Private Dancer by Stephen Leather (.pdf

Gammon steak and chips. None of the Thai crap. Food you can get your teeth into.
Our breakfasts are a big puller, too. We've plenty of regulars pop in for a feed before
heading off to the office.
I don't encourage tourists, to be honest. It's all about repeat business so I want guys
who live in Bangkok, guys who'll come in four nights a week or more. The guys who
have been here, done that and got the fucking T-shirt. Guys like Jimmy. Been here for
more than fifteen years now, runs a chain of furniture shops by fax. You won't catch
the likes of Jimmy falling in love with a Thai girl. Same with Rick. Been here almost
ten years. Sells condom-making machines, does a roaring trade. Doesn't believe in
them himself, none of us do. I've fucked more than two thousand women and a fair
amount of katoeys too, and never got anything more serious than NSU. Well, there
was the genital warts, a bugger to shift they were, but I don't really count them.
Rick's the same as Jimmy and me: we go to the bars, choose a girl, and screw
them. No attachments, no relationships, they're slappers, pure and simple. That's the
only way to treat them.
In fact, the longer a guy stays here, the more he's likely to go with katoeys, because
you know where you are with a katoey. A katoey's a transsexual. But don't get me
wrong, it's not like going with a guy in a dress. They're fucking lovely here. Drop
dead gorgeous some of them. They take hormones to grow breasts, or have implants,
and then they have their dicks cut off. Sex with them is something else, I can tell you.
For a start, they give the best blow jobs. That's a fact. You've never had a blow job
until you've had a katoey go down on you. You see, a guy knows what a guy likes.
You don't have to fuck them, though Jimmy and Rick do it all the time, whether or not
the geezer's got a dick. I don't screw them much, what with me being thirty stone and
all, but I always fuck one up the arse on World Aids Day. Point of principle.
The ones who get into real trouble are the ones who fall between the tourists and
the guys like Jimmy and Rick. They've been here for a few months, maybe longer,
and they think they know it all. They think they understand Thais, they probably learn
to speak a bit of the language, and they let their defences down. That's when they get
fucked. There was a Jap guy we knew, came over to work for Toyota. Fell in love
with a Thai girl, bought her a house and some land up near Chiang Mai. Gave money
to her family, even bought them a pick up truck and a couple of motorcycles. The girl
must have been the screw of the century because the Jap decides he's gonna marry
her. He goes up to Chiang Mai, and there's a huge wedding party. Food, booze, the
works. The whole family gets legless, a great time is had by all. In the middle of the
festivities, a Thai guy goes up to the Jap. "You can go now," says the Thai.
"What do you mean?" says the Jap. "This is my wedding."
"No," says the Thai. "This is my house. On my land. And that's my wife. Now you
can fuck off."
And that was that. The Jap came running back to Bangkok with his tail between his
legs. Went back to Japan a few months later, a broken man. He'd been ripped off from
Day One. I’ve heard a million stories like that. And they’re all true.
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