We’d been emailing during the week, and she’d been so keen to convince me that she really was an office girl that she’d sent over several photos of herself in the office. I figured that even Pattaya must have some respectable ladies, right?
She showed up and
“Hello boobs”, I somehow managed not to say. “And bottom”, I didn’t add, as she turned to order her drink. What a body. She looked even better than her photos. I was in love.
A quick drink at the beer bar (Spy for her, Heineken for me), and it was time to hit the town. This was an interesting point, as I’d been wondering where respectable office girls go in Pattaya. I don’t know Pattaya too well, but I’d figured that there must be a refined, up-market, respectable, hi-so and des-res area - one of which I had been previously unaware.
“Do you know Walking Street?”, she asked.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
It turned out that we didn’t need to take a songthaew to Walking Street, because she was on her bike. And it was a Nice Bike. I know nothing of motorcycles, but this looked expensive. She told me it cost just over forty thousand baht. And that she bought it with a bonus from work.
(After an evening of drinking) She gave me a ride back to my hotel, despite my stern admonishments that she was in no fit state to drive.
Once there, since I have no sense of shame, I decided that I should invite her to stay in my room, on the basis that since we had already been lucky to survive the drive here, and that she would be dicing with death if she tried to drive home. And not because I wanted to shag her fanny off. No Sir-ee Bob. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong. Subtlety can so often be a bridge too far around here…
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just drive home really fast”, was her logically flawless response. The faster you drive, the less time you have to crash, I suppose.
(Read more detail about his hot date at:)
Bangkok Bad Boy
(photo by Michael LaPalme.)