Sleepless in Bangkok Read online

  But intercourse rather than society changing course, was Steven’s agenda and Gunn enthusiastically obliged.

  Still in command, Gunn jerked more energetically on top of Steven’s ever hardening presence, her primitive private urges overriding any sense of decorum. Finally, she gave a low pleasurable cry and sucked Steven’s ejaculation deep within her small frame.

  Screwing Gunn was like making love to a sexually precocious schoolgirl, and Steven’s erection remained.

  But Gunn had not finished, and as Steven lifted his head, she gave a satisfied smile before lifting herself up from her position on top of him.

  “What now?” Steven asked.

  Gunn gave a mysterious smile before lying sideways over her lover’s muscular thighs to lick what was left of his ejaculation. At the same time, she affectionately ran her hands across his sweat covered six-pack.

  “It was beautiful making love to you,” Gunn said as a small dribble of semen trickled from her lips. The look of satisfaction coupled with gratitude on her face, demonstrated yet again the naive honesty Thai people intermittently exhibited between deeds of duplicity.

  “So this is why Western men prefer Oriental women. I think I’m glad to be back after all the bullshit and mind games from Western women,” Steven thoughts confirmed. To verify the veracity of Steven’s unspoken comment, Gunn kissed his still erect penis, moist with his semen and her own vaginal juices.

  Hoping to extend his time with the sensuous young Eurasian girl, Steven asked if she would like to dine with him at the Oriental Hotel’s Riverside Restaurant, not far from Bangkok’s Chinatown.

  “That would be another part of what has so far been a wonderful evening,” Gunn replied in an exquisitely feminine voice.

  [*] A waiter in a restaurant would attend a fat farang customer with the utmost civility, yet would refer to him as poompooee (fatso). “Snapper fish with side salad and wine for poompooee,” the waiter would shout to the kitchen, innocently calling a fat person a fat person. Unlike the West, they would do it to his/her face and with no aim to offend. Politically incorrect by Western standards, but in Thailand, what it is, is what it’s called. With a smile of course.

  18

  Food ForThought

  Grilled fish and lightly cooked vegetables, the most exquisite chef made ice cream on the planet, freshly cut tropical fruit and an Australian white wine provided the equivalent of a gastronomic merit making ceremony.

  The crisp white tablecloths, silverware and almost artistic presentation of carefully folded red linen napkins; orchids and sweet smelling blossoms indigenous to Thailand carefully arranged in ceramic containers placed intermittently on and between the tables; elephant and Buddha images which peripheral vision intermittently allowed to infiltrate the psyche, added to the metaphor that eating at the Oriental could be something akin to a merit making ceremony.

  “A sophisticated place and exquisite food,” Steven said as he gazed across the water from the Oriental Hotel’s Riverside Restaurant.

  To confirm the accuracy of his restaurant review, smiling-faced young waiters and waitresses immaculately dressed in traditional costume, ensured the finest presentation and service. Simultaneously, a light breeze from the river did its best to provide natural air conditioning.

  Thoroughly content after their low calory banquet, an exquisite bottle of Australian port enhanced the mood. To confirm the illusion that Bangkok turned into an Oriental Fairyland at night, a kaleidoscope of colours from the many riverside restaurants, danced upon the water. The sparkling lights of the many ferries and long boats hurrying along the river, added to the fantasy.

  19

  Hullo Goodbye

  Steven realised something was up when Gunn grabbed his cock as he stood in the lift (elevator), as it slowly wound its way up to the floor of his hotel room.

  Gunn realised something was up when she grabbed Steven’s cock in the lift (elevator), as it slowly wound its way up to the floor of Steven’s hotel room.

  “I feel something coming on,” Steven said. “It’s not a song that’s for sure, as I can’t sing. But something’s coming, I can feel it.”

  “You and me if I’m lucky,” Gunn said without a hint of a smile.

  “It’s a hard life,” Steven replied, without a hint of a smile.

  “Well it is for you, I can tell that,” Gunn said as she continued to manipulate Steven’s penis between her fingers.

  The work Steven did on Gunn’s pussy with his tongue and the blow job Gunn gave him before they almost fucked themselves stupid, finished off an almost perfect evening!

  After an encore of passionate sex early in the morning, Steven and Gunn lay wrapped in each others’ arms.

  By the time Steven came to, Gunn had dressed and was folding his clothes. As he comprehended what she was doing, he again reflected upon the differences between Western and Oriental women. Only in Thailand would a beautiful young girl give you a blow job, fuck your brains out, then smile as she folded your clothes up after! Just like Snow White, some of them even sing!

  Steven’s considerable experience had confirmed that far too many Western girls gave nothing but grief and unpleasant verbals. In contrast, Oriental women did all they could to make their man feel like a king.

  On the other hand, most men were football watching, beer bellied assholes with an IQ in the 69 zone, so perhaps Western women had good cause.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to leave so early. I was hoping we might spend the day together, see the sights, catch a movie. I was even going to buy you a present,” Steven told his new lover.

  “Not with farang for money,” Gunn quickly replied. “Not Patpong girl, no need for farang buy things.”

  Great intellectual care was needed in Thailand if the downside of culture shock was not to be engendered, and Steven quickly realised his well motivated wish to buy something for his young lover had misfired

  - been interpreted as an insult.

  “In the West, men show their affection by buying presents for their lovers, that’s all,” Steven explained in an attempt to rescue the situation.

  Gunn calmed down. “I’m tired. Thai men not have energy in bed like farang nor ding dong so big.” Walking across the room, Gunn picked up her leather designer handbag. “Not complain. You sexy man. I float much of time. Not free today but maybe tonight.”

  Gunn smiled, using the device as an advance, face saving mechanism - in case Steven declined to spend more time in her company that night.

  Naked, Steven stepped out of bed and placed his arms around his young Eurasian companion. “Whatever suits you,” he said, reassuring Gunn by kissing her on the forehead again, her almost childlike appearance bringing out his protective instincts - and another hardon.

  “Any time after seven tonight. I’ve got some business to attend to this afternoon in any event. La gone, tilak jah, goodbye, sweet darling,” Steven said.

  “Farang bak wuan, foreigner have sweet mouth.”

  Gunn’s reply had a cynical edge and the look of distrust which accompanied it momentarily spoiled her features.

  More culture shock. Compliments in Thailand are often used as the prelude to a scam.

  20

  UnderArrest?

  Paying off his taxi, Steven walked towards the security check point of a plain, brick-built building not far from the King of Thailand’s Royal Palace. Dressed in a pristine, perfectly pressed military uniform, a burly looking sentry immediately blocked his path.

  Bigger than the average Thai man, the young soldier had probably been raised on a milk and hamburger diet. Since Western companies commenced marketing their products in South East Asia, the size and shape of the following generations had been changed.

  Steven showed his ID and the young sentry politely frisked him before speaking into an intercom. Two more equally well turned out guards appeared. “Am I under arrest?” Steven asked with a smile, as one guard stood in front and the other behind, ready to escort him into the building.r />
  Steven’s question was not entirely inappropriate, as you never knew for certain what was going on in any Oriental location, where even the apparently normal was rarely as it seemed, or as it should be. Travelling upwards in a small cramped lift (elevator), followed by a walk along a corridor polished to a military degree, Steven was led into an ornately furnished room.

  21

  The Brief

  Knocking on an office door, one of the guards who had accompanied Steven into the building clicked his heels and saluted before ushering the farang visitor into the room. He saluted again before leaving, quietly closing the door behind him.

  Dressed in a well cut suit, a Thai man in his middle to late fifties sat behind a grandiose mahogany desk. Typical of officials in the East needing to proclaim their status with outward signs of face, the furnishings were just a little too rich and over-the-top. Obviously overlooked when his office was originally furnished, [*] the large desk accentuated his diminutive stature. The effect was enhanced when he stood up to greet Steven, and it was obvious he had been sitting on a swivel chair wound up as high as it would go.

  As he stood, the small Thai man offered a polite wai. Steven returned the respectful gesture. Both men then shook hands, ensuring the formalities of both East and West were courteously followed.

  Concerning the wai, the hands should not be held too high, too low or too long. The degree to which the head is bowed and its duration, conveyed subtle signals relevant to the attitude and perceived social status of each party.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Hunt. But perhaps I could call you Steven?” the small Thai man said.

  “You may, Field Marshal Chang,” Steven replied.

  “Like your Mr. Bond, you may call me James. He was much taller than myself, but both in field of national security so people make joke about name. James is nickname as you say in West. Thai name too difficult for farang to pronounce. I have been looking forward to meeting you.”

  Made from the hide of water buffalo, the seat Steven sat down in was comfortable beyond belief. Exquisitely crafted, it would probably last for the next hundred years. If only Thai manufactured goods possessed the same shelf-life, the economic melt-downs which periodically afflicted the region would not occur.

  Field Marshal Chang smiled. “Would you think it impolite if we dispensed with small talk and discussed the reason for your visit to Thailand?”

  “Please go ahead,” Steven advised. “I’d be pleased to find out exactly what it is your government and mine wish me to accomplish.”

  “The governments of the USA and Australia are also involved. But please call me James. Field marshal is just a courtesy title these days. Many years since active service at time of Vietnam War.

  Field Marshal Chang drifted back in time. “Back in those days Thailand was on red alert, preparing for invasion from communist insurgents in the North, South, East and West. Burma, Lao, Vietnam and Cambodia. A worrying period in Thai history. But I am a civilian again, acting as security adviser to my country’s civil service. Your dossier states you were attached to a unit of the Australian Special Forces during the Vietnam War.”

  “Straight from military school. In at the deep end, working undercover in Lao. The war ended not long after my arrival. Hope I didn’t have anything to do with the West losing,” Steven wryly stated.

  Using an Oriental ploy, the field marshal ignored anything inconvenient, embarrassing or simply not understood. Steven’s mildly humorous remark fell into one or more of those categories.

  “In real terms it was the Vietnamese who lost, not the West. Communism only succeeded in causing repression, torture, death and economic collapse. All countries surrounding Thailand which adopted Marxism and the collective approach, failed. The Cambodian killing fields were a typical example. But today those countries are anxious to adopt capitalist methods.”

  Steven nodded.

  “All countries in region that retain free market system, prospered. Malaysia, Hong Kong, Singapore, Taiwan, Thailand, South Korea and Japan. Oriental versions of your Western method of government. However, not quite so democratic as Europe or the USA. But we do appear to have maintained a greater degree of law and order. Far less street crime and violence. So maybe countries in West have gone too far in extending your concept of freedom and human rights to the common man. Buddhist culture recommends the middle path. Perhaps our philosophy could be of use to the West in this respect?”

  Field Marshal Chang sipped from a tumbler of ice water containing a small wedge of lime and a sprig of mint. “Except for people in drugs trade operating from the Golden Triangle,” he suddenly said.

  Unphased by the sudden increase in volume and intensity of the field marshal’s vocal delivery, Steven remained calm. “Please continue,” he said.

  “A dense stretch of rainforest and hill country in a no man’s land on and within the borders of Burma, Lao and Thailand, human rights of drug dealers must be considered forfeit because nature of illegal trade. However, warlords who grow and process heroin, supply demand emanating predominately from the West.”

  James Chang stopped abruptly, his face flushed. “I hope I have not said anything which could be regarded as an insult.”

  Realising that his low-key condemnation of Western crime rates and the demand for hard drugs from his country could be taken as an insult - extreme bad manners from the Oriental perspective - the small Thai man looked embarrassed.

  “No insult taken, I agree with you,” Steven replied, attempting to put Field Marshal Chang at ease.

  The field marshal’s face expressed an uncertain mix of relief and anxiety, regarding what he believed had been a thoughtless social error on his part. Hoping the tense moment would soon depart if he appraised Steven of the mission he had travelled halfway round the world to participate in, Field Marshal Chang continued.

  “Although your brief did not specifically mention the drugs trade, the Thai government’s well publicised ‘War on Drugs’campaign may well have provided clues to suggest that your current assignment would be connected to this illegal area of commerce. No doubt Mr. Montgomery-Fairfax alluded to reason why need you in Thailand before accept commission.”

  Steven allowed the former field marshal to continue.

  “Regarding the brief you were given in London, please disregard it. It was a fabrication, a dummy, a decoy. If someone had been hired to discover details of your mission, by now they would be completely misinformed.”

  The field marshal gave an expression which bordered on a self-satisfied smirk. “Not that it would be easy to remove your personal documents without risk of physical harm. Your service record confirms you to be an expert in unarmed combat and you also possess extensive knowledge of weaponry. Change of brief simple precaution because never work with you before. I hope you are not offended.” James Chang smiled an inscrutable smile.

  “You were very thorough,” Steven said, thinking back to how he had left his document case beside him on the plane and fallen asleep. Anyone could have taken it, read what was inside and returned it before he woke. Gunn had even picked it up. He wondered what Field Marshal Chang would think if he knew how rusty his intelligence skills were after two years advising grocery shops on their video security systems.

  The former field marshal inspected the contents of an official looking folder.

  “That looks like my military dossier. Is it?” Steven asked, ignoring Oriental custom about it being bad mannered to ask a direct question.

  “Classified, I’m afraid,” Field Marshal Chang replied as he removed the file from sight by placing it in a drawer within his desk.

  “You’ve certainly had every cooperation from the British authorities. But I forgot, no Data Protection Act in South East Asia.”

  Steven wondered if those in charge of the mission on the British side wanted someone to screw it up. A surface look at his service record made him the perfect candidate. Then again, perhaps Rupert carried a long held grudge and was setting him up.
They had never got on well, even less so after the Arab debacle.

  Having considered potential downsides emanating from the British side, there was also the possibility local criminal interests with influential connections in government - hardly unusual in South East Asia - had an inverse agenda to that of preventing the drugs trade. Could the Thai side have deliberately sought an over-the-hill undercover agent because they wanted the mission to fail? Perhaps they’d been given a choice of overseas military operatives who had fucked up in some way, and Steven had won. Or was it lost?

  “When did you get so paranoid?” Steven asked himself. “When everyone started plotting against me,” his brain replied.

  It was an open secret that corruption within the Thai army, police and government agencies was endemic. It was believed the Narcotics Suppression Bureau and the Office of the Narcotics Control Board were straight, but no one knew for certain. In an environment where the rewards for turning a blind eye to the drugs trade were a million times greater than the salaries of those commissioned to prevent it, anyone could be turned. Thailand, the ultimate mind-fuck. A plethora of offbeat thoughts and questions meandered through Steven’s head before letting the subject go.

  “Did you wish to say something?” James Chang enquired.

  ‘Thai Politics: ARevolution or Just the Usual Nonsense’, was Steven’s original thought - the title of a discussion held by the British Chamber of Commerce in Bangkok [**]. Having seen it advertised, it had stuck in his mind. But to answer so would be impolite, and for a moment he did not reply.

  “Just thinking how efficient you have been,” Steven finally said, giving a considered response rather than the truth, which almost certainly would offend.

  “Please study the genuine assignment during the next forty-eight hours. Perhaps we can meet in three days time, if that is convenient?”