Sleepless in Bangkok

by Ian Quartermaine

  Reaching into a drawer of his well polished mahogany desk, James Chang handed Steven his new brief.

  [*] The Thai factor: always something left out, unplanned or forgotten.

  [**] Insider. Bangkok Post, 16/05/2000.

  22

  Some Business in Bangkok

  Late that afternoon as dusk was falling, Steven made his way past the Dusit Thani Hotel, on the corner of traffic clogged Rama Four. Proceeding along Silom Road towards Patpong - Bangkok’s completely open, neon lit red light district - Steven soaked up the humidity and the uninhibited atmosphere of Bangkok by night.

  Preparing for the evening’s business, market stall holders were displaying their wares. Music CDs; movies on DVD - copied direct from originals or filmed with a camcorder inside a cinema, so reproduction could range from appalling to as good as authorised release versions, so you wasted your money or got a bargain; Rolex and Cartier watches; top designer clothing. Every item of counterfeit merchandise was on offer. Thailand: the ultimate nightmare for copyright holding, mega-rich corporations in the West [*]. Even the people were for sale. Well, certain parts of the people.

  At great danger to himself, Steven negotiated his way through a maze of idiosyncratically moving vehicles as he attempted to cross the road. Switching his antennae to emergency mode - to dodge the multitude of motor bikes and tuk tuks crazily weaving their way along, across, backwards, sideways and through the ten lanes of slow moving, then suddenly without warning, speedway racing, bumper to bumper traffic - Steven took care to avoid getting killed.

  Add the mass of starlings and migrating swallows that swarm above Silom at night, and Bangkok becomes the only city in the world where you have to look in front, behind, both sides and up, to avoid being hit by something or someone [**].

  Having looked at a shop window full of exercise equipment - his reason for venturing across the road Steven cautiously crossed back through the anarchic milieux of Bangkok’s transportation nightmare, towards the streets of Patpong.

  Partaking of what passes for fresh air in Bangkok’s fume-ridden atmosphere, a sprinkling of classically beautiful bar-girls stood outside Patpong’s brightly lit night spots. Hoping to snag a farang before the night’s business officially began, they were cautiously expectant. If they were not careful, they would be expectant in other ways, too. Seeing Steven, their hopes were raised. If he could be snagged he would be shagged, and like their hopes, a part of his body would be raised!

  The Safari Bar, where tourists hunted young human game; Baby Go, Pussy Galore, Queens; whatever your taste, Bangkok would be happy to supply it - with a smile on its face. If you were aware enough to avoid being ripped off, a smile on your face, too.

  Posing provocatively in the vibrant atmosphere, two young bar-girls hustled Steven. One in a tank top and satin shorts so tight the shape of her pussy could be seen, the other in a mini dress and see-through blouse which equally left little to the imagination, the enticing financial vision of maybe two ‘short times’ plus an ‘all night’ - if they could persuade Steven to start them off early - showed on the faces of the juvenile looking sex hustlers.

  “You go with me, handsome man?” one shouted before laughing, her proposition more social than business.

  Not to be outdone, the second girl staked her claim to Steven’s body and wallet.

  “You and I make love, handsome man. My pussy very small, hers too big. Have family in village so need money. But like you very much, so give handsome man special discount.”

  “Only in Thailand would you get offered a discount for sex,” Steven thought, inwardly smiling.

  Exquisitely beautiful and looking no more than sixteen - Thai women having some kind of special elixir which keeps them looking amazingly young - the first girl hustled Steven again. “Take both of us together and make you cum twice if farang strong.”

  “How could such an innocent demeanour and that angelic young countenance know so much about the ins and outs of carnal life,” Steven silently wondered. “Her life must have been a fuck up from start to finish.”

  Lucky girl,” Steven’s thoughts added, his experience of life’s broad canvas disagreeing with the perverse, feminist, politically correct Western concept that after a million years of doing it, sex had suddenly become a form of abuse. In reality, it was the most fun you could have without laughing. That was probably why the girls always had smiles on their faces and chose fucking for money as an alternative to the drudgery of a job in a supermarket, office or factory. Or for free when they found a farang they liked. ‘The truth has many windows’, as they say in the Orient.

  Almost certainly sending part of the proceeds of each nights’ business back to their family in the countryside - in the many small villages where the majority of the Thai population live - the girls were completely uninhibited as to their profession.

  The harsh, heavily judgemental Western concept that sex equals sin, does not exist in the Orient. That was something the bigoted, insecure, intellectually challenged, hypocritical, bible-belt mentality in the West would never comprehend. Understanding people’s vulnerability and need to survive in locations where social security had no meaning, would take precedence over any accusations of sexual immorality. Prostitution or destitution, not really a hard choice. Besides, sex was fun in Thailand whether you did it for free or for finance. Hard cash for hard dicks in soft places - no one gave a shit. They had more important things on their mind - like surviving.

  “You are both so beautiful, it’s too hard for me to choose,” Steven said, phrasing his words carefully and smiling - so that neither girl lost face from his refusal to purchase their services. Simultaneously, he set up a joke.

  “Too hard? That very good for me. I like hard farang. Yes, I like handsome man very much,” the second young hustler shouted, and both girls giggled again.

  As Steven increased the distance between himself and the two girls, the youngest made a final pitch.

  “Give very special price because you handsome man. One thousand baht and I stay all night. She only give short time. Japanese man pay five thousand baht short time and cum in five minutes flat. Japanese economic fuck up cause salary man to fuck up. Thousand baht very cheap. I go with you, yes?”

  Despite their general lack of left-brain intellect, Thai people could be really clever at times. The rhythm and poetry of the girl’s assessment of contemporary Japanese culture, and the practical effects on the sex life of the salary man since the economies of the Asian Tigers went south, was pithy and succinct. A mini work of art in fact, and she had just tossed it off. Well not yet, but she certainly would be willing to do so if that was the way you got your jollies and the price was right!

  “Maybe tomorrow. Chok dee, good luck,” Steven said as he looked round, smiled and blew both girls a kiss.

  The two girls disappeared inside the bar, ready to hustle the next farang. Cocktails for two or cock up two tails. Anything or anyway you wanted.

  [*] Intellectual copyright holding corporations in the West regard producers and sellers of unauthorised CD, DVD and computer programmes in South East Asia to be reprehensible and dishonest pirates. However, as discs cost just 30 cents to produce and package - with actors and directors of movies and computer programmers rarely obtaining a royalty on sales - for mega-rich corporations to charge anything from $20 to $40 for one DVD movie and from $300 to $10,000 for the couple of discs that make up a computer programme, is probably the grossest form of robber baron capitalism. To this must be added the fact that because the minimum wage in countries such as Thailand is one fifth of that in the West, in all practical terms the cost of a movie on DVD for a Thai person is between $100 to $200. With computer programmes the cost is equivalent to $1,500 to $50,000. The intellectual effort to write and produce a book is as great as that to write a computer programme or a screenplay. Also, books costs more to manufacture than a computer disc or DVD. Yet books costs between $5 to $15 in Thailand and in the West. You also do not have to buy two b
ooks if your friend wants to read/ study it as licence holders compel you to do with a computer programme. Western corporations and particularly those in the USA, financially sponsor politicians to help them gain office. Those politicians then lobby for laws which allow big business to make robber baron levels of profit as they simultaneously turn half the world into criminals for breaking them.

  In regard to computer programmes, in developing nations where the majority cannot afford the ludicrous prices charged by mainly Western corporations for items that cost just pence to produce - even worse in Thailand, at five times the equivalent price paid in the West in real terms - education and computer literacy are effectively denied to those who need it most. If fair prices were charged at the same level as other intellectual property, such as books, DVDs, CDs and computer programme piracy would be removed overnight. Also, megarich Western corporations would then sell billions more of the products they theoretically believe they are being robbed of but are actually not because few in Thailand can afford the prices charged in the West, let alone the equivalent of five times that charged overseas. And those in big business and politics in the West actually believe intellectual copyright pirates in countries such as Thailand are the dishonest ones! Those pirates are more like Robin Hood, and too many multi national corporations practise robber baron capitalism. Again, the truth has many windows.

  [**].A rewrite of a comment made by Bernard Trink, previously long time sex and sleaze entertainment correspondent for the Bangkok Post. Now just an arrogant, self-satisfied, once a week book reviewer.

  23

  Still Giving Each Other A Hard Time

  After experimenting with how far she could get Steven’s dick down her throat, Gunn decided to let him see how far he could get his tongue inside her juvenile-sized pussy. After the experiment, they regressed to five years of age and played mothers and fathers!

  “You have a very large coy, penis,” Gunn advised as Steven lay on top of her with it inside her.

  “And you have an extremely small pussy,” Steven replied as he eased his way in slowly and gently so as not to split her apart. “In fact if your body was as juvenile in size as your little pussy, I could expect to get arrested back in the West,” he added, as Gunn sighed with pleasure.

  “It really is big,” Gunn added.

  “I’ll get a complex if you don’t stop talking about it,” Steven said, his dick and his eyes smiling. In fact if it could communicate other than by way of body language, his dick was probably laughing. At least it was having a fucking good time, and what else is there in life for a guy?

  “Don’t use one of them,” Gunn replied. “They feel so rubbery.”

  “One of what?” Steven asked.

  “A complex,” Gunn answered.

  I think you are mixing up condom and Durex,” Steven advised.

  “Whatever, I don’t like them. Give me the feel of a hard-on without any clothes on, least of all a raincoat.”

  “You can be quite funny at times,” Steven said.

  “I tell truth or not?” Gunn asked as she looked up, careful not to inhibit Steven’s rhythm.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never had a hard-on inside me with a raincoat on or without,” Steven stated. “What was that, a trick question to see if I swing both ways?”

  “Have to be careful about AIDS, that’s why ask trick question.”

  “I know someone who swings both ways. He goes with men and boys,” Steven replied, as he thought about Rupert for a split second.

  “Do you swing both ways?” he added.

  “Only with men,” Gunn replied.

  “And what did you mean by that?” Steven asked.

  Inscrutably, Gunn did not reply.

  24

  Gone, But Not Forgotten

  The following morning, only the sound of the door quietly opening intruded upon what had been something close to paradise for a guy. Although she had clearly enjoyed his presence - internally and externally - Steven did not know what Gunn really felt.

  For Steven, the sound of the door slowly opening acted like a wake up call at boot camp, and despite being completely naked, leapt toward whoever was about to enter. Before the identity of the visitor was fully revealed, Steven had already seized him in a neck lock. Despite his youth, the young bellboy almost had a heart attack. As he realised the intruder was not a terrorist, saboteur or thief, Steven released the terrified kid and attempted to calm him down.

  The short scuffle woke Gunn, who saw how succinctly Steven had taken out the intruder. “This must be my wake up call for seven o’ clock yesterday evening,” Steven groaned.

  Gunn spoke sharply to the young bellboy in Thai. Steven asked what she had said, as despite his adrenaline-driven early morning combat exercise, he was still only half awake.

  Gunn said she’d told the bellboy to knock and wait before entering a room. That farangs liked privacy and she was half farang.

  The youngster’s frightened wai provided a nonverbal gesture of apology. Gunn did her best to help him regain face by looking at the breakfast menu - which he had brought to accompany his wake up call.

  Calming down a bit, the bellboy spoke aloud as he wrote Gunn’s order on a note pad. “Cow pat [*] Amelican and nam som.” American fried rice and orange juice.

  To further banish the trauma of his near death experience at Steven’s hands, the hundred baht tip proffered brought a smile to his face. “Cop khun krap,” thank you the bellboy said as he gave Steven a more confident wai and backed out of the room.

  “Crazy boy. Not in home village now, this is expensive hotel. Should knock before enter,” Gunn told the kid as he left.

  “Perhaps we can spend the day together?” Steven suggested.

  “Have work tomorrow, not know when can see again,” Gunn said.

  Steven was surprised. He thought he’d made a positive impression on the beautiful young girl sitting beside him, but here she was offering one final day of her company as a kind of condemned man’s last breakfast.

  “Back with the airline, travelling to the other side of the globe, I suppose,” Steven semi asked. Gunn shook her head.

  “Off to see your family?” Steven enquired, attempting to unravel the complexities of the Oriental and the female mind - areas of operation his intellect could not always comprehend. He was, after all, only a man.

  “Most of my family are with Buddha,” Gunn said, killing the conversation stone dead in every sense.

  There was a strained silence as Gunn got up to use the bathroom. Returning, she commenced dressing, her mood changed.

  “If our little affair has run its course, might as well let me know. I can hire it by the hour at Patpong,” Steven said, his voice tinged with cynicism. He had been here before, with a previous Thai girlfriend.

  Despite Gunn’s almost terminal goodbye, she seemed disappointed at Steven’s similarly negative reply. “If that’s how you feel,” she finally answered, an air of regret in her tone.

  “It’s more about how you feel,” Steven countered.

  Gunn sat down on the bed beside Steven and looked into his eyes. “Have things must do from tomorrow. Not know when can see again. Why beautiful man like you feel so insecure about himself?”

  Steven was uncertain whether Gunn was getting rid of him or not, but she had captured part of his innerself and was fucking with his pheromones. He had managed to get emotionally involved, just a little. This was a dangerous and futile pastime in his line of business, likely to end in disappointment for either or both parties.

  “Give me your contact address. I’ll only be at the hotel a few days so you won’t be able to reach me.”

  Gunn’s response was an inscrutable, unfathomable look.

  Realising he was in uncharted Oriental waters, Steven decided against drawing any conclusions.

  “Was that a yes or a no?” he finally asked, when the silence became almost as long as the pauses between dialogue in early Hitchcock movies, not long after sound had been intro
duced [**].

  Eventually believing the conversation was starting to resemble the final cliffhanging minutes of a nineteen forties, ‘B’ grade serial from Monogram Pictures, Steven appended an epilogue [***].

  “Maybe we’ll meet up on another airline journey sometime in the future. I’m going back to sleep. Let yourself out.”

  Gunn stood up, a look of inscrutability on her indeterminate Oriental features. “Lord Buddha said it is important not to become too attached or the delusion of permanence can disappoint.”

  Calmly zipping up her short black dress, Gunn walked towards the door of the hotel room. “Perhaps you would like my American fried rice. It would be a pity to waste good food when so many people in the world are starving.”

  [*] Cow pat means ‘fried rice’ in Thai. Unfortunately, it translates to ‘cow dung’ in English. When asked if you would like some cow pat, you are not being invited to experience the gourmet delights of a nice hot plate of cow shit!

  [**] Only really dedicated film buffs will understand this one.

  [***] Again, only really dedicated film buffs will understand this one.

  25

  Narcotics & Hard Cockups

  A few yards from his hotel, Steven hired a tuk tuk - a small, three- wheeled, open-sided taxi just about big enough for one farang in the back seat or three Thais. Powered by an extremely noisy two stroke engine and driven by a very quiet Thai man smoking a cigarette (always), the tiny vehicle raced to Ekamai bus station as if the driver’s ass was on fire.

  Booking a seat on a blue air-conditioned coach to Pattaya - the country’s unofficial sex, drugs and rock n’ roll capital - Steven looked forward to breathing some relatively unpolluted air.

  Spending the day seeking out former military friends

  - ex-patriot Americans he’d met in fox holes and bunkers in Vietnam and the jungles of Lao - guys who preferred the relaxed atmosphere and sunnier climes of Thailand to the politically correct, psychopathically litigious climate of their home country, Steven loosened up in a location that had once been more like a frontier town in the American Wild West. A place where anything went during and just after the Vietnam War, Pattaya was now trying to gain a reputation as a family orientated holiday destination. As with many Thai schemes, lack of leftbrain intellect on the part of the planners ensured that Pattaya had ended up more like Bangkok by Sea, but with additional scams. It no longer appealed to the sexwith-everything, free spending tourist from the past, and was certainly of no interest to the conventional family unit looking for a noncontroversial holiday destination. Goodbye, Pattaya.