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Draw up the chair.
Where were we?
Nearly a year ago. Three girls together on the stage; jeans and panties rolled half down, unmatchable naked ass. He never forgot.
Recently returned from some sex tourist destination or other making him seem kind of hard core.
Time had passed, it was already November, she was back in the Bar. It was only the second night. Do you believe a prostitute feels butterflies in her stomach?
“I don’t remember what I do with customer”. Muttered pensively more than once, even if libido surely wins out.
He dropped by that night alone, sitting in his usual spot, near the mirrors.
We had discussed how well Catherine knew him. She had promised but a customer is a customer. And he is rich and good-looking.
‘I dancing..He look me’..I no want..I do tinni’ gesturing looking away with a mute defiance. Then; ‘I no like he.’ Plaintively
He came again about 10 days later.
The next night she recounted somewhat incredulously;
‘He buy lady drink..I sit he..he want go long time…he want give me 1000 baht.’
I was joining her in disbelief.
"I no like long time…...I fighting he…….. many customer want give me money maak ma long time.. .. I no want……….I no like fighting customer..1000 baht’!
The figure, spat with the craft and weight of the Bar.
I nastily noted the first time the commercial creature unequivocally evident beneath the obvious damsel spirit.
She had moved off too quickly, curious eyes upon them. But not yet finished. He liked another girl, though not from that incandescent night before. She was already sitting with a customer. He came over. Spoke to her, offering a lady drink. She waved him away. He took her by the shoulder...
Just here the account was more or less petering out.
‘Lady no like he...no sit he... every lady want money Ok...but lady good tinni (tapping her head)….. lady know.’
I thought of him, and sadly of the harsh prescriptive mores of the Bar. About appearances, and how they can protect us too. Without resolution.
When I next saw him there I didn’t move over to talk, though it was hardly clear cut.
Only two more incidents; weeks later when we were sitting outside, she suddenly scrambled to hide, down behind the table; ‘Puan wife you’ she clattered warningly as I gazed along the Cowboy at the crowd, adding helplessly, ‘He with friend I go already, two time’. And knowing her vulnerabilities by now quite well, I shared the frisson of anxiety.
Then not so long ago I heard they had come again and bought more than lady drink.
Oh yes, and the last time we met was at a funeral.
© Icarus. All rights reserved by the author.
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May 20, 2008, 21:06
"Recently returned from some sex tourist destination or other making him seem kind of hard core."
"...making him seem kind of hard core." is beautiful. We've all known the guy who thinks he's hard core because he got up the courage to pay for sex. It's another line, or at least an idea, that makes me wish I'd written it. But "Recently returned from some sex tourist destination or other..." limps and hobbles like common speech.
I always read these through to the end, and there's very little in the world I have patience enough to read all the way through. But I'm always disappointed. The author asks me to pull up a chair, but then his attention drifts and his story takes unexplainable turns and at the end I'm left scratching my head and somewhat sorry I sat and listened. There's a wit behind the writing that is encouraging, a facility with words that sometimes amazes me, but ultimately there's just too much of the feeling that the author is writing for his own gratification and not mine.