Bangkok: “The Girlfriend Experience”
I awoke in a cheap guesthouse near the Chao Praya River. There was a shattered bottle of Song Bat Ha (285) Thai Whiskey on the floor of my small room. I had been walking around the room barefooted and there were bloody footprints all over the floor. One of the bloody trails led right up the wall, where apparently, I had danced on the ceiling at some point during the night. I had hunger pangs in my stomach and it was about 9 AM. That's how I knew it was time to start drinkin.'
I walked down a crooked steamy alley for some kao pad taley. The seafood fried rice I'd come to love in the 'land of smiles' since my return after a few year's absence. When I returned to my room, I checked my phone and realized that I had called the same number 17 times between last night and this morning. I couldn't help but wonder – wouldn't you? – So I picked up the phone and dialed the number one more time. A woman's voice answered the phone almost immediately "Rolo, don't ever call me again," she said, before promptly hanging up the phone. That's when it all came rushing back…
It was just another Saturday night in Bangkok. I was sick of it all, the usual haunts: Pat Pong, Nana's, Soi Cowboy. I decided to go trolling around Soi 22. A little known neighborhood soi with the same sprawl of bars and girls – minus the crowds of tourists and tuk tuks, street stalls, et al. I walked past the Otto Bar on the corner of Suhkumvit 22, a different sort of place, swimming with sharks who all wear six inch stilettos and charge 4000 baht a night – more than twice the going rate. The Otto was closed, all of the sharks had swam home.
I bent the corner onto the soi and passed a few potential bars but nothing really stood out. I kept walking when two pretty girls sitting outside of a small bar invited me inside with the customary "hello mista' welcome…" I walked into the bar and was surprised to find it empty. What was further disconcerting was that neither of the girls outside came in to sit with me. I was starting to feel like Joe Pesci's character Tommy in the movie Goodfellas, when he walks into that empty house to get made and instead gets whacked.
The air conditioner and the bartender assured me that this was the place, I took a seat and ordered a drink. The bartender brought me a Johnny Walker Red and soda, she then proceeded to get on the phone to make a call. I was almost about to leave when she showed up: a gorgeous high-heeled prostitute in a skin tight mini dress. She sat right down next to me and asked me how I was doing, as if she knew I would be there all along.
After that, things began to get a little fuzzy, she spoke English while I spoke Thai. I bought her a drink, I bought me a drink. The whiskey and the ice seemed to melt away into a conversation I've had so many times before.
"You like lady? You wanna take me with you..?"
"You Real Ladieee??"
Her huge tits and her interest in me seemed too good to be true, so we started there. I leaned into her and put my hand on her hip. I put my other hand on her thigh. I was so drunk I was about to pull a Crocodile Dundee right in the bar – that famous scene from the movie where he reaches right under a tranny's skirt and grabs it's cock. "You're not a sheela!"
She stopped me short of grabbing her panties, but not in a way that made me think there was a dick up under that skirt. She had a certain amount of dignity and class – all the Thai girls do – even the prostitutes. I wanted to wrap her up and take her to go, but I still wasn't sure. I caressed her. Her body was Latina curvy, which is almost unheard of for a Thai. I pulled her close to me, both of us sitting there on those bar stools. She cooed for me, she really wanted me to fuck her. She closed her eyes and mouthed "oooh" towards me. I put my hand under her chin, to check for an Adam's apple. She tilted her head back, revealing a perfectly soft Thai lady neck. "Ok, now we go?" She said to me, so we did.
I thought we were going to hop in a cab and head back to my cheap guest house, but my prostitute had an even better idea: we could go down the street to a short-time hotel that was right nearby. As it turns out, she couldn't wait that long to have sex with me and needed me to fuck her immediately. When we got to the short-time hotel check-in, she already knew all the rates as well as the lady who ran the place. The lady who ran the place asked me how many condoms I wanted. I paid for five. "You should have bought ten" my prostitute cooed to me again. It was quite obvious to me how much she was into me personally.
In the hotel room, there was a problem: My dick had turned into a jump-rope. It was absolutely soft and good for nothing but hopscotch. The prostitute knew a few tricks though, she wasn't gonna let a limp dick get in the way of our quality time together. She was naked and fine and eventually we figured out a way to put a wet spot on the rubber mattress of that dingy short-time hotel.
She immediately hopped into the shower to wash up. I hadn't paid her yet, and I thought about how hilarious it would be to throw on my jeans and t-shirt and just run the fuck out of there. Leave her a dumb whore in a hotel room with no money for all of her "work." Ultimately, I decided against it. Besides, I kinda liked her and she liked me. I paid my prostitute and asked her if she was hungry. As it turns out, she had worked up a bit of an appetite while getting the "jump-rope" to work right; so we made our way over to a quaint little Vietnamese restaurant in a jungle cul-de-sac across the street.
Over glass noodles and egg rolls we talked a little bit about life stuff. She had a plan about how to not be a whore anymore, I wanted to hear it, but I never did. I asked her for her phone number, she gave it to me. We left the restaurant and headed back to the bar. Outside of the bar, she turned to me and asked "what do you wanna do?" Which would imply that she still wanted to hang out. I could buy her lady drinks. She could use me for money, stuff like that. But in hindsight, I think she meant to say what are you going to do? Meaning that she was going back into the bar to be a dirty prostitute and try to pick up her second customer of the night – I should be on my way. I followed her into the bar and ordered another Johnny Walker Red and soda. She sat there quietly, she cooed for me no more. The performance was over. I walked outside for a cigarette but when I tried to walk back in, the big fat bitch bartender slammed the door in my face and shouted "bar's closed go home!!!"
Damn, I thought to myself. That was a brand new glass of Johnny Walker Red and soda. I had just paid for it and didn't even get a sip. I staggered off down the darkened soi, picked up a bottle of 285 Thai Whiskey from the corner market, and caught a taxi back to my guesthouse near the Chao Praya River.