Paul was in town again and if not for a long-time booking that lasted longer than planned, Wit would have met him at the airport when he arrived. Instead he was hurrying along Patpong 1, headed for the Balcony Bar on Soi 4 where Paul waited for him. Wit would just as soon have stayed clear of Bangkok’s entire red light district; even Silom was too close to Soi Twilight where he worked. And the last thing Wit wanted to happen was for Paul to discover that he wasn’t the university student he claimed to be, but a gogo bar boy instead. But the Balcony seemed safe enough. The two had met at DJ Station and as yet Paul had not appeared to be the least bit interested in the city’s commercial sex scene. Not that that did much for Wit’s bank account, but he felt rich in love. And since Paul was a doctor, Wit figured the money angle would be taken care of once the two were officially a couple.
Wit’s heart soared when he spotted Paul seated at one of the small tables spread across the front of the Balcony. His eyes quickly swept across the other patrons, as well as those sitting across the narrow soi in front of the Telephone Pub. He didn’t spot any of his customers, let out a sigh of relief, and intended suggesting to Paul they move indoors where it was cool and air-conditioned. Just in case. But those worries flew from his mind as he neared his soon to be boyfriend. He moved in for a warm embrace and passionate kiss, but even here surrounded by gay men, Paul froze. Wit got a handshake instead. Pushing the point, he leaned in for a bro hug as a consolation prize and felt Paul’s stiffening member in the brief seconds the two of their bodies touched. Wit couldn’t think of a better greeting and wished they were back in Paul’s hotel room where they could take longer to reconnect.
Flustered by his body’s response, the evidence of which was still visible under the table, Paul was disinclined to move indoors as Wit suggested. He needed to cool down before parading past the cafe’s other patrons. Feeling like a sitting duck, that made Wit’s worries quickly resurface and he suggested the two head to Paul’s hotel room. As anxious as Paul’s body appeared, he was less so. “There’s some place I want to show you first,” he whispered into Wit’s ear as he paid his tab and led Wit back down the soi.
When they hit Silom, turning toward the Patpong night market, Paul slowed down and began browsing the booths set up along the sidewalk. Wit wasn’t interested in the tchotchkes the sidewalk vendors pushed off as handcrafted souvenirs. But there was a vendor selling sexy underwear. Maybe, he thought, he could get Paul to buy him a pair. That could help convince Paul the hotel would be a better destination than wherever he had in mind too. As he sorted through a pile of briefs looking for some that would look good on him and help convince Paul his hotel was the best destination, the good doctor made his own choice, pulling a black T-shirt off the rack. It was small, tight, and had large tears across the chest, a purposeful design that would look hot in any club.
“I like this one for you,” Paul said, holding it up against Wit’s chest. “And you’ll need something black for tonight anyway.”
Wit wasn’t sure why he needed a black shirt, if anything, it was Saturday and he should be wearing a purple one for good luck. But he knew he’d look good in it. And free clothes were free clothes. He slipped it on, struggling against its tight confines to get it pulled down over his chest. There was no mirror available to check himself out, but the look in Paul’s eyes spoke volumes. Paul’s hand moved toward his chest, Wit’s taught nipple peaking out from the black fabric too much of a lure to resist. When it alighted briefly, the feeling shot through Wit’s entire body. When Paul gave his tit a quick, not so gentle squeeze, he almost moaned aloud in pleasure.
Paul paid for their purchase and began strolling up Silom again, following the crowd at the snail’s pace that it emulated. Passing a table full of X-rated DVDs and sex toys, he slowed down again. Nodding toward a large neon pink vibrating dildo he joked that it would look good with Wit’s new shirt. Wit scoffed. The one thing his life was not short on was penis. And he had no need for a fake one regardless of how many speeds it moved in. A pair of handcuffs caught Paul’s eye. He picked them up, played with them for a minute, and then shot Wit a suggestive, yet questioning look. Wit had had the occasional customer into kink but it never did anything for him. He just chalked it up to the general strangeness of farang. Toys, in his opinion, just got in the way of the sex. And if Paul was too shy for a PDA on a soi filled with gay men, Wit doubted he’d be buying handcuffs in front of the passing crowd. He laughed, just in case Paul was serious, and then nudged his friend along.
When Paul turned to walk down Patpong 2, Wit’s worries took center stage again. That was a popular route through Patpong to Suriwong and Soi Twilight. He stopped to look at a display of bags and luggage, trying to come up with an excuse to lead them in a different direction. Paul stopped too, didn’t see any bags that were worth looking at closer, most were knock-offs of pricey designer labels. But a thick, black leather belt called to him. He looped it around his hand, a foot or two of the belt still hanging loose. Like a whip. And then shrugged and hung it back on the display. “Come on,” he urged Wit. “It’s just up here.”
Wit followed, dragging his feet. He considered telling Paul he needed to stop at Foodland; maybe he’d come up with a better excuse once inside the supermarket. Like that he was feeling ill. Because he was. But before he could put his plan to work, Paul pulled up short in front of a small dark club. One that Wit had never noticed before. The barker, a woman perched on a stool next to the door, did nothing to entice visitors into her club. She just sat there, dressed in black leather. With a knowing smirk on her face. Wit was just about to tell Paul that he may have made a mistake, this wasn’t a gay bar. He wasn’t sure what type of a bar it was in fact. Most bars told you what you’d find inside by their name. Like Super Pussy. And Bar Bar didn’t do that. But before he could open his mouth in warning, the barker did. “Paul!” she exclaimed, even managing to put a smile on her face. “It’s so good to see you again!”
Paul gave the woman a significant wai, the first time Wit had seen him make that gesture. And then pushed Wit inside in front of him. Just inside the door, he flashed a membership card at a leather-clad mamasan collecting cover-charges – 900 baht per head Wit noticed, stunned at how much the place got out of its customers . From the look on the mamasan’s face, showing his card had been an unnecessary gesture. She too greeted Paul like an old friend, “The Light Area is really hopping tonight,” she whispered as they passed. “They’ll be thrilled to have a real doctor in the house!” she added with a giggle.
As Wit’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bar he expected to see a stage like at every gogo bar he knew of. There was none. But there was a large bar, so he thought this place must be like a disco, like DJ Station or G.O.D. instead. Even if there was no dance floor. But then spying an overweight farang, naked but for a leather jockstrap, tied up in a cage being playfully whipped by a gaggle of giggling Japanese tourists, he decided the bar wasn’t like DJ Station either. Not at all. He felt Paul’s hand on his ass. At least he hoped it was Paul’s hand. Fortunately it was, and Paul pushed him toward the bar where the bartender, decked out in a leather vest, greet Paul by name. He checked out Wit too, allowing his gaze to linger on his exposed nipple. “I see you brought a playmate with you tonight,” he said to Paul with a wink. And then added, “The usual?” as he reached for a glass.
Wit had heard about gay guys into the leather and SM scene. He even knew a few bar boys whose customers had asked them to spank them. But the closest he’d ever come to being with a customer who wanted something different like that was with a black man, an American who showed up on the soi a few times each year. But he’d met him at DJ Station. The man had bragged incessantly about how much sex he got for free, but then didn’t bat an eye when Wit told him he was a money boy. Wit hadn’t really been attracted to the man, but it was a slow night and he was curious. He’d heard black guys had large cocks. Which turned out to be nothing more than a rumor when they got back to the man’s hotel room. That one had wanted Wit to pee on him. Wit acted like he didn’t understand what the man wanted. He understood the request, but not why someone would want to be peed on. And then thought about faking a phone call about a sick friend that needed him immediately. But the man was satisfied with Wit fucking him. And then tipped him even more than most customers did. Although he stressed the money was a gift and not payment for sex. Wit didn’t care. It still spent the same. But leaving the man’s hotel room, he did stop to make sure the bills he’d been handed weren’t damp.
Paul, however, didn’t appear twilling to let Wit off the hook as easily. And while he’d avoided any sort of PDA before, as soon as their drinks arrived he bent over and started nibbling at Wit’s exposed nipple. A bit too hard as far as Wit was concerned. But his cock thought otherwise and began to stiffen in his pants. “I think,” Paul said when he came up for air, “you need to pick a safe word to use before we go any further.”
Wit didn’t have a clue about what Paul meant. He knew what words were. And knew what safe meant too. But together they made little sense. He smiled at Paul hoping he’d change the subject.
“You know what a safe word is?” Paul asked, obviously intent on finishing what he’d started. Wit didn’t, but didn’t want to admit that there was something he didn’t know either. Especially since it seemed important to Paul. He let his silence answer for him.
“A safe word is a word you use to mean no,” Paul explained. “It’s so you can say no, or stop, without really meaning it. But your safe word really does means no; it’s a special word to use instead of no. So that I’ll know you mean no”
That didn’t make a lot of sense to wit. He was Thai. And Thais had a few hundred ways of saying no without actually saying no. Thais hated saying no. But they certainly didn’t need a special word to use instead. You were supposed to know when a Thai meant no anyway. Without him saying so. And without some special code word either. But Paul thought he’d managed to get the concept across and told Wit he needed to pick a safe word. A word that meant no, but wasn’t no.
Wit thought about it for a minute. And then came up with the obvious answer. “Okay,” he told Paul. “I pick yes.” That was Wit’s favorite word for no anyway.
Paul chuckled. “I don’t think that’s a good safe word Wit,” he laughed. “Besides, I hope you’ll be saying yes a lot tonight,” he added. “Though that actually should be ‘Yes sir’.”
Wit thought about what other words he used to say no, but before he could come up with one Paul decided for him. “How about cream puff?” he laughed, pleased with the reference. And then didn’t wait for Wit’s agreement but got busy applying his tongue and teeth to Wit’s nipple again instead. This time when he came up for air he smiled at Wit knowingly, and then brushed the back of his hand against Wit’s crotch for confirmation. He nodded, mostly to himself, a congratulations at having made what he thought was the right call. And then reached into his back pocket.
“I brought a gift for you,” he said with a shy smile. Wit smiled back. He liked gifts. But then he remembered the last present Paul had given him. It was a leather cock ring, with spikes protruding around its circumference. For Paul to wear. A harbinger of what was to come although only now was that dawning on Wit. He thought maybe there might be a dance floor back farther in the club, that maybe a disco beat would take Paul’s mind away from his gift. But what he could see to the far side of the bar was a smaller, even darker room. With flashes of silver from chains hanging on its walls playing in the light of dozens of candles. Paul pushed them away from the bar, leading them into that darkness. “I think you’ll like your gift even better back there,” he said. Wit walked where Paul pushed him. And then bumped into a human-sized cage hanging suspended from the ceiling. He wasn’t sure he was going to like Paul’s gift. Or the path Paul was leading him down. But he did like Paul. A lot. So maybe it was time for him to explore the wild side.
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