YimSiam Posted April 7, 2007 Report Share Posted April 7, 2007 This isnÃ¢??t really a trip report, since I was living in Thailand at the time. ItÃ¢??s more of a bar review, though I canÃ¢??t remember the name of the bar Ã¢?? itÃ¢??s closed, anyway. Do you remember Clinton Plaza? I do. The worst of the bar zones in Bangkok, but an option when you couldnÃ¢??t face another visit to Nana, Cowboy, or Patpong. This bar was half-on, half-off Sukhumvit in a cluster of beer bars not far from Clinton Plaza. Location, location, location - this place had it: on the covered alley to the 5 baht toilet, the left side. Just opposite, there was a little pharmacy whose specialty was not caring that you had no prescription. This bar used to stay open late, and even when the shades were drawn they were happy to serve the couple of cement tables on the street. At the time we thought it was the Dark Ages of Thai nightlife, the Purachai years - early closing, BiBs all around, but it just got worse. Somehow I got to know the mamasan at this bar, a sweet, fat, ugly-as-sin lady past her own bar years who pitched girls at me once she figured out what I like. IÃ¢??d sponsor a few rounds at three or four a.m. on weekends, learn some Lao, and watch the riffraff walk by until I became part of it. So one late night IÃ¢??m drinking at MamaÃ¢??s bar, and weÃ¢??re talking about Ã¢??bad farangÃ¢?? after some piss-drunk fucker came by and wanted to start an argument with me for being American. After he leaves, I tell Mama that the farang I really donÃ¢??t like are Japanese and Germans (sorry, CT, we were just having a chat, no harm meant). I hear a little voice from behind me, a Thai girl with a cold: Ã¢??WhatÃ¢??s the matter, you still have bad memories from the war?Ã¢?Â Which is funny. ItÃ¢??s clear I wasnÃ¢??t in the war, I was born 30 years later. But beyond that, this is a Thai girl who even knows that there was a war, and more than that, who was in it! Before IÃ¢??ve seen her IÃ¢??ve got a little crush on her, and when I turn around, IÃ¢??m in love. SheÃ¢??s on a stool in the corner, leaning against the closed steel screen. SheÃ¢??s got the most beautiful elegant face, doe eyes, kind of over-processed hair, and sheÃ¢??s wearing cartoon pajamas. SheÃ¢??s drinking orange juice, and sniffling into a handkerchief now and then. Mama introduces me to her, her nameÃ¢??s Nim, a bartender in a pool hall nearby (where she got her cold, from the AC the boss wonÃ¢??t let her turn down). She doesnÃ¢??t go with farang, Mama says, and Nim nods. I guess itÃ¢??s a law of nature to want what we canÃ¢??t have, and thatÃ¢??s how it was with Nim. SheÃ¢??s there, beautiful in pajamas, sniffling into her handkerchief, hardly saying a word. But sheÃ¢??s gorgeous, and IÃ¢??ve got my nightÃ¢??s project. After full employment of my jai dee wiles, testaments from mama and the girls, and maybe four orange juices, Nim agrees to go home with me Ã¢?? but just to sleep. That didnÃ¢??t turn out to be the case after all, she was fantastic in bed, long-limbed and genuinely seeming to enjoy herself. Of course, it was a novelty to have a girl come to my apartment in her pajamas, although not at all unusual to have one leave in the morning wearing my shorts and t-shirt. Afterwards I made it a habit to stop by her bar when I could, see how she was doing. There was, and still is, a part of me that thinks: if you were ever to shack up with a girl from a bar, NimÃ¢??s the one. But NimÃ¢??s not the central character here. There was a girl, Maew, that Mamasan always referred to as her daughter. I have no idea if she was or not Ã¢?? IÃ¢??d guess not, given that Maew was gorgeous, dark eyes, soft round features, while Mama wouldÃ¢??ve benefited from a layer of stucco. Maew, she was somehow just Ã¢??refinedÃ¢?? enough for Mama to half persuade me that she was just a bartender, her daughter, who didnÃ¢??t go with customers. At MamaÃ¢??s encouragement, Maew and I agreed to go on a Ã¢??dateÃ¢?Â Ã¢?? a movie, some pool, and then back to my place Ã¢?? the same one I took Nim to, if youÃ¢??re curious Ã¢?? where we screwed like a hooker and her customer. We made a date for another movie a week later. The night before I was scheduled to see Maew again was one of those nights. Back in those days Ã¢?? aside from pretending to try to date vaguely Ã¢??goodÃ¢?Â thai girls, like Maew Ã¢?? I was seeking out as much trouble as I could find. This night I was with Nang Tok-tian, little Miss Fall-Off-the-Bed, an alcoholic nympho with luscious sluttish lips, a pure Buriram nose, and a beergarden smile. She earned her nickname that night, falling wildly off the bed through no fault of my own, bumping her head in the process and breaking her glass. SheÃ¢??d done the same a few weeks before, and ever since has been Nang Tok-tian to me. SheÃ¢??s still around Angels, if you want to look her up. SheÃ¢??s a great one Ã¢?? as proven by her single-night record of seven STs in a row from the soi 7 beergarden. (She said there was time for more, but she was just too tired to keep goingÃ¢?Â¦ Yes, I felt like taking a shower when I heard this story from her, in my bed.) When Tok-tian and I woke up around noon there was still whiskey left, so we drank for a couple hours, ordered food to the room, and had a sloppy daytime fuck. I had to meet Maew in a few hours, so I rolled over to sleep off the whiskey when Fall-off-the-bed left. When I woke up, I moved the room service stuff out near someone elseÃ¢??s door (a Thai girl will always count silverware, figuring out how many ateÃ¢?Â¦), cleaned up the room, and even made the bed. By the time Maew and I came back from the movie, I was already in the doghouse Ã¢?? IÃ¢??d sobered up fine, but still had the sweet smell of booze on me, and tired eyes. I guess she decided sheÃ¢??d give me another chance and come back to my place. Hell, if I was willing to pretend she wasnÃ¢??t a bargirl, well, I was probably worth a second chance. While Maew was taking her shower, I stepped out to the balcony to pick up the glass ashtray that Tok-tian had accidentally shattered just before the sun came up (the girl is a walking disaster zone). As I stepped back into my apartment with shards of glass in hand, Maew exploded from the bathroom in a towel, livid, in her hand Ã¢?? a used condom. A girl holding a used condom is not a pretty sight; a girl holding the used condom from the last girl you fucked spells trouble no matter how you look at it. SheÃ¢??d searched the garbage in the bathroom, and hit pay dirt. Maew went wild, throwing the condom at me, throwing things around the room, calling me whatever names she could think of, finally getting dressed and storming out. From the balcony I watched her, ten storeys down, as her storm carried her out of the building and down the soi. I called and smsÃ¢??d a couple times, trying to make peace (itÃ¢??s an instinct I have), but she wouldnÃ¢??t answer. However, after resigning myself to some Indonesian MTV, the phone did ring. It was a tiny girl whose name I canÃ¢??t remember, IÃ¢??ll call her The Tongue. IÃ¢??d met her weeks before Ã¢?? near MamaÃ¢??s bar, thereÃ¢??s a connection, see, it all comes together. She told me she was a lesbian shampoo girl at a hair salon whoÃ¢??d been dumped that night by her girlfriend (one of the hairstylists), and had no place to go Ã¢?? not your typical sob story, but... I didnÃ¢??t believe the lesbian bit at first, but once in bed I was completely persuaded: it was like she didnÃ¢??t know what to do with a manÃ¢??s body, but her tongue and hands went everywhere, and she licked and sucked and licked some more until I was inside her Ã¢?? at which point she suddenly seemed pleasantly surprised, going wide-eyed and into almost embarrassingly noisy gyrations under me, and wanting to have another go the minute I finished, not seeming to understand how guys work. I believed her story then, and still do. So, The Tongue calls me half an hour after Maew left Ã¢?? a Thai lesbian near-midget, who wants to fuck a man right away. She was already in a taxi, a little drunk. How fortunes change! I made sure the guilty condom was flushed down the toilet and picked up the other remains of MaewÃ¢??s tantrum, and then The Tongue was at the door. If you want dirty stories, read Penthouse Forum. IÃ¢??ll just say that there was a period of mostly licking, then I came, we showered, and were back in bed watching a DVD (Ã¢??Luuk Thung FMÃ¢?Â as I recall Ã¢?? hey, give me a break, itÃ¢??s bad but it has Lum Yai in it, and so many othersÃ¢?Â¦). And thatÃ¢??s when the phone rang again, breaking the mellow postcoital glow. ItÃ¢??s Maew. SheÃ¢??s been drinking with Mama for a couple hours, and obviously Mama has persuaded her to come back and give me chance #3. IÃ¢??m begging her not to come back, telling her IÃ¢??m asleep, that I have to be up early, that IÃ¢??m a no good farang and she should stay away, but she says we have to talk, that she knows I have a good heart, etc, etc... Ã¢??We have to talkÃ¢?Â can mean different thingsÃ¢?? if your boss says it, it means bad news, surely. But when Maew says it, it means, Ã¢??I have to get into your apartment to conquer you with this hot little Thai body that I have.Ã¢?Â I eventually realize sheÃ¢??s going to come no matter what I say, and I donÃ¢??t know what to do about The Tongue Ã¢?? if Maew went ballistic over a used condom in the trash, whatÃ¢??s she going to do when she sees my hot little cunnilinguist curled up with me? Well, a few possibilities did flash through my mind, but I thought better of trying to talk them into a threesome... The TongueÃ¢??s been listening to my desperate calls and realizes that trouble is on the way. She asks if she should leave and I tell her no, feeling chivalric towards this sweet lesbian who has just given me a triple tongue-bath and helped me fill No-Good-Farang Condom Exhibit B (now a rubber landmine next to my bed, just waiting for Maew to slip on it when she arrives... a little voice of reason tells me to flush it, now, and I obey the little voice, for once). I decide IÃ¢??ll call security and tell them to keep Maew from coming upstairs Ã¢?? itÃ¢??s a very farang building, IÃ¢??m sure it happens all the time. But The Tongue, that little angel Ã¢?? what WAS her name? Ã¢?? knows better than I about Thai ladies, and gets out of bed, throws on her clothes, and comes out to the balcony, where we watch MaewÃ¢??s taxi pull up and see little Maew come into the building ten floors down. She gives me a peck on the lips, a few licks on my neck, smiling off my apology. As the elevator lights begin to climb, Maew only seconds away, The Tongue laughs and heads into the stairwell. I wait, the bell rings, the door opens, and Maew wais sweetly helloÃ¢?Â¦ Maew and I slept together that night, no sex. I explained that I felt so guilty that I didnÃ¢??t feel right sleeping with her, which was true, although not for the reasons she thought. In the morning I promised to call her again soon, another promise I didnÃ¢??t keep. The next and last time I saw Maew was more than a year later at an underground hostess bar not far from Patpong, the kind with a lineup and you choose the girl to come sit with you while they charge outrageous prices for drinks. She glared at me from the booth she shared with a young farang, still beautiful, and the fond memories came backÃ¢?Â¦ Sweet World War II Nim, and the long day that started with Miss Fall-Off-the-Bed, the caresses of The Tongue, and of course beautiful Maew: fire in her eyes, used condom in her handÃ¢?Â¦ YimSiam Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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