The Brokenman Is Repaired Part 7
Late spring is when a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love and middle-aged mongers like me, head for Bangkok for a low season sojourn. As usual the “Just for men” was applied to my hair and my scrotum cleanly shaven.
Thai flight 917 deposited me at Suvarnabhumi late afternoon where a quick shuffle to Departures avoided the taxi mafia at Arrivals. In next to no time I was at the Nana Hotel to find my old pal Phillip waiting for me in the lobby. A delay with checking into my room necessitated abandoning my luggage and we repaired with all good speed to the Big Mango bar for appropriate and much needed refreshment.
We are soon joined by Ian, another of my pals, who was actually on his way to the airport. He had promised to have a quick beer with me before his departure to Blighty following a very successful business trip around Asia. He is an entertaining fellow with a fund of anecdotes and the time for his leaving passes far too quickly. He also happens to be the multi millionaire owner of the company that is my biggest customer in the UK, so it is particularly gratifying for me to see him especially in Bangkok.
By the time Phil and I had put ourselves outside a couple of cold ones and acquainted each other with our respective gossip, it was time for me to return to the Nana Hotel to check in. The process of throwing my bag on the bed showering and changing into an appropriate drinking shirt was executed with practised efficiency and within 20 minutes I was sitting in the Tilac bar in Soi Cowboy, a delightful young lady on one hand and a Heineken in the other.
I was back in my spiritual home in the salacious sois of Sukhumvit.
Phil insists we make the short journey to the Dollhouse for the happy hour and I settle down to peruse the new stock. There are a number of delicious damsels on display for our delectation but one delightful little beauty immediately captures my attention. I seem to vaguely recall her but before I can bring her to mind she descends the stage and joins me. To my great surprise she addresses me by name and gives me a smile of such intensity that it would illuminate a small auditorium. I immediately remember her as the captivating cashier from the Big Mango bar. Last year she was “I don’t go with customer” but now she was hugging the chromium pole there was no such reticence and I barfined her with indecent haste.
I had been quite taken with this charming girl in her previous incarnation and I must confess had dedicated many an evening of onanistic activity to her during my lonely nights back in the UK. A more delightful companion and a more perfect candidate to take deposit of my six months of celibacy I could not imagine. I was a very happy man as she accompanied me to breakfast the next morning.
And the answer to the burning question on all your lips is, yes! She looked absolutely wonderful in a West Bromwich Albion shirt (small youth size).
She left after breakfast allowing me to spend a leisurely day renewing my acquaintance with some of the girls in the bars along Nana Tai.
That evening as I enter the Big Mango bar I am greeted by Nick one of the owners with “Hey Phet you will never guess who is working at the Dollhouse”. My huge grin conveyed the answer more eloquently than words ever could.
I am soon joined by Phillip and Jim. The arrival of Union Hill completes the quorum and having put ourselves outside of a couple of beer Laos we repair to Soi Cowboy with minimal delay. After an hour or so in the Tilac and Dollhouse, Phil and Jim move to Rawhide whilst Union Hill and myself embark upon a tour of numerous bars along the Soi starting in the Long gun. To spend an evening with Union Hill is to see a man dedicated to his craft and at the top of his game. To witness him keeping his different paramours in each bar engaged is akin to observing a conjurer balancing saucers on sticks. By the time he departs with his chosen squeeze for the evening I am comfortably embalmed in Heineken and I return to the Nana for a much needed sleep.
Next morning before breakfast I receive a phone call from Nat, who is my oldest Thai friend, asking if I could collect her younger sister Su from the airport on Sunday night and bring her down to Pattaya with me on the Monday. I was somewhat intrigued, Su had spent a week with me a year or so ago but I thought this was a chapter of my life that had closed. Su is the type of girl men’s fantasies are made of, 24 years old, intelligent, cute as a button and delightful company. I had a wonderful week squiring her around Pattaya but I discern she regarded me principally as a father figure. Never the less the thought of spending some time with her again was a pleasing prospect.
After breakfast I make my way to the Nana’s Golden bar and am quickly joined by Lucy. She appeared genuinely pleased to see me. We are old friends and for a couple of years now I have taken her for a few afternoons. She is in her late 30s but I can see she was a great beauty in her youth. She understands the needs of a man of a certain age and I always feel comfortable in her care. I barfine her and we go promptly to my room. Our coition is usually leisurely and relaxed in deference to my fragile and ageing condition but this time there was an unusual urgency and impatience with her. She dispensed with our familiar unhurried routine, stripped me and manoeuvred me on to the bed in double quick time. Putting her fingers to her lips she told me to be quiet for a minute. She climbed aboard me, and quite literally helped herself.
Within an exceptionally short period of frenzied activity she groaned “set lao” and rolled off me. As this behaviour was totally uncharacteristic I inquired “Bloody hell Lucy what was all that about?” To which she declared she had not had a customer for six weeks. I suppose I should have felt used and violated but with that out of her system she returned to her usual composed self. We spent a typical relaxed and indolent day together. After a pleasant lunch we sat at the Nana pool and she enlightened me on the subtle differences between a boyfriend, a good friend and a good customer. I suspect I fall into the later category.
She left around 6 o’clock giving me an hour to make myself presentable. I wanted to look my best as tonight I had a date with one of my respectable ladies.
I met Emily on Thai love links over a year ago. The photo she posted suggested she was one the most beautiful women on the site certainly for a 40 year old. She held a position as a Government health officer in a city in the north of Isaan. From our correspondence I quickly ascertained she was an extremely intelligent and very strong willed lady. I had been conversing with her on and off for almost 12 months. In this time her contact followed a pattern where she would exchange notes with me daily for a couple of weeks then for a month the contact would cease. I would assume she had become engrossed with new cyberspace beaux but after a month she would resume her correspondence with me. This sequence continued until a month or so before my intended visit when her level of interest intensified.
We exchanged up to date photos which confirmed an ageless rare beauty. Despite seeing my photo she was still keen to meet and expressed a willingness to come to Bangkok to see me. As her brother lived in Bangkok she proposed her staying with him for the weekend to effect our assignation. My suggestion he join us for dinner on our initial tryst solved the ubiquitous chaperone problem. We meet in the lobby of the Nana hotel and I must declare she took my breath away on first sight. She was far more attractive in real life than even her photos intimated. We walk to the Huntsmen bar at the Landmark, my suggested venue for dinner. Although I was enthralled by this lady I felt it polite and politic to give at least equal attention to her brother. Tim was the most handsome and urbane Thai man I have met. Employed by a Western company in a senior position he had spent a few years working in northern Europe. His English was impeccable and he was amiable company. It was a wonderful evening; with her brother present Emily gave a good performance of being shy in the company of a farang and feigned a poor command of English. The food was good, the band entertaining but the biggest surprise was that her brother paid the bill despite my protestations. They left me about 10.30 giving me opportunity to take an early night which I squandered with a detour to three or four bars in the Nana Plaza on my way back.
The next morning I am woken by a phone call from Nat informing me Su was not coming after all, so I did not need to collect her. Disappointing but mai pen rai.
Emily meets me in the Nana lobby for breakfast. This is the first time I had breakfast with a girl in the Nana I hadn’t slept with. We caught the sky train for an expedition to Siam Paragon. The coy and demure act of the previous evening had disappeared and her English language ability had returned. I find many respectable Thai girls are reticent about being seen with a farang in public but she seemed very comfortable to be with me. She was a pleasure to be with and lovely to seen with. She dressed well, looked classy and the age difference between us was not too incongruous I thought we looked pretty good together. A power cut at the shopping mall prompted a return to Sukhumvit and with a heavy rainstorm looming it took little coercion to spend the afternoon in my hotel room.
That evening her brother Tim invited us to visit the home of one of their relatives. They lived in a very attractive and spacious modern style house some way out of town not far from the new airport. I was made very welcome and invited to pay homage to the spirits of the house. It was a unique opportunity for me to witness how a middle class Thai family live.
Dinner with eight of the family in a nearby restaurant later was a less than unique opportunity for the farang to pay.
Actually it was a pleasant evening but I could not fail to notice the word “farang” gratuitously peppering their conversation even though they knew my name and I was actually sitting with them. Lookpapa eloquently referred to this phenomenon in a recent submission. At the time I did not fully appreciate his point or how irritating this can be until I observed it at first hand. I asked Emily what they were saying and she informed me they were actually admiring my ability to tolerate the hot and spicy Isaan dishes we were eating.
When they drop me off at the Nana hotel we say our farewells as Emily was Isaan bound to be at work the following day. I was quite sorry to take my leave of this elegant and exquisite lady. Although I would like to think there will be subsequent chapters of this story I believe she is still “shopping” for a suitable farang guy and I probably sit about number 4 in the rankings at present.
The next morning I travel to Amat Nakhon in Chonburi to visit the Triumph motorcycle plant. My declared motive was a professional interest and a technical inquisitiveness but my real purpose was getting my face known just in case they need a castings engineer when they commission their foundry later in the year. I had booked a limo and a driver for the day; he took me from Bangkok to Amat Nakhon then later down to Pattaya. This cost 2000 baht which in the UK wouldn’t have got me the 6 mile taxi journey from Dudley to West Bromwich on a Saturday night.
In Pattaya I check in at the Opey de Place and contact Nat to let her know I am in town. A central theme in my previous submissions has been my association with Nat who was my first TGF back in 2003. Our relationship has developed over the past three years; we have become true friends and regularly keep in touch. She has acquired a rich farang patron and manages his business interests in the Kingdom for a good salary. She also owns a transport business, a property development and a small retail outlet in her own right. All her enterprises are viable and she lives a very comfortable lifestyle. Although we are no longer intimate we are good friends and I always spend some time with her on my visits to the Kingdom.
That evening my overriding priority was to find somewhere to watch the play- off finals between Albion and Derby. It was the most expensive match in the history of football, with £50 million and a place in the Premiership at stake. All of my Pattaya Albion pals were back in England watching the game at Wembley (as was my brother and eldest son).
Jameson’s bar near Nova Park was suggested as a good place to view the game. It is a little off the beaten track but a more pleasant hostelry you could not find. I phoned Nat to give her directions and tell her I had her Albion shirt, scarf, bobble hat and rattle ready for her but she was in tears, in that full on, drama queen mode that is unique to Thai girls. I could discern it was something to do with her patron refusing to leave his wife for her. As I have heard this performance several times and with far more important issues afoot I felt it expedient to leave her to it and watch the game alone.
I occupied pole position at the bar for the 9:00 kick off and the first half saw the baggies dominating play to little effect. At half time I am greeted with “I reckon you are a yam- yam”, which is the slightly less than affectionate greeting denizens of the city of Birmingham reserve for their Blackcountry neighbours. My retort that “you can tell a true Brummie by the shamrock in his turban” was greeted with a smile and a new friend was made. My new pal was a fellow in his late 30s with a most delicious and good-natured Thai wife in tow. During the conversation I remarked about the absence of a discernable Thai community in the West Midlands. He was amused and explained that in his factory in Birmingham he employed 8 Thai ladies. I took his business card for future reference in case I could help him with improving factory efficiencies. The thought of pursuing one of his female Thai employees never entered my head of course.
The second half was a major heartache with Albion losing 1 nil and kissing goodbye to the chance for premiership football next season. I received numerous phone texts from Dingles (Wolverhampton fans) along the lines of, “we know you enjoy a blow job but blowing £50 million is the most expensive blow job in history”. They did little to lighten my mood.
Too disconsolate to look for a girl I made my way back to Opey and took an early night and the chance to catch up on my beauty sleep. I was awoke at 3:00 by a phone call from Nat informing me she on her way to my hotel to see me. This caused me concern, we had not been intimate for 3 years and pragmatism suggested this change of events had disaster stamped all over it. She remarked that she had been drinking and I advised she not drive. I deflect her by arranging to meet her for lunch the next day.
The next morning I phone Materialsman, another Stickman contributor. We have regularly corresponded, he is a very sound chap and I am rather looking forward to having a beer with him. Unfortunately he was experiencing difficulties with his somewhat complicated domestic arrangements so our get together is postponed. After a leisurely breakfast I spend an hour or so perusing the young lovelies and exchanging smiles at the Royal Garden Plaza. I receive a call from Nat cancelling our lunch appointment which we rearrange for 6:00 the following evening.
That evening my exploration of Walking Street begins in Secrets bar where I renew my acquaintance with Hanna from my previous visit. She is no great beauty but a more pleasant and cheerful girl you could not hope to meet. On my previous visit I made her a gift of one of my vibrators and I had never met a girl so fascinated with a simple item of technology. I am certain she must have loosened most of the fillings in her teeth with its use. Its reputation certainly preceded me as several girls joined us and told me they had all heard about my “batt-er-ree”.
I next went to FLB to meet Ricky who as usual regaled me with the latest gossip and updated me on the political situation in the Kingdom. He also informed me of the impending Buddha day when the bars would be closed. This prompted my barfining Tina a delicious 25 year old hostess. I take her to ZAB to listen to the band and to get my biannual fix of the Eagle’s “Hotel California”. It was only when we returned to the Opey that I realised just how exquisite my companion was. She had a lovely face, a wonderful unblemished body and the most marvellous legs I have seen for years. Now I know I am no great shakes as a lover but she climaxed very quickly. I was inquisitive about this and she divulged to me that she hadn’t had a customer for over two weeks. It made me think if a superb creature like her can not get a customer for two weeks the effect of the low season was more acute than one realises.
I fully appreciate that sex equals money in the Thailand I frequent, but it is also clear that to Thai girls sex is simply a natural physical need like eating and sleeping. This is in contrast to the West where the sexual act is imbued with considerable emotional moral and social baggage. I am also becoming conscious that cunniliguistical skills and sex aids does not completely do it for them. They need a firm portion of Hampton to satisfy their needs and they need it regular and frequent. This does not auger well for men of advancing years, who are finding the lead in their pencil imperceptibly transforming from 4H to HB.
We awake for breakfast but on returning to the room decide on a day of indolent pleasure which to a Thai girl invariably means sleeping. I watch Pattaya TV which always astonishes me with its unbelievable lack of taste. It follows the police showing miscreants under arrest and accident scenes gratuitously exposing the dead bodies without any discretion or respect. At 2:00 my companion awakes refreshed and gives me a first class servicing. By 4:00 I was ready to cry uncle and was relieved when she left at 4:30 as I envisaged my demise was imminent.
She was no sooner through the door when Nat phones informing me that she was hungry and couldn’t wait till our 6:00 arrangement; she was at the Royal Plaza food hall already. More amused than annoyed I remember perpetual hunger often prompted her to eat on the way to restaurants and on the way back. I quickly showered and was with her within 30 minutes to find she had already ordered.
She had been getting more and matronly with every successive meeting but I was quite surprised to see just how big she had become. At 5 foot nothing weighing almost 80 kg, if she was African she would have been described as being of “traditional build”. I enquire what had happened to the little Nat I used to know and asked if she had eaten her. Despite this she still looked fine and her wonderful smile melted me. We have been good friends for some time and comfortable in each other's company but I did question her about her somewhat contrary behaviour this trip.
With hindsight I am probably to blame. Knowing she had some free capital from a recent transaction, a few weeks previous I had asked if she was interested in investing in a small property in the UK with me. On a couple of recent occasions she had tried to visit the UK as a tourist but had visa applications refused. The incentive for her was that it would be a base for her in the UK when she wanted to visit and for her son or sister if they wanted to study in England. To my great astonishment she countered with a demand of marriage. Wishing I hadn’t started it I had agreed to discuss it when I saw her next. I was working on the assumption it was a mere whim to annoy her patron and she had no real intention of giving up her current comfortable lifestyle. Much as I care for her I know it would not work between us.
I had not catered for the weird and perverse logic of Thai women. In our discussion over dinner I ascertain she feels she is a bird in a gilded cage and that marriage would facilitate her escape. I suggested the acquisition of a property in the UK was an investment and need not alter her current arrangements. I reiterated that I could not (and had no intention of attempting to) support her and her family to the degree her wealthy patron did.
Seeing her wearing a $5000 watch, Louis Vuitton earrings and enough gold to cast two Oscar’s statuettes, telling me that she was a poor girl who had no money gave me an interesting Insight into the Thai psyche. I concluded that the presumption that “the farang pays” is deeply entrenched in the Thai consciousness, the concept of a Thai investing in a farang venture is so alien she just could not contemplate it. Although we leave on good terms I fear I may have inadvertently but irreparably damaged our relationship.
I left her and caught a baht bus to Walking Street expecting everything to be closed. To my surprise some bars were closed all the gogo bars were open. I visit Living dolls and Super baby a Gogo but find the atmosphere is not as good as on my previous low season visits. They now appear to cater only for Asian tastes.
I end up at Angelwitch and I chat with the 4 mamasans who remember me from previous visits. I buy them each a drink and explain tonight I intended to spend a bit of money but within the next few evenings I would probably return with a girl and be more subdued. The shows are wonderful and although the show girls may not be considered beautiful, a couple of them are incredibly sexy. I have a mild obsession with the principle show girl, whenever she is on stage I have lovers balls and the most delicious fantasies about her. I was invited to participate on stage in one of the vignettes involving being tied to a bed. At the conclusion the object of my desires thanked me and planted a kiss on my cheek, I was lost forever. Next visit I really must do something about consummating my fantasy with her but first I must build up my strength. I suspect that she is man's work and I am just a boy!
I had spent about 5000 baht on drinks alone but had a wonderful evening. I make my way to the Opey as refreshed as a newt and reflected that up to that point I had still been pissing Birmingham water. I probably put myself under undue pressure trying to cram too much sex and female attention into two weeks. But at last I was relaxed and ready to start my holiday. What I needed was an old fashioned TGFE (Thai girlfriend experience) for a couple of days.
I start the evening with a wonderful steak at the Hippo restaurant in the Welkom inn complex before making my way to Walking Street. As expected all the gogos are closed so I explore Simon bar also referred to as Drinking Street. Not a place I had frequented much, the majority of the girls are mediocre but there were clearly a few gems amongst the numerous bars that constitute this interesting location. I settle at one bar, buy drinks for 3 girls and strike up a dialogue. The one girl is a striking luk krueng girl in her late 20s, she is chatty but had inherited too much of her looks and attitude from her farang father for my taste. The second girl was a pleasant little soul, very pretty in her late 20s who just sat quietly smiling at me. My preferred choice was the third girl, a fascinating little minx in her 30s who radiated sexuality. It soon became apparent I had competition for this girl from a George Michael look-alike who occupied an adjacent seat. I asked him if he planned to bar fine the lady and when he affirmed his intention I switched my attentions to girl number two. To paraphrase Steven Stills “if you can’t bar fine the one you want; horny? “Off” the one you’re with!” I enquired how much she wanted for long time and was astounded when her Lek Krueng friend interjected “she wants 3000 baht!” Before I could respond my quiet little sweetie exclaimed “No 1500 baht” it was evident she was happy with the going rate and was not going to let her friend’s misplaced enthusiasm lose her the transaction on a quiet evening. We returned to the Opey and I soon appreciate she is a sweet natured and happy girl. She has a perfect little body and a natural enthusiasm for the pleasures horizontal.
At breakfast she observed the pool with some excitement, so a visit to Mike Mall furnished her with a swim suit. She was as cheerful as I have ever seen a girl. Very attentive she embraced the TGF role with practiced ease and an eagerness I have not experienced for a while. But like many bar girls she dressed like a road accident so I took her to the Soi Bukeow market and procured a few items for her, amongst which was a little black number. A visit to a hairdressing salon augmented the makeover and she looked wonderful.
Our first port of call that evening was her bar so that her colleagues could see the transformation. I felt like Professor Henry Higgins from Pygmalion with my own Asian Eliza Doolittle. The delight she took in seeing the approval from her friends is one of the simple pleasures that define the Thailand experience for me. We go to Angelwitch and she is mesmerised by the show. True to their word the dek serve and mamasans give me personal attention and a first-rate service. I have only the highest praise for the Angelwitch. There are an unusually high number of farang women there that evening mostly with faces like a bulldog chewing a wasp. I have quite a few observations to make about the behaviour of western women in gogo bars but they will keep for a future submission. We end up in the ZAB bar to listen to music. We are entertained by a couple of boisterous but good natured Aussie guys who are on stage singing “The new kid in town”, slightly off key to the amusement of all.
At lunchtime the next day I say my farewells to my little Eliza and take a taxi back to Bangkok and the old people’s home. I have a haircut from a charming girl in a salon on Nana Tai. I was tempted to have the full face cleanse and massage but considered it would be like polishing a turd. I take a stroll to the Bus Stop for a late lunch to find it heaving with Aussies watching their Australian rules football. I enjoy the company of Aussies and Kiwis and have always found the alleged rivalry between POMs and Aussies is confined to the sporting arena. I have yet to meet an Antipodean guy in Thailand that I did not warm to. They can hold their beer, know how to enjoy themselves and never spark trouble which is more than can be said for some of my degenerate fellow countrymen I encounter when down in Pattaya.
You witness examples of the dregs of humanity in sin city but invariably the most dreadful specimens, I am afraid to admit are unfortunately British. They are the brutish products of a politically correct but morally bankrupt society, the legacy of ten years of a Britain under President Blair and his henchman Obergruppenfuhrer Brown.
I was informed by a psychologist friend of a phenomenon amongst a particular type of Neanderthal English man. When their penis withers prematurely, possibly in their mid 30s and they can not get it up, they usually buy a weapon dog like a Rottweiler or Pit bull mastiff as a substitute. So if you ever feel intimidated by a shaven headed, tattooed lout with one or two menacing dogs in tow, take comfort that in all probability his genitalia is severely atrophied.
That evening I pay my habitual and ritual visit to Angels disco to see the enchanting dance troupe. I love the simple dance routines performed by these charming young girls who so obviously enjoy their vocation. I find the hypnotic syncopated Isaan / Laos rhythms that accompany them exceedingly addictive. A tour of the Soi 4 bars ends up in one of the Hilary bars. I am engaged by a girl who claims it is her first week in the bar. I ask my farm fresh girl how much for long time to which her friend interjects she wants 4000 baht. I offer 2000 to which she agrees but I make the observation that her friend was doing her a gross disservice quoting ridiculous prices. She had a pretty face, a lovely smile but a body ravaged by childbirth. You can feel a real sympathy for the damage inflicted on these poor girls by unskilled physicians. However a starfish performance and a request for 3000 baht the next morning did little to endear her to me.
I paid my farm fresh girl off and spend a leisurely morning in the Bus stop in conversation with Kate. She is a fascinating girl in her mid 30s but she looks much older until she smiles. Her smile completely animates her face; she loses 10 years and is actually quite beautiful. Her conversation continues my research on bar girl culture by confirming some of my perceptions but surprising me with some new insights. She also intrigued me by remarking she had seen me come in the Bus stop on numerous occasions with a procession of girls. She described most of the girls I had bought in with me over the past three years with an uncanny accuracy. I was unsure what to make of this but concluded she was acutely observant.
A few hours later I repair to Booza bar on Soi 7/1 to meet Phil and Jim. I am astonished by a girl who manages to get gets 3 drinks out of Phil, a feat which is totally without precedence as Phil’s frugality is the stuff of legend. We inexorably find ourselves on Soi Cowboy. In the Dollhouse my lovely lapsed cashier tells me that the next day she is Isaan bound so I give her the bus fare. I decamp to the Rawhide with Jim for a quiet chat and an ogle at a particular beauty. Jim is a cultivated and courteous fellow of the old school and it is a real pleasure to spend time in conversation with him. In fact if you looked up “true old fashioned gentleman” in an encyclopaedia you would undoubtedly see a photograph of Jim. After an hour Jim departs to the Nana plaza and I detour to chat to a couple of old friends at Jungle Jims. I am not enamoured of this bar but there are a couple of older girls here who are interesting characters who I enjoy chatting with. It is also the venue of a remarkable episode on a previous visit concerning a cigarette end and my tender parts. Even though it was a couple of years ago, whenever I stop by the bar the incident is always referred to, even by girls I do not know. It would appear the tale has passed into legend. It was one of those incidents that even the most fervent imagination could not invent. I have related the tale in a previous epistle but to remind you I will repeat the salient points.
On that particular evening I find myself standing with my back to the bar with four girls in a circle around me. Fuelled by about six tequila slammers each they were soon directing my hand into their panties and in next to no time my trousers were opened and a couple of hands administering attention to my manhood. With a nipple between my lips, a Djim in each hand and another two being rubbed against my knees the atmosphere was quite stimulating. As events began to draw to its inevitable conclusion for some inexplicable reason one of the girls lit up a cigarette.
Unfortunately in the melee the lighted end of the cigarette gets knocked off. I watch its trajectory with impotent horror as the incandescent ember fell upon my left testicle and rolled inevitably into the fold between my underpants and my right testicle. With indescribable dread I could see the hot cinder smouldering through the material of my underpants and could smell the burning flesh. With a mixture of hysterical laughter (the girls) and blind panic (mine) I was dragged into the adjacent toilets. With a far from steady hand I carefully removed the glowing ember as a wet towel is applied to my searing scrotum. The crisis averted I relaxed and noted that during the whole episode one of the girls Joy had never once removed her hand from my penis whilst another girl Glad had kept my hand firmly secured in her panties.
On arriving at Jungle Jim's I find Joy has already been procured for the evening but I am warmly greeted by Glad. She presents the impression of a hard bitten veteran bar girl but beneath the surface she is good natured and quite soft-hearted. I always find her agreeable company. I buy her a few tequilas and am surprised that they seem to affect her and she becomes uncharacteristically affectionate to me even claiming to be feeling horny. Union Hill has a doctrine that life is too short to waste time with less than beautiful girls. Whilst I appreciate his philosophy I sometimes go off piste if a character interests me. I bar fine her and I am not disappointed. For a woman in her 40s her body was quite exceptional and the sex was relaxed and comfortable which gave me an idea. Arrangements are made accordingly.
She wouldn’t have breakfast with me as she did not want to be seen with me. I am often surprised and amused by the prim and prudish inclination of some of the girls. She confided that even now her family have no knowledge of her vocation and believe she is working in a factory.
I spend a day in aimless indolence eventually ending up in the Bus Sop. Here the enchanting Kate took the opportunity to lighten my wallet and continue my enlightenment regarding bar girl culture over a few drinks.
My evening begins in the Big Mango bar where I fortify myself with one of their wonderful burgers which are without doubt the best in Bangkok. I also reflect that it is the perfect base camp for newbies to the Nana scene. At Soi Cowboy I allow myself to be dragged into a bar I have never frequented before but finding it exclusively staffed by ugly dragons I extricate myself with uncharacteristic haste, as tonight I was on a mission.
That evening I intended to indulge myself with a brace of Bangkok bargirls in what Union Hill refers to as the “Siamese Waltz”. Although a three in a bed romp has been on my list of things to do before I meet my maker, for some time I had avoided it. A fortune teller once told me I would meet my demise in bed with two women. I have since rationalised this as she could have been referring to my 96 birthday when my care nurses are trying to get me off the bed onto my commode.
Union Hill kindly prepared a comprehensive guide for me on the dos and don’ts when embarking on this activity. I collect Glad and Joy as previously arranged. We proceed to the Nana hotel with minimal delay and things progress satisfactorily to Union Hill’s instructions. I soon realise a lifetime of abusing my body with cigarettes and beer is poor preparation for this particular activity. I was pleased with my choice of partners because they entered into the spirit of things with an enthusiasm that ensured it was fun. Three bodies in the bath tub in a Nana hotel bathroom was a thing to behold in itself and the addition of my vibrators helped lubricate events. My chosen finale to the proceedings involved Johnson’s baby oil and a joint effort by my ladies. However during their display of manual dexterity the girls begin chatting to each other totally oblivious to my presence. I am immediately struck by a vision of women in factories gossiping away whilst operating heavy machinery (ok small tools in this case) with an apparent indifference to the work. You are forcefully reminded that no matter how much you are enjoying the experience it is just a job to these girls. I interject “excuse me ladies could we cut the talk and concentrate on the task in hand?” they laugh and bring events to their inevitable conclusion. Waking up the next morning with multiple female limbs draped around you is worth the expense alone.
They both decline breakfast which is just as well as I doubted if I had the strength to lift my fork that morning. I am deliciously exhausted and spend the day in leisurely perambulation around the bars of Nana Tai. A violent altercation between a Thai man and a Thai woman at the entrance to the Nana Plaza provides an interesting diversion especially when viewed from the safety of the Golden Bar.
That evening Union Hill joins me at the Golden bar and we do our customary tour of the usual venues in Soi Cowboy but could not generate much enthusiasm. A trip to NEP is suggested to see the Mandarin bar which had allegedly been refurbished. A visit confirmed it was no different so Union Hill proposes an amble over to the Angelwitch to introduce me to Dave the Rave. He claims Dave is the only guy he knows who talks more than me and I have been known to talk a glass eye to sleep. On introduction I immediately identify Dave as a kindred spirit and we get on famously. I know the East Midlands town he originally hails from having worked there in my days as an itinerant foundryman. He declares he enjoys my writing and even quoted a couple of my lines to me which endears him to me forever. A further few drinks and we end up in the Big Mango bar far too drunk to sing. The next thing I remember was waking in my room at the Nana realising I had to prepare for my return to the UK that morning.
I anticipated my hardest task on my return to Blighty would be to explain my total lack of a suntan. However I return to find my pal Ian on his homecoming had sent enough orders for new business to keep me and the foundry busy until my next Thailand trip.
My previous submissions have contained anecdotes about my sometimes amusing, often disastrous encounters with English women. Surprisingly since my return I have only received one rejection which was from an attractive Indian lady I met at a business networking function I gate crashed.
Last week I went to an over 30s singles disco at a hotel in a nearby town. It was a terrifying experience with 50 year old white women dressed as 18 year olds. Their fat bellies hung lower than the hem of their skirts. Besides the ubiquitous tattoos many had their bodies covered with small round bruises which I took to be the result of encounters with very long barge poles. After my experience of graceful femininity in Thailand it was truly scary and I all but ran from the place.
The last time I went there was some18 months ago. On that occasion I was accosted by a quite striking if rather overblown woman in her 40s who was somewhat the worse for drink. As the night progressed her inebriation became increasingly evident and against my better judgment I was persuaded by my mate who fancied her friend, into giving her a lift home. After stopping several times for her to get out and vomit in the roadside gutter I finally deposited her at her home where her daughter gratefully took receipt of her. When I phoned her the next day to enquire of her welfare she accused me of slipping something into her drink. I enquired which particular drink I had slipped it into, was it her 18th or 19th double Vodka and Red Bull?
I have been uncommonly restless since my return. At 51 the prevailing concern remains that of “tempus fugit” the onset of time is definitely not in my favour. I am becoming increasingly conscious of the schizophrenia inherent in compensating 6 months of companionless-ness in the UK with two weeks of intense female attention in the kingdom.
I am also acutely aware of how I am perceived by my peers. Some years ago I was defined by the status of my career and my professional activities. I published technical papers in learned journals and gave lectures at prestigious conferences. I was a pillar of the community. Now I am more often than not described as that desperate tosser who goes to Thailand twice a year. I even had a Stickman reader accuse me of being “a sad old bastard who can not pull a woman in the west so comes to Asia where the girls are less selective”. It is a charge I can not easily refute.
I think I may also have the distinction of becoming the benchmark for melancholy and lost hope. A recent submission by a promising new contributor by the name of Stickblogger predicated an account of his discouraging experiences with western women with “I am not quite as disappointed as Brokenman”.
I fully expect to see a submission from someone in the future declare “my life is wretched, I am smitten by the 10 Biblical plagues of Egypt, and the four horsemen of the Apocalypse have just ridden through my house, but at least I don’t live in West Bromwich with Brokenman”.
However a sense of perspective was imparted by my youngest son who posed a quite pertinent question. If I met a woman in the UK and was presented with the choice of her or the twice yearly visits to the Kingdom, what would I do? Although somewhat academic at present I do not currently see an alternative in the desert of affection that is the UK, I do acknowledge time may eventually diminish the motivation for mongering.
However If the choice is once again becoming a beast of burden to a disappointed western woman or suffer six months of abstention for just two weeks of feeling fully alive again with the addictive delights of Thai femininity, it will come as no surprise that the latter option gets my vote every time.
Nice trip report.