January 19th, 2006, 03:32
Extract from Chapter 8:
With the rain gone, the night come and some Thai whiskey in me followed by a beer I head for the dark streets the English had shown me once before. There was a bar there, a go-go bar, and a tall slim young man with eyes which reminded me of someone who could not be mine. He had begged me to come back. I had asked if there was a room there and he said there was. As I walked through the dark streets, stepping over storm pools, the air moistening with the effects of evaporation from the hot ground and buildings. I did not feel threatened in any way. I found the bar. His face lit with delight. Not so much that I was there, but because I had said that I would be there, and I wasтАж a Farang keeping his word, rather than making an airy promise and gone for ever.
I paid the price and we went up a dark stairway. There were two rooms, laid out with beds. There was also a bathroom. They were small rooms. They were the rooms of Somerset Maughn. They were tropical rooms with fans, supplemented with air-conditioning, which did not work.
He was handsome and experienced. His body was slim and brown. I could see his eyes clearly and feasted on them. We went through the honours of sensuality and with him emptied of his seed I turned him on his front and spent an age gently massaging him from the nape of his neck to his heels, with fingers and tongue. At no point did he hurry me or want me to stop and afterwards, downstairs, sitting close to me with the others looking on in their nakedness and unclothed envy of him, he whispered in my ear that I was a good and gentle Farang and no-one had touched him like that before. I did not believe him, but it was not necessary for him to have said it, and in the saying of it I was pleased.
I drifted back via bar and bar, and beer and whiskey, and felt as if I were floating and sat waiting for Pol to return. He had gone to his room to change. Soon I noticed him at the end of the Soi, waiting, almost agitated. He did not want to come close to the coffee shop. He did not want the eyes to see. He did not want confirmation of their gossip. I wandered towards him, concentrating on maintaining a straight line, for the world was so lovely in the soft focus of my increasing drunkenness.
тАЬCome!тАЭ he ordered with that quick way he has with his words.
тАЬWhere?тАЭ
тАЬBar.тАЭ
:cyclopsani:
With the rain gone, the night come and some Thai whiskey in me followed by a beer I head for the dark streets the English had shown me once before. There was a bar there, a go-go bar, and a tall slim young man with eyes which reminded me of someone who could not be mine. He had begged me to come back. I had asked if there was a room there and he said there was. As I walked through the dark streets, stepping over storm pools, the air moistening with the effects of evaporation from the hot ground and buildings. I did not feel threatened in any way. I found the bar. His face lit with delight. Not so much that I was there, but because I had said that I would be there, and I wasтАж a Farang keeping his word, rather than making an airy promise and gone for ever.
I paid the price and we went up a dark stairway. There were two rooms, laid out with beds. There was also a bathroom. They were small rooms. They were the rooms of Somerset Maughn. They were tropical rooms with fans, supplemented with air-conditioning, which did not work.
He was handsome and experienced. His body was slim and brown. I could see his eyes clearly and feasted on them. We went through the honours of sensuality and with him emptied of his seed I turned him on his front and spent an age gently massaging him from the nape of his neck to his heels, with fingers and tongue. At no point did he hurry me or want me to stop and afterwards, downstairs, sitting close to me with the others looking on in their nakedness and unclothed envy of him, he whispered in my ear that I was a good and gentle Farang and no-one had touched him like that before. I did not believe him, but it was not necessary for him to have said it, and in the saying of it I was pleased.
I drifted back via bar and bar, and beer and whiskey, and felt as if I were floating and sat waiting for Pol to return. He had gone to his room to change. Soon I noticed him at the end of the Soi, waiting, almost agitated. He did not want to come close to the coffee shop. He did not want the eyes to see. He did not want confirmation of their gossip. I wandered towards him, concentrating on maintaining a straight line, for the world was so lovely in the soft focus of my increasing drunkenness.
тАЬCome!тАЭ he ordered with that quick way he has with his words.
тАЬWhere?тАЭ
тАЬBar.тАЭ
:cyclopsani: