Cupid, That Motherfxxxer!
I like the beer bars purely for the conversation factor. The physical amenities of the girls are well advertised within the gogo but I often find the atmosphere in general a distraction when trying to find something deeper than a physical
wanting of the girl. For me, the beer bars offer a less stylized atmosphere letting the girls show a bit more of their conversational amenities. If she can hook me while she’s fully clothed then a rather solid first step has been achieved!
This is the reason why I was just recently sitting at the Basilisk Bar on Walking Street. In between my rival thoughts of “why in the hell am I in Pattaya again?” vs. “I love this! Why didn’t I discover Pattaya sooner
in my life!” I notice a red dot of light lead its way across the bar. Starting from the ground it traced up the backside of a bargirl, slightly curving as it contoured up her near perfect backside. It raced across the bar in a steady unwavering
fashion. Obviously being controlled by an experienced and trained hand. A hand that knew exactly where it wanted its target to land amongst the throngs of people around the bar. This red dot stopped directly over the heart of a punter just as
he was leaning in closer than close to the Isaan sweetie he’d been chatting up at the bar. With a pause of only a second the hand at the other end of the site pulled the trigger. I noticed the aftermath of the gun shot immediately. The
force of the shot caused the punter to sit straight up in his barstool. He looked his Isaan cutie straight in the eye and at her request he proceeded to order lady drinks for her, her 5 “sisters,” the mamasan, and the cashier at
the bar. At the same time he bar fined her on the spot and had already in his mind decided to pay whatever long time fee she wanted and then double it for her regardless of the quality of her services!
Forget the image of that cherubic, blonde-haired, apple cheeked, chubby infant with bow and quiver full of endless arrows; diaper slightly askew. This image of Cupid is antiquated and over-romanticized. Though still barely older than an infant, Cupid
today is a lean, fit, and well trained assassin. He expertly utilizes the latest in combat stealth gear and has the most up to date armaments and side arms at his disposal to complete his missions. He takes what he does to heart and he is not
on your side. You are his prey.
I slowly put my drink down as I backed away from the bar in a deliberate fashion. I did not want to be noticed. I did not want to be next. No longer feeling in my comfort zone due to this event I moved a few bars down within the large beer bar complex.
I reluctantly settled into the same drink, same bar games, same thoughts routine. This bar was good cover as it was 10 times more crowded than the previous bar. Paranoia eventually gave way to reality as my senses picked up movement around the
underside of the bar. The masses of people brought on by high season in Pattaya didn’t notice as a small shadowy figure moved effortlessly under the radar of everyone’s attention except mine. Due to the loud nature of the crowd of
people I couldn’t warn the next victim. Cupid was too fast anyway. He crept up behind the unsuspecting punter at close range. Close enough to stab him directly in the heart with a “Rambo” knife. This guy never had a chance.
This assault jolted the victim hard causing his very next move. A move which was to count out the 30,000 baht he was told was needed as a release fee to buy his young innocent bar girl out of the life of a whore. A life her unworldly and pure
self didn’t deserve. Watching in the background with cocky smiles on their faces were the mamasan and the Thai boyfriend of said girl. That money would be gambled away even before the girl executed her pre-planned runner later that night.
A quicker escape was needed out of this situation. I executed a swift move away from the bar but I was trapped. The hordes of mongers that filled the complex had me pinned on the terrace with my back to Pattaya Bay. I twisted and contorted my way through
them. Keeping low as I did so as to not be next. From what I had seen so far of Cupid I knew that I was triple screwed being that I was out gunned, out-witted, and out-matched. I decided to use my environment to my advantage as I was surrounded
by willing human shields.
I emerged from the complex on to Walking Street. I desperately tried to turn left to make it to Beach Road and out enemy territory but I was pushed right by the current of humanity that now filled every sq. inch of pavement on Walking Street. Panic seized
its foothold as I realized I was being pushed by an army of middle aged men even further into Walking Street, into “The Heart of Darkness;” Marlon Brando on my right, Joseph Conrad on my left. I rafted along on a slow current of
winding humanity deeper into Walking Street. This was Colonel Cupid Kurtz’s jungle for sure.
I was able to get leverage by grabbing hold of the strong bicep of a rather well built ladyboy. I hoisted myself onto the sidewalk and out of the current. The ladyboy was only 1 in a group of 6 ladyboys that were currently engaged in a circle of conversation
with some U.S. service men. It was quite obvious that these young 18 or so navy boys had no clue they were chatting up and smiling down a group of Thai men dressed as women. My attempts to look back over my shoulder were interrupted by a small
piece of metal that glinted the light of a nearby bar as it pinged to the ground between my feet. I instinctively reached down to pick it up only to realize, halfway through my effort, that it was a grenade pin. The question as to where the counterpart
was to this pin was answered when I saw an expertly lobbed grenade land in the center of the group of service men. “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country” I thought as I sprang out of my half
crouch to jump the grenade for my countrymen. Unsuccessful. The hail of shrapnel from the resulting explosion struck every seamen in the group. The carnage was widespread and with immediate effect. Pairing up, each U.S. servicemen promptly picked
the ladyboy to their liking and they sauntered off into the soi optimistically content with their choice. Their missing wallets would be paired with missing ladyboys come morning. Cupid is without humor or mercy.
I ducked into an a-go-go as my next move. Sweaty palms slipping down the large metal handles to the entrance of the club. My instinct told me that the glitz, the flashing lights, and the mass of moving girls and lurkers could provide adequate cover. The
pulsating music was so loud that it vibrated my rib cage and syncopated my heart back into a more regular beat. All I needed now were a few more gin tonics to steady the rest of my anatomy. Rain fell from various parts of the ceiling as this particular
go-go had more shower shows than any I had seen before. The one true edge these places had over beer bars. These shows never get old to me and besides, if showering were an Olympic sport then the Women’s Thai team would sweep gold in both
the Summer and Winter versions; sponsored by Viagra and Western Union of course. I had to smile to myself at that thought. That same warm smile instantly froze to absolute zero as that small figure boldly parted the beads at the front door of
the club. Confident and with a dead sneer. Cupid walked straight without fear of detection towards the large group of men fixated at seeing where their soaped up 100 baht notes would stick on what part of the even more soaped up nude stunning
Isaan goddesses that worked the suds. The multicolored lights that sped across every facet of the club distorted the shape of the AK-47 strapped to Cupid’s back as the dots of light repeatedly raced from lock to stock to barrel of that
weapon; cold and efficient like the executioner about to put that weapon to practice. Countenance unchanged as he let loose. The spray of bullets cut down the crop of men that were worshipping at the showers; making merit. The result of this cold
blooded ambush came quickly. The 100 baht notes that were being stuck to the glistened naked bodies of these upcountry angels turned into 500 and then 1000 baht notes. Bar fines soared as these were show girls and this was way before midnight.
The longer term eventual aftermath of this massacre resulted in homes being built in Korat and Nong Khai for Thai husbands, 3 motorbikes being purchased for Thai boyfriends, a Toyota Helix for a father in Surin, and a K-1 visa to the United States
for the pre-planned runner to take place in that country so that it could be financed by a pension and a divorce settlement.
Cupid is in fact wanted by Interpol as an accomplice to financial fraud and other crimes including wire fraud, marriage fraud, visa fraud, and stolen real estate. He has also been charged with misuse of beauty school payments as well as nail and makeup
class payments, grand theft motorbike, and contract murder.
Deliberation and composure tossed aside. I bolted for the exit before the last guy fell to the lathered up charms of the Isaan kind. I scrambled through the crowd outside on Walking Street. Amongst the waves upon invading waves of men that occupied every
open trench in all surrounding streets and venues. All around me I see the walking wounded. Guys who have bar fined girls just so she could go back to her own shabby room to sleep but in actuality she is sweetly fucking her Thai man that night
while the punter sleeps alone. Guys that bar fined 6 of his bar girl’s friends so they can all dine on 10,000 baht of his personal net worth that very night. Guys who were forsaking Western Union and just depositing the monthly emotional
protection money straight into the bank accounts of these farm made girls. I make a path. Forcefully pushing aside anyone that was in my way this time around to create a semblance of space. I didn’t get far though. It wasn’t so much
the eventual exhaustion that stopped me as was the realization that there is no escape. This is Thailand, Pattaya and I am already surrounded. I had already surrendered when the idea to buy my first airline ticket here became action. I may not
be able to escape but I knew I could at least control. I can decide how I want to go out rather than waiting cowering somewhere afraid of the eventual end at Cupid’s small hand.
No need to change direction. I was already subconsciously headed to my chosen end. I didn’t have to put my sweaty palms on the doors of this particular go-go. The touts always did a dependable and efficient job of opening the double metallic grey
doors simultaneously for each customer that entered “What’s Up A-Go-Go.” A magnificent touch of presentation every time I saw it might I add. It always opened up a site of clean white, sparkle, wonder, and music with a gravity
of base that fit the mood and wrapped it up like a birthday gift surprise to the men that walked through those blessed doors; like going through an enchanted wardrobe but without the lions and the witches. I don’t know what it is about
always going back to the first bar girl you ever bar fined on your first trip to Thailand. Every trip I’ve made to Thailand since has always started with me finding Nancy here. Always doing the same dance, always on the same pole, and always
recognizing me before I ordered my first gin tonic. I took her as my first bar fine ever in Thailand on my first trip and the first bar fine on every subsequent escape to the Kingdom. She leaves the guy whom she is sitting with, who turned his
back on her for a second, to confusion as to where she went as she sexes over my way and sits in my lap simultaneously as I sit in my chosen seat. She knows she can order what she wants and proceeds to not take advantage but to take the liberty
of one lady drink for herself. She is even more flawless than the first time I met her. Thereby defying and redefining the very meaning of that word. She attracts the Japanese clientele so she has that innocent Nippon look catered all over her.
She is from Bangkok so her light skin complexion plays nicely with her intended look. Smooth skin that only the abstract concept of “heaven” can be used to describe. Her long loosely curled hair lays playfully, slightly covering
her Asian but wide eyes, as curls trace between breathless form perfect breast to lay slightly across the juxtaposition of her hard flat mid-section to soft round hips; laying to rest on that lush Bermuda triangular place up between her legs that
is unadulterated rays of sunlight woven into plush silk personified. She continues to live up to the nights of humid dreams I’ve had of her since the first time I took her. I only mate with her once per trip to avoid the emotional collision
that would ensue if I knocked twice. If Cupid was going to take me then I would decide whom I would be taken for. Cupid steps in on cue, having had the touts give him the double door birthday surprise treatment as well. Odd that they notice him
too I start to think. The hostess didn’t hesitate to treat Cupid like a regular as she used her flashlight to shine a light on a seat for him, the seat that I happened to be occupying. I was bathed in her flashlight as Cupid walked my way.
Confusion as to the fact that they could not only see him but they knew him and knew him well! It took taking my eyes off of him to notice that all of the girls had their eyes on him, slight smiles on their faces as they knew what was about to
happen. Many of them held out their fingertips and lightly playfully twirled a curl or two of Cupid’s hair as he walked within their space. The dead stop recognition that they knew him morphed into my comprehension that they all worked
with him. They support him, feed him, and nurture him. They are the ones that trained him, armed him, and set him loose. They provide him with all of the “heart and soul of the farang” intel he needs to carry out his job; their bidding.
He is their instrument, not the other way around. These girls live lives they never dreamed from the funds of the emotional attachments that Cupid makes. They hold sway over us by proxy through him. It’s the girls. It has always been the
Thai girls. Nancy keeps her eyes directly on Cupid as she reverses her position to now straddle cowgirl in my lap facing me. At the same time she produces a black satin blindfold so that it can play its part in my execution. She positions a solitary
finger underneath my chin and lightly upturns my face to hers, close enough for me to feel her uneven exhalations fogging my senses. Using her leverage and experience, she settles in angling while adjusting her thighs firmly just so. Her want
directly placed and urgently pressing down on my growing need as she begins to methodically rhythmically move to slowly grind me into my seat; pinning my heart into place. As did Eve to Adam, she deftly slips the blindfold around the back of my
head to slide over my eyes. The darkening sensation of the cloth tightening around my vision is accompanied by the impression of the steel barrel of a semi-automatic pistol pressing the left center of my chest. Last words are not spoken but last
thoughts are more difficult to suppress. I wonder back to those rival thoughts I was having earlier in the evening at the Basilisk Bar before all this even started. Those rival thoughts of “why in the hell am I in Pattaya again?”
vs. “I love this! Why didn’t I discover Pattaya sooner in my life!” I feel nothing but heightened ecstasy as I am without a doubt hung with a happy smile that the latter of the two arguments has won by a landslide. The barrel
of the gun explodes…
Nicely put together!