Bangkok Slick

By Al Culler

For some expats and tourists the Big Mango is dying a slow death, the locals gaining the upper hand and sticking it to the foreigners. Big Bob is in town with his lovely Thai wife, who does a rapid disappearing act with her Thai gender bending boyfriend and poor old Bob doesn't know if he is in paradise or hell. Everyone is after his dosh and he isn't sure what to believe, even his expat mate may be lying...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Al Culler
• Release date: Nov 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463609279

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PUBLISHED BY: Al Culler on Smashwords

Bangkok Slick

Copyright © 2018 by Al Culler

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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Bangkok Slick

by Al Culler

All names have been changed to protect the guilty.

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The heat and pollution on Sukhumvit tried to cut me down to size. I danced along powered by an unlikely lust and ignored the sweat steam. The night young and possibilities endless. Fools pointlessly filled stalls with sex toys and porno DVD's. Huge Negroid whores muttered obscenities as my glare fleetingly reduced them to nothingness. Ugly katoeys hinted at violence but moved too slowly on six inch high-heels to limit my concrete flow. Even a Thai moto driver allowed me an inch of grace as he hurled his bike into the wastelands of Soi 7, though his face was framed in distaste at his reluctant largesse.

Ponh loitered on the corner of the soi and even her death stare couldn't slow me down. Ponh who looked rather like Jennifer Lopez and had spent her popular youth in a Thai brothel. Apart from the cancerous sores on her shoulder impossible for an innocent to divine her history. Ponh had strongly developed self-destructive urges that left no need to warn off potential suitors though her allure was so strong she even snagged a German bar owner in Nana Plaza - for a while. Her whole family were mad but those bad genes were also tough genes.

Maad hunkered down in a doorway illuminated by ghostly neon that edged her cheekbones towards divinity. She glanced at me as if I could be anyone at all or no-one. Maad danced with yaa-baa every night and would do most anything to keep the roll going. Maad and Ponh had the same luscious lips because they had the same father. Maad hadn't done the brothel gig because Ponh's money had paid her way through school. Maad had just ended up with the wrong kind of local boyfriend and was the one sister who really hated farang - but their money talked and she walked the walk.

'You!' I pivoted on one foot and wasn't where I was supposed to be. 'You, you!' I came back to where I started and stamped on the farang's foot. He'd gone native and I wore steel toe-cap Cat boots that each weighed a kilo. Or more. They didn't merely scratch skin they scrunched bone. The vagrant hopping up and down enraged. Tatty clothes falling off his muddied body whilst he threatened belated violence. Except it was a fading chant as I was back up to speed and disappearing into the pulsing crowd. The babble of languages edged towards insanity backed by the rattle of trapped traffic and rumble of the overhead BTS train.

Sukhumvit and its lower sois infested with whores, grifters, drunks, illegal immigrants and the almost dead. The police would occasionally purge an area only to find a few hours later that it was once again brimming with the desperate and the deranged. As the night wore on every available crevice not occupied by whores or hopeless vendors of junk filled with tiny street bars that sold cheap alcohol where the ex-brothel hookers could try to convince the punters that there was more to life than beer.

The traffic lights at the Nana intersection bowed to my will but I wasn't foolish enough not to caress my Buddhist amulets as I beat the odds. Traffic flowing every which way even when the lights said walk. 'Farang Ba!' Shrieked by an elderly Thai on the corner of the soi. The illusion of my sudden appearance out of the smog of pollution just as a bus rumbled through the ether turning her mind. A high art to being where you shouldn't. Not the first time I'd been called crazy by the locals, hopefully not the last!

Even through the normal pungent night smells the odour of excrement hung over the wok filled with crackling cockroaches. In death they looked no better than in life. The bar girls' faces flicked into glee as they gobbled them right on down. Lean protein reflected in the curves barely concealed beneath tight clothing. They glared at me and given half a chance would've tried to shove one of the creatures down my throat. Show no fear. I hid my amulets under my tee-shirt not wanting to offend the gods by my transgression into the mortal sin personified by Nana Plaza which had recently been painted canary yellow and given a work-over to clean out the worst of the debris that had formerly cluttered its corners. With a banner proclaiming it a Safe Zone and surveillance cameras probing the newly lighted recesses of the three storey edifice it seemed like the beginning of the end had started.

I dodged past a coven of motley katoeys who joined with clean cut Western bible thumpers (who had yet to succumb to the neon) to give me a look that said no point bothering with that bastard. The ruined transvestites contrasted with the clean cut farang suggesting a future that neither would revel in. Soi Nana a slither of bright neon hiding all kinds of damnation that resisted the endless modernisation of the city.

A half dozen Thai vermin still loitered under the shadows of the stairway hopeful that their go-go girlfriends would strike it lucky despite the newly installed security guards - probably came from the same village in Isarn. The pimps had an occasional need to exhibit their superiority by beating the shit out of an unlucky farang. The dice still rolled in my favour. I bounced up the stairs into a large go-go. I always seemed to move at twice or even thrice the speed of the locals and figured it helped keep me ahead of the game. The Thais, revelling in hedonistic superstition, reckoned it was something to do with my being born in the year of the monkey.

Educational videos flickered on three TV screens but the babes paid them no attention. Mai wove his scraggy way between the elevated dancing platforms. The drug dealing scum gave me a baleful stare even as he dodged dancers trying to tear off his white pork-pie hat. He was Ponh's nephew but half farang. The meld had come out so beastly you couldn't fault his need for drugs. His American father had beaten Ponh's elder sister to near death and the bad genes filled his head with white noise. The father escaped to Singapore to gain fame as a gospel preacher but some of his sins passed down to Mai. He sometimes tried to pass himself off as an Ugly Taiwanese and had the dress sense to go with it. Like his father, he was convinced that he was a master of the universe rather than an oxygen thief.

Porn wasn't related to Ponh but her elder sister was Mai's mother's best friend - Porn one of the star go-go dancers. The DJ was Porn's twin brother but when she wanted rid of farang attention she'd pass him off as her local boyfriend. They weren't quite identical but they were both beautiful twenty year-olds who out of the neon could've made some models appear ugly. The neon laced into their genes from their grandmother down who'd serviced the Americans in Udon Thani during the Vietnam war.

The waitress managed a smile that came from the heart even though it was overburdened by pulsing blood through arteries that were fighting her excessive flab. Ill-fitted to a risqué schoolgirl uniform. After delivering the Beer Chang she loitered hopeful of a Cola. The inability to learn from experience a defining Thai trait. Mai had the patina of disease and happily exchanged drugs for sex. Farang ending up with some vile sloppy seconds that had pension actuaries back in the West stacking up their bonuses. The waitress would probably do him for free.

Suddenly the TV screens showed white noise and the canine drug dealer had done a disappearing act. A short stout Thai cop in sergeant's regalia walked to a corner table. He had a daytime job directing traffic on Sukhumvit but only going through the motions. He had bank teller's hands as he counted a deep pile of baht and the easy money scrunched his face into greed. A bag man for higher authorities.

Porn came down from the go-go stage and entwined herself on my lap. Smooth skin over lean muscle and fearsome heat caressed my soul. She had drug-free eyes with a hint of Arabian princess. The waitress scowled and wobbled off to annoy a large German pensioner who immediately tried to check her gender by groping her groin. Porn held my face in her hands and tried to interrogate my ice blue eyes with her deep brown orbs but she already knew my history almost as well as I knew hers. Her twin brother Bo gave me a matching smile that reflected neon up in his DJ perch and cranked the music up to a level that threatened to turn the concrete beams to dust. I shouted a few Isarn words in Porn's ear that sped like poetry into the core of her being even as her eyes widened in disbelief at how much I knew about her and Bo. She gave in to my charms all too easily...

Short-time hotel room heavy with years of spent sexual energy. Porn and Bo naked in a blink of an eye. Bo's cock slender and short and vertically erect. Both had velvet skin stretched over rice cutter's muscle, their combined mass not much more than my total weight... much later, Porn sat naked weighed down by too much semen, scowling after finding that I only had the agreed thousand baht each in my trouser pockets. A fat roll of money temporarily hidden in my Cat boots when they had first hit the shower but Thais don't do feet. My cock looked pristine despite its multiple criminal immersion but I cleaned it thoroughly in the shower. Bo almost fell over on weakened legs as he staggered off the bed but managed to crack a smile at his twin sister. Anything to save face.

I felt energized rather than drained and could've done another session but figured I'd taken all they had to offer. Already I could see a hint of ugliness under the outlandishness of their youthful beauty and I left them huddled together trying to find comfort in seeing themselves reflected back in each other's visage.

Soi Nana - despite the safe zone banner - still a battleground of angry transvestites and baleful scammers. A dandified American who might've been suffering from dwarfism looked like he couldn't decide which katoey to take for the night or how many to indulge in one go. Ruined babes leaned out of beer bars in supplication as I sauntered through a narrow ribbon of clear pavement. Crazy sex burnished my skin with unnatural youth and vigour. Errant electric wires threatened to throttle me and a misstep could topple a barbecue lined with red hot coals. A warrior sized Nigerian hopped back and forth on his feet whilst he eyed my pockets in the hope of easy pickings but changed his mind when he clocked my footwear. The City of Angels layered with con-artists who all believed they had the right to rip off anyone who took their fancy.

Naa-Kwai (buffalo-face) eyed me up and down as he sat on an old Yamaha two-stroke motorcycle of a type that three decades ago used to be popular with pimps. He looked more African than Thai bloated out with fat every which way. He spent three hours every night outside Nana waiting for the farang who had stolen his money to return. Even after three years he was certain the Brit would return to the addictive charms of Nana go-go's. His Thai wife's five year long-con on the farang had produced less than nothing. He hadn't even had any sex when the Brit was living with her 24/7. The loss of money nothing compared to the loss of face. He knew the farang had five million baht in a foreign bank but when he passed the details to his Mafia friends they found the account had been closed. Long faces all round and he'd spent an hour on his knees before the boss begging forgiveness for wasting his time.

That farang was in for it when he finally turned up. Naa-Kwai had already nearly killed a few farang who looked similar but turned out to be innocent. Innocent except they were farang who were anyway guilty for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When he explained to the police how the farang had robbed him they patted him on the back and wished him better luck next time. A foreigner managing to get the better of a Thai - even if he was one of the lower orders - threatened the whole Thai system and could even reach the ears of the upper echelons of the Mafia and police.

Big Bob stopped me as I turned into Sukhumvit. When he drank too much alcohol his face blossomed into that of a fat old woman. He was married to another of Ponh's sisters. Goi hadn't done the brothel gig either but she had worked a Bangkok cocktail lounge for rich Thais. Her boss paid for a nose job as the clientèle didn't approve of the flat Laotian look but she baulked at selling her pussy to all and sundry to pay off the expensive plastic surgery. Even with the nose job Goi didn't look like Jennifer Lopez but had a hint of Kate Moss in her early days but with an even tauter and smaller body. When Goi tried to get out of the cocktail lounge job her boss handed her over