Gunn stared at Steven, puzzled by the farang who had so easily cracked the Thai tourist conspiracy; beaten the taxi scam merchants at their own game; avoided becoming prey to the education and operation con; but who had then paid considerably more than the metered fare.
“Must have a good heart [******],” Gunn silently concluded.
[*] Patpong is an area in Bangkok where go-go bars provide a guilt-free, sanook (fun) approach to sexual services.
[**] In Thailand, it is commonly believed all white foreigners are fabulously rich. In comparison to the majority of Thai people, they probably are.
[***] One girl had a motor cycle accident requiring a leg to be amputated. When she wrote to her farang boyfriend advising of the tragedy, he paid for the operation. Making a surprise visit to locate her current whereabouts and help further, he was astonished to find her dancing in the bar where he had first found her - with two legs!
[****] Many of Bangkok’s taxi men came from remote country locations, hoping to earn more in the city than they ever could growing rice in their home village. As a result, their knowledge of Bangkok’s labyrinth of often unmarked streets was frequently less than many of the farangs they carried! At least farangs managed to buy a street plan at the airport, something the majority of Bangkok’s taxi drivers failed to do. Mai belai krap (never mind).
[*****] Apredominately rural district in the North East of Thailand.
[******] Amongst Thailand’s educated circles, a
‘good heart’ denotes a kind person. For bar-girls and
boys, a ‘good heart’ denotes a farang who is so weak
and stupid he is easily separated from his money. Any
moderately plausible tale seems to work.
13
Breakfast in Bangkok
In contrast to the heat, noise and pollution of the busy Bangkok streets, inside the English-style tea room it was quiet and cool.
“You can get a traditional English breakfast or tea and scones. Whatever time zone your biorhythms are working on. It will make you feel at home,” Gunn said as she sat down and relaxed.
“Last thing I want is to feel at home. I want to blend in and enjoy your culture. It’s warmer here and the food is more to my taste. I never really got hooked on stodgy dumplings, steak and kidney pudding or school custard.”
“My father told me of such things,” Gunn said, surprising Steven with her information.
“Your father was British? I know you said you had European blood,” Steven replied.
“No, English like you. I do understand the difference. My father was very clear about that distinction,” Gunn advised.
“One of the old school I suppose,” Steven said, hoping to discover more about the young woman he was about to share breakfast with.
“Very much so, as was his family for generations before him. He was in the Diplomatic Corps, based in Bangkok. He fell in love with his secretary, my mother. His family virtually disowned him in the same way as my mother’s family frowned upon her choice.”
“So that’s how you know about cream cakes and English tea rooms,” Steven said.
“Yes, my father was very English. He cherished what he called the ‘old’ values. Tea and cream cakes were part of that, he used to say. A bit outdated regarding your country’s values today, but he was a kind man who did his best for myself and my brother. I was fortunate compared to many.”
“The Buddhist approach, putting an optimistic veneer on every situation. A psychoanalyst setting up in Thailand would go broke in a very short time,” Steven stated, dryly but accurately.
Gunn suddenly changed the subject. “That’s what the girls in Patpong say.”
Steven was puzzled.
“Short time,” she replied, smiling.
“Hello. What your name? Where you come from? How long you stay in Thailand? You buy drink for me? All night or short time?”
Steven repeated the pitch every bar-girl in Thailand lays on every tourist the moment she sets eyes on him. Or her, as overseas lesbians on their annual holidays also haunt the bars of Bangkok in search of young girls to fuck or suck. Many of the girls swung both ways if the price was right.
But the feminist movement in the West liked to keep that one to themselves. Such private mores challenged their publicly held agenda concerning the sexual exploitation of women in developing countries. The PC brigade could be just as hypocritical and full of shit as the far-right colonels and their ladies.
“What is your surname?” Steven suddenly asked. “I hope it isn’t Smith, or even Huntingdon-Smith. Gunn Huntingdon-Smith wouldn’t sound right somehow. Worse, Gunn Huntingdon-Smythe. The Right Honourable Lucinda Catherine Gunn Huntington-Smythe. The British can be so pretentious.”
“Both my names are Thai,” Gunn replied. “My parents did not marry. If a Thai woman marries a farang, she loses her right to own property or a business. Her children automatically lose those rights, too.”
“Oriental Women’s’ Lib,” Steven commented, satirically.
Gunn excused herself and left the table.
“Hope she’s not having her period,” Steven thought, hoping Gunn might be interested enough to see him later. She had said that she liked older men. Not that this was particularly unusual in South East Asia, where age was respected and youth simply regarded as immature. Logical, but in opposition to Western cultural norms.
In fact age worked for you in the Oriental East; the extended family was still very much in place; and you could fuck yourself stupid as long as you did it with discretion - so no one lost face. Definitely better than breaking up the family by divorcing, or abusing or beating your wife for not doing likewise - fucking you stupid.
As to commercial sex, in countries where social security was an unknown concept, you sold what you had or went under. It was easy to be morally condescending in the welfare West. ‘You need a full stomach before you can be judgemental’, goes an ancient Chinese saying.
The West thought it knew everything, but knew little about other cultures and cared less. Staying in a hotel and travelling in a limo or tour bus was no way to learn about the lives of indigenous people.
In opposition to Thailand, in nations where an uptight, bible-belt attitude to sex prevailed, social discontent was always bubbling beneath the surface; sex crime flourished; law and order was an unknown concept; and far too many frustrated and unhappy people lived alone wishing they were not [*]. Those unhappy social situations were far less prevalent in Thailand. In fact they were almost unknown.
“What kind of work do you do?” Gunn asked as she returned.
“Checking me out to see if I’m worth catching. Guess you really must have been overwhelmed by my charm.” Steven’s reply was contrived. He wanted to check the extent of Gunn’s cultural knowledge and if she had a sense of humour. If her knowledge of farang culture was limited, any attempt at creating a relationship would probably not be worth the trouble. If she was a humourless bitch, such tactics would quickly expose the fact.
Although her father was an Englishman, Gunn still could not fully comprehend irony as humour.
“Why farang say crazy thing,” she replied, regressing to educated pidgin, as cultural incomprehension made her feel insecure.
“Pudlen,” Steven stated for the second time since they’d met. “Just joking. We show how tough we are by making adverse remarks about ourselves before someone else does. Sad really. Self-deprecating-humour it’s called. But you’d have to be a hundred percent English to understand, not just hasip hasip (fifty fifty) like you. But where is your husband?”
Steven caught Gunn unawares.
“How know have husband?” Gunn asked.
“Most Thai girls have husbands even though they go with farangs. They pretend the Thai man is their uncle or brother. Siamese society retains a non-judgemental attitude when it comes to sex.”
Gunn did not reply.
“That is, unless someone loses face, when all hell breaks loose. It’s very
civilised and sophisticated, once you know the rules.”
Gunn stared at Steven, a bemused look on her face.
“Arai?” Steven said, using the single Thai word meaning ‘What’s up’? ‘What are you thinking’? ‘Any comment’?
“You are wrong, Steven Hunt. Not have husband or boy friend of any race. Otherwise not be here with you.” Gunn’s reply was cold.
Either Gunn was pretending to be offended or Steven had genuinely hurt her feelings. To be on the safe side, he said sorry in Thai. “Cor toh krap.”
“You very bad man,” Gunn said, smiling again.
“It’s OK for tonight then, when we’ve both managed to get some sleep?”
“Why not? I may like handsome man very much,” Gunn replied, an indeterminate look on her face.
“So her knowledge of farang culture has a few gaps but she does have a sense of humour,” Steven silently concluded.
“Any time after nine. I should be back in the land of the living by then,” Steven advised with the wry look of a cat who’d discovered a store of cream and was anticipating licking some. Opening his case to retrieve a pen, he scribbled the address of his hotel on a table napkin.
Gunn carefully folded the napkin and placed it inside her leather designer handbag. Almost certainly a carefully crafted copy, her designer accessory could be purchased for a fraction of the cost from almost any market stall in the land. The original items were contracted out to be made in South East Asia anyway, and as payback for the sweatshop wages many Western brand names forced local companies to accept, the factory simply produced an extra run for themselves. Organically just. Yin yang. And the West thought it was smart!
“La tee sawat, good night,” Steven said. Despite it being early morning in Bangkok, his biorhythms were on UK time.
Gunn smiled at Steven’s little witticism, and with the wry look of a cat who’d discovered a store of cream and was anticipating licking some, gave a polite wai and left.
[*] So much for ‘American’ values.
14
Hotel
Taking a cab to Robinson’s department store on the corner of Silom and Rama 4, by lunchtime Steven’s sleep debt had caught up with him. Risking another taxi ride, the vehicle quickly took him to his hotel. Too quickly, but that’s Thai driving.
15
Womb Service
It was dark before Steven woke. Looking at his watch, he realised Gunn would arrive soon if she was going to come at all. Gazing into the dressing table mirror, even in the half light Steven could see his designer stubble desperately needed attention.
Reception had forgotten to ring through with his wake up call. The staff probably changed shifts and omitted to pass on the message. That or they’d thought he meant seven the following morning. A typical Thai, cross cultural communications breakdown.
But Steven had learnt not to get angry with Thai people when things went wrong. It could be dangerously counter productive as it made them lose face. In fact an ill mannered farang would find that nothing would go right from then on. For a more serious offence, low cost motorbike assassinations - where two youths rode up alongside the intended victim and shot him in the head - could be arranged if you knew who to contact. $1,000 for a farang and as little as $200 for a Thai. Much more for a politician or public figure though [*].
But that would require a major face losing situation. Also, assassination would contradict the Buddhist precept which opposes the killing of any life form. However, the murder rate for loss of face situations in Siam was still quite high. But Manila, Lagos, Kinshasa, Pietermaritzburg, Johannesburg, Cape Town, Detroit, Washington, New York, downtown LA, London and many other urban conurbations, still managed to head The World Series, International Murder League.
So Steven did not phone and admonish the hotel staff as he might have done in the West. In any event, it was difficult to get angry with Thai people when they were generally so charming and polite.
“ Mai belai krap,” never mind Steven said to himself, reverting to Buddhist mode, now he was well and truly back on Thai soil. Well above it, on the eleventh floor of his hotel room overlooking the Chao Phraya River.
Before Steven had time to use the bathroom, there was a quiet knock on the door. Slipping into the towelling bath robe he’d purchased from Robinson’s department store on the way to the hotel, he checked the identity of the caller.
“I’m here to service your room, sir. Hope this is not an inconvenient time.”
The chambermaid looked remarkably like a young flight attendant he had recently met. Dressed in a waisthugging turquoise silk dress, her raven hair swept to one side, Gunn would have been taken for a model or movie star in the West.
“Service my room? Just my room?” Steven asked.
Gunn did not reply.
“I think you’re already in,” Steven stated. “No it’s not an inconvenient time, as long as you let me use the bathroom first. Reception forgot my wake up call.”
“Ahh, Thai-time,” Gunn said.
“I guess I’ll have to expect it at seven in the morning. I hope not. Please excuse me while I get cleaned up,” Steven said.
“Farang need shave. Thai ladies not like man with beard.”
“At your service, madam,” Steven replied.
[*]. Perversely, it was widely rumoured that the very people paid to protect the public from harm - the police
- were often recruited to carry out such hits! It was further widely believed the military competed with the police for these contracts. To that must be added the tally of dead at police hands via suspects passing on to their next incarnation during routine interrogation whilst in police custody. Add many thousands of extra judicial killings allegedly carried out during disgraced Thai Prime Minister Thaksin’s War Against Drugs’, and the concept of what law, order and justice actually mean in Thailand would test the most developed intellect.
Prime Minister Thaksin was ultimately overthrown by a Military Coup - without bloodshed - tending to verify that a large section of Thai society had become intolerant of corruption and politicians abusing their power. The former prime minister eventually became notorious when he and his wife skipped bail and many charges of malfeasance and corruption in Thailand, to live abroad.
16
Six-Pack
Standing naked as he lathered his face, Steven commenced shaving. Between razor strokes he intermittently tested the temperature of the shower.
Clean shaven now and quietly humming ‘One Night in Bangkok’, he stepped beneath the cascade of warm water.
Silently joining Steven in the large shower space, Gunn’s velveteen skin glistened as the light caught the steam charged atmosphere and reflected off her elegant, Oriental frame.
Despite three years of leisure and pleasure in Thailand, followed by virtual inactivity in dull, dreary Britain, Steven’s self-defence skills had lost none of their edge and he instantly turned to defend himself, fists clenched and body poised in a karate stance. Stopping before he could do any damage, Steven stepped out of the shower and gently placed his arms around Gunn instead.
The young woman reciprocated, holding his muscular back and pressing herself against his six-pack. The end result of a lifetime of work-outs, Steven’s athletic body came in handy at times
“I wasn’t expecting your company quite so soon. Not that I’m complaining,” Steven quietly advised. Gunn terminated the conversation by kissing him on the lips.
As he ran his hands down Gunn’s back, Steven silently compared her boyishly brief butt with the lumps of lard normally found on most Western women. But nourishment not punishment was his aim, so he forgot about Western women and pressed a Eurasian one against his well honed abdominal muscles.
Glancing down, Gunn ran her fingers across the ridges of his six-pack. “Farang very hard,” she said.
Instantly the muscle below, emulated the six-pack.
17
Things Get Really Hard
Clean and damp from the show
er, Steven and Gunn sat on the bed. Still tired from the flight, Steven pulled the top sheet to one side and lay down.
“You are beautiful,” Gunn whispered as she stared at Steven’s naked body, before leaning over him and gazing into his eyes.
A compliment like that coming from a member of the female gender, would have surprised Steven in the West. But Gunn’s matter-of-fact approach was typical of most Thai people who possessed a naive, childlike honesty hidden amongst the scams. [*]
Steven sat up and kissed his naked companion on the forehead, like he would a child. “I’m beautiful? That’s what I was thinking about you.”
Gunn gently pushed Steven back down on the bed and leant back over him. “Your skin smell good. Aroma more sweet than Thai man,” she said, softly. “Want fuck you now.”
Demonstrating the predatory nature of the Oriental female when it comes to sex, Gunn took charge and gently pushed down until her tiny pussy touched the end of Steven’s extremely erect penis.
Commencing a slow, rhythmic action, she ensured that with each movement, Steven penetrated a fraction deeper. Needing no further encouragement, Steven squeezed himself up inside Gunn’s moist, childlike opening.
“Perhaps there was some biological reason why Oriental women had vaginal juices like the most delicate herbal oils. In comparison, Western women seemed to have been greased with tank track lube at a fish market. Don’t tell me, I’m a chauvinist,” Steven thought to himself, a mess of muses meandering through his mind as Gunn fucked with his body.
Politically incorrect to even think about such matters in the West, it was dishonest and hypocritical to pretend that black was white. This was something communism had perpetrated - an agenda that went against reality but which people were forced to conform to if they wished to avoid taking their holidays in Siberia. The Gulag one step - a perverse, traditional dance into oblivion. But the thought police always get sussed eventually. The fall of Communism throughout the world and most of the far-right Latin American dictatorships, had proven that.
Sleepless in Bangkok Page 5
