Bangkok A - Chapter 4

Back in Nana, Bangkok, I had agreed to meet Phil and Sterling in a go-go bar in the upper level of the entertainment plaza. My head was stinging from the disco lights and the music but I managed to keep some composure. Sterling seemed lost for a moment in the blur of naked flesh on stage and then shot a look across the small table in front of us.

“So where do we start?” He asks.

“Tell me all you can about the girl?” I ask him.

“What’s to tell,” he says, “I met her in a bar. She spoke reasonable English, I paid the bar fine and took her to the villa”

“How old would you say that she is?”

“Well, she said that she was 25.”

“But you can’t always trust…” Phil pips in.

I stop him short “Ok skip that question. Did she have signs of having children, stretch marks?”

“I don’t quite see how that is important?” Sterling recoils back into his seat.

I lean over to him “It’s very important; if she had children and she has money in her pocket it is more than likely that she would want to be with them. Now; did she have stretch marks on her abdomen?”

“It was hard to tell in the light, but I had a feeling that she had had a baby”

“Off course she has a baby,” Phil butts in. “All bargirls have babies. If they didn’t have babies they wouldn’t be working in the bars. An ill educated divorced female from a farming community has no prospects in this country. The Thai men don’t want spoilt goods, that’s why they work the bars”

“Thanks Phil.” I add, “I am aware that most bargirls have children but there are exceptions and I should know because I’ve been with a few.” I see the startled look on Sterling’s face “Sorry Sterl didn’t mean to shoot from the hip; but what I was trying to gather, is that if she did not have children, then she could be almost anywhere in the country. If she has kids, the chances are that she will be with them, and if they are of schooling age then they shouldn’t be too difficult to find.”

Just then a go-go girl with short cropped hair, pert breasts and long legs walks over and sits down in our booth.

“Stand up.” I instruct her and she obeys revealing an immaculate image of the female body. “Take a close look Philip, does she look she has given birth?”

“This is a go-go girl, not a bargirl, there is a huge difference between the two.” Says Phil.

“And what’s the difference?”

“One has children the other doesn’t,” He snorts through his long pointed nose. “Plus about one thousand Baht.”

I tell the girl to take Prince Phil out of the bar and look after him.

“But he too old,” She whispers, “I want fucking with you.”

“Have respect for your elders,” I tell her and I pay the bar fine for the Prince.

“You think she’ll be able to keep up?” Phil asks me.

“Just take it easy with her.”

And then I watch an 84 year old man with an 18 year old, universally stunningly attractive girl, leaving the bar together through a red curtain.

I turn to Sterling who has suddenly become interested in a dancer with peroxide blonde hair and an aluminous green tongue ring that she keeps flicking out at him in a serpentine fashion. She uses two poles, one in each hand, and grinds her body flicking her hair from side to side before flipping her body over with the ease of a Russian gymnast. She lands back on her feet to a round of applause from the audience, that has suddenly doubled. Next, she leaps high into the air and lands clinging to the pole upside down, and rotates clockwise, as she slides down the bar, her beautifully mischievous face smiles between her legs. Her body is firm and supple from the nightly workout and has not one bead of sweat upon it, as she slowly rotates, and lands in the splits position. Again the crowd roars with appreciation. Her reflection can be seen from every position in the bar. The walls and ceiling are layered in mirrored tiles. Thousands of images of a blond haired dancer spinning around the mirrored walls and ceilings; tonight she is a star in the hazy Bangkok metropolis.

I turn to Sterling “It’s not hard to realise why we leave our brains behind in the West my friend, don’t blame yourself. I’ll do what I can to find her”   

Seven

I took the tourist bus down to Surat Thani and caught the ferry over the water to Nathon, Ko Samui. I jump in the back of a pick-up truck converted into a local bus and sit next to two female backpackers. The first girl has her streaky blonde hair braided and wears leather sandals coming apart at the sole. She smiles painfully as I sit down next to her. She is the type of woman who is good looking enough to make one assume that any friendly approach would be unsuitable. The second girl is Australian, pretty in a natural windswept way, and does most of the talking.

“First time to Thailand?” She asks with a don’t-worry-I’ve-been-here-before-and-know-all-about-it tone to her voice.

“Yes” I lie “just come from Bangkok, long journey” I tell her.

“We just came all the way from Chaing Mai” She looks at girl number two knowingly and then back at me “without stopping” she adds.

“No wonder you look like you are in pain,” I tell her, “with all the buses and that.”

“I reckon we are probably used it by now,” she says as that knowing look passes between her and her friend again “We did most of India by bus, six months of it.”

“Not to mention Nepal,” chips in her friend.

“And how long did it take you to do Nepal” I ask.

“India and Nepal together came to seven months and twelve days,” says the Australian.

“That’s a long time on a bus,” I tease her.

“Yes,” she says in all seriousness, “it was,” she continues “We spent two months at a retreat, you know, I want to mediate everyday but I just don’t find the time.”

A new voice “Well to mediate you must first remove the concept of ‘want’ and then remove the concept of ‘I’,” says a small man with a little beard at the back of the truck. I hadn’t noticed him before. “It’s only when you realize that there is nothing that you can do to change the situation that you are in that the real knowledge begins.” He nods slowly and then turns to the attractive girl “I can teach you some techniques if you want. Free of charge. I don’t believe in receiving money in the exchange for the enlightenment of others.” He strokes his wee beard and continues, “You see the Buddha taught us that we must clear the mind in order to find our inner truth. It is very difficult. But it can be done with the right techniques. With a clear mind we can see a tree as a tree, a rock as a rock and we can see ourselves as just an image within the whole illusion that is what we call life. Let me take you to my retreat here in Ko Samui and we can explore ourselves together.”

The girls coo with can only be described as near orgasmic delight. I have to hand it to the elf.  

The truck begins to ascend and then takes a sharp right leading down a steep decent with a ninety degree turn at the bottom. “Limia,” says the second girl studying her map. I ring the bell and jump out.

Eight

The next day I find myself in a bar in Lamia drinking a Vodka and coke with Mike, who had relocated to an establishment on the edge of the main town. The bar has five girls working who far out shine the shabby fixtures and fittings within the bar.

“Don’t ask me how I do it Joe,” he says “the nice girls always come to Mike’s bar.”

“Maybe it’s because of your personal magnetism?” I tell him with the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“What else could it be?” he retorted.

I watch one of the girls sitting at the end of the bar. She wears a pink T-Shirt with a swastika and the words “PUNK is DEAD” across it. The T-shirt terminates just below the breasts and my eyes follow the dark slender stomach and down past the tight jean shorts, generous thighs and neat slender calves. She catches my eye and points out her tongue and licks the corner of her mouth; I snap my vision back to the bar and try to regain normal heart rhythm.

“I’m looking for a girl.” I tell Mike.

“Then look no further, young man.” Says Mike with a wink, a diamond filling flickers from one of his vampire teeth. “We have only the best in here.”

“Not quite what I mean. A particular girl.” I show the photograph to Mike.

“Hmmm. Long straight dark hair, brown eyes, slim – You’re not giving me much to go on Joey boy.”

“Not one of yours then?”

“No. I don’t think so. What did you say her name was?”

“I didn’t. I can’t. If she is still here then I don’t want her to run.”

Mike looks hurt “You can’t trust your old mates then who can you trust?”

“No one. Sorry mate, I need to wrap up this case and then I am out of the game, thinking of going up country buying some land and starting a turnip farm.”

“Sound’s serious.”

“It is.” I tell him.

I finish the drink and head towards the Red Lip bar, I already had a plan worked out. I would buy out a girl and try and buy some information. No use barging in and demanding to know information. The girls would simply form a coalition and remain silent, and any bribe would have to be split between each individual girl and could prove costly.

The bar is much the same as the others. The walls rendered Breeze block and the floor tiled. A monument to Buddha stands in one corner and a picture of the king stands on the opposite wall. A pool table takes up most of the room inside. A few wicker chairs sit inside and the tables outside are filled with girls, eager to find a man, relieve him of a little cash, and leave him with a whirlwind of wonderful memories. I walk past the girls and the ‘whoops’ and ‘hey sexy man’ and so forth and straight up to the bar where a middle aged lady sits reading a book on palmistry. As she sees me sit down she lowers the book.

“Hand.” She demands and I show her my left hand.

“No. Other hand.” I show her the right and she studies it whilst looking at the book. She appears to be in deep thought as she analyses my past present and future. “I see you buying many drinks,” she tells me, “and then you pay bar fine make old lady very happy tonight.” She laughs a deep throaty smokers laugh and closes the book.

“I’ll take a Jack Coke.” I tell her and she goes about it.

“You come holiday?” She asks.

“Yes three days ago I have two weeks in Ko Samui.”

Her eyes light up.

“You come Thailand before?”

“No first time.”

Her eyes light up again.

“Where you come from?”

“England.”

Her eyes darken a little, but still remain bright.

“What your name?”

“Jack.” I tell her.

This is not polite conversation; on the contrary this is intelligence gathering for a Thai Bargirl. They like to know where you come from in order to work out your approximate wealth and willingness to give it away. Bargirls are not stupid when it comes to money. They know very well the approximate GNP of each country, balanced along with typical welfare payments and pensions. They know for example that the Scandinavian countries are often more generous than other nations as Scandinavians can quite easily live on welfare, especially in a third world country. Spanish and Italians are low on the totem pole. Israeli’s forget it. Bargirls like to know in advance how much they can potentially earn. When you are being asked where you come from, remember, it has nothing to do with any non-financial interest in your background

When you are asked how long you stay here, again this is not small talk. The time period in which you are staying in the area indicates how long they can use you as a living ATM machine. Also, if they have other boyfriends arriving in the near future, then they can plan accordingly.

The ‘Have you been to Thailand before?’ question is simply ‘How naïve are you?’ question.

Of course I answered all questioned correctly defining me as a very promising applicant. The only question that I failed to answer correctly was the one on nationality. Bargirls, in my experience, normally, as I mention, prefer Scandinavians, but if, per chance a girl in the bar could speak Swedish my cover would be blown.

I sip the Jack Daniels and watch the old bargirl go and tell the rest of the girls my credentials. They all steal glances over and it seems that the old lady is some kind of mama-san who gives the girls work on a rotation basis. I need to find the right one, not one straight from the farm, nor a hardened bargirl. I need a six month semi English speaker who was in the bar at the time of Sterlings patronage. It is taboo to take one girl out from a bar and then take another from the same bar the next day, so I have to get it right. I take a walk outside and sit on some tables to the right of where six or seven girls sit around a bucket containing Mekong coke, with several straws poking out from the bucket and into the girl’s red lips. I have an advantage inasmuch as I know enough Thai to try and gauge who the right candidate will be.

The conversation is however mundane, they all have boyfriends it would seem, and they have to weigh whether switching to the new Farang would in fact be financially beneficial. I feel a bit let down. The conversation turns to food and whose turn it is to go and get a take-away som tam salad. Time for some drastic action. I down the drink and go back to the bar and ring the bell that hangs above it. Ringing a bell in a bar in Thailand indicates that you are offering to buy everybody in the bar a drink. Suddenly all the girls rush into the bar and start placing their orders, the Mama-san quickly produces bottles of Spy cooler, Barcardi breezers and a large scotch for herself.

One girl sticks out from the crowd; she seems slightly separate from the rest but does not appear to be a newbie. I call her over and have her sit down on one of the wicker chairs facing the pool table.

“You want to play?” She says.

“Why not, yeah.”

I do not need to ask her how long she had worked in the bars as the pool table tells me all I need to know. She plays well, but with a tendency to go for the easy ball rather than think about the next shot. She tends to miss the long shots and panics at the easy balls. I surmise she had been a bargirl for around six months.

“You like this pool table?” I ask her as I line up for a shot.

“Yeah I play too much.” She says.

And then I drop it “How long you work here?”

“About 2 month, before I work cashier, now I work play pool.” she giggles.

You can always at least double how long they say they have been working, and the cashier bit is a line as tired and worn as the Mama-san that runs the place. That puts her in the Bar when Noy did a runner. She will do.

- To be continued.

© Sisterray. All rights reserved by the author.