Queen of the Night
By Marc Holt
Japan Hotel Guide • Hakone Kowakien Hotel • Palace Hotel Hakone • Prince Hotel Hakone • Prince Lakeside Annex Hotel Hakone We’d been out to the teahouses in Chinatown, my Thai-Chinese mate Somchai and me. We’d chosen a girl each up on the sixth floor of one teahouse accessible only by a tiny lift that wheezed up the shaft. As we ascended I couldn’t help feeling that the lift was a symbol of what went on upstairs.
We were greeted by an old Chinese crone who cackled happily when she saw us.
“You sit.” She said. She shuffled out of a door at the back of the foyer and reappeared a moment later with two passable looking girls. I couldn’t be sure if they were Thai. They had that upcountry look about them, but their skin was light and their eyes had a distinctly upward slant.
Somchai and I nodded. These would do fine. We handed over the two hundred baht the old woman indicated by holding up two fingers. Then the girls led us to the same door they had appeared from.
We walked down a short hallway. We could hear assorted noises. A cough. A grunt. A girl groaning. Was it ecstasy or pain? No matter. My girl pointed at a curtained doorway. We had arrived.
The cubicle was tiny. Just enough room for a plastic leatherette bed, a grubby pillow, and a tiny bedside table. There was no sheet. This would be a sticky one. The walls only went up a couple of feet higher than my head, not quite meeting the old fashioned high ceiling. Any noise we made would be heard by anyone in the adjoining cubicles.
I could hear the rustle of clothes as Somchai divested. Or maybe it was his woman. It didn’t matter. That was almost enough to put me off performing. But I’d already paid so I shrugged and thought “Why not?”
There was no shower.
I hung my clothes on a nail sticking out of the wall and my selected concubine stripped quickly and lay down ready to do the deed.
The circumstances combined to produce a singularly unspectacular performance. I dressed and got out of the cubicle as fast as I could. I didn’t have long to wait before Somchai joined me in the lobby.
Somchai and I slouched out of the place downcast, chased by a chorus of Sawadee Kha’s from the old woman and the girls who had followed us out to make sure we left.
In the lift on the way down I looked at Somchai and grimaced. He did the same.
“No good, huh?”
“Nah. Not my cup of tea.” I cracked.
The attempt at humor didn’t do anything to lighten the mood.
“What next?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Let’s take a walk and see if we can find anything more interesting.
Chinatown looked forlorn, empty. The shops were all shut. The traffic was taking everyone home, or to more exciting pastures beside the river.
We walked down the road blindly. As we walked we kicked bits of discarded fruit, or paper from underfoot. The occasional rat scurried by, oblivious to us. Somchai pulled out a small bottle of Saengsom and we swigged it down, the liquor warming us up as it went down. Our mood lightened a little.
“How about we try out the night clubs over at Ratchadamnoen?”
“I’ve never been there. What are they like?”
“Remember when you were here with the military ten years ago? These clubs are still the same.”
I remembered. The clubs had their own format. You sat at a small table with a crappy Thai band scratching out Thai songs or old pop songs. The girls all sat demurely around the walls. You could hire one for a few baht to dance with you. I remembered this was the first attempt at the GFE in Thailand. While the girl was in your arms you could negotiate to take her home for the night if she didn’t have halitosis.
“Let’s go. The teahouses are a washout.”
We turned a corner, picking up speed as we anticipated the whisky and the women.
We were halfway up the block when a vision appeared out of the shadows. She was dressed simply but stylishly. The message in her eyes as they met mine was clear.
I looked at Somchai.
“You interested?”
“Not me. How about you?”
I shrugged, stopped in front of her and motioned for Somchai to keep walking.
“I’ll catch you up at The Bamboo Bar soon.”
I looked at her. She smiled and held up a single finger. One hundred baht for a quickie sounded good. I nodded.
She led me down the street to a seedy Chinese hotel. I handed over the room rental to a wizened Chinese receptionist clad in a dirty singlet and baggy khaki trousers. A sodden cigarette dangled from his nicotine stained teeth….what was left of them. He reached behind him and picked a key from the rack. He didn’t even look to see which one it was.
My lady of the night led me silently down a narrow corridor to a brown door set in a brown wall. Even the dim light cast a brown light.
She fitted the key in the lock and stepped in. She beckoned me in. I hesitated, and then thought why not? I was much bigger than her. What could she do to me? Even if she did try to drug and rob me she would get slim pickings. I only ever carried a couple of thousand in small notes with me on these forays.
The room was only slightly larger than the cubicle at the teahouse, but at least the walls went all the way up and it was private.
My companion still hadn’t said a word. She turned to face me and slowly took off her top. Her breasts, what I could see of them looked smallish but firm.
When she got down to her jeans she turned around and slid them slowly off her shapely rear, leaving her panties on. She lay face down on the bed and invited me to climb aboard.
My trousers hit the floor and I lay on top of her. She didn’t turn around so I started nibbling on her ear as I tried to get her, and myself, into the mood.
I reached around the front, but she grabbed my hand and led it down to her panties. I took the hint and pulled them down with a curious motion, keeping her legs close together. She arched her back, grabbed me and tried to guide me into her.
But there was something wrong. It didn’t feel right. Was she putting me in the right place? I reached my hand around her front and that’s when I understood what she was up to.
She wasn’t a she!
I leaped off the bed, pulled on my trousers and was halfway out the door when she spoke for the first time.
“You pay me first.”
“Bugger off darling. You don’t get paid for a charade.”
I raced out of the hotel and up the dark streets, finally reaching the Bamboo Bar a bit out of breath and desperately needing a drink.
I paused outside while I calmed down. When I was finally breathing normally I walked in the door and peered through the gloom.
Ah! There was Somchai. He was sitting with a drink in one hand and a cute little dancer in the other.
I made my way through the tables and sat down opposite him.
“That was fast.” He said.
“Yeah, she was so beautiful I couldn’t contain myself. It was over in a flash. Are you ok?” I asked to distract him from any further questions.
He nodded happily. I ordered a drink and swore to myself that I would never to pick up a streetwalker again.
