Special Talents

Boris stared with uncommon intensity at the naked women pulling items of cutlery out of their vaginas. “This is fucking great show! This woman here, the one with the big tits, she is very talented.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Very. She’s a very talented woman.”

“It’s not just that she can get all this in her vagina. It is that she can hold it there. This is her gift.”

Boris was built like a brick shithouse or a Russian tank that looked prime to drive across some heads. He drank as though it was his profession and hated anything to interrupt his pleasure and it was frighteningly easy to interrupt his pleasure. There were two vest wearing backpackers who, after slagging off the type of people who went to go-go bars, started discussing German Expressionist Cinema.

“This two men,” said Boris in a theatrically loud voice, “is both queer. We have beautiful woman making beautiful show but this queer want to talk. I think I would like to kill him.”

All discussion was instantly cut dead and Boris continued to drink admiring the beautiful show. The backpackers finished their drinks quickly and left. Seeing this Boris smiled and said “I want to take to you to very special place. Is very special place with very special girl. You know? Whenever I come to Bangkok I come to this place.”

“What kind of special place Boris?”

“When you see you will fall in love a hundred times. The women can do anything. The kind of thing you only see on internet. Anything you want they will do. You come with me.”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of shattered.”

“Come on. Don’t be like one of these queers. This is Bangkok. You have to bang your cock or it is like you haven’t really been here.”

Boris drank his drink and went for a piss and the woman with the big tits, the talented one, shot me a longing glance. Maybe she could do anything too. Maybe she too could do the stuff you only see on the internet – whatever that was. I was tempted to go with her but, before I could give it too much serious thought, Boris was back from the bog and we were in a taxi headed for his special place.

The Lotus Bar, which is what Boris said it was called, had no writing outside and no girls to greet you. It was an unlit red door in a street of drawn shutters. Boris knocked. Nothing happened.

“Are you sure this is the right place man?”

“Trust me.”

He knocked again and a cat screamed as the door slowly opened.

“Come on,” said Boris holding the door open for me.

“Okay.” I stepped inside on a soaking wet welcome mat and saw the woman-man staring at me with deep blue contact lenses.

“He is your friend Boris?” She said in a voice deeper than mine.

“Yes. He is my friend. I tell him that if he come here he can have something he never know before.”

The creature smiled and her powder white face wrinkled into a smile. “He is very handsome,” she said, looking me in the eye. “You know… You very handsome man. I think my girls like to make you happy yes?”

Something lurched in the pit of my stomach and Boris slapped me on the back. “Yes… He is a very big ladies man.”

We walked down a flight of stairs into a room bathed in red light like a photographer’s dark room. Naked girls were slumped around the sofas lining the room as languid as heroin addicts. A girl on the stage was masturbating fiercely with a huge dildo.

Some girls launched themselves at us… “Borlees… Borlees…” One immediately kissed me on the lips while undoing my trousers and putting her fingers around my dick.

“What did I tell you…?”

The girl masturbating on the stage started to reach a fearsome climax, shuddering and shaking and finally spraying the whole bar with intermittent watery discharge.

“Ah… The warm up act is just finishing. Now for the main course.”

Two naked girls walked on the stage giggling like children and took a bow which met with a smattering of advance applause.

A naked waitress with fake looking tits and a large erect penis approached our table. “What you like to drink please?”

“Vodka for everyone,” said Boris. The ladyboy bowed. “Very good girls. Very good service tonight.”

On the stage one girl lay down still giggling while the other squatted over her face and concentrated hard before taking a liquid crap in her friend’s mouth.

“Holy fuck.”

Boris laughed and applauded as did a few other customers around the bar. I was too taken aback to react in any way at all. The girl whose mouth had just been crapped in turned from giggling to gagging. There followed some kissing and vomiting and then some reciprocal shitting. I won’t go into detail. All the way through Boris was laughing and applauding… He turned to me, even as some girl was sucking his dick, and said “Just like on the internet.”

A part of me, the part raised by a single feminist mother, wanted to leave in moral disgust but another part of me was curious to keep watching. Sick as it might seem there was something liberating about the whole show. The fact that, when it was over the two girls, having drunk each other’s shit and puked it up seemed to find the whole thing funny made it seem all right. The act was followed by girls with buckets and mops before some more standard lesbian and ping pong shows. The girl I was with seemed happy playing with my dick and at one point got down on her knees and started licking and kissing until a fountain of come sprayed in her face. This seemed to delight her in much the same way drinking shit had delighted the girls in the show.

I noticed, in my drunken state, that on one of Boris’s trips to the toilets (which were surprisingly very clean) he paid the two shit eating girls with a large bunch of notes. Maybe he paid my girl the same in order to prove that he was the best of all hosts. If so she got paid twice.

“Money can get you anything in this town,” said Boris as we staggered out drunkenly into the dawn. “Back home I do not play like this. I like to just do my business and take good care of my family. Only in Bangkok I like this one. Bangkok is number one place for holiday.”

“Yes. I guess it is.”

© Jago Turner. All rights reserved by the author.&