Lost Horizons

Sunday

On the following morn, our blogger awoke and stretched. Ah, the first full day of his adventure, and he didn’t have to do anything at all, if he didn’t want to. What a wonderful lazy feeling. He opened the curtains to see that the golden sun was high in the sky and beating down. He thought that it was beating down a little to strongly for his liking.
He pulled on his colourful shorts, t-shirt and sandals, because this blogger liked to wear colourful clothes when he was on adventures. He sauntered out, because this blogger liked to saunter, it had a lazy feeling to the word, and he was feeling lazy, so he sauntered, and found a place where he could get some food.
After he had filled his stomach he continued to saunter along the beach, and he thought to himself that he was right, the sun was beating down a little too strongly, so he sought shelter in a massage parlour, where he had his wooly feet administered to by a delightful elve, who wanted to give him an oil massage. Our blogger thought to himself, “where’s the harm in that?”; so after an hour they headed out the back to the room where the oil massages were administered, and our blogger enjoyed himself some more.
So now a couple of hours had passed and our blogger didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasted some time looking around a shopping mall, but that really didn’t excite him. Then he remembered he had stashed a couple of large bottles of magic elixir in his fridge. He headed back to his temporary hole, extracted the bottles labeled Singha and spent some time by the secluded swimming pool.
That evening, when our blogger returned to Walking Street, things were back to normal. Trolls, elves and goblins were crying out, trying to entice mere mortals into their emporia: “Come inside, beautiful ladies”, “Welcome to the Lobster Pot”. “Hello handsum man, come inside for a drink” were just some of the cries that reverberated around the street. Others were accosting people in the street, trying to get them to buy their cheap, tacky trinkets at grossly inflated prices. This all added to the cacophony created by the music coming from stalls selling bootleg CDs and DVDs competing with the sound systems of the bars.
Our valiant adventurer was pleased to note that people were drinking from green and brown bottles, esconsed in foam condoms. The elixir, called beer was back on sale. He headed into one establishment on the street and consumed a plate of flat noodles with pork and green vegetables, all washed down with a pint of cold, draught Heineken. He would have tarried longer, but this particular bar had chosen to adopt the smoking ban recently put in force by law, but not enforced by the government.
Wandering around without a clear plan in his head, our blogger spotted a go-go bar he knew from his previous adventures, so he headed up Soi BJ and into TQ2. He found himself a table in the corner and took in the room. In the middle was a stage, with the obligatory chrome pipes reaching to the ceiling. On this stage seven ladies lazily shuffled their feet to the heavy rock music belting from the loudspeakers. They appeared to be more interested in eaking out the last remaining flavour of their chewing gum, than in entertaining the half dozen customers around the room.
The uniform on the stage was, well, nothing. The girls were absolutely naked, but had their knickers close to hand in case the wrong person came through the door. The age and looks of the girls would prevent them from winning any prizes at a beauty pageant. C section scars, sagging bellies and buttocks were evidence of standards being lowered.
Soon two ladies came and sat with our blogger. It seems a common strategy here that one will speak fairly good English, whilst the other struggles to understand the simplest phrases, apart from “do you want a drink?” They all understand that one! Introductions were made and drinks were bought. Friendly, inane chit-chat followed that, thankfully, went beyond “What’s your name? Where you from?”
Although the girls were pleasant enough, they didn’t pass our adventurers “Do-I-Want-To-Wake-Up-Next-To-Her” (DIWTWUNTH) Test. So when the girls had gone back to dance on the stage, our blogger settled his bill and quietly, slipped out the door and into the night.
Our blogger decided to head for safer, if slightly more expensive ground, and ended up at Angelwitch. The mamasans remembered him from his previous visit, and soon he was occupying a prime seat, enjoying the show with a cold beer. A few new dancers and a couple of new routines meant that he wasn’t bored by the naked flesh cavorting across the stage.
Sometime during the first show, one of the mamasans came over and explained that she had a new girl whose first night it was, and could the girl come and sit with him? The blogger, being a gentleman, was hardly going to turn down such gracious hospitality, and this young girl was ushered over. “She’s not new! I have seen her before.” declared our adventurer. “Where?” asked the mamasan with a confused expression on her face. The blogger pondered this riddle for a while, and concluded that he may have been mistaken, so he said “maybe it’s the bikini I have seen before, its very catching, especially on such a beautiful lady” Blushes and face saved all around, the young girl planted herself bown on the bench next to our blogger.
Gloin introduced herself; she claimed to be twenty-one years old and from issan. She said she used to work at Coyotees, but had been on holiday in Phuket for the last few months. “Not working there; on holiday”, she insisted.
After spending some time with her it was apparent that she fitted the bill for our adventurer, so whilst she got changed, he sorted out the bar fine and settled the check bin.
A small issue when they tried to leave, was the waitress claiming that she given our questor too much change. Fortunately he was not so “mao” that he could tell the mamasan exactly how much the bill was, how much the change, and what tip he had given the waitress. He and his fair maiden were allowed to leave the cage unharmed; he did wonder, briefly if the waitress was trying to scam him, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, as he may want to go back to that treasure trove some time later on his adventure.
They returned to his cave, where the sexual tension was thick, you could have cut it with a knife. “Come on”, she said, “join me in the shower”.

posted by Luke @ 7:09 PM