Snowing in Bali by Kathryn Bonella – Extract

Snowing in Bali

Warning: Contains explicit content

CHAPTER ONE

Island Of The Sex Gods

As the two Australian models sashayed into one of Bali’s trendy restaurants, past a table of cut-bodied surfers, they gave flirta­tious looks to one guy in particular. His six-pack abs, dazzling smile and beautiful face gave him a shiny allure. Tonight the models were out for some fun, and they’d hit the jackpot – the sexy surfer they were zeroing in on was one of Bali’s biggest cocaine dealers.

All the guys at his table were international drug bosses, out for their usual night of fine dining, drugs and girl-hunting. None of them missed the obvious come-on the models gave their friend Rafael. None was surprised, either – he was always being hit on by sexy babes. Tonight they were urging him to ask the girls over to their table, but he was being coy.

The girls weren’t. Now seated, they were flashing smiles at Rafael. Wasting no time, they sent a note scribbled on a napkin via the waiter: ‘Come to our table?’

‘Go over there, man. You’re crazy if you don’t,’ Rafael’s friends hustled.

‘Okay, okay.’ He pushed back his chair and walked across to the girls.

‘We’ve seen you on the beach at Uluwatu and think you’re hot,’ the blonde one flirted.

Rafael was used to this shameless vamping. The Island of the Gods seemed to provide a pass on arrival to relinquish usual inhibitions – the copious drugs and alcohol imbibed also turbo-charging the hedonistic free spirit, ensuring an endless smorgasbord of willing girls.

The line was big, you know . . . sometimes I have to choose; today I’m going to take this one, tomorrow this one . . . was very easy to catch girls. First I was good looking, well dressed, you know, clean. I have a kind of shining, hunter-like . . . some kind of smell or some look that attracts the girls. And I have something to make more interest . . . I can observe . . . beautiful girls, they love drug dealers. They have this fantasy to fuck the drug dealers.
– Rafael

Rafael was a woman’s fantasy – a mix of sweet and dangerous, charismatic but gentle-natured. He was a nice bad boy. Up close, it was impossible to miss the large diamond in his tooth, the €25,000 steel, black and gold Rolex wrapped around his wrist, and the tattoos across his chest and down his arms.

Tonight, as usual, he was wearing his 1-kilo gold necklace that hung below his breastbone, framed by a black Armani shirt open to the waist, flaunting his six-pack torso and large chest tattoo of a heart with wings. ‘It means my heart is free to fly wherever it wants.’ With a splash of Paco Rabanne XS his babe-luring outfit was complete, and when he walked into Bali’s bars and restaurants, heads turned, people called, ‘Rafael, Rafael’, and girls flirted like crazy.

Rafael was the boss: really rich, big car, big gold chains, tattoo on both arms, diamonds in the teeth . . . you see, he is a drug dealer, like he has a sticker ‘drug dealer’ across his forehead.
– Andre, fellow drug boss

Rafael had built a mansion on the beachfront, designed to his exact fantasy specifications, including a diving board off his upstairs bedroom balcony and an ocean vista from his bed. ‘I can see the waves from my pillow.’

He was a member of the exclusive Canggu Club, Bali’s nod to the Hamptons – a sports club with sprawling facilities, for rich expatriates or tourists staying in expensive villas with membership, to dine, play tennis, do yoga or just drink martinis under poolside umbrellas. Rafael used the gym and did drug deals over lunch.

He also had a fleet of motorbikes, including a Harley, and a car that started by pushing a button on his key before he got into it, 007-style, which was useful for quick escapes from police or women.

With his flashy toys and partying lifestyle, Rafael was conscious of registering on the police radar, but for now he was blasé and winning – both as one of the island’s top cocaine traffickers and a babe magnet. Tonight, like most nights, he had a few parties to choose from.

The two Australian models were asking him to come to their villa later. They’d just finished a four-day fashion shoot on Bali’s beaches, and wanted to party until sunrise before flying out.

‘Bring him with you, but just him,’ one of the girls said, pointing to Rafael’s friend Bras – a dark and handsome Brazilian who flew often to Bali with bags of quality marijuana from Amsterdam.

‘It’s going to be a special party, you won’t want to miss it,’ the other model said, giving a wink. Unclasping her handbag, she showed Rafael ecstasy pills and a plastic bag of cocaine, unaware there was a fair chance the drugs had actually come from him. Rafael instantly saw it was bad quality, cut and mixed, brownish in colour, unlike the pure shimmering white stuff he trafficked from Peru.

‘That isn’t too good. Hang on,’ he said, dashing off to the toilets. In front of the mirror he pulled a tiny zip lock plastic bag of half a gram of coke out of his ponytail, where he usually kept several hidden.

‘Here’s a small present,’ he said back at the table. ‘I’ll bring more to the villa tonight.’

About an hour later, he made excuses to his friends, who hated missing a party. He rode home on his Honda 750 Africa twin to grab 10 grams of coke, then met Bras at a spot they’d chosen when he discreetly told him about the party, and they sped off to the models’ villa in up-market Seminyak.

The high concrete walls outside concealed the stark beauty inside. Stepping through the large wooden doors was like entering another world. Moonlight sparkled on the large pool, the gardens were soaked in soft ambient lights, and loud rhythmic music was pumping. This was one of Bali’s rapidly spawning super-high-end luxury villas.

Rafael’s eyes shot to some vigorous splashing at the end of the swimming pool, where two people were fucking. After absorbing that for a moment, he glanced up and saw a stunning array of beautiful, semi-naked girls, coming towards him, slinking in and out of the shadows. It was as if he’d walked onto a glamorous porn movie set.

The blonde from the restaurant materialised in front of him, in a string bikini. She stretched up to place a Hawaiian-style lei around his neck, rubbing her breasts against him and running her fingers along the lei to pull him close. She kissed him hard on the mouth, then whispered, ‘Hello, baby.’ He didn’t resist. Another beautiful girl started tearing open his Armani shirt and stroking his torso, crooning, ‘Sexy body. I love your tattoos.’ Rafael glanced across to his friend Bras, who was getting the same pampering.

I was like, shit . . . how good is this.

The two girls with Rafael were becoming more horny and aggressive, thrusting themselves against him to the beat of the music, kissing his stomach, stroking his groin and undoing his jeans. ‘Come on, baby, let’s take your pants off,’ one breathed in his ear as the other pulled down his jeans. ‘Come on.’

The Don Juan was now out of his comfort zone. ‘No, please, I don’t have underwear.’

I was not feeling comfortable with the situation. I was feeling, fuck . . . you know, out of control. It became crazy . . . I have two girls kissing me, they take off their bikinis, the music was high, they jump into the pool, pull me in and they attack me a little bit. It was a very crazy situation.

Rafael wasn’t enjoying himself; rather being naked in the pool, with two sets of breasts, hands, lips and tongues rubbing against him was strangely emasculating.

Another model came to the edge of the pool and tried to push a blue ecstasy pill – popular in Bali for being super strong – into his mouth. ‘No wait, wait, I can’t take a full one,’ he insisted. ‘Come on, your friend’s already taken one. Just relax, let’s party.’

I took the ecstasy, bit it in half and put half in her mouth, but she was already high . . . sweating. Then I started to feel a bit dizzy in the pool. I say, ‘Please wait.’ The two girls were too much, they were all over me, sucking my neck, pulling my dick, hugging me, like raping me. I was a bit uncomfortable, freaked. I cannot even get hard.

So I say, ‘Wait, wait, stop, stop.’ I escape from the girls, jump out of the pool, and I see my friend was already lying down on the sun chair by the pool with three beautiful girls on top of him; one was kissing him on the mouth, another one was giving him a blow job . . . When I see that, I think, ‘Damn, what am I doing? I’m too slow. I should relax and enjoy. I should not refuse.’

I go to the table, drink some water and take a line and then, boom, I feel the ecstasy effect. I was like, ‘Whoa,’ I start getting hard, horny, excited and then I jump back in the pool and start playing with the girls. And then we all jump out and I start to kiss one, sucking her pussy, and then they suck me. Was good, you know. I was with two girls, having sex, they were kissing each other too, and then the other three girls with Bras all came onto the deck, all changing positions like a big orgy.

In the humid Balinese night air, fuelled with coke and ecstasy, combined with sexual exertion, they were all overheating, feeling hot and clammy, prompting one of the girls to stand up and suggest moving into an air-conditioned bedroom. On their way, the girls grabbed cold drinks from the fridge.

Rafael fished the coke out of his jeans and spooned generous lines on the bedside table. He loved to share his coke with hot girls, magnanimously declaring, ‘This is on me tonight.’

The models quickly enmeshed into a tangle of beautiful bodies, kissing each other, kissing Rafael, every so often breaking away to snort a line of cocaine off the bedside table, then rejoin­ing the writhing orgy. The room was filled with moans of sexual pleasure, sporadically changing to orgasmic screams. The mix of blow and pills was the perfect prescription for hot, uninhib­ited sex.

Cocaine makes people real horny, if it’s good coke. For men it’s like an aphrodisiac; men get a hard-on and don’t come, can fuck for hours. For me, the best combination was coke and ecstasy; you get sensitivity on the skin and horny and you can fuck for hours; but it’s very addictive.
– Alberto, Bali drug dealer

Rafael hadn’t stopped for two hours and was now with one girl against the wall, while the other two girls were entwined on the other side of the bed. Suddenly, he needed a break.

I was, ‘Whooof . . . I gotta go in the pool.’ I am sweating, high from the ecstasy, and haven’t stopped. I jump in the pool and feel better. Bras is still outside talking to one girl. I say, ‘Hey, Bras, come inside, man, let’s do some lines.’ He comes in, we make some more lines while the two girls are still sucking one another on the bed, ignoring us.

Two of the models were wrapped in towels, sitting on the edge of the bed taking turns to do lines. Bras politely waited for his turn, then leant over to snort a generous line – a move that would soon dramatically end the night.

I say, ‘Fuck, my friend is not well, he is starting to OD.’ I see his lips are the same colour as his skin. I say, ‘Bras, let’s drink a beer man, beer is good.’ And then he says, ‘Please, Rafael, let’s go from here. I don’t feel good. Take me to get some fresh air on the bike, man.’

I say, ‘Come on, man, I don’t want to go. I want to stay here, have a good time. Are you crazy? Take beer, take water, breathe. Come on, man.’

Then he starts to throw up and I say, ‘Fuck, let’s go to the toilet,’ and the girls were afraid, I was afraid, and then I say, ‘Guys, I go. I’m going to take him out to get fresh air on the back of the bike. I’m sorry. Ciao, ciao, bye-bye.’ . . . Escape.

After several minutes on the bike, with the night air rushing into his face, Bras started improving, but Rafael wasn’t thrilled about leaving the night unfinished.

‘Fuck, you bencong, you pussy. Why are you like this, man? Why did you take too much?’ ‘Oh sorry, sorry, but please take me home.’ Rafael had no choice. As they sped along Kuta beachfront, the sun was starting to rise across the water. There was a stillness on the streets, the witching moments of shift change between the ghosts of the night – hookers and clubbers – going to sleep and others waking up. By the time Rafael reached Bras’s room at Bali Village Resort, it was daybreak.

Weariness was now starting to hit Rafael too. He slumped onto Bras’s lounge and fell asleep, confident there’d be plenty more orgies with random sexy girls to fuck.

When you’re really fucked up on drugs, really high, you lose all inhibitions. You just feel really horny, you meet someone at a club, have chemistry, you can fuck in front of other people, you don’t care. And that’s what happened a lot. There were a lot of orgies in Bali.
– Alberto, Bali drug dealer

 

Excerpted from Snowing in Bali by Kathryn Bonella. Copyright © 2012 by Kathryn Bonella.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Pan Macmillan Australia solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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