‘Today you go back to Bangkok?’ Yes, I tell the kindly Sikh tailor who’s struck up a conversation with me in the hotel lobby. We chew over the cricket world cup – he’s a bit petty and pulls me up on the slightest points he doesn’t agree with, but nevertheless in a charming manner – the boy knows his cricket! Pete turns up and the tailor’s sidekick from Nepal wanders over. The Sikh man starts ragging on the Ruskies and tells us that this hotel gives them lowest preference when taking booking reservations. ‘I don’t often take a Russian client – they don’t act civilised’ the Sikh tells us. We laughed out loud at this. When an Indian tailor refuses your custom, it’s really not a good indictment of your nation! All I will say is – I would rather the Russians I encountered in Pattaya than the same number of my own beer-swilling countryfolk. While Annie goes to the car park to fetch the Sharabang, the Nepalese sidekick does something odd when two young Scandinavian birds pass – he throws some kind of sovereign ring at their feet. They barely notice and continue on. The Nepalese mooches over and retrieves the ring. The Sikh shrugs indifferently. If I’m not mistaken, he was trying to get them to bend over so he could see their panties. Who says chivalry is dead?
On the drive back, I fret about Jen, having lost my phone. I don’t have her exact address she checks her email about as often as Go-gos rectify mistakes with change, so if I don’t manage to meet her outside her workplace (what if she leaves early?), I’ll be back home before we hear from each other! Luckily, Annie has half a brain, and calmly calls directory enquiries while driving. Pete rants about her ‘lane discipline’ to no avail. Lane discipline! In Thailand! Pete kills me. A couple more conversations later and the phone is passed back to me and I hear a relieved sounding Jen purring down the phone. I tell her I lost my ‘toe-ra-sap’ (not a good way to learn a new Thai word) and I’ll meet her outside her work later.
It’s great to see her again – balm for the eyes after having them sullied by the wenches in Pattaya Soi 6. We sit in Chuvit garden and decide to go to Hua-Hin for 2 days – cue gay, mushy rom-com music. Booking the hotel is no simple matter, and it gets fraught switching between English and Thai keyboards. She is very reserved and ‘respectable’ so I have to understand it’s quite a step for her to ‘go away with a man’ like this. We search for bungalows but they come up with ridiculous prices so we nix that. She seems more at ease when I point to rooms with twin beds and we find a decent hotel with a big room with king-sizes in opposite corners. I’m not too fazed by this – all I’ll have to do is ply her with a few ghost stories between now and tomorrow bed-time and come lights-out, she’ll be cowering under the covers next to me. ‘There once was a little girl who lived in a forest called Margaret Thatcher…’
Back in Krungers, I check into Omni Tower on Soi 4 – What a crap-hole! But I kind of like it. Just like my usual hotel in Silom, they’ve spunked all the cash on the lobby marble and done everything else on a shoestring. Arabs abound. The room is sizable but stinks of Camel shit and Camel cigarettes. Pete is here as well, (he’s booked a larger suite for 1 night) and has agreed to take my pre-booked room when I leave go to Hua-Hin. On check-in, the clerk pointed to two crappy aluminum tables over by a coffee shop and said ‘breakfast’. I mentioned this to Pete. ‘A place this size? Nah, it’s in a restaurant, or downstairs’. Fair point, there must be hundreds of guest rooms and condo residents. In the morning however, the clerk was proved correct. Breakfast was indeed at those two crappy aluminum tables! There’s two farangs already there, one-per-table and looking none too chipper. The ‘3 chair rule’ looks to be in operation. Debretts Handbook on 19th century Gentleman’s Etiquette states that ‘the western male may bodily occupy a seat and by inference any 3 seats being adjacent or opposite’. Although I reckon I could kick either of their heads in, (Geek fight! Geek fight!) I decide go next door to 7-11 for my 15 baht croissants. As I sit on the steps outside, ‘lording it up’ with my coffee brought out by the waiter, a troop of young Arabs arrive for breakfast – they don’t challenge the ‘3 chair rule’ either, and end up standing around a plate stacked with about 24 slices of toast. ‘This place is horseshit’ fumes a red-eyed Pete he answers my hammering on his door to give him the key to my room. His neighbour, some old geezer, brought back 4 skanks at 4.30am…..He invited Pete to join him apparently. ‘Dude, relax. Just mosey on downstairs for a nice breakfast…they’ve got a great buffet….’
I wait in the lobby for Jen. A Russian babe, dressed like a bar-girl, makes a show of getting out of a cab and totters up the Omni steps in the skimpiest shorts and most ridiculous stilettos. She haughtily swans past reception towards the lifts. About 10 minutes later, she re-appears, looking a bit lost as she descends the front steps again. (She repeats this scene again, almost to the second, on the morning I leave for the airport).
Jen arrives with a nice taxi-meter man who will take us to Hua-Hin for 1500 baht. Except we’re not going to Hua-Hin, we’re going to Cha Am. Fucking Agoda put the hotel we’d booked under the Hua-Hin district even though its 60km away in Cha Am. When we get there, the hotel is nothing like the brochure – ‘it will be nice when it’s finished’ is enough to say. The bell-boy spooks me out immediately – his face is a ringer for my dead cousin, (including facial expressions) albeit a Thai version. He shows us the room – containing only one king-size bed. For appearances, I protest saying ‘we paid for deluxe room….two beds…’ but he’s perplexed by my protest as he looks between me, Jen and the bed. He half-heartedly pretends to call the main desk. I notice Jen looks impressed with the large balcony and sea view. Cousin bell-boy and Jen have an exchange and we settle on staying. He shows me what a fridge does and explains what air-con is as if I’ve just landed from Jupiter. I tip him and he shuffles out hesitantly – he seems to want to stay….Norman Bates factor 50.
Cha Am is a tranquil resort for Thais – very laid back, nothing much to see or do except eat and drink on the beach and rent tandems. Couldn’t see any bar scene but can’t say I was looking either. Before dinner we shower separately – we still haven’t actually kissed! Although Jen is becoming slightly more tactile as the hours pass and she cuddled up close in the cab journey. I know that ‘no pressure’ is the way to play this….. and that’s as sure as hell what I’m doing…
When we go out for lunch, I point to one of those blackboards where they have ‘Welcome Mr….’ followed by a list of guests arriving that day. My name is missing. Somchai Bates eyes me and shifts uneasily behind the counter.
Cha Am seafront is dead at night and we don’t say much during dinner. At bed-time we shower separately again, the tension rising all the time as Jen maintains her reserve. Finally, she emerges from the bathroom, looking very cute in a halter top and tight pink shorts. We find Rocky II on the TV (she likes Sly) and we watch it for a while. After half an hour, I’m beat, so click off the telly and turn out the light. There’s a brief moment of expectancy and uncertainty. We reach for each other spontaneously and have a great kiss. The next hour is very high-up indeed on the ‘good things I’ve done on holiday’ list. Jen is shy, but a sexy love-maker. She has delightful grapefruit-sized boobs with nice big nipples and a size 10 western-style figure with a wonderful Latina butt. She’s unshaven, but I like that – I’m so sick of modern porn with fake-this and shaved-that and I’m glad to appreciate a young lady au naturele. Next morning, she tells me she doesn’t really like sex. I tell her it’s something that’s important to me – like breathing. She says ‘I like it with you though’. We have another roll-about. After, she comes into the shower with me. The shower is the best thing about the room (and indeed the hotel), it has a floor-to-ceiling glass wall and is spacious inside. We have a nice slow wash together and then she invites me to take her from behind. Through the misted glass, I’m surprised we don’t see Somchai Bates smiling and helpfully explaining, ‘Shower – you wash!’
All my worries dissolve – this nice girl has a sensual side, she just needs to be handled right.
As we load up the taxi on the morning of our departure, Somchai Bates crosses the road looking pained and beckons me back to the reception. His manner is quite urgent so I tell Jen to wait and follow him back over beach road to the hotel, quietly wondering what shifty scheme I’ll be prey to or questionable tariff I will be asked to pay. He leads me into the lobby and points proudly at the blackboard. In BIG gold letters it says ‘Welcome Mr….<my real name>’. Fuck me, Chief, if that’s not worth 20 Baht, I don’t know what is!!
Back in Bangkok and back in the Omni. From my room, I see the tired worn pool. Some senior residents loll about, one does a lethargic back-stroke – they have the look of Nihilists about them. The gym is good – old skool but well equipped with loads of weights machines and free-weights and no nancy-boy TVs, towels, water coolers or other such shit. A 70 yr old good-ole-boy is in there doing his routine. I start to think, ‘Poor guy, he’s probably a long-time resident. The place was decent when he bought it but now its shabby and downmarket’. Just then, two Lycra-clad birds in their early 40s join him, both above-average looking with smoking figures. They’re all over him like a Sukhumvit suit. Dude, you’re the man! I mean, what would his morning be like back in Florida?
Jen knocks on my door in the late afternoon…she looks a bit peeved. ‘You not outside work when I finish, I wait long time’. I tell her we didn’t make that arrangement. She does a cute pout when she’s annoyed (yeah, ask me how adorable in 2 yrs time!) and I notice she’s wearing the same outfit I told her I liked when we had dinner last week – tight tailored shorts and a pink 60’s style blouse tied up at the neck. She’s heightened the effect with a great 1960’s hair-style as well, worn up to show off her slender neck. Now, I’m sure you’ve been wondering (if you read Part 1) about the rest of the of the hold-up stockings I’d been dragging around with me since the start of the trip. These were supposed to be doled out to various trollops to wear/use at my discretion and for my delectation. (Although, the girls seem to love them too – top quality stuff, mind). Since I hadn’t barfined since Pattaya, I had a surplus, and needed to find a delicate moment to broach the stocking subject with Jen. But how does one do it? Curse my old headmaster for the useless advice he gave me as we shook hands on the school steps….
Jen and I have another romp. She seems to be getting keener on hanky-panky by the minute, and now wants to ride me on the sofa. She’s slightly clumsy but seems to know all the basic positions and moves – we can easily work on her game and add polish, but the raw aptitude and willingness is there. Sometime during our romp, I wander over to my suitcase and whilst maintaining a hard-on, rummage around for one of the pairs of stockings – I feel like black today. ‘What you are doing? She asks. When I show her the packet of hold-ups she’s surprised but happy. ‘I like them…you buy for me where?’ ‘Er…Chitlom….’ (Luckily I know there’s and M&S in Chitlom). ‘But these from UK…’ She doesn’t miss a trick. ‘No, I buy in M&S – they are UK company’. Before this protracted discussion requires a fluffer to be called to the set, she is trying them on. And my fucking Christ, she looks sensational in them.
Next night she wears a white pair of stockings with one of my t-shirts to bed and she looks even better in these. After another vigorous roll-about, she follows me into the shower still wearing the white hold-ups. I won’t bother to try describing how great her legs look and feel with the water and soap running down them.
On the last night before I depart, she spends the night in my room. She wears navy stockings before we go to sleep (school mistress fantasy – check) and I’m afraid to say I coughed my filthy yoghurt all over them and quite possibly ruined them. Nevertheless, at 4am when she has to get up for work, she wakes me up a bit earlier and puts on a flesh-coloured pair so I can shag her before she leaves. She tells me she doesn’t really like the ‘tan’ colour. ‘Can I rip and tear them a bit?’ I ask, perfectly reasonably. ‘Chai!’ she says, laughing. What a gal.
The night before, we went to dinner at the Landmark together with Pete and Annie. When the girls went off to the salad bar, Pete, another stocking fan, said ‘Hey, what happened to all those hold-ups you had? Surely there’s no way you gave them to Jen…’ I winked and sipped my last Singha. ‘What? No way. How would you explain having them??’ I gave a wry smile and said ‘Take a look in her bag’ He opened the bag and saw the packets neatly arranged inside. ‘That’s genius’, he muttered.
In summary, I would say that my patience paid off. Good girls – don’t overlook them!