rich they are,” she said, meaning it, or meaning it at the time she said it to be more precise.
“June, this is me and this is my life. I’m not making a career change at my age and I’m not apologizing for not being born with a silver fork in my tongue. You always love me when another man is paying your bills. Last time we moved in together it was a catastrophe. You may be happy to be with me but we both know you will never stop flirting with other men’s bank accounts,” Carl told her sternly.
“You make me sound like a whore.” Her face was becoming red with anger and she was sitting rigidly straight.
“I am just saying this is the way it is.”
“Fuck you! Stop the car!”
A fuck was already out of the question so he gave her half of what she had asked for and stopped the car. She grabbed her shoes and designer handbag and leapt out of the car in bare feet slamming the door behind her. Carl lit a cigarette as he watched her beautiful rear disappearing angrily into the distance. He hated to see her go and there had been a time when it took him a while to get over her. Carl felt regret that she was gone again. What bothered him most was that under all of the conflicting emotions he mostly felt relieved. He had once been accused of having an overly protective sub-conscious that looked after him without him being aware of it. Maybe they were right and, who knows, maybe he had pissed her off on purpose. “Carl,” he muttered to himself as he drove home, “Can you really afford to be throwing beautiful women out of your car in the middle of the night?”
Chapter 9
Carl located his client late Thursday morning. The fat man was beside the hotel pool and he was not alone. His companion was obviously a bar girl but he appeared convinced that nobody else in the hotel was aware of that. Carl didn’t recognize her so he assumed she came from Nana Plaza on Sukhumvit Soi 4. He hardly ever went there. He had never liked it much and found the bars there more aggressive than the ones in Soi Cowboy. There was only one way in and out of Nana Plaza’s bar complex and Carl didn’t approve of that either. Carl liked lots of options when it came to making a fast exit.
The client had the demeanour of a man who was happily living a celebrity lifestyle with a young model attached. What the rest of the world saw was an elderly, grossly overweight sweating foreigner, holding hands with a micro-bikini clad teenage girl with plastic tits, fuck me tattoos, bright green fingernails and a permanent scowl. The client had an expression on his face like he had won the lottery of life. ‘It must be so much more fun to be oblivious to public opinion,’ Carl thought.
Carl had a quick look around the pool area. It was laid out like a tropical garden with palm trees and dark wood salas, providing some shade. The sala is the Thai version of the gazebo. The largest sala was used as the hotel’s poolside restaurant with cushions on the floor for sitting cross-legged at low oblong teak tables. This was where the pool staff congregated.
Carl spotted a sweating muscle-bound security officer in a dark suit hiding behind the cashier’s booth at the back of the poolside restaurant with his two-way radio in his right hand. He was staring at their table and talking excitedly into the radio. Carl was friendly with the security team and hoped they wouldn’t hold today against him.
Five-star hotels preferred Bangkok’s working girls to stay away from their swimming pools. Most of them had a policy of allowing the girls into the hotel as long as they let security take a photocopy of their ID card. This was in case a guest later claimed he had been robbed. This semi-open policy was necessary to keep their guests happy. This was Bangkok and not everybody came for the temple tours and the fake handbags.
The hotels believed this policy worked in a discreet enough fashion that the other guests
“June, this is me and this is my life. I’m not making a career change at my age and I’m not apologizing for not being born with a silver fork in my tongue. You always love me when another man is paying your bills. Last time we moved in together it was a catastrophe. You may be happy to be with me but we both know you will never stop flirting with other men’s bank accounts,” Carl told her sternly.
“You make me sound like a whore.” Her face was becoming red with anger and she was sitting rigidly straight.
“I am just saying this is the way it is.”
“Fuck you! Stop the car!”
A fuck was already out of the question so he gave her half of what she had asked for and stopped the car. She grabbed her shoes and designer handbag and leapt out of the car in bare feet slamming the door behind her. Carl lit a cigarette as he watched her beautiful rear disappearing angrily into the distance. He hated to see her go and there had been a time when it took him a while to get over her. Carl felt regret that she was gone again. What bothered him most was that under all of the conflicting emotions he mostly felt relieved. He had once been accused of having an overly protective sub-conscious that looked after him without him being aware of it. Maybe they were right and, who knows, maybe he had pissed her off on purpose. “Carl,” he muttered to himself as he drove home, “Can you really afford to be throwing beautiful women out of your car in the middle of the night?”
Chapter 9
Carl located his client late Thursday morning. The fat man was beside the hotel pool and he was not alone. His companion was obviously a bar girl but he appeared convinced that nobody else in the hotel was aware of that. Carl didn’t recognize her so he assumed she came from Nana Plaza on Sukhumvit Soi 4. He hardly ever went there. He had never liked it much and found the bars there more aggressive than the ones in Soi Cowboy. There was only one way in and out of Nana Plaza’s bar complex and Carl didn’t approve of that either. Carl liked lots of options when it came to making a fast exit.
The client had the demeanour of a man who was happily living a celebrity lifestyle with a young model attached. What the rest of the world saw was an elderly, grossly overweight sweating foreigner, holding hands with a micro-bikini clad teenage girl with plastic tits, fuck me tattoos, bright green fingernails and a permanent scowl. The client had an expression on his face like he had won the lottery of life. ‘It must be so much more fun to be oblivious to public opinion,’ Carl thought.
Carl had a quick look around the pool area. It was laid out like a tropical garden with palm trees and dark wood salas, providing some shade. The sala is the Thai version of the gazebo. The largest sala was used as the hotel’s poolside restaurant with cushions on the floor for sitting cross-legged at low oblong teak tables. This was where the pool staff congregated.
Carl spotted a sweating muscle-bound security officer in a dark suit hiding behind the cashier’s booth at the back of the poolside restaurant with his two-way radio in his right hand. He was staring at their table and talking excitedly into the radio. Carl was friendly with the security team and hoped they wouldn’t hold today against him.
Five-star hotels preferred Bangkok’s working girls to stay away from their swimming pools. Most of them had a policy of allowing the girls into the hotel as long as they let security take a photocopy of their ID card. This was in case a guest later claimed he had been robbed. This semi-open policy was necessary to keep their guests happy. This was Bangkok and not everybody came for the temple tours and the fake handbags.
The hotels believed this policy worked in a discreet enough fashion that the other guests
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