Asian Heat (14 page)

I asked her how
much she charged for short-time. She flashed me her smile and her eyes locked
on mine. “Everything you have in your wallet,” she said.

I laughed and
shook my head and paid her bar fine. Ten minutes later we were in the
short-time hotel on the second floor of the plaza. Her lovemaking was intense
and passionate and for most of the time she was looking deep into my eyes as if
she could see into my soul. It’s not normally like that, usually the girls want
the sex to be as impersonal as possible, something to be gotten out of the way
so that they could collect their money and get back to the bar.

Cat seemed in no
rush to go and after the sex was over she lay down next to me and stared up at
the ceiling.
 
I asked her why she
was working in the bar. With her eyes and her body and her personality I
doubted that she’d have any problem finding a boyfriend or a sponsor.

“You want to know
my story?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Okay, I’ll tell
you,” she said. She sighed and carried on staring up at the ceiling. “The first
time I met my husband I was twelve and he was twenty-two.”

“What? Twelve?”

She continued to
talk as if she hadn’t heard me.

“He came to our
village to stay with his aunt and when I looked at him and knew that he was the
love of my life. But what could I do? I was twelve. Every night I prayed to
Buddha and asked him why he had done this to me, why had he shown me the man I
loved but made it impossible for me to be with him? Eventually the man moved
away and I was heartbroken. It wasn’t fair. When I was a teenager lots of boys
wanted to be with me, but I turned them all down. I knew what it meant to be in
love and I didn’t want to settle for anything less. When I was twenty I fought
with my mother because she said it was time for me to marry but I said I
wouldn’t marry unless I loved the man and I had already met the man I loved.
She said I was crazy.”

She sighed again.
“When I was twenty-one I went on holiday with my friends to Cha-Am.
 
We stayed in a hotel by the beach. On
the day we were due to go back to the village I met him in the street. He was
on holiday with his friends. We literally bumped into each other. He looked
into my eyes and I knew at that moment that he felt the same.
 
He hadn’t married, he hadn’t even had a
regular girlfriend. He told me later that he felt as if he was waiting for
somebody, he just hadn’t realised that it was me he was waiting for.”

She turned to
look at me and smiled. Her killer smile.
 
And again I was lost in her eyes. “I never left his side from that day
on and three months later we were married. He worked for Thai Airways at the
airport and we had a really nice house that his parents bought for us. They
were quite rich and he was their only son. They were so pleased when I got
pregnant and we had a lovely baby boy.
 
Our son was so handsome, just like his father. I was so, so happy. Every
night I prayed to Buddha and thanked him for giving me my perfect family.”

She stopped
talking and rolled onto her back again.
 
I watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed.

“What happened?”
I asked quietly.

“They died,” she
said. “Three years ago.
 
It was a
car accident. He was driving home with my son and a truck smashed into the car.
Killed them just like that. The truck driver had been taking drugs, the police
said. He ran away but they caught him. He’s still in prison. But I lost my
husband and my son.”

She sighed and
turned to look at me. There were tears in her eyes.
 
“That’s why I work in the bar. I cannot be alone at night. I
cannot sleep. In the bar I can be busy and I don’t have time to think. And when
I go with customers I can forget who I used to be. I don’t want to think about
who I used to be. Because when I think I feel sad and I want to die so that I
can be with my husband and my son.”
 
She smiled but the tears were still running down her cheeks.
 
She shrugged. “And that’s my story.”

She stayed on the
bed as I got up and dressed. I took out my wallet and emptied it. I gave her
everything I had.
 
That night I
walked home. And I never went back to Rainbow Two, because I knew that if I
looked into her eyes again I’d be lost forever.

###

THE HAT-TRICK

You slow down as
you get older, there’s no question of that. In your fifties your body has to
struggle to do what it used to do with ease when you were twenty.
 
You can’t drink as much, you can’t walk
as far, and sex – don’t get me started on sex.
 
When I was in my twenties I could go all night, and if the
girl was up for it I’d probably come three or four times, maybe more. I was a
bloody sex-machine.

Well, I’ve just
turned sixty and these days I’m lucky to get it up at all. Now in England that’s
not a problem, because in my home town there’s about as much chance of me
getting laid as there is of winning the lottery. Once you pass forty, you
become invisible to the female population unless you drive an expensive motor
and have a million quid in the bank.

I got divorced
when I was thirty-five, my wife had been screwing around with my best mate and
her lawyer took me to the cleaners. She got the house,
 
the villa in Spain, the cars and most
of my pension fund.
 
I stayed away
from women for a while after the divorce and spent my time building up my
business. I’m comfortable enough now and one thing is for sure, I’ll never get
married again.

I started coming
to Thailand when I was fifty-six. The Land of Smiles they call it and I have to
say that it always puts a bloody smile on my face. The girls are happy,
friendly, and available. Sure, you have to pay, but it doesn’t cost you an arm
and a leg. In fact you can have a great time with a stunning young girl for the
price of a curry back home.

I went to Bangkok
a few times but now I’m a Pattaya regular, it’s fun being by the sea even
though it’s so dirty you wouldn’t dream of swimming in it. But I like to sit on
the beach under an umbrella and drink Singha beer and eat freshly barbecued
prawns. And at night I barhop. Pattaya is a barhopping heaven.
 
Hundreds of bars, thousands of
beautiful women. A kid in a sweetshop doesn’t even come close.
 
I go three times a year and stay for
two weeks each trip. I stay in the Hilton, these days, and I always get a suite
with a sea view.

The Pattaya girls
are brilliant – they know how to have a good time and they don’t have the
stuck-up attitude of their Bangkok sisters. They’re cheaper, too, and will
often spend the night for the same price as an hour’s short-time in Bangkok.

The one problem I
have is performance, to be honest. I’m not as young as I used to be and
sometimes, if I’ve had a few beers, I have to admit that I have trouble getting
it up.
 
I can’t use Viagra or those
other performance enhancers, either. I’ve got diabetes and a bit of a blood
pressure problem and the one time I tried Viagra I got a wonderful stiffy but
my heart went crazy and I thought I was having a coronary. Never again.

I was thinking
about my lack of performance while I was sitting in a beer bar off Walking
Street listening to a guy in his twenties boasting to his mates about the night
before. He’d picked up a dancer from Babydolls and had done her every which way
but loose throughout the night. He went into so much detail that at one point I
considered hitting him over the head with my bottle of Singha. I jest, of
course. He would have wiped the floor with me.

Sitting next to
me was a freelancer called Pung. Her name meant “bee” in Thai. She was in her
thirties with a pleasant face and a wonderful cleavage emphasised by a low-cut
tight top and faded blue denim jeans that were stretched over a
mouth-wateringly curvy backside. I’d bought her a few drinks and was enjoying
the fact that her right hand never strayed far from my groin.
 
She nodded at the boasting lad. ‘”He
talk too much,” she said.

“Yeah, but it
sounds like he’s got a lot to talk about,” I said.

“What a man and a
woman do in the bedroom should stay private,” she said, as she absent-mindedly
fingered the zip of my trousers.

“I wish I had his
staying power,” I sighed.

“What you mean?”
she asked and I explained how the years had taken their toll on my sexual
performance. She’d laughed, thinking that I was joking. But I told her that I
was serious. She’d smiled and given my tackle a nice rub and said that I’d
probably just not met the right woman. I bought her another drink and told her
that I was pretty sure my all-night shagging days were over. She shook her head
solemnly and said no, she was sure that she could prove me wrong. And that was
when she came up with her proposal.
 
She’d spend the night with me. The first time she screwed me, I’d pay
her a thousand baht. If she could screw me a second time I’d give her another
two thousand baht. And if she screwed me a third time, I’d give her an extra
four thousand baht.
 
So if she made
me come three times during the night, I’d pay her seven thousand baht in all
for the hat trick.

I was going to
say that her plan was a non-starter but then wonder boy started describing how
he’d banged his go-go dancer in the bathroom before she left and I changed my
mind and said that I was up for it.
 
Generally I go with my girls to a short-time hotel but because this was
going to take all night I took her back to the Hilton. She was well impressed
with the view and, as we stood together looking out over the sea, she slid her
hand down the front of my trousers.
 
“I go shower,” she said, and kissed me on the cheek.

She disappeared
for ten minutes while I fetched us a couple of beers from the minibar.
 
When she came out she was wearing
nothing but a towel.
  
She
smiled at me, let the towel fall to the ground and before I knew what was
happening I was on my back on the floor and she was on top of me. I came like a
rocket.

“Number one,” she
said. She grabbed the towel and hurried back to the bathroom. I was still
wearing my shirt and my trousers were around my knees so I undressed and put on
a bathrobe.
 
When she came out she
was wearing the towel again. We sat on the sofa and drank the beers as we
chatted about her life. It was the standard bargirl story: a husband who’d run
off with another woman, a child who was being looked after by her parents, a
life spent trawling the bars of Pattaya looking for a customer and, if she was
lucky, a new husband.

As we talked her hand
found its way to my tackle again and without me realising it I’d grown
hard.
 
She put down her bottle,
slid down between my legs and took me in her mouth. God, she was good. At one
point she had wrapped her hair around my balls as she sucked and licked. She
was amazing and I thought I was about to come but at the last moment she
climbed on top of me and kissed me full on the lips as she pounded against me.
I exploded inside her within seconds. I sat there gasping for breath. I
couldn’t remember the last time I’d come twice.

‘Number two,” she
laughed, and hurried back to the bathroom, taking her towel with her.

I lay on the
sofa, hardly able to move, until she came back, wrapped once more in the towel.
She was holding a wet cloth and used it to wash me clean, then lay next to me
on the sofa. We watched a movie on HBO as she lay in my arms. Don’t ask me what
it was because I’ve no idea, I was just happy to be with her.

The movie
finished about midnight and then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.
 
She left me alone for a couple of
minutes and returned with a large glass of beer and a small bottle of baby oil.

She told me to
drink the beer and to watch as she dropped the towel and rubbed the oil over
her breasts and legs, slowly and sensually. It was one of the most erotic
things I’d ever seen. The lights were off but there was enough moonlight to
make her body glisten. “You like?” she asked.

I nodded. God,
yes, I liked. She turned around and rubbed oil on her amazing backside, then
bent forward and rubbed it along the back of her legs.
 
I finished the beer and lay down. She
crawled onto the bed and began to rub herself up and down me, softly and slowly
at first, driving me crazy with her touch. She’d kiss me on the lips, then
slide down and kiss my breasts, then her leg would slip between mine. She was
constantly moving, touching, caressing.
 
Her movements were almost hypnotic, and all I could do was lie there.
She began to move faster, her groin pushing against mine, and then I was hard
and inside her and she was sitting on top of me, riding me hard. I wanted to
reach up and hold her incredible breasts but my arms felt like lead and they
lay lifeless by my side. “Come for me, baby!” she yelled, and I did. My God, I
did.

I lay on the bed,
gasping for breath. My whole body was a dead weight. I felt as if I’d been in a
car crash. I tried to thank her but I had trouble forming the words, my mouth
had gone numb.
 
“Number three,” she
said and kissed me on the cheek. The room started to whirl around me. I couldn’t
focus and I could feel everything slipping away. I tried to speak but my tongue
felt as if it was too big for my mouth. “You very nice man,” she said. She
kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry,” she whispered.
  
Then I passed out.