I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: The Importance Of Being Earnestly Gay

24 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by Bangkokbois in I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy

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Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, considers his body a temple. It’s one at which I worship often. Dave, who plays the role of my boyfriend back home, not so much. His is my choice of places to worship at on Sunday mornings, but he views his body more as something to abuse. Which I do the other six days of the week. Having both bodies at the same place at the same time means the best of both worlds. But it can make deciding which religion to practice at any given time difficult. And for that, I can empathize with Catholic priests.

Dave an I have traveled the world together, even if for most of those journeys only one of us was officially gay. With the internet still in its infancy, while it was more of a chore I always took care of the logistics of travel, booking airlines, hotels, transpo, and the like. Dave went with what he knew best and handled finding the hottest bars and seediest dives. It’s one of his main talents. New to any town, he can find the watering holes that will make a trip memorable. Provided you can still remember them the next morning.

When we hit Hong Kong the first time, he excelled at his task. That was largely due to his having grown up there. Not that I didn’t have any input on how and where we’d spend our nights. In a homage to its history, on the top of my to-do list was a visit to an opium den. And he made that happen. Kinda, sorta. He managed to get us eight-sixed out of a trendy nightclub. The bar’s manager, being no more thrilled with his establishment’s hi-so clientele than we were, decided to spend the rest of his night bar hopping with us. Although part of his decision to turn our road act into a trio was because he loved that we were from Hawaii. ‘Cuz he had plans on moving to the islands and opening a bar cum brothel. And assumed two boys from Aloha land who got kicked out of a bar that didn’t offer prostitution were probably in on the know of how to become a pimp running one in their home town that did.

Vision of the grandeur of the flesh-trade aside, we explained that a bar fronting as a brothel was illegal in Hawaii. He nodded wisely, agreeing. And then asked again how you’d go about setting one up. We went back and forth trading rounds of can’t / can, never managing to convince him that it wasn’t simply a matter of knowing who to pay off. Tea money is a universal concept within Asia, but its not one that got carried over to the Hawaiian islands. But we all got pleasantly hammered while negotiating the finer points of his new business while hitting a succession of bars, each just a bit more seedy than the last. That opium den never materialized, but thanks to our new friend, the opium did. And we returned back to our hotel room to turn it into the opium den that I hadn’t quite envisioned. I’m not sure what we did the next night. Or maybe it was the night after that one.

It’s not surprising that on our first trip to Thailand, Dave led us to Patpong. Or that on our next visit he’d discovered the wonders of Soi Cowboy. Or that several trips after that he took me to my first gay gogo bar in Bangkok. As long as copious amounts of alcohol were involved, Dave has never cared much about a hang-out’s clientele. Or what in addition to alcohol it serves. Although now that he’s discovered he is gay, our visits to Soi Twilight have quickly become of much higher interest to him. Still, in our earlier visits we’d managed to hit trendy nightspots and less salubrious clubs that didn’t include naked male flesh on the drink menu, and I missed those days. And since I’d also missed visiting that opium den in Hong Kong I’d dreamed of, I thought it was time for a change.

“Where we go?”

As usual Noom wanted to know what my plans for the evening were. Not to voice his opinion, ‘cuz that was always up to me. Not that if my plans weren’t to his liking that it wouldn’t matter either. ‘Cuz pouting – as only a Thai can – was always an option totally up to him.

Thanks to what he does for a living, Noom has pretty much heard and seen it all. At least he’d thought he had until the night I took him to Bangkok’s premier SM club, Bar Bar. It was like a person who strayed unknowingly into the showing of a pornographic film and would like to rinse himself of a new and unwanted awareness about human behavior. The few times since that I’ve suggested a bar or club he’s not familiar with he’s grilled me about the place first. And then is quiet on our way there, busy practicing his selection of pout faces just in case the need arises. So I punted.

“We go bar.”

It worked. He assumed I meant his bar. And that meant a night of communing with his friends, free from the duty of chaperoning his charges since the farang would be too preoccupied with the naked male flesh on stage to need watching. Dave wasn’t as pleased. He’d been enjoying the almost nightly parade of cock on Soi Twilight, but that was a new vice for him. His old vice of getting totally smashed demanded, at least, equal time. Soi Twilight has never heard of a mixologist. And premium brands of alcohol mean a top-label bottle refilled with a no-name brand liquor. Getting your rocks off is what Soi Twilight is all about. Getting a decent scotch served on the rocks, not so much.

So Dave decided since Noom wasn’t pouting, he should. Until he caught my look. The one that reminded him I’d told him he looks gay when he pouts. Still new to the homo-lifestyle, Dave hasn’t quite yet figured out that it’s okay to look gay when you are in fact gay. When he finally reaches that conclusion, I’ll have one less trick in my arsenal for manipulating him into doing anything and everything I want.

So off we headed into the night on the BTS with Noom practicing a few pout faces just in case and Dave trying out his version of one that didn’t make him look too gay. When we passed Sala Daeng station, Noom upped his efforts realizing he’d been duped once again. Getting off at Surasak, he posed his earlier question again, hoping for a more informative reply. And then settled on the perfect expression of a Thai boy in agony when all he got from me was a curt answer of, “Walking.”

That changed when we arrived at the otherwise nondescript side of the Novotel Bangkok Fenix Silom Hotel to be greeted by the green neon billboard of Maggie Choo’s, slightly tacky looking but promising Thai-Chinese food nonetheless. One of Noom’s favorite pastimes is eating. And the thought of doing so always puts a smile on his face. The dour looking doorman promised something entirely different. So Dave was happy too. Past the joint’s dark wooden doors, you’re not greeted by much. But you notice the ambiance has definitely changed. And with no other choice offered, you quickly make your way down a steep wooden staircase into what looks like an old-school dai pai dong Cantonese noodle bar replete with patrons fishing dumplings into their mouths with chopsticks while perched on antique wooden stools that don’t look quite up to their task.

As restaurants go, Maggie Choo’s is tiny. Jade colored tiles adorn the walls and floor; paper parasols diffuse the light from above. And a caged, bright green iguana, center stage, is no more impressed with the day’s special – red curry roast duck with jasmine rice for 300 baht – than are the few other diners who opted for more traditional noodle dishes instead. Noom’s stomach began to rumble. Dave gave me a questioning look, knowing I generally hold any form of pasta in the same general degree of disdain I normally reserve for drag queens. Tonight he’s in for a big surprise.

Ignoring the noises and looks my companions were making, I pushed them through a doorway blocked by curtains into what only can be described as a classic, but classy, oriental opium den decor, circa early 20th century. It’s very hedonistic. And literally underground. Oil paintings of sailing ships and busts of Queen Victoria compete for wall space with heavy steel doored brick bank vaults to fill the lush, cavernous club. At its center, the bar looks like an old-school casino cashier counter with the bartenders pushing drinks through its bars. And a pair of turbaned, shirtless hunks swing above it all. It’s several steps down in naughtiness from the pleasures of Soi Twilight, but the faux-speakeasy’s colonial era decor and button-tufted leather couches promise a degree of the decadence that helped to make Bangkok famous. And when Pangina Heals, Maggie Choo’s resident drag queen, takes the stage Dave forgot all about my dislike of pasta.

The story behind Maggie Choo’s – ‘cuz every good theme restaurant/club needs one – is that the concubines’ haven is run by its head-mistress, a cabaret owner named Maggie Choo who fled her hometown of Shanghai in 1931 following the Japanese invasion. Landing in Bangkok, she bought a tiny restaurant crammed into a basement ten meters below Silom Road that served authentic Thai-Chinese shophouse food. One day she discovered an entrance behind one of its walls that lead to a derelict 19th century East India company bank used for storing porcelain and spices that the British used to carry back to England for Queen V. Going with the life she knew, she converted the old bank into a cabaret, just like she used to run back in Shanghai.

In fact, Maggie Choo’s site was originally an underground East India Company Bank. The vaults that dot the walls are original, though now they serve as private rooms where you can perform those disgusting acts you can no longer get away with in public (that’d be smoking). Six nights of the week the club features fish on its swings and blues or jazz bands on its stage. But on Sundays it’s all about “The Importance of Being Earnest”, shirtless studs draped in red satin trousers and turbans, and a night of gay cabaret with Bangkok’s “wackiest drag queen”. Who at least is Asian.

Rebranded from the Love Your Own Kind Night when it debuted last August, Maggie’s is slowly become the Sunday night hot spot for gay expats and tourists, as long as you don’t mind spending your evening with a few local hipsters and the occasional wide-eyed farang visitor who passed on a night in Patpong ‘cuz it sounded too risque. The magical underground cabaret full of mystery, romance, jazz, and reminiscent of Shanghai opium den in the 1930s is the brainchild of Sanya Souvanna Phouma, who used to organize the gay nights at Bed Supperclub. Every Sunday night from 9pm to 2am, mixing steamy exoticism with steaming noodles, the club takes on the air of a live version of Cabaret, except this time around, Liza Minnelli really is a drag queen.

Noom sat through the opening bit of the show patiently. But ladyboy acts are a part of his life. With the limited number of pu’u pu’us available on the club’s menu and his stomach still singing off-key, he suck out his hand for some cash and nodded back toward the curtained doorway where his dinner awaited. Meanwhile Dave split his attention between the drag queen on stage, giving me querulous looks at my choice of the night’s entertainment, and the club’s extensive menu of premium brands of alcohol. At 165 baht for a Singha, Maggie Choo’s isn’t quite as expensive as a drink at Soi Twilight’s bars, but then the acts on stage aren’t quite as male-flesh filled either. And you can’t order Johnnie Walker & Sons Odyssey on Soi Twilight either. (Okay, you can, but that’s not what will be poured into your glass.)

Unfortunately – ‘cuz I’m greedy and one of the guys was a total hunk – the boys at Maggie Choo’s aren’t offable either. The scent of prostitution is for ambiance only. But if you are looking for an alternative gay night out on the town where money boys don’t dominate the crowd, Sundays at Maggie Choo’s might be the answer. When we hit the club there was a smattering of farang touri, an obvious number of gay expats, and enough friendly local eye candy willing to be cruised that you might just manage to score a Thai guy without paying for it for a change. Of course if drag queens are your thing, you’ll probably be as happy as a hog in slop anyway.

The club’s Pax Britannica decor mixed with a seedy far Eastern vibe is quickly gaining a loyal following, so reservations are a must; by 9pm it’s a first-come-first-seated basis, and there just ain’t that many seats available. On most nights it’s more of an intimate jazz or blues club, although it’s Facebook page announced a recurring “Freak Show Night” replete with midgets that looked like it could almost be as much fun as watching an Asian drag queen. Noom gave the noodle shop a hearty thumbs up (but then his sole requirement for sustenance is that it’s hot). And Dave enjoyed himself enough that he switched from Macallan’s to one of the club’s signature drinks, an HMS Leviathan (bourbon infused with honeycomb, honey syrup, sweet vermouth, and a twist of lemon). And I was just happy that I’d found a hot spot that could satisfy both of my boys. Even if it did mean sitting through a night of drag queen infused cabaret.

Gratuitous Gratuities In Gogo Bars

16 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by Bangkokbois in The World of Thailand's Gay Gogo Bars

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Gay Bangkok, Gay GoGo Bars

Tipping is not customary in Thailand. All the guidebooks, both online and in print, will tell you that this western custom is not the norm in the Kingdom. And, in Thailand, prostitution is illegal too. So of course you’ll never run across prostitutes on your visit. Nor will any Thai ask, or expect, a tip from you. But Thailand’s gay gogo bars are a world of their own. In Bangkok, that world is centered on Soi Twilight. Where you’ll find establishments full of prostitutes. And everyone involved in the business not only expects to be tipped, but will demand a gratuity from you. Hopefully, you’ll at least get an orgasm out of it.

Undoubtedly the most often asked question about tipping and gay gogo bars in Thailand is: how much? That’d be how much to tip the guy you took back to your hotel room. I’m not gonna tell you. Actually it’s not that I won’t, but rather I already have. Go hunt that post down if you must. This post, instead, is about all of the other guys – as well as those who once were guys – who will expect you to tip them. The easy rule of hand is to tip everyone. You’ll be a popular customer and all the boys will talk about what a big heart you have. All of the other customers, most of whom are expats, will talk about what a jerk you are and about how you are ruining their world. Don’t worry about it. Those guys grumble about everything anyway. The trick is to tip enough and to the right people to not be confused with an expat, and to not overtip to the point that all of the boys mark you as a sucker. Regardless of the years you’ve spent gaining that reputation.

So fill your pockets full of baht and get ready, here’s your definitive guide to tipping in Bangkok’s gay gogo bars:

Barkers & Touts: These are the guys who grab various parts of your body as you saunter down the soi trying to decide which bar to enter. Most visitors hate these guys. It’d be different if they grabbed the parts of you that you’re planning on having grabbed, but that you’ll have to wait for until you are inside a bar.

Veteran bar goers scoff at the idea of tipping barkers. Shooting them, yes. Handing over some cash? Not so much. But if you consider that tipping in the gay gogo bar world is more about extortion than gratitude, tipping the soi’s touts is a smart move. After doing so, the next time you stroll down the street they’ll be less aggressive and will greet you with a warm smile instead of pulling your arm off.

Captains: In theory, mamasans and captains are the same. In practice, captains don’t become mamasans until they master the trick of being overly aggressive, pushy, demanding, and greedy. Oh, and extremely annoying. So while most captains are mamasans, for now we’ll pretend they are actually part of the human race and are there to help you. That won’t last long.

The captain will be the first person you meet when you enter the bar. His job is to direct you to a seat. The bars are seldom so crowded you actually need help finding a seat, but the bars have learned that without a captain to direct traffic, newbies only make it as far as the first few steps into a bar. Then they stand there, dropped jaw, mesmerized by the naked and hard studs on stage. This would not be a problem except there is no money in it for the bar, so they’ve learned to help you to a seat where you can order a drink and start emptying your wallet.

It is not unusual at an entertainment venue to tip the person who seats you to score the best seat in the house. But this is Thailand. So fuck that. As the evening progresses you’ll have plenty of opportunities to tip staff members, no reason to jump in quite yet. Besides, it’s time for you to establish who is boss. The captain will lead you to either a chair at stage side, or to a spot on one of the benches, making other customers scoot over while half of the tables are still empty. Ignore him. It’s good practice for when he transforms into a mamasan.

The stage-side seats at first glance appear to be prime viewing. But sitting there means you’ll spend your evening staring up at the naked boys and you’ll spend the next day trying to find a chiropractor to fix the crick in your neck (you’d think with all the massage places in town you’d be able to find relief easily, but all of those places are in business to give you a different kind of relief). Sitting at stage-side also exposes you to various body fluids that tend to fly around once the show starts. The view from a few feet back is not only better, but safer too.

Thais are comfortable with what is familiar to them and since the captain has been sitting customers at the same table all night he’ll direct you to one that is overcrowded and overflowing. You do not want to sit there. Most of those potential tablemates are not really people you want to associate with. Plus, you will want plenty of empty space around you to fill with boys. So head in the opposite direction instead and stake out your claim at an empty table.

Waiters: After sitting down the captain will take your drink order. It will be brought to you by a waiter. In most bars all around the world it is customary to tip your waiter. Usually for each round. Thais have not yet figured this out and there is no reason for you to help them add to their tipping repertoire. Accept your drink and keep your wallet where it belongs.

The exception to this rule is when you’ve checked out all of the boys on stage and decided they all suck. Before you head off to a different bar for a better selection of meat, take a minute and check out your waiter. He may just be exactly what you have in mind. Just because he is not standing naked on stage does not mean he is not available. He is, after all, Thai. You’ll pay the bar a higher fee for offing him than you would for one of the bar boys, but waiters are usually much less jaded and have not learned how to screw you without having to screw you. Yet.

If you don’t off your waiter, at the end of your time in the bar he’ll be the employee who brings you your change. He will make sure your change is lots of worthless coins and almost as worthless small bills. The bars know guys hate coins and most will leave them as a tip regardless of how much they add up to. Don’t be surprised if your change includes coins worth several hundred baht.

A lot of customers are cheap bastards and do not leave anything as a tip, so whatever you tip will be fine. Depending on how long you sat at the bar, how cute the waiter is, and if you have a boy you are offing (who will watch to see how much you tip so he can establish how much extra to ask you for to cover his taxi after your orgasm), an acceptable tip is between 20 and 100 baht. Though if you leave 100 baht on purpose, you’ll be the first person that month to do so.

The tip you leave in the check wallet does not go to your waiter. No matter how cute he is. It goes to the ‘house’ and is supposed to be split among the waitstaff at the end of the evening. Good luck with that. If you want to tip your waiter and not the bar manager and owner, hand the check wallet back to him (with or without coins) and then place your tip directly in his hand. He gets to keep what you fork over in this manner.

It’s considered rude to tip your waiter by shoving a few bills down his pants while you cop a feel. Rude, but not unheard of. You may weigh the chance that others will think you are rude against the opportunity to molest a hot Thai guy and decide it’s worth it. Then go for it. Play dumb (you never know when a bar is looking to hire a new mamasan), you’ll get the same insincere wai that those who thought they should abide by their moral code while in a whorehouse do. Your stiffy is on the house.

Boys on Stage: If Thais were able to obtain visas for travel to other countries they’d be more clued in to tipping customs in the rest of the world. Lucky for you, they are not. While elsewhere it is customary for patrons to stuff bills in gogo boys’ g-strings while they are performing on stage, in Thailand this is not a normal practice. Even if you reach up and fondle a boy, tipping him while on-stage is not required. Fondling him while he is on stage is not required either, and is in fact not appreciated. That’s what the empty spot next to you is for. But if you can not control yourself, well, it’s amazing what a 100 baht will do toward smoothing a Thai’s ruffled feathers.

Boys Sitting With You: Unlike a boy on stage, when you are fondling one sitting with you, a tip is required. Even if you are too shy to play with the merchandise. The bar would rather you buy the boy a drink. The boy would rather you give him cash. Actually, the boy would rather you off him and give him lots of cash, but if instead you decide to throw him back into the pond, you should tip him for his time. 20 baht is plenty for a short, non-fondling chat. 100 baht is generous if you played with him; it’s not like he gave you a blow job. Unless he did give you a blow job. Then you may want to tip a bit more.

Screeching Queens: You need not, however, tip a boy who approached you on his own. Invariably, these are the fem boys who screech out a ‘Sawaaaatdeeeee kaaaaaaaa’ when they plant their ass next to you. If you lack taste in men and like this kind of boy, then feel free to keep him with you and tip him for his time. If on the other hand he makes you consider going straight, your duty is to convince him to leave you alone, not to tip him.

Getting rid of an unwanted companion at a gay gogo bar in Thailand is not easy. Little screeching queens all want to be fabulous ladyboys when they grow up, but usually become mamasans instead. Ignorance is something they are earnestly striving to master. If you try and send one on his way by saying something like, “No thank you,” it will not work. Do not be polite. His English speaking skills may be minimal, so sign language is your best form of communication. And you have several choices. The most polite is a brushing away gesture with your hand. This works best with an look of extreme disgust on your face. A quicker acting gesture, and one everyone understands, is an emphatically thrown middle finger. Best yet is the ‘two fingers in your mouth, gag reflex in use’ gesture which is also understandable the world over. The plus with using this gesture is he’ll screech in horror as he scurries away. Which is entertaining in its own right.

Boys on Your Lap: Closely related to the screeching queen is the other screeching queen who demands a tip while he is spread across your lap while being fucked by one of his bar mates. If you are too drunk to identify this tipping opportunity, the screeching queen will help you out by yelling, “Tip Meeeeeeee!” in your face. Well, actually at your crotch. This is not a tip, it is extortion. Get over it and tip him quickly so he moves on to the next sucker. Unfortunately, they don’t make 10 baht notes, so you’ll have to waste a green bill to free yourself from this horror.

You may wonder how the fucking act decides which customers get their attention. Which really means you may be wondering how to avoid having a little Thai ladyboy wannabe getting fucked on your lap. Simple. The customers who have tipped the captain for showing them to a seat, tipped the waiter every time he brought a drink, and tipped every screeching queen who planted their ass next to him, are the ones they zero in on. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and guys who tip too much at gay gogo bars.

Boys Massaging You: Whether you called a boy over, bought him drinks and tipped him, or were too big of a pussy to send the little screeching queens fleeing from your presence, if the boys in the bar note you are handing out baht they will flock to you. Throwing a bit of cash around means half of the boys will soon be surrounding you. When the good tip-getting spots are taken and a boy is already sitting on each side of you, others will stand behind you, to your side, or in front of you and massage your neck, your hands, and/or your legs (all three of them).

As with most services in the bar whether you allow this is up to you. But if you do, again, it is customary to tip the boys working on your body parts. 20 baht per boy is fine. Maybe 100 baht to the one kneeling in front of you if he kept his hands behind his back.

Boys in the Toilet: In many of the gay gogo bars you’ll also get a shoulder or neck massage when you are trying to take a piss in the toilet. I’m not sure how this custom started, or who thought a guy would enjoy a neck massage when he is trying to empty his bladder, but there ya go. Much like the screeching queens who get fucked on your lap, consider the toilet massage extortion, hand over a 20 baht note and pray the sucker leaves you alone so you can pee in peace.

The toilet massage guys are not exactly at the top of the pecking order in the bar and some become quite aggressive in their pursuit of a tip. Amazingly, they have not figured out they could get a big tip by dropping to their knees, but instead will just keep mauling your upper body in an effort to get more baht out of you. If the first 20 baht didn’t do the trick and they still won’t leave you alone, do not fall for their additional extortion attempts. You’re already armed, just direct your flow in his direction and he’ll get the idea. Or you’ll find the sole kinky Thai in Bangkok.

The Boy You Take Home: All those 20 baht tips you’ve been handing out for attention, or to be left alone, add up. If you’ve been careful, you may have enough money left to actually off a boy and take him back to your hotel with you. If you do, you probably have sex on the mind. Everyone else has more tips in mind.

The mamasan who tallies up your check bin, with off fee included, will ask for a tip. Not because she did anything to earn it, but because she’s learned that being pushy works with most Westeners. Even though she expended the least amount of effort out of all of the bar employees you tipped during your visit, she will expect 100 baht as a tip. Ignore her.

Giving money to mamasans only encourages them. She is going to demand some of the tip you give to your boy when he returns to the bar anyway. Besides, when she was younger she dreamed of a fabulous future as a ladyboy on stage, Instead she grew old and ugly and could only find employment as a mamasan. So she’s used to being disappointed. It’d be cruel of you to hold out some hope by giving her a tip, allow her to wallow in her misery while she reflects on what it was she did in a previous life to have come back as a mamasan in this one. That can count as the cultural experience for your trip.

When you get back to your hotel, unless you have been careful about where you booked, the hotel too will want a tip. They call theirs a joiner fee. It’s a tip for using your room for sex and is usually a fixed-price, anywhere from 400 to 1,000 baht and more. The hotel acts as a pimp and pimps are the only Thais you’ll run across who refuse to negotiate price. So don’t bother. Pay up. You really don’t want to waste time in the lobby when all the fun will be up in your room anyway.

Lastly, of course, is the boy himself. I already told you I’m not using this post to discuss appropriate tips for your boy d jour. But as big of a concern for newbies as how much is when. This is the part of the night where fantasy takes off and forking over cash ruins that fantasy for may customers. Fortunately, the custom in Thailand is to pay for the goods after delivery. You tip the boy after he is dressed and ready to leave. This also allows you to decide how much to tip, depending on how good of a time you had. Or how badly you hurt him.

Some guys feel most comfortable leaving the tip on the dresser (but if you do you will have to point to it). Most slip the tip to the guy just before he walks out the door. Surprisingly, most boys will take your tip without counting it, wai, smile, and leave. Not surprisingly, others count it carefully, and then, regardless of how much you tipped, ask for more. They usually will ask for money for a taxi as the excuse for more baht. You can avoid feeling like you have to give your boy more cash by making sure the tip you give includes a handful of smaller baht notes. The greedy ones will still ask, but you already got yours so ignore their pleas of poverty.

Outside of Bangkok: As a newbie you may not yet have made it to the sex tourist capital of the world, Pattaya. Tipping in Pattaya is different than tipping in Bangkok, or in any other city or town in Thailand. In Pattaya, you’ll be expected to tip everywhere you go because the entire town is a brothel. At the same time, Pattaya attracts the biggest number of cheap bastards, so being stiffed on a tip is par for the course.

You can quickly go broke tipping in Pattaya, so embrace the cheap bastard within you; no worries, you’ll blend into the crowd. A good trick if you do not want to be constantly hassled for a tip, is to learn a few phrases of Russian. Then no one will expect a tip out of you. Nor will they want to have anything to do with you. Even to a Thai, there are somethings one just doesn’t do for any amount of money.

Pounding Mochi (aka What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?)

19 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by Bangkokbois in Sex Break

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok

Who knew when you are in a mature, adult, committed relationship and your boyfriend can’t get the time off to take a trip to Thailand for Christmas that you’re not supposed to say, “Shame that,” and take off on your own to whore your way through Bangkok for the holidays? I knew there was something fishy about that whole marriage equality thingy. And I don’t just mean all the newspaper photos of lesbians getting hitched.

So instead I’ve been told we’re going to Hawaii for New Year’s, which has advantages of its own. It’s been years since I’ve rung in the new year in Honolulu, and I’ve missed New Year’s Eve parties emptying out at about a quarter to twelve so everyone can rush home to light firecrackers off to keep the bad spirits away for the year. And it’s been too long since I’ve had to pay six times the normal price for ahu to make sashimi too. Plus in California you don’t get to just drop in on complete strangers on New Years Day ‘cuz everyone is happy to have an extra hand pounding mochi. I’ve always wanted to find a cute local dude nicknamed Mochi so I could pound him on New Years. It’s on my bucket list. And while I’m not a cute nickname kinda guy, since finding out we’re doing the islands for the holidays I’ve started calling Dave Mochi. He hasn’t figured out why yet. But thinks it’s cute.

Okay, so no boyfriend is perfect.

Nonetheless, I’ve years of experience doing the big countdown in Bangkok and thought I’d share just in case you’re still trying to figure out where to party on the 31st in the Big Mango.

Soi 4:
I’ve only spent one New Year’s Eve on Soi 4. It was crowded, packed wall to wall with party goers. There just wasn’t much of a party going on. Other than being busy, the only difference from a regular Saturday night was at the strike of twelve they dropped a bunch of balloons onto the soi between Balcony and Telephone. But it still qualified as a true Thai New Year’s celebration. The strike of twelve was more like twelve o’ two. Or three. Then everyone yelled Happy New Year! And went back to drinking.

Soi Twilight:
Unlike 99.9% of visitors to Soi Twilight, I actually enjoy the barkers and the stir they cause on the soi. So one year I thought it’d be fun to get in on the hustle and bustle. We spent the later part of the night hanging out at Banana, which was then the open-air bar at the foot of the soi across from Hot Male. Like Soi 4, it too was packed with bodies. Unfortunately most of those bodies belonged to straight backpackers who’d hit Patpong for the celebration and ended up in the only spot where they could dance in the street.

I was with an ex-bar boy friend. There was a fat British fish making moo-eyes at him all night, trying to entice him to dance with her. And more. I told him he was free to shake it if he wanted to. He laughed. And said, “She fat!” By which he meant, “She fat and won’t be giving me money.” She quit mooing at him when we swapped tongue at the strike of twelve.

Go Go Bars:
The bars put on special shows for New Year’s Eve in hopes of luring customers inside. Dream Boy and Tawan usually charge an admission fee that comes with a free drink. You’d think ringing in the new year with a bunch of naked guys surrounding you would be the ultimate New Year’s Eve party. And it would be. If there were enough boys working to surround you.

Bar boys like to party on New Year’s Eve too, and do their damndest to pre-book a customer so they don’t have to show up at work. So you’re dealing with the bottom of the barrel at the clubs that night. And there ain’t many punters either; most head to one of the city’s big countdown parties. Or off a guy early and are in bed asleep by nine. On the plus side, if you do choose to spend your New Year’s Eve in a go go bar, you’ll be mucho popular with the boys. Because the pickings are slim for them too.

One year Noom decided we needed to spend the night at his bar. It sucked. But don’t ever tell him I said that. He tried to make it special. There was a table with a Reserved sign on it for us when we walked in. Which probably would have meant more if every table around it wasn’t empty too. And that bar had a special Big Banana show that night which Noom had arranged for me to be one of the judges at. Like at any Big Cock Show! the bananas that night weren’t. And I don’t do millimeters. No problemo. It had already been decided who would win, which had nothing to do with size, and Noom let me know in advance so that I wouldn’t embarrass him.

Your Hotel.
Back in the day when you booked a hotel over either Christmas or New Year’s Eve in Bangkok they’d charge a mandatory ‘dinner’ fee for a party that you had no intention of going to. Not too many hotels do that any more. And if the one you choose does, you’re better off finding a different hotel.

That having been said, one of the more enjoyable New Year’s Eves we’ve spent in Bangkok was at the party at our hotel. It just wasn’t one put on by management. We’d made friends with a few of the security guards and snuck a cooler full of beer and a few bottles of whiskey up onto the roof to watch the firework displays being shot off all over town. Great view. Wild party. And it was fun knowing you are personally responsible for all the staff being hung-over the next morning.

The Hottest Club In Town.
A few years ago the hottest club in town burned to the ground on New Year’s Eve and took a lot of its patrons with it. So I’ve avoided those. But if you do, let me know how it went. If you still can.

Sanam Luang.
Sanam Luang by the Grand Palace is one the two biggest venues for the New Year’s Eve countdown in Bangkok. It’s a more local affair. And an older crowd too. The music is traditional, and there’s usually a few dance troupes too doing non-touristy traditional Thai dancing. But it’s crowded. And you’ll be sitting on the ground. Getting back to where you are staying can be a chore too. But for a more laid back but still bustling affair, it can be a lot of fun. We went once and probably would have again but the booze and seating flows more freely at . . .

CentralWorld.
The countdown at CentralWorld is the biggest party in Bangkok and at times it seems at least half of the city is there. They get name acts, none of which you’ll recognize or probably be able to pronounce. But it’s the people that are the most fun and everyone is intent on parting their ass off. This is the site for the biggest and best fireworks display too.

The first year we went we were part of the crowd in the street, just to experience what it feels like to be a Thai sardine. The next few years we went early that day and bought tickets for one of the beer gardens. You get a reserved table, munchies, and beer for (in past years) about $75 for a table of four. If it is just you and your boy du jour, invite some of his friends ‘cuz the minimum buy-in is a full table.

If you take the BTS in and out of the area, buy your return ticket when you get off the train; later the ticket machines are swamped and you’ll add at least a half hour to your trip home. Taxis and tuk tuks are plentiful at the end of the night too, but you’ll be paying whatever the asking rate is; there’s no paucity of passengers.

The best CentralWorld countdown we attended was the year we didn’t. I booked at room at Baiyoke on one of the upper floors facing the festivities. Comfortable, air-conditioned, and the countdown’s fireworks were a nice background to those we were busy making ourselves.

I Fell In Love With A Bay Boy: Davey Does Bangkok

24 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by Bangkokbois in I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok

“Now I know what it feels like to be a woman,” whined Dave as we made our way down Soi 4, none too successfully trying to dodge the numerous pairs of eyes that were busy sizing us up.

“Come on dude, we’ve talked about this. Just ‘cuz you bottom doesn’t mean you’re the woman.”

“Asshole. That’s not what I mean. This is like walking through a meat market.”

“Just be glad you’re not an Asian twink.”

“No, you should be glad I’m not an Asian twink.”

If you are out for a gay night on the town in Bangkok and don’t want that night to include little fem boys screeching to tip them while being plowed on your lap, Silom Soi 4 is the spot. Anchored by the venerable Telephone Pub and Balcony Bar, it’s the town’s gay soi where food and drinks are on the menu instead of sex. But then being filled with gay men, sex is always on the menu in one form or another. And while you’re looking for an open table, a few hundred pair of hungry eyeballs are all busy contemplating the chance of you becoming their next meal.

I’ve had a lot of fun nights sitting streetside on Soi 4 over the years. But those fun nights were always when accompanied by friends. On my solo visits it’s usually an early start to the night with the far more enjoyable Soi Twilight planned for later in the evening. So being hit on by money boys and the elderly ain’t all that. But with all the other places to grab a drink in Patpong, Dave and I had never been to Soi 4 together. And as a newly minted gay man visiting Bangkok, I thought he should have that experience. Between feeling like he was a naked model on a runway and the fluttering of eye lashes from the fem waiter when we finally found an open table, Dave wasn’t so sure that was necessarily a good thing.

“I’ve done Bangkok as a gay man before ya know. You just didn’t know it.”

“Well neither did you so it doesn’t count. Besides now when we hit the gogo bars you can openly drool over the naked guys.”

“I’ve seen ’em, they do nothing for me. Now if you’d get up on the stage . . .”

My witty retort was drowned out by the braying laughter of Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life. Or current love of my life if you ignore Dave. Which was beginning to become a habit. Come to think of it, ignoring Noom was becoming routine too. It was safer on both counts.

On our first night together the three of us hopped into bed as a group. As a naked group. For old-time’s sake. Except this time around Dave was in the middle. And not that I had a three-way in mind, but rather because embarrassing a newly minted gay boy is just a hell of a lot of fun, I reached down and got Dave hard. Not that getting a newly minted gay boy who is naked in bed with two other dudes is much of a challenge either. Pulling the covers back to show Noom what we’d worked up embarrassed Dave greatly. Kinda, sorta. But then he’s still getting used to the idea that his dick is now gay too. So part of him wasn’t quite as embarrassed as the rest of him was. Regardless, Noom wasn’t impressed. Nor did he feel obligated to prove whose dick was the biggest. He rolled over to face the window instead. Ignoring each other quickly became the rule of the day.

“That guy over there keeps checking you out.”

“Customah.”

One of the endearing things about Noom is that while you’d assume he’s not easily embarrassed considering what he does for a living, he is when confronted with bidness of nights past when away from his bar. It’s an uncomfortable situation for him. Kinda like running into an old boyfriend out with his new boyfriend with both acting friendly when the new boyfriend knows you’ve been there before him and is none too pleased about it. Dave had quickly deduced that when away from the bar world, Noom didn’t like to be reminded of the bar world and the livelihood he made there. And had just as quickly taken to pointing out every old, fat, ugly, or degenerate-looking farang we passed and then asking Noom if he was one of Noom’s customers.

The first few times he did so Noom took his question seriously. The next few he used sign language to reply. As much as he loves a joke being beat to death, that he was part of the punch line didn’t set all that well with him. His counterpunch to that offensive was to pretend Dave and my relationship didn’t exist and that Dave was in Bangkok to find the man of his dreams. Noom has taken to pointing out every far-too-young, twinky, and obviously gay local we passed and then asking Dave if he wanted Noom to introduce Dave to him. Being confronted with an actual past customer in this round, Noom went for the kill and told the twinky waiter that Dave liked him. A lot. Not being in on the joke, the twink plopped himself down on Dave’s lap. Dave was not amused. Noom’s laughter, however, echoed down the soi.

Ignoring the heeltap left in his glass – an unheard of feat in its own right – Dave managed to disentangle himself from his potential suitor and rose, giving the non-verbal version of Noom’s directorial cry, “We go,” and we joined the flow of the insane number of people, jostling and laughing, hurrying, hanging out and smoking, making their way down Silom; a deluge of shoppers, gawkers, and hustlers so intent on their own brand of fun or capitalism that made it impossible to go at our own pace. Cutting through Patpong’s night market limned by the glow of bulbs strung in shallow arcs above the jumble of stalls, we hit Suriwong and its throng of pedestrians, sausage grillers, and juice vendors who conspire to make every inch of sidewalk impassable and the parking lot like conglomeration of taxis painted yellow and green like rainforest parrots your safer bet, having made only a singular stop along our way while Noom held a particularly lacy pair of pink men’s underwear aloft suggesting they were the perfect fit for Dave.

Dave was still coming to terms with what being a gay man entailed; Noom was intent on stressing the gay in his new reality. Or at least Noom’s definition of gay. Which boils down to an almost ladyboy-like effeminate bottom. And any move away from that ideal Dave made Noom quickly dealt with by reminding him, once again, “You gay.” Knowing that if we turned right for a visit to Soi Twilight despite how many potential customers Dave would find to point out to Noom, Noom would win the night by leading us into Classic Boys and its twink-filled aquarium, we turned left instead to head to Tawan. I thought Noom would have been disappointed at losing his easy score. The devilish gleam in his eyes said otherwise.

Gay then or not Dave had visited one of Bangkok’s gay gogo bars with me decades before. Back then the shows were less in your face. Nudity was more of a promise than the rule, engorged cocks on the stage were seldom seen. For a straight guy, or a gay guy who still is trying to convince himself he’s straight, compared to the bars featuring women life in those with hunks on stage was quite tame. And easy for a straight or maybe not straight man to handle. The bar’s stable was mixed, although leaning heavier toward twinks, and as long as said straight or maybe not straight man kept his eyes away from the television screening gay porn an accidental boner was easy to avoid. Walking into Bangkok’s macho stud fueled Tawan bar filled with prime beef in shorts cut so high you could see the lower hemis of their ass cheeks while a pair of musclemen compared erections on stage, not so much. Dave, like many before him, had sworn gym bunnies don’t do a thing for him. That he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage while we made our way to our seats said otherwise. And Noom giggled.

Once ensconced at a stage-side table, Noom casually draped his arm around Dave’s shoulder. And then just as casually began rubbing his nipple. Dave swears playing with his nipples does nothing for him. He thinks his nipples are still straight. His dick, however, isn’t. And his dick likes having his nipples fondled. Figuring what’s good for a goose is good for a gander with muscles, Noom waved one of the bar boys he knows over to tweak some tit too. Dave giggled. Then turned red when the bar boy reached down to see if his hard work was having an impact. ‘Cuz it was. Within minutes Dave’s crotch had become so moist it could qualify for federal wetlands protection. And if his nipples were any indication, his cock must have been as hard as a rock. Just to be sure, Noom began running his hand along its length through Dave’s jeans. And then called another bar boy over to join in on the fun.

Unless you are visiting one of the sleaze bars down the street, or are one of the bar’s paid performers, in Bangkok actually having sex while sitting in the bar is a no-no. Like Las Vegas’ claim to shame, in a Bangkok gogo bar what happens in your pants stays in your pants. No matter how much it would like to not be confined by denim. From the size of the obvious bulge in Dave’s I thought we may have to stop back at the night market to buy him a new pair. And with three muscular bar boys now working on that eventuality since Noom had abandoned his post at Dave side in deference to those who might make a few baht out of the proceedings, those lacy pink underpants started looking like a possibility too. Dave, caught up in the moment he’d never envisioned, studiously ignored both Noom and me. Or maybe it was just that his eyes were studiously not ignoring the well-defined crotch a mere few inches in front of them. His job done – and quite well I must say – Noom leaned back into my arms with a self-satisfied sigh escaping through his smile, “He gay.”

All good things must come to pass, and that passing comes quickly when no baht is exchanging hands and a bar boy’s turn on stage is calling. The bevy of bodacious bodies that had been surrounding Dave dwindled to one, the one Dave had finally, tentatively, attempted to return the favor to after a quick glance in my direction. Quick because he’d been checking out the nearly naked and occasionally exposed studs on stage much as had those hungry eyeballs on Soi 4 been checking him out earlier in the evening. And despite how familiar he’d become with having sex with another man, I considered that night Dave’s first real experience in being a gay man. In public no less. And one that, all things considered – all things being Noom at my side – didn’t need to end.

“You know you can off him.”

“Uh, no dude. Really, that’s okay.”

“Seriously, you’re in Bangkok. It’s cool.”

Dave was tempted. He thought about it. Long enough for Noom to signal the captain to strike the deal. Which was a bit too quick for Dave. “No. Really. I’m good,” he sighed taking a last look at what had been captivating his attention. “But can we come back here again tomorrow night?”

Walking back to our hotel that night Dave was on the quiet side, not even taking the numerous opportunities of pointing out Noom’s potential customers to him. And Noom too set aside his delight in pointing out the fem boys he thought would be perfect for Dave. Not that I though either had suddenly reached a level of maturity neither had exhibited so far. And Noom proved my point. When we hopped into bed, having already taken that liberty once that evening, he reached down and got Dave hard. Again. And then pulling back the covers to show me what he’d worked up, dissolved into a fit of laughter with his newest battle cry, “You gay!”

Our second night in town and Dave had done Bangkok as only a gay man can. Or maybe that was Bangkok had done Dave, working its magic on yet another farang. In either case, Noom was happy with the results. How often, and under what circumstances, he’d remind Dave of his new reality during the rest of the trip remained to be seen. But considering the giggles that accompanied Noom as he drifted off to sleep, the future few days didn’t bode well for Dave.

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Welcome To The New Soi Twilight

12 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by Bangkokbois in The World of Thailand's Gay Gogo Bars

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok, Gay GoGo Bars

Who says you can’t go home again? Landing in Bangkok always feels like a home coming to me. The friendly greeting I get arriving at my usual digs seems more like I’d just left the day before rather than the six months it really is. And when I step into Soi Twilight, my entire being breathes a sigh of relief that I’ve made it to the happiest place on Earth once again. At least until the first barker grabs my arm. But then that’s part of the fun too. As is giving him a close look to weigh his potential as an off. Some things never change. Life on the soi, however, has. But ya really gotta look for it to find anything that’s different.

The biggest change I noted on this trip was how little of the larger changes evident back in the spring still lingered in and around Patpong. The military presence is no longer present. And the night market seemed to have a bit more life to it too. Amazing what a little free-market bootlegging can do. And how little decrees from above manage to last in the Land of Smiles.

Back when The Good General had just taken over the country and was busy making Thailand a happy place, the crackdown on the Thai version of capitalism meant knock-off watches, bootleg DVD, and fake designer handbags quickly went underground. They’re all back. Even if the customer count is still low and few if any are buying. No doubt hopeful vendors are happier with the current status quo, but I miss those days when instead of just pointing to which Rolex watch you wanted you had to step to the back of the booth and make your choice surreptitiously from a vendor’s hidden stash. That added to the ambiance of the market. A sense of naughtiness ruled the night. It was like the lure of knowing for a few over-priced beers you could watch ‘pussy blow candle’ just steps away versus the reality of how not erotic watching a tired vagina wheezing out a puff of stale air really is.

Knock-off vaginas too were once a staple of Patpong; you never were really sure if that gorgeous creature throwing itself at you was a woman or a ladyboy. Until you remembered you were in Thailand. So obviously, it was a ladyboy. And like with buying a fake Rolex, many visitors purchased something different than what they thought they were paying for. And went home with a memory to last their lifetime. I’m not sure why the ladyboy brigade moved to Sukhumvit, but Patpong is less than what it once was because of it.

On Soi Twilight, the Big Cock Show! is back once again. And still seldom features cocks that most would consider to qualify as big. But exposed they are and that’s a nice improvement from six months ago when the full monty was a no-no. The gogo bar shows have yet to degenerate to full-on sex acts on and off stage once again, but high season is fast approaching.

The beer bars that sprung up along the soi in answer to the sorry state of the world’s economy haven’t proven to be the magical elixir that they promised to be. If anything, their empty chairs accentuate how slow bidness is on the soi. But then bidness is slow everywhere you look. Planes landing at Suvarnabhumi are not packed to the gills, the lines at Immigration are non-existent. Taxis are plentiful everywhere in town, reservations are not required anywhere, and even the aisles at MBK offer customer-free passage.

Still, the beer bars appear to be one of the few missteps bar owners on Soi Twilight have made. The soi was never viewed by customers as a communal hang-out. That’s what Soi 4 is for. Twilight’s stock in trade has always been its shows. And the naked boys you could take back to your hotel. The Asian clientele that makes up the soi’s customer base these days walk right past the beer bars. And the long-time sex tourists looking for cheaper prices known those are available just down Suriwong and come with exposed dick. Fortunately for newbies the confusion over what is what and where the boys are is alleviated by the barkers who still take them firmly in hand and usher them into their bars. And life is good.

Dream Boy is still the bar of choice to those customers whom the bars’ barkers allow to make a choice. And if you are into nostalgia, their show is the same as it was ten years ago. Hot Male still tries to be the sleaziest bar on the soi, but since there is still some degree of prohibition on naughtiness, their attempt is a watered down version of what once was. X-Size still has the most diverse line-up of bar boys; despite the occasional attempt at being something else, Classic is still home to the soi’s twinks. And Zeus looks the same as it did when it was Ocean Boys, which was just a slightly updated version of Future Boys.

Bar owners are relying on an old stand-by when it comes to pricing schemes too. Bidness is down so prices are up. That gives long-time visitors something to bitch about. Just like it did with the old prices. And the prices before that. But the steady stream of men headed up Dream Boy’s staircase suggests for most visitors whatever the bars decide to charge is well worth the money.

The biggest change here is that more and more boys are stating their expected tips up front. Some have even given themselves a raise. Quoting a fee in advance was unheard of when farang were primarily the customer base. The irony is that now that the soi is filled with customers from nearby countries where haggling over prices is the norm, no bartering is allowed.

Across Suriwong, Jupiter looks more like Soi Twilight than it ever has in the past. But its stable of men is still filled with male runway model types, and its chairs still filled with more women than a lot of gay men like to see in an establishment that supposedly caters to their own. Always a leader in wanting the highest tips for the least amount of work – or time – the captains quote fees these days. And their Asian clientele gladly pays the asking price.

That sigh of relief my entire being exhales when I step into Soi Twilight becomes a massive inhalation of testosterone laced air when I step through Tawan’s doors once again. I’m surprised the ladyboys who appear in Tawan’s show far too often don’t hold their breath the entire time they are in the club out of fear of what that heady scent will do to their carefully managed estrogen levels. Tawan should bottle that scent and offer it as air freshener.

The faces have changed at Tawan, the bodies have not. Nor has the overt friendliness of the staff. On Twilight the bars make an attempt at professionalism in their shows; at Tawan they take a much more lackadaisical approach. It’s more like a party at a frat house. Where no women showed up and boys being boys do what boys like to do anyway. On Twilight they make a production out of their not-so big cocks on parade; at Tawan those cocks appear at random both during and between shows. And if you hit it on the right day, the night ends with a chuck-wow contest. Just like it always has. Maybe it’s about location, but Tawan still offers what it always offered, regardless of who is running the country.

Welcome to the new Soi Twilight and Patpong circa 2014. It looks a lot like it did in 2013. And 2012 too. To old timers the minor recent changes, both good and bad, are barely noticeable. To first-timers it’s still an eye-opening experience. And it’s still like no other place in the planet.

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Top Ten Tips: How To Not Off A Bar Boy

14 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by Bangkokbois in The World of Thailand's Gay Gogo Bars

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok, Gay GoGo Bars, Offs, Stupid Tourist Tricks

Ignoring the signs staring you in the face means the kiss of death for your night in heaven.

I generally like to provide the counterpoint to all of the bad bar boys stories out there. I also like to think the general consensus that they all are liars, cheats, drug-addicts, and lazy is Pattaya-centric, ‘cuz in my dealings with Bangkok bar boys that simply is not true. Generally, I believe that what you put out there, and how you treat others, is what you’ll receive in return. Which makes all of those lying, cheating, drug addicted, lazy Pattaya bar boys make sense. But even the best of us has occasionally run across a bar boy who is just not up to the task. I have too. And later, after the fact, when I’m wondering just how pathetic it is that I’m about to masturbate alone in Thailand just to have the orgasm I already paid for, invariably I know it’s my own damn fault. I let my gonads do the thinking. Again. Even though I knew better, I offed a bar boy who experience should have taught me was gonna never live up to my expectations.

That doesn’t mean that you can have a perfect track record by being cautious about who you pick to fulfill your fantasies. Sometimes, despite your best efforts, things just don’t go as planned. But even then, looking back, I know I coulda done better. I was too rushed, or too lazy, or too horny, or too something when I shouldn’t have been. For example, there was a bar boy at Hot Male I offed who did not exhibit any of the warning signs of a guaranteed dud. Okay, so his limited English was even more limited that normal. But he had the body of a Greek god. So I offed him, got back to my room, and discovered that along with that Greek god’s body he had the dick of a carnival freak. Yup, fang muk are difficult to spot in advance. And difficult to swallow back in your room.

Nonetheless, there are some common signs that the bar boy of your dreams will turn out to be a nightmare instead. And just like with how much you tip, it’s up to you. You can ignore what should have been evident, and then start bitching and moaning about the dud you paid for. Or you can wise-up and pay heed to these words of wisdom of when it is ion your best interest to not off a bar boy:

Guys with something to show will always find a way to show it.

1. When What He’s Packing In His Underwear Ain’t His Package.
Sex sells. An iPhone stuffed into the front of your briefs does not. The general consensus is that bar boys keep their valuable stuffed in their tighty whities while on stage out of fear that whatever they hold dear to them may get ripped off if left in the dressing room. Bullshit. That’s a farang construct based on how farang act. There are only two reasons a bar boy stuffs his frontage with a foreign object. And neither is about being robbed, they are both about robbing you of your night’s enjoyment.

First, it’s his cellphone and he just can’t live without being available when his friends and family reach out to touch someone. That doesn’t bode well for you. That probably means he’ll be texting during your orgasm too. Second, he needs something down there to form a bulge and since Buddha saw no good reason to bless him otherwise, he relies on whatever he had in his pants pocket to do the work for him. That too doesn’t bode well for you even if you are not a size queen.

2. When He’s On The Prowl For Fresh Meat.
While you can’t blame a guy for trying, that doesn’t mean you have to be his bitch either. Always be wary of bar boys who approach you. You may think you are god’s gift to bar boys, but you ain’t. He’s not attracted to you, he’s attracted to your wallet. Any bar boy who approaches you has his eye on the prize and that ain’t your satisfaction. Treat him as you would a used car salesman who comes hustling across the lot saying he’s got a deal for you. ‘Cuz in either case you’re gonna end up with a lemon.

This has been one of my golden rules of offing a bar boy that has served me well over the years. Except for Noom. He approached me the first night we met and I thought perhaps I’d blown my chance many times in the past by refusing to off those who sought me out. At least until he corrected me. He says he got tired of me eyeballing his every move that night, that after watching me turn away bar boy after bar boy he finally decided I was just waiting for his appearance by my side. So I’ll add that caveat to this rule. Eye contact and a smile is an invitation. So now you shy guys have a fall back.

Whether it is straight porn or his favorite Thai sit-com, his television viewing habits should not be part of your orgasm.

3. When He Thinks The English For Sawatdee Is Buy Me A Drink.
When the first words out of a bar boy’s mouth that you can understand is a request for you to spend money on him, your future has just been told. I like guys who hustle, I’m not a fan of those who try to hustle me. There should be a small window of time to get to know each other, or at least to allow you the opportunity of checking him out up close and personal, before you are obligated to help him and his bar make a profit off of your visit. And bar boy work ain’t that thirsty of a job.

4. When He’s Addicted To Straight Porn.
I only mention this one because it seems to be a common occurrence among fans of Pattaya. Bar boys with their eyes glued to their cellphones watching straight porn is only a phenomenon I’ve witnessed in Sin City. What floors me is how many punters seem to think this is normal. Even later back in their hotel room. If he needs to look at pussy to get hard, he’s in the wrong line of work. And you’ve got the wrong equipment. Besides, do you really want to catch a glimpse of vagina when your intentions were a night in heaven?

5. When The Mamasan Told You So.
Whether you still call them a mamasan, or a captain as is more likely the case in Bangkok, the bar employee who oversees your visit never has your best interests at heart. That doesn’t mean they are all out to fleece you. Some can even be helpful. But money, not your orgasm, is always job #1.

Like with a bar boy whose first words are about his thirst, any mamasan who asks for a drink as a greeting should not be trusted. Ditto when the first words out of her mouth are, “What boy you want?” Even if she doesn’t commit those unpardonable sins, be dubious about any bar boy she picks for you. That selection often depends on which bar boy tips her for your business. And the meat for sale is supposed to be on the stage, not sitting in your chair.

Blockbuster movies come with a trailer, there’s no reason your off shouldn’t include a sneak preview too.

6. When His Yes Means No.
Unless you are extremely narrow in the range of what you enjoy doing in bed, you are usually better off going with the flow with any bar boy you encounter. And if it was important to you – whatever ‘it’ was – you shoulda made damn sure he would satisfy that need before you offed him. Having said that, there is also the Thai aversion to uttering “No” that needs to be considered. “I do everyting” is Thai for no. So even though you asked if he bottoms, he won’t when you make that attempt ‘cuz ‘everyting’ didn’t include anal.

Personally, I consider kissing an integral part of sex. And I get that some bar boys just ain’t into swapping spit with customers. No problemo. And no bidness from me either. So I always ask. And watch for the non-verbal clues that tell me his yes means no. If there is any question, I follow up with asking him if he is a good kisser. That almost always gets a shy laugh. But the guys who do will immediately prove it. Those who won’t stop at the laugh.

If topping is important to you, there’s not much you can do in the bar to ensure he bottoms other than inviting him to sit on your lap. Which I don’t advise. But a few follow-up questions can help you gauge his reaction for honesty. Be explicit. Asking, “I fuck you?” leaves little room for misunderstanding. And his face will tell you more than his words will. If you are a size queen, a sneak peak or at least a quick feel is not out of the question. That doesn’t mean you have a license to grope, or that you should start checking out the size of every guy in the bar. But no bar boy will refuse if it means sealing the deal. Unless he knows he’s lacking in the first place.

Watch for non-verbal clues, ‘cuz when a problem exists there’s usually a clue.

7. When He Comes With A Sticker Price.
I think from now on when I hear from a reader who experienced a night with a dud, who starts off his tale with “He told me he cost 2,000 baht” I’m just gonna mark those comments as spam and ignore them. Because every dud story I hear involves a bar boy who stated his fee up front. That’s not how it works. How much you tip is up to you. When you’ve agreed to a price before you leave the bar, there is no incentive for him to attempt to please you. And nine times out of ten, he won’t.

8. When He’s Just Not Into You.
When a bar boy’s attention is everywhere but on you, it’s never a good sign. No matter how much you are lusting after him, he’s just not into you. And can’t even summons up enough effort to act as though he is. Why would you think it’ll be any different once you get him alone, back in your hotel room? Even when it is just the two of you, he’ll still find the cheap painting on the wall more fascinating than he does you. Granted, you will seldom find a bar boy who with one look decides you rock his entire world. But at least he can fake it.

There was a bar boy at Dream Boy a few years ago that I asked to come sit with me. His face was okay, but he had these massive thighs that I immediately began imagining wrapped around my face. It was lust at first sight. At least for one of us. Dream Boys is a popular bar and can get quite crowded at times, meaning the bar just keeps packing punters in regardless of whether there is room left for them or not. So it was that night. Mr. Thighs To Dream For came off the stage in his underwear at my signal, and plopped his gorgeous flesh down next to mine. And then proceeded to stare at his friends on stage. The mamasan squeezed a fresh piece of meat into our row of seats and my leg brushed up against his. He immediately shifted so we were no longer touching. Huh. Who knew I was that toxic? But maybe he was just giving me room. So I moved my leg against his again, this time on purpose. He managed to find some existing space that didn’t exist to move away again.

Sa-moke and smoke are two different things. If it matters to you, learn the difference.

Fortunately for me I can take a hint. I handed him 20 baht and gestured for him to head back to the stage. The incredulous look on his face was priceless. But, really? He expected me to off him when he couldn’t stand my leg touching his flesh? He was almost immediately replaced by a bar boy who’d been sitting with another customer, one who I was pissed at myself for letting get away, one with whom I’d traded several significant glances with over his potential customer’s shoulder. He scooted in next to me, gave my leg a squeeze, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and the with a sad look on his face said, “I wit customer.”

Yup, he was. And that customer had his eyes on us. The boy suggested I wait for an hour and he’d be back. Unbeknownst to his customer, he’d already planned for a short, short-time off. I can only hope that was his customer’s plan too. Because the fool still offed that boy. He woulda done just as well with offing Mr. Thighs To Dream For. Which reminds me . . .

9. When He’s Already Booked.
Call it punter’s ethics, but you really shouldn’t steal a bar boy away from another customer no matter how badly you want to do him. Unless you are into sharing and that other customer is hot too. You can call it karma, I prefer to think of it as sloppy seconds, which is an orgasm I prefer to not think of at all. There’s always mañana. And if it is your last night in town, there’s always another bar boy of your dreams just a door or two away. It may be that the two of you really were meant to be together, but more likely that he’s available to the highest bidder. And it’s a long walk back to your hotel, with opportunities abounding every step of the way.

Closely related are those who just got back to the bar from a booking. Popular bar boys can get offed several times a night. Good for them. Not so good for you. I call that the law of diminished returns. It’s a sexual Ponzi scheme where as the last up to the plate you get left standing with just your bat in your hands. The guy who goes last never finishes in first place. Make a note, show up early the next night, and get him while he’s still fresh instead.

Drinks and off fees are not cheap, wasting more money on a bad off is never the way to go.

10. When His Square Peg Doesn’t Fit Into Your Round Hole.

Quit acting like you have a vagina. He will always be himself, and nothing you can do will change that. Especially for 2,000 baht. The perfect bar boy for you is never the sum of his faults. And there are lots of bar boys to choose from. If you are not into tattoos, don’t off a guy who sports ink. If you hate people that smoke, take a whiff before you off him. Don’t just be a cunt and tell him he can’t smoke later ‘cuz his nicotine addiction means more than your orgasm does and he’ll quickly dispense with the latter so he can enjoy the former. Ditto for yaba, poppers, or any other addiction he may have.

If you are a dedicated bottom and he is too it ain’t gonna work. If you like masculine men and he slips on a blouse to accompany you back to your hotel, your better off apologizing, slipping him his tip, and heading into another bar for the man you wanted. If you had your heart set on waking up with him next to you in the morning and he says he only does short-time, go back to the drawing board. If you want to ravish his body and he says looking only, find a more suitable partner. If you need to top, and he tells you he is a man, there are lots of bottoms in the sea. Go check out Classic Boys.

Fantasize all you want. Pretend he’s your boyfriend, or that he loves, you, or that he thinks you are hansum. But be real in your expectations. And know what those expectations are. In real life you may settle for less than ideal, when you are a paying customer there is no good reason to. Go ahead, be picky. Find every fault that you can. ‘Cuz there is a bar boy perfect for you. But you’ll never find him when you agreed to off a guy you won’t be happy with instead.

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I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Politics Make Strange Bedfellows

12 Friday Sep 2014

Posted by Bangkokbois in I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok, Gay GoGo Bars

Noom – my bar boy friend and current love of my life – makes his living getting naked on stage. And then getting naked again back in some stranger’s hotel room. And while he’s not gay – even though his customers are – you’d have to assume, at the very least, his moral compass and political leanings would peg to the left. I’ve read again and again that bar boys – if not the majority of Thailand citizens – are not the least bit interested in the politics of their country. But those opinions tend to flow from farang who don’t speak the language and/or who once attempted to enter into a political discussion with their 18-year-old ‘boyfriend’. Because Noom is not the least bit reticent about discussing his political views. Which are strongly held. Unfortunately, if Thailand had a Tea Party, Noom would be the country’s next prime minister.

I knew Noom was not a fan of the Red Shirts, even though that seemed akin to the rural poor in the South back home who vote Republican, an odd paradox that I always assumed had something to do with the advanced stages of tooth decay. Just as I assumed Noom’s disenchantment with Thaksin’s band of merry men was due to the disastrous effect their city-wide camp-out had on bidness at hiss bar. But when I asked him why he was so not in favor of the former prime minister cum international fugitive, his answer surprised me. “He steal from Thai people,” he said with much disgust.

“But all politicians steal from their constituents,” said I.

“Yes, but him get caught,” he replied, diplomatically ignoring my use of an English word he was unfamiliar with.

It appeared Noom’s opinion of Thaksin wasn’t so much based on his politics, but rather on his inability to master the art of being a corrupt politician. But that’s understandable. Getting busted is a universal no-no. Otherwise Ray Rice would still be in the NFL today. So I dropped the subject, decided he was neither a Yellow Shirt nor Red Shirt supporter, and was content with the fact he wasn’t wearing any shirt at all. Or any other piece of clothing either for that matter. And the only thing leaning toward the right or left that night was soon standing straight up and pointing north.

Several months later, politics once again raised its ugly head when that wasn’t the raised head that I had my heart set on. We were in Chiang Mai and the gang in red were busy driving around town in battered pick-ups blaring their political beliefs from bad sound systems mounted in the bed of their trucks. If nothing else, you had to be impressed by the singular intensity of the northern belief in an ousted leader, and the way the local political solipsists formed a community of obsessiveness thanks to the small amount of graft that had been passed their way in the past. Although they probably would have seemed more political-like and less hoodlum-like if they weren’t all wearing red bandanas over the lower part of their faces. But then when your Grand Poobah is on the lam and facing 108 criminal charges back home, you probably can’t fault them for that fashionista faux pas.

The first political billboard on wheels that rolled past elicited a snort of disgust from Noom. No biggie. The second that motored by he was more emphatic about. “I keel them,” he muttered. Huh. I didn’t realize that red shirt supporters were generally considered to be Burmese. But did consider it might be a good time to head back to the hotel to affirm which way Noom’s political beliefs were swinging. At least I think it was his political beliefs that I had in mind.

Later that night there was one of several parades that the town puts on for their version of the Loy Krathong celebration. And along with gargantuan floats featuring beauties and queens, thanks to the North being a hotbed of Thaksin fans, the Red Shirts had a contingent of masked men marching too. And Noom began being a bit more vocal in opposition to the opposition. Generally, I’m a strong believer in freedom of speech. But sometimes it’s not so much about not yelling fire in a crowded theater as it is about not yelling fire at a pyromaniacs’ convention. I decided we might be better off down by the river where the locals were only armed with firecrackers. Even if custom dictated lighting them off and throwing them at each other and anyone else in the general vicinity. Fortunately, Noom too decided that was more fun than keeling Red Shirts. Or Burmese. Not that the annual Yee Peng celebration in Chiang Mai doesn’t usually have a body count associated with it anyway.

Still, I learned when around Noom and the Red Shirts were mentioned, my best bet was to let out a derisive snort of my own to prove my allegiance. Which came naturally to me. Kinda like how Pavlov’s dog learned to salivate on cue. I mean since we were both usually rewarded with a bone. And soon thereafter the Reds proved those bandanas come in just as handy when looting a large shopping mall before setting it on fire as they do when joy riding to political tunes, the country quieted down (temporarily) and the specter of King Thaksin faded into the sunset of his sister being elected to lead the country in his absence. In other words, it was once again business as usual in Thailand, and political strife no longer impacted Noom’s bank account.

Assuming Noom’s disenchantment with the political goings-on in his country had more to do with money than actual political issues, I was anxious to hear what he thought about the current regime when the army in Thailand did what the army in Thailand tends to do every decade or so and decided to overthrow the government once again. Martial law imposed by the junta wasn’t the boon to tourism you’d think it would have been, and by the time I arrived in Bangkok the new powers that be had decreed the sex in sexy shows – that which made Soi Twilight famous – was no longer a part of making Thailand a happy place. I figured the dent the junta’s moral crusade had put in Noom’s wallet would mean he’d added them to his keel list. And I practiced my derisive snort, ready for the first time General Prayuth’s name came up. Proving you can teach an old dog new tricks. Or at least variations on the old trick when the reward is the same.

So I was a bit surprised when after we’d gotten our Welcome Back to Thailand and It’s Great To See You Again orgasms out of the way (along with one or two more for no better reason than we are both male and consider orgasms an integral and important part of our relationship, or any relationship for that matter) Noom voiced his opinion that not only was he content with the junta running the country, but was a fan of the good general. And instead of a derisive snort, was expecting a high-five. I gave him a hand-job instead. Not that he was in need of yet another orgasm. But I had to do something while I contemplated his unexpected political stance.

General Prayuth had already demonstrated his moral beliefs were just slightly right of those held by the type of Christians back home who believe in a god whose benevolence involves the frequent application of copious amounts of fire and brimstone. And that didn’t appear to gel with the lifestyle enjoyed by a male prostitute. Even in Thailand. At least in my mind. An explanation was in order.

“You like General Prayuth?” I called out from the bathroom where I was washing lube from my hands.

“Yes. Him say no more boom boom at bar.”

Huh. Boom boom is what Noom’s bar is all about. That’s like removing the peanut butter from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. None of the tasty protein you love and crave is left to enjoy. And boom boom is what lines Noom’s wallet with baht. And since boom boom is always worth discussing, I delved into the subject further.

“Isn’t that bad for business?”

“No. I still book customer.”

Well of course he does. And there’s the crux of the matter. The sex shows at Bangkok’s gay gogo bars were always the icing on the cake. They were the not-so-cheap thrill that provided an excuse for cheap-ass sexpats to bitch and moan about drink prices at the bars. They legitimized the bars’ existence and allowed the boys in brown, bar owners, and punters to pretend the bars were something more than the houses of prostitution that they are. Sure watching naked guys on stage having sex was fun, but the majority of customers never went to the bars for the shows. They went to off a bar boy so they could put on their own show back in their hotel room. And that’s where Noom makes his money.

Bar boys make extra baht for appearing in the shows. Being part of the rotation – which years ago used to be called dancing – on stage is mandatory. Showing off your junk on stage is not. Who does what during a bar’s show depends on the bar. But most have a captain or manager who makes the call on which numbers will be in that evening’s performance and which boys will be getting both naked and off. At most bars, each boy gets to decide if he will participate or not. And in which acts he will perform, depending on the amount of nudity, hardness, and sexual acts involved. Generally, the belief among the boys is that appearing in the shows is a good thing. It’s extra advertising, a chance to stand out from the crowd. Especially if you are well-hung and it stands out from your body. Within reason.

Noom has always known stage time increases his chances of booking a customer. There’s also the fact that he’s a star. And stars belong on stage. And if there ever was a body that should be appreciated in its fullness, it’s Noom’s. He has nothing to be shy about. But regardless is still uncomfortable about being naked on stage. He prefers those acts that hint at what he has to offer. Begrudgingly in the past, he’s taken part in those where he is totally exposed. And totally erect. But he has always drawn the line at having sex on stage. Boom boom, in public, is a no-no in his mind. And he’s glad that the new powers that be agree with him.

“Don’t you book more customers when they see you in the show?”

“I no lie.”

“But I’ve seen you naked on stage.”

“Dat fault you.”

Ooops. I seldom tell Noom the exact date I’m arriving in town. A lot of the time I can’t resist and call him from the airport as soon as my plane lands. But I enjoy the most showing up at his bar unannounced, usually timed so that the show has already began and I can sit in the dark and watch him do his thing on stage. I don’t know why I enjoy seeing him naked on stage so much when seeing him naked in our hotel room is much more intimate. And productive. But I do. Or did. That’s no longer allowed by governmental decree. Nor would it be now that I know the amount of thought he puts into his appearances. And the lack of appearances by his little buddy.

It turns out Noom’s nightly plan is to appear in one of the early acts, not naked, but still providing enough to show what he has to offer. That alone is usually enough to land a customer. If not, he’ll do another act where nothing is left to the imagination. Nine nights out of ten, that does the job and he gets offed. On night #10, or when he’s waiting for me to finally show up, he’ll take part in the Big Cock Show! Although he’s just as likely to call it a night before that happens and keep his big cock in his underwear where it belongs. Unless he suspects I may be in the audience watching.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I thought you were always in the Big Cock Show!”

“It okay. I know you lie.”

Busted.

“I wish you’d have told me that before.”

“I tell you.”

“When?”

“Firs time.”

I let my mind enjoy a replay of the night we met many years ago. It’s still a fresh memory. Probably because it gets replayed so often. I don’t recall him ever saying anything about liking or disliking showing his stuff on stage. But at one point, after the rest of the bar boys had stopped massaging me and left for greener pastures, after I’d already bought Noom a drink, and after it’d already become obvious that we’d be leaving his bar together that night – and obvious to him that we’d be leaving his bar together for many nights to come – he excused himself because he had to take part in the next act of the bar’s show.

I waited in breathless anticipation for the hunk I’d quickly fallen in lust with to appear on stage. My dick too stood up and paid attention ‘cuz we were going to get to see him in all of his glory. Sooner than expected. The lights came up. Two guys appeared on stage, one naked, one in his underwear, both erect, and began soaping down each other. As the second guy’s underwear came off, his junk slightly hidden by the large amount of suds around his crotch, Noom took to the stage. In his underwear. A muscle-stud extraordinaire. The other two boys turned their attention to his body, as had every eye in the audience. They began slowly, sensually, lathering his chest, his stomach, his groin. And although still tucked away in his briefs, Noom’s not-so-little buddy responded. And grew. As did every cock in the audience. And mine waved back when he looked up and smiled at me.

The lights dimmed and the act was over before Noom’s cock ever made its full appearance. I’d like to say that I and the rest of the audience were disappointed. But that’s not true. Not showing everything, leaving the promise that there was more to come, was far more erotic than if he’d been fully exposed. And for the fans of naked dick, there were two of them on view anyway. Just not Noom’s. Thais are big on telling you something by not saying it. You are supposed to be smart enough to get the message on your own. That night, my wrong head was doing the listening. Which is understandable. If you are not Thai. It took years, a coup, and a morality-based crackdown for me to finally get the message.

“Oh, damn. You did. Sorry. Again.”

Noom just smiled. Because he loves me. Or loves being right. Or maybe he just knows me too well. Because he obviously knew what replaying that night in my head had done to my other head, slipped off the bed, grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the shower to reenact his infamous soap number. Sans underwear this time around.

That night, as we often do, we hit his bar to share his largesse. And to catch the show. Noom nodded, frequently, fully in agreement with the lack of nudity on display. I tried to be as enthusiastic. But it’s gonna take the bars some time to come to grips with the new reality. They are still focused on what can no longer be done instead of what can be. They’ve yet to hit that happy spot between the erotic and the just plain sleazy. Not that the audience seemed to mind. There were still almost naked boys on stage, there were still almost exposed erections on display. And while the number of customers was nowhere near what it had been a few years ago before the worlds’ economy took a nose-dive, there were still happy bar boys walking out the door with a customer in tow.

“See? It better.”

“Yeah, but I miss all the nakedness.”

That derisive snort I’d been practicing finally aired. But it came from Noom instead of from me. Apparently, I just wasn’t getting what it was that both Noom and General Prayuth considered the hallmark of making Thailand a happy place. And apparently, a demonstration was in order. That night, as we seldom (as in never) do, we headed to Nature Boys. Or, more specifically, Noom pulled me down Suriwong, past Tawan, to Nature Boys’ door and then shoved me inside. Alone. Demonstration or not, Noom wasn’t gonna be caught dead in the place.

As in my last visit to the bar quite a few years ago, there wasn’t a show going on so much as there was a small group of barely dressed boys waiting on stage for the door to close. Kinda like a pet boa constrictor waits for a mouse to be dropped into its cage. I’d like to say I was the only customer. But there was an elderly, over-weight farang sitting at one of the bar’s few tables blowing a street urchin whom I assumed worked there while another equally grotty looking boy did the same for him. It seemed the junta’s crackdown hadn’t yet reached into the darker sub-sois.

I immediately turned to ~~flee~~ leave, having already had more than my fill of what the bar had to offer, only to find the door blocked from the outside by a 145 lb. giggling Thai bar boy. If I’ve never mentioned it before, Noom’s sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired. But muscles aside, I still out-weigh him. And it’s difficult to put your full weight against a door when you’re doubled over in spasms of laughter. But he made his point. Far better than Pat Robertson has ever managed to do. Maybe the junta is on to something. Maybe the lack of sex in gogo bar shows isn’t the end of the world as we know it. Maybe a slightly more conservative approach to Bangkok’s naughty nightlife could be even more erotic. Maybe I don’t really care because once Noom had managed to get himself back under control he reminded me what Bangkok’s red-light district is really all about. “Come. We go back hotel for Big Cock Show!” he promised, leading us off into Bangkok’s no longer quite so notorious night.

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The Boys In The Bar: 13. Soi Dogs And New Tricks

05 Friday Sep 2014

Posted by Bangkokbois in The Boys In The Bar

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Gay Bangkok

The night fell like a fat man tripping over his shoelaces. An unexpected downpour earlier that evening had left Soi Twilight looking like a giant dog had slobbered all over it, and now the moist heat that had descended on the city was working overtime. So knew that meant a night of his bar being filled with farang customers who were not so much sweating as self-basting. The stultifying effects of facing another slow, mid-week night of work at Bangkok Bois had put him in a mood that he was having difficulty in trying to shake.

Passing the early crew of punters gathered on the patio of Dick’s Cafe didn’t help. They were a motley bunch decked out in polyester: garish, tropical prints boasting colors Mother Nature had never considered whose manufacturers’ likely customer base consisted solely of the mentally ill and blind people with cruel friends. Their eyes, bright and flat like a lizard’s, greedily followed his progress up the soi.

Some sat in pairs, most alone, the majority pounding back fruity rum-spiked tropical drinks like fuel. An old man sitting at the edge of the patio, a few strands of white hair flicked across his skull like seaweed on a rock, whose sartorial theme for the night was purples in disagreeing shades tried to catch So’s eye. His buttocks hanging over the edges of his chair, like balloons filled with water, reminded So that Songkran was coming soon. Maybe the holiday would help pick up his spirits.

Lek wasn’t working tonight, the owner too cheap to spring for her act when the customer count promised to be low. That meant shorter shows, which was a good thing as far as So was concerned. Wit too had opted to take the night off. That meant So would have to spend more time on stage. Which wasn’t a good thing. So was torn between wanting to just cruise for the evening, take his base pay, and then go home, and booking a short-time off that he could dispense with quickly. He needed the money, as usual, but really didn’t want to be at the bar tonight; an empty house would suit his mood just fine.

So thought he could really use his friend’s inveterate gregariousness tonight, but lately Wit had been in a strange mood himself. Ever since he’d met Paul, Wit had bounced between being so giddy with happiness he couldn’t stop smiling to looking like his dog had just died. And then during the show last night, when So had slapped him with the neoprene tubing that the SM crowd adored, Wit had burst into tears. So knew he needed to talk with his friend, but his own mood hadn’t allowed him to delve into the problems of others lately; the fact was he missed The Farang. And that he did worried him too.

The two had been texting each other regularly since The Farang’s last visit. That didn’t help. It made So miss him even more. The occasional phone call had been better, but when his phone rang and The Farang’s picture came up on its screen if Noi was around she gave him a hard time about it.His wife being jealous over a customer was something new. And So didn’t want to deal with that either. Wit had pulled himself out of his own funk long enough to encourage So to ask The Farang for some money; Noi had chimed in on the suggestion too. So he had. And The Farang had wired him a few thousand baht with no questions asked. Noi was happy with the score; picking up the cash had just made So feel even more alone. He wished The Farang was in town now. And that they were snuggled together in bed at his hotel. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here trying to decide if approaching a customer tonight was worth it or not.

With the first show of the night still an hour away, the bar was nearly empty. So had done his rotations on stage without attempting to catch the eye of any of the few customers there were. The early crowd tended to comprise the needy or desperate anyway. Just as he considered hiding out in the dressing room for a while, the mamasan floated over to tell him a customer was asking for So by number. He wanted to turn the customer down sight-unseen, but then thought maybe a little bit of luck would come his way, that the customer would be one of those who only wanted to look, who would finish himself off quickly. So followed the mamasan over to the customer’s table.

He was a short, tick-bodied man, his graying hair carefully coiffed to hide a receding hairline. He had a face that looked like it had been used to shunt trains, further marred by an expression of intense hostility that had, after years of steady visitation, been granted permanent residence, the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips as he concentrated on So’s exposed chest. So barely had the time to sit next to the man before he made an almost surreptitious gesture with his hand, signaling the mamasan to tally his check bin. So thought, even hoped, that up close he hadn’t been to the man’s liking. But a quick nod of his head toward So instructed the mamasan to include an off fee in his tab. Still without exchanging a word, So went to dress in his street clothes.

The farang waited for So outside in front of the bar, his eyes surveying every bar boy who passed as though he still hadn’t made his selection for the night. When So joined him, the man headed off down the soi seemingly to care little whether So followed or not. He caught up to the man as they crossed Suriwong, then followed him as he turned down the small soi toward the Suriwongse Hotel. Good, So thought, a short-time off in a short-time hotel. He just hoped the man wouldn’t be as frugal with his tip as he was with his choice of accommodations. Inside, the man didn’t spare the front desk a passing glance as he made his way toward the elevators. Not good, thought So, he wasn’t just booking a short-time room, the man was staying at the hotel. His expectation of a generous tip diminished quickly.

In the small, well-worn room, the man finally spoke. “Get on the bed,” he instructed as he hastily began removing his clothes. A quick wave of his hand, which seemed to be the man’s preferred form of communication, told So he should do the same. The man’s eyes never left him as So tugged his shirt over his head, and then pulled his underwear and pants off after first kicking his shoes to the floor. By the time So was naked, the man was erect and busy pumping his member. A looker, So thought, not bothering to get his own cock hard. The man didn’t seem to care either way.

The two watched each other in a silence punctuated only by the man’s sporadic grunts of what may have been pleasure, until he once again gave curt instruction to So. “Turn over,” he spluttered, his eyes widening slightly at the thought of the sight he’d soon see. So hesitated, momentarily concerned with both turning his back to this man as well as what doing so might mean. So was a man. When a customer demanded it, and with the help of a little blue pill, So would take the dominate position in anal sex. He never bottomed. But the man hadn’t moved from his spot, so So did as he’d asked, keeping one eye peeled over his shoulder. And then, thinking he might still manage to coax a decent tip from the farang, he spread his legs just a bit.

The man still didn’t move, seemingly content with taking care of his own needs and So turned his face away, not really needing, or wanting, to watch. From the sounds the farang was making alone So figured he’d know when the man came, and when he could get dressed and leave. His thoughts turned to his own discontentment with life. And then he tensed, feeling the weight of the farang on the bed. Just as So began to reposition himself into a safer posture, the farang pulled his legs out from under him, leaving So splayed across the bed with his ass in the air. And then he was on top of him.

The heavier man’s weight crushed the breath from So’s body allowing him only the feeblest attempt at saying no. So coiled every muscle in his body, ready to force the man off; he felt the farang’s weight lift, and then felt his tongue begin its wet trail down So’s back. Still tensed, he waited. The danger appeared to have passed. And he wasn’t sure what the farang was up to. His muscles grew rigid again as he felt the man’s hands clinch his ass cheeks, separating them, allowing a descended trail for his tongue to follow. And when it did, So gasped.

So looked back over his shoulder, catching the reflection of the man’s hairy, drooping ass in the mirror above the dresser, a sight he nor anyone else really wanted to see. He turned back, scrunching his eyes shut. Whatever the man was doing tickled. It wasn’t unpleasurable, but at the same time it was worrisome. So couldn’t count the number of customers he’d been with since he started working on Soi Twilight, but this was the first who was doing that. And when he felt the tip of the man’s tongue begin to explore his asshole, he shuddered in distaste. Soi dogs said hello by sniffing each other’s butts. Humans didn’t. Not even farang.

The man paid little heed to So’s discomfort and So stifled a giggle at the thought that maybe when you had your nose buried in someone’s ass it was difficult to sense their mood. As strange as farang could be, this one appeared intent on exploring even stranger worlds. When he felt the man’s tongue poke inside of him though he’d had enough and So flipped over onto his back. Their new position didn’t deter the farang in the least bit. Except now he was bent over with his face pressed between Soi’s butt cheeks. Like a near-sighted gynecologist. So hoped he wouldn’t fart. And then thought that maybe if he did he’d get a bigger tip. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell Wit about this one. He was sure his friend had never experienced anything quite as strange.

The farang continued with his efforts, all the while furiously pumping his cock. Everything the man did seemed to be spurred by anger. The room was hot and stifling; so rushed to get to what he’d paid for the farang hadn’t turned on the air-conditioner when they’d entered the room. And now he was dripping with sweat. So hoped there would be enough towels to dry himself when the man finally finished. His thoughts took him away from his concerns over the strange things the man was doing and he began to relax. The man’s tongue licking at his asshole even started to feel pleasurable. So felt his cock beginning to get hard. And when the man’s tongue dipped lightly into him again, So whimpered. It actually felt good. Enjoyable even. A slight frown scrunched its way between So’s eyebrows, he wasn’t sure that having someone doing what this man was should be something you liked. His cock, which had grown stiff, seemed to think it was.

A fleeting thought of doing the same to Noi crossed his mind. No, she would be shocked. And disgusted. He thought that it should bother him, or even disgust him too, that he would even think of doing so. Even with someone he loved. But right now, with his legs spread wide and this strange man’s tongue giving him more pleasure than he’d felt in weeks, the act itself didn’t seem to be all that repulsive. Although he thought a hot, soapy shower first might be the better way to go. Possibly because he’d been on So’s mind lately, The Farang popped into his head. And So giggled. The Farang might enjoy this. Maybe it was something all farang did. And if not, he was sure to delight in what then might be a new experience for him too.

Lost in his thoughts So had ceased paying attention to his customer, who, as strange as he was seemed harmless enough. The noises the man began to make as he started his climax focused So’s attention on him again. With his head still buried deep between So’s ass cheeks, his gasping and wheezing echoed across the room. And then, with a final thrust of his tongue, the man came. Not sure if he was supposed to, or whether or not it mattered, So began finishing himself off too. And then stopped when the man immediately began putting his clothes back on, paying no attention to So as if he’d already left.

So got off the bed and started getting dressed himself. He smiled at the man, thinking that letting him know that So had appreciated what he’d done might be appreciated in itself. But the scowl on the man’s face never changed. So thought that maybe that was why the man preferred sex with his head planted in his partner’s ass. Looking like he had a permanent hate on the world couldn’t be good for his sex life. But then that was probably why he was in Bangkok, why he was hiring boys from the bars on Soi Twilight.

The farang went back to talking by gesture, a small swooping of a hand obviously signaling it was time for So to leave. At the door the man handed So his tip. 1,2000 baht. Which was at the low end of acceptable tips for a short-time off. So was going to ask the man for taxi money just to even the score, but quickly realized with this farang it would be a wasted effort. Besides, what he’d just learned was worth 300 baht. The Farang was in for a big surprise when he landed in Bangkok again in a few weeks. And at that thought the smile that had been absent earlier finally made its way to So’s face.

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