Fun with hotel staff

[Marsilius]

(1) Room cleaning boy, Monte Carlo Hotel (long gone, I think), Patong, Phuket
(2) Room service boy, Cozy Beach Hotel, Pattaya

[Moses]

<Mega-sarcastic comment deleted in the interests of peace and harmony>

why you call it mega-sarcastic?

Your "Must have been your wonderful personality" doesn't touch me - I have very thick skin. Also I have more truly explanation - even now I'm just in the middle of my 5th decade, 12 years ago I was just slightly above 40.

[goji]

My experiences with hotel staff are limited to fantasies, so far.

I've always been keen to have a cute bell boy, but no luck so far. In particular, the Hotels with particularly memorable cute staff were in Siem Reap, Pakse, Saigon & Mandalay, although several others would make the cut.

I'm not sure what effect CCTV has, but if hotels have policies to stop staff entertaining guests, having CCTV cameras in the corridors can hardly be helpful.

[gerefan2]

even now I'm just in the middle of my 5th decade, 12 years ago I was just slightly above 40.

Sorry to disappoint you, but you are in your 6th decade!

[frequent]

Sorry to disappoint you, but you are in your 6th decade!

I keep telling him he needs to dust off that old ESL course

[christianpfc]

I have overnighted in 49 provinces in Thailand, in total more than 100 different hotels, and this is the only story in a normal hotel I can tell.

These hotels are in the 300-500 THB price range. There is no bellboy, no daily cleaning, no pool attendant who could come to my room.

[Jellybean]

An interesting topic, if I may say so, Bert. The subject matter will, I am sure, encourage quite a lot of participation from the members.

To be honest, I have not seen many staff in the hotels I have stayed at in Thailand that I would happily invite to my room for a little rumpy-pumpy session. I vaguely remember being attracted to a receptionist in the now closed Lavender Lanna Hotel in Chiang Mai. But I think he was more interested in securing a rich sugar-daddy than a quickie in the room with a customer. Well, not being rich, I could not satisfy him in that respect. I believe he was very popular and always seemed to attract the attention of my fellow guests. I wonder if he ever found what he was looking for.

At my old condo in Bangkok we have had several stunning bell-boys over the years and one in particular springs to mind. I really couldn’t keep my eyes off him. On several occasions, as part of his duties, he would help bring my suitcases, or more often than not, my groceries to my room. I would always tip him well and try and chat freely with him, but nothing ever happened. Firstly, I was concerned that I might over step the line and embarrass him or myself or, secondly, bring an unwanted complaint from the management. So I played it safe and left it up to him to make the first move.

Much to my disappointment, he did not stay long at the condo. When I asked one of the other bell-boys what had happened to him, I was told that he had left because he thought he would have made more money, but didn’t. Blimey! I would have gladly supplemented his income if he had been prepared to spend a couple of hours a week with me. But nothing about him led me to believe that selling himself for a little extra income was what he was looking for. And, as I have already said, I did not want to wrongly interpret his friendliness, as I once did with a poolside waiter in Hua Hin, the story of which I am now about to relate.

This episode happened, around 10 years ago, at an upmarket hotel in the seaside resort of Hua Hin, not a hotel I could afford to stay at, but one where I would regularly have a reasonably priced lunch. Then afterwards, lie by the pool, read a book, order a drink, have a catnap, or watch the gloriously athletic and very sexy personal trainers lead the aqua-aerobics classes.

The poolside waiters, all of whom were very handsome, got to know me pretty well and would stop to chat most days I visited the pool. Surely they must have guessed I was gay, given the attention I used to give them. One waiter in particular got very friendly and would sometimes give me a leg massage. Crikey! Be very careful, I thought to myself, the massage was just too pleasurable. I am not sure if this was part of his employment contract, or if I was receiving special favours. I erred on the side of caution and did not do, or say anything that could have either led to an embarrassing situation or a complaint from the hotel management.

Then one day, this same waiter, who had the most marvellously hairy legs and who, I would say was in his mid-twenties, told me of his financial difficulties. He was married and his wife had recently given birth to a daughter. And they were struggling with the school fees for another child. But I really could do no more than listen sympathetically and give him a generous tip on the days that he served me.

Sometime later he asked if he could work “overtime” for me to make some extra money. Oh-my! This really was the stuff of fantasies. Most of us have heard of, or have personal experience of straight married guys, moonlighting in go-go or host bars to earn a bit of extra money. So it is not at all uncommon for a straight married guy to seek to supplement his income by engaging in sex with a gay man. In fact, such a tale was related by Chai Pinit in his book, Bangkok Boy, in which he recounts the days he serviced gay men, while being married with children. I thought therefore my luck was in, I would get the boy of my dreams and he would earn easy money to help support his wife and family.

We arranged to meet at my house one day that week. I was very excited and looked forward to an hour or so of passion – well, at least on my part. My waiter turned up on time, but what was this? There was a woman on the back of his motorbike! Had he brought his wife with him? Ooooh . . . I could see my fantasy quickly slipping away. I welcomed them both to my house and enquired if the lady was his wife. No, she wasn’t, she was a colleague who worked at the hotel. WTF? “Oh, how interesting”, I may have said, trying hard not to show my disappointment.

My memory of what happened next is pretty hazy, due to the passage of time. I think I showed them around the house, garden and pool. My waiter asked if I had already eaten. I had not, so he volunteered to drive to the next soi and get us all dinner. I gave him the money to do so.

We ate our meal, chatted and a part of me thought, well at least he is here, that was something. But another part of me was deeply disappointed. I cannot remember how it ended, but it was most awkward and I waved them goodbye, thinking I probably should have known it was too good to be true when he first offered to call round.

The next day at the hotel he engaged me in conversation by the pool. I think I might have said I was surprised he brought his female colleague with him the previous day. I am sure he said that she wanted to see my house as much as he did. But he wanted to see me again. What? Perhaps all was not lost then.

Another meeting at my house was arranged. Surely this time he would earn the overtime he had mentioned he was seeking from me. To cut a long story short, we did talk, or rather I talked about firstly, really liking him and then about the possibility of having sex with him as a means of him earning some, hopefully regular, cash. Oh-my-God! Somehow I had got it seriously wrong. I had let my fantasies get the better of me. I had totally misread all the signals, but they seemed very clear at the time. No, he was not interested in having sex; he was a married man with children, he said. All of which I knew. What he said he wanted to do was cleaning or taking care of the house for me. Aaaaaaggghh!

Well, I am sure many of you have heard of fifty shades of grey, well I turned fifty shades of red! Talk about embarrassment. It was totally cringe worthy and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Oh! How awkward! I had to quickly end the meeting and send him on his way, then go lock myself away never to see the light of day again. The waiter, no longer ‘my’ waiter, said he could not stay long, he had football practice to attend and asked me for some money. I carefully and quickly thought about his request and, just to end the situation, I handed him 500 Baht, more than a day’s pay for him.

Good God, I hope he never told his poolside colleagues about my request. That thought was just too awful to contemplate. Just in case he did, I never returned to his hotel, I was too ashamed of myself.

So the lesson I have learned from my Hua Hin hotel experience, is to never assume that a non go-go/host bar boy is interested in having sex with me unless I receive an embossed invitation in copperplate writing to that effect. Lol! Hence my fence sitting in the first part of my story about the cute bell-boy at my old condo. But I live in hope that one day I shall be half as lucky as our dear administrator, Moses.

[joe552]

Jellybean, a great story, well told.

[Moses]

Sorry to disappoint you, but you are in your 6th decade!

correct thank you

[snotface]

A delightful story, Jellybean, thanks for taking the trouble to write it. Your reference to the personal trainer's 'most marvellously hairy legs' told me at once, however, that I would have been most unlikely to fancy him. Thank goodness we all have different tastes. One reason I am so attracted to Thai young men is that generally speaking they are blessedly lacking in that department (ie hairiness, not legs). I am reminded of an incident from way back in the mists of my own past.

Some time in the early 1980s I made my first trip to Piccadilly Circus with carnal intentions specifically in mind. I'd heard that the 'meat rack' near the Regent Palace hotel was a good place to pick up trade. Well, I wandered round the block a few times and if there were any rent boys present (can't remember now) they weren't to my liking. After a while I wandered a little way along Regent Street and saw a very handsome guy staring into a shop window. I watched him from a distance for about five minutes and he didn't move away. Surely he's waiting to be picked up? I thought. Doesn't want to be associated with the riff-raff by the meat rack. Hmm, he really is very handsome. So I plucked up my courage and approached him. Trying to sound like a nonchalant seasoned campaigner I asked him in the time-honoured words, 'Do you want some business?' Slowly he turned from whatever had been gripping his attention in the window and eyed me up and down. I'd have to admit that it was the look of someone who, say, had just found a cockroach in his soup. I have a clear recollection of the words he uttered, 'Fuck off, geezer, will you.' And yes, after a muttered apology, that's exactly what I did, so traumatised that it was an age before I ventured back to Piccadilly. Looking back, I've always thought I was lucky he didn't punch my lights out. At least in Thailand you can pretty well rest assured that even a rejection would usually be accompanied by a smile.