Strokes

A friend of mine and I were walking along one of the side streets of Sukhumvit Road in Bangkok. We were looking for a quiet place to drink. Admittedly, the area was more renowned as a haven for tourists looking for a good time and not for its tranquility. We walked past bars with girls clutching at our arms, asking us to come in. One petite little thing almost managed to pull my friend of his feet, which led to suspicions that it wasn’t a petite little girl holding on to him.

We walked a bit faster after that until we found a relatively quiet establishment. There were a couple of girls sitting outside, minding their own business. No bright neon, no raucous calls of welcome, just a simple sign hung over a brown wooden door. A smaller sign on the door indicated it was a private club. We entered nonetheless.

As we entered, we were greeted with the proprietor of the establishment with a smile and a question, “First time here?”

We nodded and said yes. He motioned us to come over. He handed us a black leather menu booklet and said “Here’s what we do here.”

Once we started reading the menu, it was immediately apparent that food and beverages were not among the house specialties.

The opening lines read “One man, two women. 3000 baht.”

After that were some simple statements on the do’s and don’ts. Other details related that members were entitled to better rates and priority to the rooms and girls, but non-members were more that welcome.

The closing lines were “We do not normally serve alcohol. First timers may have a drink. This establishment is not for drinking. It is for pleasure.”

As we looked up at him, his smile broadened and he began to add more detail. “One man,” he started, raising his right hand with one finger extended up and then pointed at each of us. “Two women,” raising his left had with two fingers extended. While it did seem to be clearly spelled out in the menu, I can only suspect that previous first timers may have expressed some disbelief. Or upon perusing the menu, might have gotten greedy and wanted more.

He went on. “All our women are lesbian bisexuals. They come with vibrators and,” gesturing around his waist, “strap-on dildos.”

As he said that, I wondered where all that equipment was supposed to go. I stopped that train fairly quickly, as the thoughts made tracks into places I never figured were meant for tools.

He must have noticed something in our faces, however, and he said “Now you see why we’re so famous.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

Encouraged, he pointed at one half of the counter opposite the bar. “The girls on that side take one,” hand to his mouth, “two,” hand to his crotch, “and three,” hand to his backside. He pointed to the other half of the counter and went on “The girls on that side take one,” hand to his mouth, “and two only,” hand to his crotch. He crossed his hands in a negating gesture and finished with a motion to his backside and a wagging finger “Not three.”

With the printed documentation and the personal instructions, I must really assume that he has had trouble with people not complying with the procedures. At that point, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see diagrams and multilingual warning labels.

He closed his spiel with “Just tell the girls what you want and they will do it. And if for any good reason you aren’t satisfied, it’s free,” spreading his arms wide in welcome.

I did feel that his engaging greeting deserved a courteous response, but I could only come up with “We’ve heard a bit about this place, but this is more than we thought to expect.” The last half was certainly true, and my friend, while at a loss for words, nodded in agreement.

He nodded appreciatively and waved at a pair of free seats, “Please just wait for a few moments while the rest of the girls come back from their earlier appointment.”

My friend and I exchanged glances and he answered “We’ll just go outside and have some beers next door.”

The proprietor graciously smiled and replied “Of course, please take your time.”

My friend and did go to just go to the bar next door for a couple of beers. We didn’t go back to the club. We even went on to another place for some late night seafood. Several times during the evening, we just shook our heads and laughed. Whatever that place was others, for us it was an affirmation that by one standard at least, we were nice guys.