She stood outside the eel shop in Itaweon away from the crowd queuing for the Fun Park Nightclub: the women dressed in counterfeit designer clothes, the men with loafers and gold chains. Her hair was short, sharply parted on the right hand side, and she wore a dress - a fluro-yellow, mid thigh length, dress with platform boots.

What struck me was that she was alone. A sexy Korean woman alone. There didn’t seem to be an explanation.

I watched her take a mobile out from her purse and dial a number. She spoke shrilly into the receiver and then tucked the mobile back into her purse. She turned toward the eel shop window, absently touching up her hair with red-painted nails, and stopped only a metre away from me.

Probably some wealthy businessman’s mistress, I thought. Or a student. Or a hooker - you never could tell in Itaweon.

She rummaged in her purse, withdrew a packet of Esse, and popped a cigarette into her mouth. Next to her, another woman in a bare backed dress glided past in the wake of her prosperous boyfriend. Another girl stared straight ahead past the throng of people queuing; her black dilated pupils in perfect E induced rapture. A doorman listened nonchalantly to his earpiece and ushered the next lucky few through.

The woman next to me lit her cigarette. Just then her eyes caught mine. They seemed to linger, so I said:

“I wish I could do that.”

“Huh?”

“Make smoking look glamorous.”

“So what!”

She turned her face away, looking toward the approaching taxi’s that swarmed around the entrance to the nightclub. The eels stared impassively at us, as she stubbed her cigarette out on her heel. I guess I really wasn’t dressed for the occasion. I’d only gone out to buy a couple of beers at the Seven Eleven store on the corner. And then she seemed to soften. Giving me a look from the corner of her eye. Wondering perhaps she had been too harsh. At least that’s what I wanted to believe.

“Are you Marine, she said.

“Me a Marine? Christ no!”

She looked disappointed. “You’re sure?”

“Not a chance,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“So Jung, So Jung Myang.”

“Pleased to meet you So Jung, my name is Gavin. Gavin B. Huttroad.”

“You want lady Gav?”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“You want me to be your Korean girlfriend?”

“I’d love you to be my Korean girlfriend. But I don’t have much money.”

“Only 100,000 Won.”

“I definitely can’t afford that. I only came out for a couple of beers.”

She looked pensive and then she said:

“OK how about buying me a drink.”

“You sure? Where about’s?”

“In there,” She gestured toward the overflowing nightclub with a toss of her head.

“They’ll never let me in.”

“Yes they will boyfriend,” as she grabbed my hand.

Her hand in mine was cold and clammy. So Jung slipped a tin-foil wrapped present to the bouncer and together we walked inside. Inside the club House music pulsed through the floor and lasers lashed the room like a thousand electric spears. We sat on a couple of bar stools and I ordered two Manhattan’s. So Jung looked distracted and no longer held my hand. I turned to look at the woman beside me. Her face was smooth and sharp; her eyes were like two pools of water on a moonless night: they seemed to swallow my soul.

She finished her drink, placed her hand behind my neck and breathed into my ear.

“Thanks boyfriend, I have to go and talk to my girlfriend’s.” She nodded toward the posse of girls gathered on the other side of the bar.

“You want one of my girlfriends?”

“So Jung, I only want you.” I smirked. “But I make a bad boyfriend, you know I have no money.”

“OK, Korean girlfriend gotta go now.” She swung her legs of the bar stool revealing a perfect oriental thigh, pecked me on the cheek, squeezed my hand, slipped me an E wrapped in tinfoil and then she was gone.

I took the hint. I popped the little white pill emblazoned with a blue eel, chewed, and washed it down with the drink. I soon forgot all about So Jung as I swam with the crowd and beamed myself into the eel tank.