Winston and I checked out the hotel and rode our bikes along the beach strip, looking for somewhere to eat breakfast and wait for friends to arrive by taxi from Bangkok.
Both of us are in our early 30s, yet we seemed to be the youngest foreigners around. The old men and women who surrounded us, those sunning themselves on the beach and strolling along the sidewalk, were not pretty to look at, but you stared at them, anyway, with the same interest you do animals at the zoo.
There was one young and fit girl, Thai of course, walking in our direction on the sidewalk. From afar, in her short shorts and skimpy tank top, she looked like she owned a tasty labia. Seconds before passing us, seeing that we were checking her out, she gave us the smile of a predator.
We sat at at a restaurant across from the beach, ate bad food, drank beer and played poker. Eventually I got word word the crew was about to arrive, so we played our last hand. We went all in, one big pile of small Thai notes, change and toothpicks between us. Winston beat my two pairs with three of a kind. I cursed my fortune and accused god for having abandoned me like a black father.
We cycled to meet Steve who’s a hotel manager in Canada with connections, so he got a thousand dollar a night suite for free. Gene stayed with him. The rest of us, Winston, me, Frances and Will, flagged down a songtaew, a truck you can ride in the back of around Pattaya for less than $1, and we went to our $5 per person a night Airbnb.
The owner was an hour late to meet us with room keys, and he wasn’t an innocent-looking young Thai girl like in his Airbnb profile picture, but a bald, rat-faced Frenchman. We followed him to the room, going up four flights of stairs. There was a long-dead cockroach on the floor, and not enough towels or toilet paper.
Since there were four of us, we had to decide who got the two bedrooms. Winston took four cards from his deck, two of them aces, and shuffled them. Whoever drew aces got one of the two bedrooms, while the other two losers got the sofa or the futon on the floor. Frances and Bill went first. Frances won a bedroom. Now it was my turn. “I’m on the right, Trump is on the right, therefore I choose the card on the right,” I said, as I picked the card.
An ace! My black god had returned to his knappy-haired son.
We met the Canadians, Gene and Nigga Steve, in a red light district to have sex in Pattaya with prostitutes. The whole street was nothing but bars, women, and lecherous men like ourselves.
The girls shouted at us as we passed. “I want your sperm!” and “Gangbang me!”
Some would grab you by the arm and not let go until you broke free with man-strength. I tried to stay in the middle of the street to avoid them, but then a car would come driving down the middle of the road and force me to the side where the prostitutes were hungry like sharks.
Somehow we’d made it to the end of the street without having chosen a bar. Too many options. We turned back to make a second pass.
This second time, a woman in a red China dress grabbed Gene by the arm and he followed her into a bar. The rest of us followed in as well and took a seat, whereupon girls took their positions in front of us, backing their little asses into our crotches.
My girl, her face 20 shades lighter than her body with makeup, looked shy and nervous as if her dad, a rice paddy farmer, had just sold her into prostitution yesterday. Winston sat across from me. His girl was a high-energy freak, the kind of girl you’d keep locked in a kennel and only take out to play with on Saturdays after having a redbull.
She bounced up and down on his lap forcefully and ground her ass against his lap to blaring music. When he still hadn’t paid for her to go upstairs and do the “boom-boom,” she grabbed his dick through his pants.
“Oh it’s so big! I want it now. Give it to me. Please! I want it!” she shouted.
She took two steps towards me, grabbed my dick and said: “Oh this dick is too small,” then turned back to Winston and said: “This dick just right!”
She got on her knees and put her mouth to his crotch and made with one hand like she was going to pull it out right then and there. The fag that I was, I couldn’t peel my eyes away.
That was all Winston could take. He slammed his beer, handed the mama-san $35, then tapped me on the shoulder, goddamn him, and said: “Sorry mate, I’m going to take your girl too.”
Next, Will disappeared with his girl. Then Steve was gone. Then Frances. Four men down just like that. Gene and I, left with scraps, finished our beers and went to a massage parlor.
Three ugly girls were inside. One talked to a grayed man in the corner. The other two brought us beers, stood next to us and rubbed us under the table. Mine was fat and nasty and hungry.
We followed them to the back, where there were two sofas against the wall. Gene sat on one sofa. I sat on another. The girls pulled curtains around us, dividing the sofas and making two private rooms.
My girl sat next to me. The cushion beneath her ass sank lower than mine. After rubbing my shoulders, she unzipped me and pulled out my pecker and bathed it with a cold rag. She had to work to get it up, as I’m not too interested in ugly people. When she bent over to use her mouth. I stopped her, afraid she’d give me something nasty, and made her continue with her hand, which she was so terrible with I had to make her stop and take over myself. The only gratification I got from the whole thing was coming on her face instead of a tissue. However great that sounds, I can assure you it wasn’t worth it.
Hearing slobbery slurps, I threw back the curtain between me and Gene. “So this is what you look like when you’re getting a blowjob,” I said.
I returned to the table, to where Nigga Steve was waiting, and asked him to finish telling me a story about this crazy girl he met on Tinderr in Bangkok.
“We were lying in bed naked after sex,” he said, “when she asked me to wrap my arms tightly around her so she could see if she was strong enough break free. She couldn’t, of course. She was only about 5 foot tall.’”
“After that she had me lie limp on the floor and tried to drag me by one of my legs. She only managed to budge me by giving my leg a sudden jerk and my back, still sweaty from sex, made a screeching noise against the wooden floor. It hurt and I yelled at her to give up.”
“But she didn’t stop there. She took the blanket from the bed, threw it on the floor, and made me lie on it. Only then could she drag me to the door, where she stopped and looked satisfied.”
“Steve,” I told him, “if you value your life you better not see that nutcase again.”
“I know but the sex with her beats the sex with Winnipeg shemales.”
The three of us – Gene, Steve and I – went to a go-go bar where the girls where of much higher quality, and more expensive, than those we saw on Soi 6. The only problem was we couldn’t be left alone to drink and watch them dance without old, fat mama-sans harassing us to hurry up and buy one of them.
After one beer, we left to meet back up with Frances, Bill, and Winston. On the way there, Gene slapped a sleeping Russian on the ass . . . POW! and continued walking.
The Russian got to his feet and charged Gene. Oh, no, look what Gene has gotten us into, I thought. Gene simply turned around and stood his ground, grinning. The Russian, just stopping a foot before Gene, surprisingly stopped in front of him and asked for the pleasure of returning the ass slap—tit for tat. Gene let him have it. Then the Russian motioned for Gene to give him another, but Gene said no, laughed, and walked away.
Winston, when I saw him again, looked happy. “I’m done,” he said. “There’s nothing left for me to do here. My life is complete.”
“Did the two girls touch each other?” I asked.
“No, they wouldn’t do that. It was hard work trying to keep them both wet by myself. I was going to eat their asses and their pussies but I remembered you said I should refrain from doing that with prostitutes.”
I looked at Will. “How about you? Did you eat an ass?”
“Of course. I’m an Arab. We eat more assholes than a dog.”
“Yes and no. Although most Arabs are anal-licking enthusiasts, my parents immigrated to Texas when I was a kid. Since then I’ve been as straight as John Wayne.”
“What’d you do, then? Tie her to a wagon wheel?”
“No, but while she was riding me the lights suddenly cut out, and there were no windows. And I didn’t have my hearing aid in so I couldn’t see or hear her. That was pretty cool.”
Some prostitutes at this new bar on Soi 6 fed us cold pizza. I was talking to a girl who looked Japanese because of her mangled teeth and Japanese-style bangs, when a Japanese man walked right up and bought her.
“Did you see that . . .” I turned around to say to Will.
He was licking an ass.
“Will, I thought you were reformed?”
“That will teach you to trust an Arab.”