That's Entertainment!

Soi Cowboy. About nine. Or maybe it was about ten.

I was a little drunk. Not a lot drunk. Just a little drunk. Drunk enough not to know what time it was but not so drunk I couldn’t walk in a straight line. Drunk enough to look at all the pretty lights and all the pretty ladies and forget this isn’t a dream. Drunk enough to imagine there was something poetic in the variety of music surging from every doorway. Drunk enough to think every chattering voice was itself a kind of music. Drunk enough to feel happy as a child at Christmas.

“Hellooo…Handsome man. Come inside please.”

“Handsome man… Have pretty ladies inside.”

“Hey Turk.”

I turned at the sound of my name and saw her. The most beautiful girl in the world. At the most beautiful girl in the world since the last most beautiful girl in the world I’d seen a couple of bars back. I struggled with my memory for a moment…What was her name… Ying. Ying.

“Ying.”

“Turk… I’m so happy I see you. Come inside my bar. Buy one drink for me or my boss yak yak yak.”

“Okay.”

I knew her. I knew I knew her. She was so beautiful with her cute heart shaped face and her gleaming smile. But aside from her name it took me a while to place her. Beauty doesn’t necessarily make you stand out in a place like this.

With both her arms wrapped around one of mine she became my sweetheart as we drifted inside the bar through an open door and black felt curtains that brushed against my face.

The bar was full of multicoloured fish and UV lights which, like Daz, turned whites whiter while turning every gin and tonic a bizarre shade of radioactive blue.

The bar was full of men all wrapped up with women who seemed to own them but they just looked like a background detail sketched in by an artist more interested in a vast array of bottles.

Ying drove me to a stool and leaned her lean body against me and leaned her sweet face close to mine so that when she spoke I could feel the Listerine purity of her words. “What you want to drink?”

“Coffee.”

“Aiii. Mai sabay luu? You sick? You don’t drink whisky.”

“Okay. You talked me into it. I’ll have a whisky if you’re having one.”

She smiled one of those big glamour page smiles and nodded. She was so fucking beautiful. Ying. How old was she? She’d been working in this bar for about ten years, maybe more, so she must have been getting on…. But she looked like an angel. And she was mine. She knew me. We knew each other well. Fuck… I was drunk; more than a little drunk. I looked at the fish and the colours of their tiny bodies were so intense I almost didn’t notice Ying’s small fingers slipping oh so delicately into my trousers.

Slipping her fingers around my cock she said “Why you not come and see me long time? I miss you tilac. Khit tung maak. Khit tung maak maak maak.” Her fingers eased underneath my dick and tinkered, gently, with my balls.

“I miss you too.” I said realising I even sounded a bit drunk.

She sighed warmly against my cheek and playfully bit my skin with her soft soft lips laying a trail towards my ear as her hand continued to massage my dick. “I want you too much,” before plunging her tongue into my ear so deep that it felt as though she was working into my brain. “I want you take me now. I want you fuck me. I want to feel this inside me.”

Feeling lightheaded I eased her hand away. She looked at me with a pout as if to say “You don’t want me?”

The drinks were on the bar and I said “Whisky maa laaow.”

“I know… You don’t love me now. That’s why you not come see me.”

“I love you just fine. But I need a drink.”

I clinked my glass against hers and we both took a drink and then, as if to show her I still loved her (even though we both knew that nobody really loved anyone here) I put my arms around her and held her hot little body close to mine watching the lights glittering in her dark dark eyes.

Holding her close it all came flooding back to me. All the times I’d been with her. I couldn’t count how many. She was irresistible and I hadn’t resisted her often.

Memory followed memory.

I was sitting on the bed looking at her pretty brown body in the mirror, her forehead all furrowed as she pinned back her hair.

Her laughing as we rolled about and I tried to tickle her.

The first moment when I slowly, tightly, eased inside her and felt her hot cunt envelop me as I watched it feeling that sense of half reality knowing this was it. This was the key moment in my life (just as all moment like this were the key moment in my life).

Lying on the bed kissing and fucking like we would only ever be with each other like this forever. Completely forgetting that she’d be doing the exact same thing with some other guy before the evening was over.

Her sighing my name during sex as if I was the only one she had ever loved ever; the only one who could ever mean a thing to her, totally professional and completely intimate at the same time.

I thought of how beautiful she tasted and how sweetly and easily she came and how, when I made her come her cunt contracted over and over again before her legs locked around my head or my waist holding me there as if we could stay like that for all time.

I knew nothing of her life. I never saw her outside the bar (we’d always used the short-time room in the back). I didn’t know if she had a husband or children. I didn’t know if her family were alive or if they knew what she did for a living. All I knew of her was this intimacy as light as air and the weird, slightly unpleasant, sensation of paying her and leaving.

Maybe it was that last thing that made it hard to think of doing it again.

She wasn’t any less beautiful than she ever was. She wasn’t any less charming or sexy.

Back in reality I was holding her close. Holding her like I loved her. I glanced and caught a glimpse of us in the mirror behind the bar. The expression I held was the expression of some guy completely convinced he was it and this was love and the whole thing seemed completely ludicrous. For a moment, just a moment, I wished I had it in me to be someone else; someone better. Ying was the perfect whore. She’d worked this same Soi Cowboy bar for years and she’d bought none of the romantic bullshit that guys spill to get women to be their special cunt. But then maybe someone was sending her money. Maybe there was a guy who was going to get her out of this life and into some nice little semi in Surbiton where she could cook and clean and smile at the neighbours who would never suggest, for one moment, that she might ever have been a whore. I could imagine being the guy who brought her home with that gleam of insane happiness that he could have a wife who looked like this and cooked like this and fucked like this and sucked his dick whenever he wanted his dick sucked like this. But I didn’t want to be him and I didn’t want anyone to be him.

The truth is I hated to think of Ying becoming some guy’s Stepford wife. She didn’t need saving and dragging off to some Suburban prison of boredom. She wasn’t a victim and she didn’t sell herself on the Soi Cowboy. She merely rented out a beautiful lie. The whole of the Soi Cowboy is about beautiful lies. Sometimes things can get pretty fucked up but at it’s best it’s just showbusiness with ejaculations, orgasms and tongues in ears. And that’s better than all that fucking crap in Farangland.

“What you think?” said Ying finishing her drink.

“Nothing.”

“I look you same you think a lot. Think too much make you headache.”

“That’s why I’m not thinking. Honest.”

“You take me room short time. If I’m not enough bar fines my boss cut my money… And I really want you to fuck me.”

I laughed and she laughed and suddenly we couldn’t stop laughing. Other people in the bar were staring at us but we were lost because we both knew that the act was blown. It didn’t matter. Even though I was paying I was acting just as much as she was and we both knew it and as long as everyone knows it what fucking harm can it do?

The laughter eventually ebbed and we were left looking at each other and it felt that maybe, just maybe, we really did know each other.

Ying slammed her empty glass on the table and said “So… You want fuck me or not?”

I slammed my glass on the table and said “Hell yes.”

© Turk Fist. All rights reserved by the author.

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