Entry No.12

[khunsanuk]

Counterfeit

 

 

Is that the time ? I glance at my Breitling Aerospace Professional (black face) and, although I've had it for a week now, it still impresses. The girl dancing above me reaches down and grabs my hand, briefly throwing a soft curtain of hair across her upwardly-mobile breasts. J- was right about them being enhanced, I suppose, but I'll really have to feel them to be sure. She flashes me a diamond-tooled smile and I spot a mixture of admiration and calculation as her gaze shifts to my watch.

 

"You buy Bangkok ?" I shake my head.

 

"How much you pay ?" I tell her nothing, it's a present from a friend. "Good friend" she says. She's impressed.

 

And before you ask, it's not some cheap copy either - you know, like the ones they sell on Sukhumvit that look and feel like they've been machined by monkeys. This one was a gift from a client and came in a silk-lined box complete with serial number, life-time warranty and a hand written letter from Mrs. Breitling asking me to drop in on her next time I'm in town.

 

So it's not a cheap copy, it's a good copy. And the client, J-- , should know because over the years he's shifted a lot of this kind of merchandise: watches, clothes, basically anything that people buy just because it looks good.

 

Like this girl.

 

"You pay bar ?" she asks. She likes short time. She likes 2,000. Well, I know I'm on expenses, but while she may be in the business of shafting her customers, for the most part I'm not, so we agree 1,000. Anyway, I don't like encouraging silly prices: they'll kill the business, and a lot of us depend on it, one way or another.

 

So she runs off to get changed, and after I finish my drink I'm going to take her to a hotel, make "love" to her, and then make her cry.

 

It's my act. It's what I do.

 

*****

 

I don't have the crummiest job in this city (if you want to know who does just type "Bangkok bargirls" into Google). The way I see it I'm just helping people make decisions for themselves by giving them more information.

 

Like most of my clients, J- originally got in touch via email. Short version: he'd been coming to LOS on short buying trips for several years. He'd accumulated a comfortable pension and had bought a nice house in Farangland, and now he was looking for someone to share it with. On one of his trips he'd met a girl of 22, who had a kid but no husband, and he'd become her sponsor.

 

He was old enough (late fifties) to know better, but didn't.

 

Having said, that it wasn't J-'s first time around the block, and before he did anything permanent he wanted me to do a little checking. In fact judging from his email he had already done some checking for himself:

 

She's 22 and a well-proportioned :)45 kilos [photos attached] and has a room near Chatuchak, says she works at some kind of charity place but doesn't get paid. I've been sending her some money, but she never asks for anything and isn't into gold in a big way (?!) She wears just one chain with a heart shaped pendant. Once when she was in the shower I had a close look at it and discovered that it opened up. My heart jumped, I can tell you. I expected to find a photo of her "brother" inside, and have to say a tearful goodbye, but it instead it was a portrait of herself when she was about 12 , complete with bangs and glasses ! She looked quite upset when she caught me with it, so I tried to turn it into a joke, saying how much she must love herself, and how cute she had been (still is), which seemed to smooth it over. But I suppose it showed that I didn't completely trust her.

 

Of course I'm no stranger to the female form so when I finally got her bra off I said to myself, "hello, nature's had a helping hand here". Sure enough, when I quizzed her about them she got a bit embarrassed, and admitted that she'd had some work done on them when she "worked bar, but only 3 month". Yeah right. Said she couldn't handle it and stopped when she found she was pregnant. Since she "retired" she says she's been surviving on what she saved. The boy's 2 now but the farang father isn't around, and doesn't even know. Mama Papa both dead and no close family (perfect !)

 

Still, you can't be too careful so I got a copy of her passport, said I needed it to open a joint bank account I showed it to one of my contacts and it checks out as genuine [scanned copy attached]. If all goes well I should be able to pull some strings and get her and the kid over here. And if things work out we'll get married, which will set her and the kid up after I'm gone (let's face it, we're all getting on).

 

Well, looking at the attachments, I can see that she's cute, and I believe that she's 22. But a bargirl that saved ? That would make her one in a thousand.

 

So late this afternoon I was sitting on my bike opposite a certain charity's headquarters in Klong Toey, when I spot the target leaving on the back of a moto. Her hair tied back, she's wearing a white cotton dress and holding a manila envelope up to shield her face from the last of the sun.

 

It's easy for me to follow as I already know the address, and soon we turn into a noisy soi over Chatuchak way, and I hang back as she pays the driver and walks into her apartment block. No sign of the kid.

 

So far so good. I sit at a nearby food stall and order up khao na ped as I browse through the Post. However, half way through my meal I look up, surprised to see her back out and flagging down another moto. This is more like it: a tiny, bulging, white bodice top, Christina Aguilera ripped jeans, absurd platform shoes, mobile pressed to her ear, hair streaming back. Good thai girl by day, Superbargirl by night !

 

I put my helmet on and move to my bike as casually as possible. Our little trip back across the city takes us to Cowboy, and she pops into Midnite.

 

Am I surprised ?

 

No.

 

*****

 

So that's how I got to here, sitting beside her in a taxi heading for the PB. Not "into gold in a big way" ? I almost laugh out loud. Bargirls are like trees, when you want to know how long one has been around you just count the rings. Judging from what this girl has on her fingers (and elsewhere) I'd say that she has been in this business for three or four years. And that's not counting the chains, including that little heart pendant.

 

I realise that I haven't asked her name, and when she says "Noi" I can't help feeling that she could have been a bit more imaginative, and looking at her top, a bit more accurate. At the PB I ask the boy to take away the ashtrays. I say that I don't like the smell, but in reality I don't like too many potential projectiles lying around, especially with all these mirrors on the walls.

 

She gets straight to the point. She knows what we're here for and she takes evident pride in her ability to give me pleasure. For me, going with a bargirl is like seeing the new James Bond movie: for two hours I suspend disbelief and I'm the hero who saves the world, but when I leave the cinema the illusion is over. The trouble starts for some guys when they don't realise that the film has finished, or they want to keep pretending that it hasn't.

 

But just two hours can be very nice. Not only is she skilled and enthusiastic (OK I'm in 007 mode) but she has a killer body. Yes, her breasts have been modestly enhanced but by some one who really knows their stuff, not a barber shop surgeon. Her only imperfection is her stretch marks (which I'm actually quite glad to see). I kiss them in a quiet moment and she runs her hand through my hair. Yes, she has a baby. Two years old. A boy.

 

While she's tidying herself in the bathroom I place the photos beside the money on the table, and have a last quick check for any objects that look dangerously sharp or blunt.

 

As she walks towards me she notices the photos beside her handbag, but calmly reaches up and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Then, as she turns to lift the money she holds the photos up to the light and squints at them, saying, "What is ?".

 

I say you. You and J-- . Your boyfriend.

 

She remains calm. "He your friend ?" I shake my head. "You working ?" I nod. She offers the money back to me and smiles, "You want ? Have more. I do everything. No problem".

 

This is where things usually start to get unpleasant. For a moment, I consider letting them go the other way, but something in her coolness scares me. I've never seen one like this before.

 

She tries another tack. Picking up a photo of J- with his arms around her on a southern beach she says, "Not me". I look incredulous. "My sister Nid".

 

I pick up the passport copy. "Me" she says. I point to a photo of her and J- drinking coconut milk, "My sister" she says. "You not believe ? Come".

 

And against all my better judgement, I find myself sitting beside her in a taxi heading over to Chatachuk.

 

*****

 

It's almost midnight when we walk into the little room. What am I expecting, a boyfriend with a knife behind the door ? What am I doing here ?

 

Nid gets up from the small table as we enter and when she wais me, Noi grimaces, before stepping lightly across the room to look at her sleeping child. In spite of the low lighting, I can see that Nid is more than just a sister: with her simple white dress and quiet manner she's the good girl reflection of Noi's bad. She even has an identical pendant.

 

Noi speaks in whispers, bringing the lamp over to the photographs on the table. They put an arm around each other, searching my face for a reaction.

 

Studying them now together I can see the difference, and I know which one I'd take. But on her own, in a little town in Farangland, Nid could pass. What I don't get is why can't Noi simply be the one who goes ?

 

She reads the question in my face. "You not understand. We come from Klong Toey, no Mama Papa, Nid small sister me, cannot work bar. I work bar, take care Nid. Now Nid take care baby".

 

Who would have thought, in this city of all places. Siamese twins, joined at the heart. And if you must send your child away to a better life, who could you trust more than your twin ?

 

Nid speaks for the first time, and it's not a bad voice, "I like J- ". She lowers her eyes.

 

"And J- want good girl," adds Noi, with just a flicker of a smile. "Me not good girl".

 

I point to Noi's heart shaped pendant. "Photo Nid ?" I say.

 

"Now you know everything." She holds me with a steady gaze, "You want look ?"

 

I shake my head.

 

*****

 

Email to J-

 

I can confirm that the target is not involved in the nightlife scene and does in fact have a voluntary position at the Foundation. A young Thai lady takes care of her child during the day at the address given on her passport. There are no men living on, or in my judgement, visiting the premises. Looks like you found a good one.

 

BTW thanks for the watch; it looks just like the real thing.

 

[khunsanuk]

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[changnoi]

RE: all readers

 

Please tell me what's wrong with my story*

 

I can see at least three things, and it's my baby.

 

 

*I mean specifically, not "the quality is so poor" ...

[khunsanuk]

Hi,

 

Uh, what do you mean?

 

Sanuk!

 

[bibblies]

I answered before but in case you didn't see it, I'll repeat:

 

1. The smilies irritate! :: ::

2. The client's email runs into the story and you could have made the distinction clearer through punctuation, etc. (Er, that's probably why the smilies irritate!)

3. Slight overuse of brackets?

 

Otherwise, I thought it was the best out of the final three.

[changnoi]

I mean, I'm looking for some constructive criticism, so I can improve for next time.

 

I see Bibblies has provided some

 

 

Edited for clarification:

 

My request for criticism was meant to be from everyone, not just from yourself.

[bibblies]

Says changnoi:

---

I mean, I'm looking for some constructive criticism, so I can improve for next time.

---

 

There's no point. I've learnt the lessons from this year and so I'm going to win next time with a crowd-pleasing combination of infeasible plot done with lashings of Chandleresque cliches about the rain. Furthermore, I'm going to do the double by winning next season's Nanaplaza fantasy football league! ::

[changnoi]

No, I didn't see any comments. On another thread ?

 

Your points,

 

2. You're right about this, > isn't enough

 

1. Well, in the context of the medium, smilies could be used effectively

 

3. Right again, I even overuse brackets when I'm speaking (what can I say )

 

 

My doubts about the plot,

 

1. I thought I should have left the character J--'s age unstated.

 

2. Why didn't the girls just tell him the full truth and go off into the sunset as a threesome ?

 

3. How believable is a m-f transexual who doesn't want to be promiscuous ?

 

Just wondered if anyone else saw these, or other, problems.

 

 

[changnoi]

I'm already registering multiple handles so I can take 1st 2nd 3rd places.

 

It'll help with the voting too.

[bibblies]

Er, I didn't even see a m-f transexual! I did skim the stories a bit but .. where's that?