Pum

1. “Be quiet when I talk to stupid falung on cell phone”. (Pum).

I went to Pattaya as part of a group of Americans, and we settled in at the Royal Twin on Beach 2 Road. Our guide had to resolve some very typical and dysfunctional Thai efficiency problems on the condition of the rooms, once we got there. The obscenely
smiling hotel staff were placing twin beds together and saying “They tlue King-size beds like you aaask, Mistah Joseph!” — while fat yanks had the potential of falling through between them while riding and killing a tiny bargirl.
(Should that have actually have happened, some guy would be doing life at the Bangkok Hilton with his assets seized.) Unacceptable, but typical Thai quality control, welcome to the land of smiles. Our tour guide, Joe G., wasn’t at all going
to let that slide, but was (and is) relentlessly and authentically polite about it, and it got resolved.

For me, it was a welcome back call to the real Thailand so we just hung out, but some of Joe’s newbies and a veteran were steamed (-which gets you nowhere there!) So we were over at the hotel bar nursing our anatesthia: Vodka, Johnny, and Singha
– so Thai make even more money. A typical Thai-falung scene that Joe handled with aplomb, but of course it took time. (Sometimes I feel that Thailand is just like a clumsy Las Vegas, pleasure for money, as much as you can get.)

Now to Pum: Since I like the quiet end of Walking street by the Windy Inn, I often get a Thai massage just to loosen up before a night of drinking and shagging, and the place right next door was Le Petit Bergier(?), so I stopped in for a Carlsberg after
the massage. I met Pum right there at the quiet tail end of Walking Street. Pum is good looking, filled out without being plump (is it me or are they getting plumper?) and a bit feisty, sassy, direct in a way that’s both playful and serious,
just letting a man know his boundaries, even in conversation. Not very Geisha. If you’re from the States then you’d know what I’m talking about if I told you she looked like a Spanish chick who’s just slightly Asian,
a bit of that kind of build, slightly more body sauce and meat, and also taller. She didn’t overdo the whole make-up and spiked heels thing, she was freshly clean, and just wore new jeans, a full tee shirt, and had a touch of jewelry, like
a casual American woman going shopping with her kids on Sunday afternoon at Wal-mart or something, and I liked that.

She isn’t at all the concept of a subservient Asian woman; I found this out by playing pool with her at the big open-air beer bar south of the FLB for 100B a game. She doesn’t allow the money to sit on the rail as that’s a police
risk, she says (and I believe her), so of course she just puts it in her purse. Just Let That Ride. And always pays on a rare loss, she won 8 out of 12 games, usually by also sinking the cue hitting it too hard, just her lady-like aggression and
assertiveness.

We actually spent more time playing pool and eating dinners, drank or just went to sleep arm-in-arm than doing the nitty-gritty, though we did a real lot of that, and it actually meant more to me. Some nights we just went straight to sleep if one of us
wasn’t up to it, no problem, as we had nothing to prove. She slept in my arms without us even thinking of sex and falling asleep with the TV on to CNN international because this was actually what both of us wanted to do. This was after
she had a mild allergic reaction to some shrimp or mushrooms she ate when we went to dinner with Joe G. and the American crew at some dinner and stage show a little north of the Royal Twins Hotel on Beach 2.

The whole night with her really wasn’t at all like a Las Vegas “Chicken Ranch” session, and I felt more at home with her than at my real home, sleeping with her head on my chest. I mean I thought about this before falling asleep just
after she did. It was actually pleasant, beautiful, just for that, as temporary as this whole thing was, the week with her at nights, but we knew and accepted it as it was: just a week. I can honestly see why some stupid falungs do fall in love
for real, not knowing the temporary arrangement in front of their noses. I do have a picture of us in front of the FLB on my bookcase that I occasionally look at, and when I see it I just smile. No pangs of longing or anything like that, but just
a really good day on holiday. Thailand gets the workaholic out of you real quick.

Once, when being playful with her while playing pool, I deliberately sank her winning 8-ball to win it for her, — not for me, I was down three balls, and she got almost furious, like she couldn’t save her face, but I was only being playful. She
didn’t think so. For the offense, she openly demanded 100 Baht note right then and there – with her hand out and her other arm on her hip angrily, with a face both angry and just VERY slightly playful, and I handed it over like a
fucking idiot. I now think she would have had more respect if I had looked back at her hard and said NO, but she’s was really type who have handed you back her bar fine to me and left, and that thought I had immediately then. All this happened
in front of her friend Pin, the “good new and clean” lady, (but perhaps not for long, hanging with Pum), and whom I also bar fined just for her company over billiards and dinner on Walking Street. Looking back maybe I wanted Pin
there as a referee or something, I don’t know. Joe G. explained Pum’s reaction: ”Dan, it’s an Asian honor thing.”

Pum spoke English very well, but with some slight non-descript Asian accent. She was very fluent in both listening to and speaking English. It becomes interesting to note that you can clearly tell the amount of time a girl has been working and the mileage
had (I hate to think of it like that, but really now…) by their level of English. Not so strangely it did actually make me think of being absolutely damn sure of using Durex.

And I also know that Pum had some fool in England sending her money. One time when we were in the hotel lobby of the Royal Twins on our way up, as we were checking her in as a guest with her government identification card, her cell phone rang. It was
her English boyfriend calling, and she spoke more pidgin-like English: “hello baby” kind of thing, and said to “call back five minute, I with momma.” She gave me both a knowing wink and an apologetic shrug, no problem.
The check-in clerk, a Thai woman, gave us BOTH an annoyed glare, a little bit icy, and we BOTH gave her such a look back that “What the fuck’s YOUR problem, what do you care? Are you new here or something, please don’t tell
us you haven’t seen this shit before.” I know some of the civilian local Thai people just totally hate the scene and reputation and all that, especially women, but for most, it’s just a normal “business is done the
way business is done.”

We forgot he’d call back. We got up stairs, chatted, fixed a drink of Thai whiskey, undress, and are just ready to hit the bathtub together, her phone rings. “Hello teerak, I miss you, you’re the only one,” blah blah blah.
She covers the phone, gives me a look and says whispering to me “Dan, you better be quiet, or I’ll give you a shot to your naked nuts that’ll rock your world, I’m fucking serious, this is really IMPORTANT!” I
say, “I know, I know, you’re such a bitch, and she NODS. It was about MONEY! I mean some sorry-ass schmuck was actually sending her money, and she actually likes him. I was very quiet but I was holding her, when she was on the phone,
and she gives me that angry big-eye look, that very angry very serious “Your Castration Is In A Moment” look that ONLY women can give, and I take my hand off of her ass, kneeling next to her. I was trying to get into the mood, but
she really did like the guy she was on the phone with. The phone call really kind of blew it for me, took some wind out my sails, she was pulling some sort of Murphy scam on this guy. It’s kind of messed up, really kind of ridiculous, it’s
fraud betraying a man’s authentic love if she isn’t going to see him, I feel. Maybe she was going to hook up with him and leave Pattaya. She’s talking with him in English I KNOW is a somewhat slightly worse, deliberately I
think, “I thank you send money, I’m not work, you only one, momma love new pick-up truck…” Not quite that Pidgin English, maybe it got bad because she was nervous, but Geez! And a used (I assume, I hope used) pick-up
to boot??!! It looks like such a business. I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh at or cry for the sorry bastard, or that it might (in rare cases I guess) be genuine, but Pum actually had some guy out there sending her money, and I thought
that thing stopped. Stickman should have a poll how common this really is, I heard about this but never witnessed a case.

She finished up with him and gets off the phone with a “Dan, you know the deal, aren’t you from Las Vegas?” comment. (I’m actually from New York, but moving there this spring to a condo I closed on.) And about the falung phone
call, I told her no problem, it didn’t bother me. I guess it might really bother other guys, or at LEAST open their fucking eyes to say the least!! — And I would suppose it’s more often hidden. Pum was very direct and comfortable
with her “stupid falung send me money” situation.

We got to it (Thank God!); we bathed, and both massaged each other, and took our time getting to it, and it was all great. Some things during the act made me wonder, made me a bit ill at ease about how extensive her background is. I’m really glad
she did enjoy it, and that happens more often when we talked over dinner and play pool together, etc. (I mean you can’t fake it when she’s really flushed dark on the face and neck, and erect nipples, while NOT falsely wailing or
moaning, and that made me feel good.)

And she went to kiss me, not in the Thai style with rubbing faces, but she actually made OUT with me passionately, kissing completely western style during the act, open mouthed and tongues down each other’s throat like when I was in high school.
During the nasty she said, while looking at me, IN ALMOST PERFECT FUCKING ENGLISH “Dan, you’re really kind of cute, good and slim, I really do fancy you” and came – AND she used both my name and British expressions.
That bothered me. This brought me further away from coming; hey, I lasted REALLY long, and did take an Indian Viagra clone. But the whole night was very different, completely un-Asian. And that threw me.

We spoke before going to sleep, she did say that she wants to get out there to England and be with him. I reckon he wouldn’t understand her still working at all, but hey – IT’S HER FUCKING JOB AND HER INCOME and said she’s
not giving it up until she gets out there!

The demands on the lady to stop working cause this whole “send me money” racket in the cases where she actually doesn’t leave the country for him. I don’t understand why so many falungs actually expect her to stop working until
she gets there, it can be months. How could ANY guy even demand it until that point, considering how we all fucking hook up! Ladies working at the Chicken Ranch by Las Vegas have husbands, car payments, houses, kids in school. Their husband have
no problem it while they’re physically together AND MARRIED TOGETHER, and this is the United States of America we’re talking. Tell her to stop working she finally comes home to you, not before.

So when Pum said that she does indeed want to get to England to be with him, I actually believed her because she direct about everything, she’s unusually direct with a nothing-to-hide from falung attitude. It wasn’t like the lying, “Me
No Work more, My Falung Numbah Wan Solja Boi send money” kind of thing. I mean Pum told me “Dan, I’m giving up this whole fucking scene, I’m getting too sucked into this life, I’m tired of it, and my Englishman
is a good man, has money, we’ll be fine.” Good for Pum, I wish them both the best; lucky bastard’s getting a beauty and a handful.

Stickman's thoughts:

I wonder what the Brit would think about it all, if he knew? He's gotta suspect, I guess. I wonder if he reads this site?