Chapter 6
'But where were you, Jeremy?' Eloquentia Baden-Flogg was very unhappy. Eloquentia by name, Eloquentia by nature. 'Thomas had a dicky tummy and he threw up! There was nobody there to help me. I told you we should have made Ginny cancel her holiday. I need help with the children. There are simply too many of them.' Jeremy made all the right noises. 'But darling, Lala was having an episode. Poor Teddy was at his wits end. Look, I've brought croissants.' He waved the bag at her like a flag of truce, but Eloquentia was not for surrendering. 'That's all very well, Jeremy, but what about us? What about poor, poor Tommy poo? There was sick on the rug.' Eloquentia looked so distressed as she uttered the word 'sick', that Jeremy tried to put his arms around her. She pushed him away saying, 'I'm not finished,' and nor had she. 'It's a bit much to expect me to put up with your disappearing acts. It's bad enough that you live a double life in London. I know you have your obligations
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