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For Chuckwoww, (he is NOT the protagonist)


MrX

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Sit down.

 

Draw up the chair.

 

Where were we?

 

 

Nearly a year ago, Songkran about the night of forgiving, (And if I had known then I wouldn?t have and none of this be written). Three girls together on the stage; IP, jeans and panties rolled half down, with the unmatchable naked ass, cathedral to her pussy. He never forgot.

 

Recently back from some other sex tourist destination making him seem kind of hard core.

 

Time passed, it was already November, IP was just back in the Bar. It was only her second night. Still unfucked.

 

Do you believe a prostitute feels butterflies in her stomach going back after a lay-off?

She claimed them. ?I don?t remember what I do with customer?. Muttered pensively more than once, even if libido surely rules. But I digress.

 

He dropped by that night alone, sitting in his usual spot, stooled near the mirrors.

 

She knew how well Catherine knew him. It was minefield and powder keg. She had promised she wouldn?t but a customer is a customer?. And he is a scion and good-looking.

 

?I dancing?..He look me?..I no want?..I do tinni? gesturing looking away with an almost furious defiance. Then; ?I no like he.? Plaintively

 

 

He came back about 10 days later.

 

The next night she recounted somewhat incredulously;

?He buy me 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?..Romp, many customer want give me money maak ma long time.. .. I no want?.I no like fighting customer?..1000 baht!? This last, the figure, spat with all her craft and weight of the Bar.

 

I nastily noted it not wanting to; the very first time a hard-nosed commercial creature unequivocally evident beneath the obvious damsel spirit. (Moreover and incidentally; for any of you with even a flicker of interest in the narrator; he would never have survived had she gone long time as a matter of practice?.one time maybe OK? but the SMS regularly days later.....no way!)

 

 

To go on; she had moved off too quickly, curious eyes of the bar on them. But not yet finished. He also liked Miss Surin, (though probably not from that incandescent night before). She was already engaged on a love seat with a customer. He came over. Spoke to her, ignoring him. Offered to buy a drink. She waved him away. He took her by the shoulder... Just here IP?s account more or less petered out. She had said enough, but concluded. ?Lady no like he..?.no sit he... every lady want money Ok?...but lady good tinni (tapping her skull)?lady know..? I thought of him.And I thought sadly of the harsh mores-ridden stink of the Bar, against appearances, and how they can protect us too. Without resolution.

 

When I next saw him there I couldn?t move over to talk, though it was hardly clear cut.

 

 

Only two more incidents; weeks later when we were sitting outside, IP suddenly scrambled to hide, down behind the table; ?Puan mia? she clattered warningly as I gazed along the Cowboy at the crowd, adding helplessly, ?He with friend I go already, two time?. And I too, knowing her vulnerabilities by now quite well, shared with a slight frisson of anxiety.

 

Not so long ago he and the same friend were there. They bought her an invitation drink. But as to more she mustered an expensive ?no?.

 

Lastly; though this is in many ways a partial, unkind snapshot of a man, who, really, among us would cast the first stone if we include the interiors?

 

Oh and?The last time we met was at a funeral.

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