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Who wrote 'One Night in Nana'?

Central Scrutinizer

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Some help here guys if you can. Anyone know who wrote this writing contest entry?





â??Just hold me, that's betterâ?? she said as she curled up in my arms.


I hadnâ??t expected this when I checked into the short time hotel with her, but suddenly things seemed to have changed. Had she lost interest in me? Did she think - or more likely know - I would give her money anyway whether she wanted sex or not?


We were not in one of the regular Nana Plaza short time places. She had had what seemed like a long chat with one of the other girls in the bar and then said she wanted to go somewhere different tonight. Lying on the bed with the tiny body in my arms, I felt happy enough wherever we were or whatever we did. 80 pounds and five feet tall she was one of the smallest women I had ever seen, let alone been to bed with. Twenty years old to my fifty two, nothing serious, just my current favourite bar girl. Except I knew that this was not really true. I was making a real effort to control myself and be careful what I said, words would break the spell.


This was not the beginning of the story of course. Nor was it going to be the end, but I was not thinking of any future right then. As she lay there she started to talk. I understood about half of it, maybe a bit more. I had lived in Bangkok for close on two years by now and put an effort into learning the language so I could more or less get by. Of course the six months with An had helped, but now she had dumped me. The little girl from Nana Plaza was the first bar girl I ever paid for and for almost a year I had been a fairly regular customer - no more. In that time I went with other girls as well. Like so many guys who live in this city, I was just indulging in the scene, taking what was on offer, nothing serious. But then I met An and stopped seeing her for six months. An dumped me and I went back. It was never a conscious decision, it just seemed to happen - and this time around it was not the same.


As we lay on the bed, she talked about her life in the bar. Was she telling the truth, probably not I forced myself to believe. She didnâ??t like the "short times" she always seemed to get. She liked to talk, liked to hang out, but the customers she got never wanted to do that with her. She saw other customers having fun with other girls but somehow she couldn't make herself into the sort of girl people wanted to spend a long time with. The only place she spent time just relaxing was back in the bar after the customer had finished with her and she didnâ??t have to dance any more. That was where her friends were, her only friends. Where else would she go? Who else did she know? Her parents lived in a small town not far outside Bangkok and, from what she said, which was probably not true I told myself, she went out there most Sundays. She caught the bus after work at about 3.00 am and came back the same afternoon to get back to the bar. Work started at 6.00 and fines were made for late arrival.


She talked about her life at home before, life at school. She talked about herself, the bar, the people she knew.


She talked about me. Did I want to like her or be in love with her? Bar girl bullshit I told myself. But this was new. I had been seeing her regularly now for over a month, second time around - and she had never talked like this before. She wanted me to be in love with her, she was now definitely not telling the truth.


â??Why do you tell lies?â?? I asked her. She just hugged me harder. That was new as well. She had never been affectionate in that way. I used to put that down to having been screwed by maybe 300 different men over the last couple of years. 104 weeks, two or three times a week - make it 250, but what's the difference?


â??I want you to love me.â?? She sat up and said. â??Can you do that?â??


"No - you're too young. You're a bar girl and I don't want to trust you."


"All people are not the same. I want to study, I want to dress nicely, not like that." She pointed to her clothes neatly folded on the chair. "Right now you spend money on me, you spend money on beer, you pay bar fines. How much are you spending to see me?" I had never thought about that. I had always liked a drink and never counted the cost - never needed to. I went to the bars in Nana Plaza because that's what bars were like in Bangkok and I spent money on girls because they were there and I enjoyed it.


â??So what do you want me to do?â?? I asked.


â??You give me the same money (she named a figure) and I can stop work and stay at home. You can come to my apartment anytime you like.â??


â??So why are you asking me. What about your other customers? Why don't you ask one of them? Somebody younger.â?? I replied, knowing already that I was lost.


â??I like you. You are a bear, I am a mouse. You can take care of me.â?? Not a very good answer, but I knew it was the best I would get.


I paused for a moment and thought, for the last time, what a crazy decision this was going to be. I couldn't allow myself to get involved with a girl so young, who worked as a bar girl, who only a few hours before had been dancing stark naked on a stage in one of the most notorious red light districts in the world, who had been with countless other people, who was probably infected with God knows what diseases. Impossible. Madness.


"OK" I said.


I was hooked.




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