My Time In Thailand So Far, Part 2
I had paid the barfine in advance for a model from Amazon a go-go in Pattaya whom I hoped would turn up shortly at the Opey in Pattaya on the morning after the night before, now remembering that that my friends had inspected the goods having pulled her leopard-skin bikini aside in all directions to make sure my criteria of; 19 years old, gorgeous, no babies and tall enough to reach my earlobe with no shoes, were met. The bastards! But hey, they were looking out for me, weren’t they?
Gee lightly knocks on the door, about an hour later than agreed, and we embarrassingly exchange broad smiles and pleasantries before ordering a room service lunch, probably breakfast, for the two of us. She is 33 years old, gorgeous, has 2 babies and barely reaches my shoulder height. A Meat Loaf parody flashed by, “One out of four ain’t bad”. I was drunk at the time but have no regrets, even now. A photocopy of her ID card which she left on the bedside table confirmed her age (subtract 543 from our conventional Farangland year and you have the Thai year. 2547 – 543 = 2004). She also cheerily presented a letter from Bangkok Pattaya Hospital stamped with the present day’s date stating that she was HIV negative. Thanks pal. Doubtful of this, (it takes 3 months to incubate) but mesmerised nonetheless by a stomach which you could have played miniature pig-pong on, we leave on the newly acquired 110CC Honda Wave rental motorbike (big mistake) to collect her real sister Ead and head for the karaoke-cum-fishing park to enjoy an afternoon of total merriment.
Up to now, although I had enjoyed my time with Porn, lady’s name (see part 1), there had been a certain realistic detachment from the proceedings so far. Hedonism had agreed with me and guilt (a guilty psychopath??) had played no part in my decision making while taking advantage of the questionable situations I had placed myself in to date. Gee had only been in Pattaya for 5 weeks and told me she had had big trouble going with customers from her base in Amazon, me being her first long time ‘boyfriend’. I believe her.
She was a sensational dancer when she wanted to turn it on and she could charm the birds out of the trees as far as I was concerned. An abusive husband had left her with bad debts (warning sign maybe?) and her love for her children was clearly obvious. Her delicate personality warranted much more than the usual dismissive treatment from me. If it sounds like I’m falling into the hopeless void inhabited by so many of your other correspondents, maybe, but, with an indestructibility matched only by that of big Arnie in Terminator II, am I prepared? Let’s see.
Sleep for Thailand, eat for Thailand (7 times a day), fits the description here and short of drinking me under the table on Vodka nam som or Tequila shots, Gee’s endearing personality could only be described as that of an ideal companion who acted more like 19 than her 33 years. She didn’t want cash in hand having told her boss to shove it. I have scored big time. Treat her like the princess she is and you might be OK. I have reached near Nirvana. We shower separately and she appears, slides into the bed and removes the obligatory towel to reveal her gorgeous go-go dancer’s form, complete with a shaven pussy.
A couple of hours earlier I had been persuaded to visit the ‘Pleasure Dome’ in Soi Post Office under the pretext of buying some ‘CDs’ with my old mate A., whose cunning plan was to sneakily introduce me to the pleasures of Kamagra Jellies. Not normally needing assistance in that department of the anatomy with a girl of this stature, I figured that a bit of investigative journalism was warranted as a recreational diversion. How right he was! A small sachet of 100B blue goo induced a hard-on that Peter North would have been proud of, including the staying power to match. I’m not Kamagra’s marketing director but by fuck did we have a good time. Too good. Serious bit now…A few hours later my neck (perhaps due to our vigorous and prolonged oral session) had started to seize up and despite a luxurious massage administered by my newly beloved, I was in fucking agony. Real agony. Next day at the Pattaya International Hospital 2nd road Soi 4, I staggered up to the 3rd floor to greet the fantastic lady in Physical Therapy, having been diagnosed with a recurrence of spondylosis of the neck, most likely due to my previous oral indulgencies. Twat. The good people (no cynicism) of the P.I.H. administered hot and cold plastic bag treatment, electric pulse therapy and finished me off (I thought) with traction to the neck (the equivalent of having three 240 pound wrestlers try to wrench your head of it’s socket) for 20 minutes. Repeat that cycle for 12 days on the trot.
Masochistic love and care, I love it. Next up, on the way out after paying at the pharmacy counter, were four different coloured tablets accompanied with a small cone shaped cup full of nam plau. ‘Eat now.’ After an excruciating motosai ride back ‘home’, I then collapsed on the sofa in Rich Bar, in no condition to realise otherwise, I had swallowed, alongside analgesics, muscle relaxants and anti-inflammatories, a powerful top up of comatising sleeping pills. Goodnight Vienna. The staff and punters left me alone, assuming I was ‘tired’ from too many bevvies. Two hours, and two Lipos later and I had the place jumping to another rendition of “Whisky In The Jar” from Thin Lizzy.
Rollercoaster city described this place accurately for me and I knew, with Schwarzenegger certainty, that “I’ll be back.”
It is a roller coaster alright.