Fuck the seventy-seven virgins, give me Pattaya – Pascha Ray

One night in August the monsoon was having its way with the Eastern Seaboard. Sleets of rain slashed through the few remaining palms on the back street between Soi Bukhao and 3rd Road. The Happy Lodge inn served as a refuge from the crowds of Walking Street. The pool tables were level, the beer was 5 baht less than my regular haunt, the Buffalo Bar, and no one came down the deadened alley, unless it was to avoid an old girlfriend or boyfriend.

The monsoon rains were pounding the corrugated roof with increasing intensity. The girls were shivering from the cold, but the rising water level threatened to flood the Happy Lodge Inn and they fought the overflow by clearing the cluttered gutters. I was the only farang in the bar.

A motorsai taxi pulled underneath the awning and Natalie jumped off the bike.

Every year thousands of Thai women flock to Pattaya, seeking the gold in the pockets of farangs. Some are old, some are young. Few were as sexy as Natalie.

The fake orgasm was part of the bargain.

Nathalie liked her customers happy. They came back for more with a smile. The sexy vixen was the heart and soul of Pattaya.

The twenty-five year old was sexy even without her piercings or tattoos. Her second skin of libertinism was a prime asset for a Pattaya bargirl and her unleashed libido telegraphed the message of desire to every male within eyesight. One look and they understood the cost of a single night on both financial and physical terms, because riding Natalie was like driving a Ferrari on ice.

And if her customer’s performance dropped below Formula One standards, Natalie didn?t complain as long as her customer had paid 2000 baht at the end of her hour-long lap of lust.
Natalie was soaked to the skin. She wasn?t the type of girl to wearing lingerie other than a G-string. Natalie’s doe-soft eyes turned to me and she sat on the stool next to me, dripping water from her long hair.

The monsoon rains battered the corrugated tin roof with increasing intensity. The girls shivered from the cold. Nathalie came over to me and asked, “Can I wear your jacket?”

“Why not? It probably looks better on you than me.? My long-sleeved shirt was keeping me warm.

“Everything look good on me, but look better if I wear nothing.” Putting on my blue-tinted glasses transformed her to a Hollywood starlet.

“I have no argument with that.?

“Tequila.” Nathalie wai-ed like a schoolgirl. The older farangs loved that act. She killed the tequila in one go and I signaled the bartender for another. I was good with my San Miguel beer.

“You want to go short-time. Have room next door.” She snuggled into me like a boa after a rabbit.

“No, I have a girlfriend.” Mam and I were a thing. We were having a kid. I had eyes only for her.

“Your girlfriend lucky. You good man.” Nathalie downed the next tequila and sat up straight.

“Sure.” No male in Pattaya was good.

We had several drinks. The rain intensified and the water rose an inch across the bar’s floor. It came from the Indian Ocean. I tasted a drop.

“Good.”

“Not salty.”

“Not same you.” Her index finger smoothed over my skin and her tongue licked at the tip.

“You think clean?”

“Come from the sky is clean.”

“Not sure.” Natalie lifted her feet. Her high heels were brand-new.

“I know your story.”

“My story?”

“Yes, your wife she leave you for Thai friend. You have broke heart.”

“Many farang have same story.” Nu and I had a daughter. She had said Angie wasn’t mine. I knew better. She just wanted to hurt me.

“Many Thai too. Many lady say you good man.”

“It’s easy being a good man in Pattaya.” It was the last Babylon on Earth, so a little good went a long way in this town.

“Once I good girl. I not like this,” she said knocking back a tequila.

“I know. Everyone was a young once.” I ordered another round of tequila. The rain had drummed on the bar?s tin roof like gorillas dancing the polka. None of their feet were in synch. The water climbed an inch higher.

“I come here I maybe 15. My mother work bar.” She downed the second shot and signaled for a beer chaser. Her pouting belly is showing the early signs of this repeated investment in beer.

“You don’t need to tell me this.” I had heard the story before. It didn?t have a happy ending.

“Tell you. Not tell you. Same.” Her hand caressed my thigh. She was never not on the game.

“Same. Girl come to Pattaya. Have boyfriend. Boyfriend leave her. She work bar. Then she can?t love anyone, but me.” Angie’s mom had followed the script without diversion.

“Not same story me. 15 not have boyfriend. No man leave me. Not me. I too sexy. My mother have friend want virgin.”

I figured Natalie for 25.

“And you were a virgin?” Ten years ago I was living with Vee. My one-eyed mistress. She was no virgin.

“Never kiss a boy.? Her hand moved higher on my thigh. “Borisut.”

“So why you want to have sex?”

“Not me. Maih want big money.” Natalie swung between pidgin and perfect English. She had lived in the UK twice and Sweden once. “Maih needed money.”

“For what?” I wondered how many times she had told this story to a Kak or customer. Usually the money was to bail out a drunken father or a stupid brother. Poverty crushed the Thai lower-class and there was no escape.

Young girl gone bad for her mother the aging whore.

“Krai lu?” she answered with resignation. ‘Who knew’.

A Thai daughter has to obey her mother.

No matter what.

No explanation was necessary.

“Man give 5000 baht.”

“5000 baht?” It was little over $100.

“Small money for farang. Big money for Thai.”

“Big money for everyone.”

“It not hurt. Man know make love virgin. I not like first time. Second time too. After that. Love it all time. You want me show you?” Her hand rested on my crotch. His fingers tickled my balls.

“Trick my mother.” I knew her mother back in the early 90s. I couldn’t tell Nathalie that. They looked too much alike for my good.

I go with many men. Sometime three in day. Never not two. Sometime more. I too sexy.”

The math worked out to six hundred a year times ten years equaled six thousand men.

I knew her mother back from the early 90s. I couldn’t tell Nathalie that. They looked too much alike for my good.

You still are sexy.” She would have stopped traffic on any street in America.

“Now I go with man old. Easy money. Only worry that they die on me.”

“Anyone come close?” Viagra, 60 year-old, and a young was a common fatal combination in Pattaya.

“No, but sometime think man die.” She puffed out her cheeks. “Luat-keung-nah.”

“Blood makes their face go red.” I waved for my check-bin.

Rain or no rain.

I was leaving before I got into trouble.

“Like red light.” Natalie didn’t want me to leave.

Not without her.

There are no other men with obey in sight.

Only me.

“You go with me?”

“Wish I could.? My mistress was waiting for me in Jomtien. She was six months pregnant and I loved her in my own way.

“You think wife come back.?

“Khai lu??

Anything was possible in Thailand, except for the impossible.

I gave Natalie 200 baht. “For kin khao.”

She wai-ed gracefully as a 12 year-old virgin and said,”You can run, but you not hide. One day show my pierced clit.”

“I’m sure you will.” I escaped before a new downpour drenched the streets and I came home to my mia-noi and my son Fenway. They were both asleep. Mam sniffed at me.

“You speak with lady.”

“Yes.” There was no use lying.

“Go with her?” I had been faithful to her since day one. Not an easy task in the Last Babylon.

“Never.”

“Good.” She kissed my cheek and returned to sleep.

One day we would have to live together. She will never know how hard I try to be good.

It was never easy in Pattaya.

My head settled onto the pillow.

My dreams of Nathalie unfolded in slow-mo.

14 rpm and then rewind back to her at fifteen.

Back before the six thousand men she was as pure as the monsoon rain.

A good girl waiting to go bad.

Same as me at 15.

A good boy waiting for the bad.

There was no going back.

Not for me.

Not for Natalie.

Not for anyone.