Stickman Readers' Submissions May 11th, 2020

Welcome to the Virtual Gogo Bar, Part 2

At last the day came when Boobz n’ Bottomz Online went live. Bill hooked his laptop up to the TV screen, entered the password that Dave had given him and – wow! It was good, better than he’d dared to expect. There, ranged across the screen in HD (1020 pixels. Dave had wanted 4k, but most customers didn’t have the bandwidth). His extension speakers boomed to the car alarm techno that he hated, but set the right note for a gogo bar. The deco was top notch – glittering fairy lights criss-crossed the ceiling, their rainbow colours reflecting in the chromium poles (which none of the girls could hug because they were virtual). A mirror ball added to the sense of glamour, but the best touch was the mirrored wall at the back of the stage which reflected (virtually) every girl. They shuffled just as he remembered, barely moving, bored, tired – because, of course, they were; the girls were real, they were really dancing, and they were really tired because they were in the middle of an eight hour shift.

Tired they may be, but they looked good. Unemployed bargirls had fallen over each other to apply when they heard they could make good money without ever having to go anywhere near an old, fat, smelly farang. Pattana had picked the cream of the crop, and so they are all young, pretty and petite – the best line up Bill had ever seen in any gogo bar, ever (except perhaps for the line up in Rainbow 4 when it opened in 2005, and which was so good that, for a while, he spent more time in there than his own bar).

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He even recognised some of the girls. There was Som. He had recruited her last year when she was just 18. She had been so shy that she failed the “audition”, but was so cute he put her on stage anyway. She never really got over her shyness, and customers often complained that she was a “starfish” – but she got more lady drinks than any other girl in the bar. There was Gai – a one-girl orgy. When he auditioned her she worked him so hard that he fell asleep afterwards and was late for work – and there was Chompu, at 25, one of the oldest in the current line up. Chompu was a MILF. She needed her customers’ cash to pay for the upkeep of her baby, and was therefore very “giving” (in the hope that customers would be “giving” in their own way), so it was not surprising that she was one of his most popular girls. There were many new girls too – some of them who really did look as though they might be somebody’s kid sister – but he knew that his mamasan had had enough trouble with the Boys in Brown in the past to make sure she did a thorough ID check.

Now to try it out – but which girl to choose? Not one of the ones he knew. He’d choose a new girl so that she would interact with him like any other customer. That one – the one with the smiling face – a smile always augured well. He clicked on her image, and a moment later she was sitting in the foreground of the screen with the stage in the background. It looked as though she was sitting at a table. So far so good, though the transition from stage to table had been awkward, as the girl had just disappeared from the stage, then popped up a moment later in the foreground of the display. He must remember to ask Dave if something could be done to make it look more realistic.

Then a prompt appeared: “Buy drink?”

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He clicked on the prompt, and a message appeared showing that his account had been debited by 300 baht. Now for the chat.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“My name Da,” replied the girl.

“Where are you from?”

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“Is that where you are now?”

The girl looked confused and replied, “Mai kao jai, ka.” (“I don’t understand.”)

Bill resisted the temptation to talk to her in Thai, as he wanted to find out what the experience was like for the average customer.

“Never mind. How old are you?”


This was hard work, he reflected. In a real gogo bar it didn’t matter if there wasn’t much conversation because you could do the body talk thing – hugging, stroking, touching – and you could drink, and you could watch the dancers. Her back was to the dancers, and of course, if she turned round, all she would see would be the green background.

It was the girl who moved the conversation along – in the way that mamasan had taught her.

“We go private room?”

“OK,” said Jim, and clicked “Short Time” on the menu that said, “Pay Barfine: Short Time (20 minutes) = 3,000 ThB; Long Time (40 minutes) = 5,000 ThB.” Once again a message appeared showing that his account had been debited. At the same time, the background suddenly changed to a hotel room – another awkward transition.

Da began her strip routine. There was no need to talk now, just watch, so the language problem ceased. She took off her bra and massaged her breasts, pushing them together and leaning forward to make the most of her cleavage, and trying to lick her nipples (her breasts weren’t large enough though).

“Take your panties off,” he said.

She pretended not to understand. Already 10 minutes of his allotted 20 had gone. No time to waste.


Whether she understood or not, it was clear what he meant, and she pushed her panties down, revealing a neatly shaved cleft – pretty!

“Now rub it,” he urged.

She gave him the mystified look, so he made a motion with his hands and she began to rub her pussy.

Bill realised that he was supposed to be doing the same – that is to say, jerking off. A well trained girl would listen to his grunts and groans and time her (fake) orgasm to his – and the cybersex session would be over. He unzipped his fly and started to rub, but it just didn’t feel right. After all, had he not personally “auditioned” three of the twelve girls on stage, and could he not set himself up with the real thing with just one phone call (if he were in Thailand)? For Bill, jerking off to an image was something that losers do – those guys who couldn’t summon up the courage to break through the “mind-forged manacles” and get on a plane to Thailand.

Da had an eye on the time, even if he hadn’t, and was working her way up to her fake orgasm, rubbing her pussy vigorously and making unconvincing moaning sounds. Then another message popped up: “Go Long Time or Say Goodbye?”

He clicked on “Say Goodbye.” This was followed by a final message: “Give Taxi Tip?”

He clicked on that and found that he had been debited another 100 baht. The “taxi tip” was a customer gouging technique that real bargirls used in the real world, and Dave had decided to incorporate into the program – but Bill wasn’t sure about it. His customers knew full well that the girls were on cam at home, and it seemed to be overdoing it rather.

Anyway, it was not a bad experience overall – given that cybersex wasn’t his thing. Da had earned 1,750 baht, and the business had taken 1,650 baht, and, come to think of it, that Da had had quite a body – he’d love to get his hands on it for real. Maybe he should have asked for her phone number. Then a thought struck him – wouldn’t other customers think the same? He’d have to ask Dave if he’d covered that angle – he knew that the webcam sites did.

The display had switched back to the gogo bar, and Bill settled back to watch it, not forgetting to get another beer so that it was as close to the real thing as possible. There was Da again, back “on stage”, looking rather pleased with herself (probably thinking what she’d spend her barfine on), and there were his old “girlfriends” Chompu and Gai. Som wasn’t there, and was probably with a customer.

But what was that? Suddenly, an old lady came up to Chompu and offered her a bowl of rice. Chompu shook her head and pointed (it seemed) at the audience (she was actually pointing to her phone). A moment later, a little boy appeared, accompanied by a mangy dog which ran round Chompu’s feet, jumping up and down and barking. An argument appeared to take place, after which the old lady, the boy and the dog disappeared.

Bill guessed that Chompu had been interrupted by some family members who didn’t understand why she spent eight hours a day dancing by herself in front of a green curtain. However, the next interruption was harder to explain.

Suddenly, one of the girls was replaced by an elderly farang who was holding a large placard which read: “GIVE UP THY LEWDNESS AND FORNICATION. THE END OF THE WORLD IS AT HAND!” Obviously, some religious nutter – but how on earth did he get there? Bill reached for his phone.

“Dave? Bill here. What’s going on?”

“Security breach. Hang on.”

A moment later, the religious protestor disappeared.

“Sorry about that. Tom’s our Security Officer, but he can’t cover us 24/7. We’ll have to hire at least two more people.

“But how…?”

“We’re as leaky as a sieve. We have perverts, flashers, the lot. But don’t worry, we’re working on it.”

“What about the customer accounts…?”

“You can rest easy about that. They’re outsourced to LinePay. It’s a reputable company – rock solid security.”

“Well, thank God for that!”

“The problem’s not at our end. It’s with the girls. If they give out their password, any nutter can get on our gogo stage.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I think so. I’m going to adapt the idea of a ‘waiting room’ from Zoom. I’m going to call it a ‘changing room’. The girls will have to wait in the changing room while one of our security officers checks them out.”


“Other than that, well…”

“Well, what?”

“We’re making money hand over fist!”


To be continued… 


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