Confessions of a Go-go Girl. By: Tongue Thai’d.
I have lived a rather strange existence of late, a platonic ménage’ au trois that was both frustrating, in a cold shower sort of way, and yet at the same time very interesting. Sound strange? It sure was!
You see, with the full consent of my wife, I had a Go-go dancer move in for 2 very sensual and mind blowing weeks. In between cleaning the apartment’s tiles with my lolling tongue, I also had the opportunity to have many frank conversations with GG Girl (Gigi sounds good, let’s call her that) who isn’t the least bit coy about who she is and what she does to earn her pound of flesh (pun intended). It’s given me invaluable insight into her life, lack of ambition and the opinion many like her hold of the general male populace here in town. To recap slightly…..
When my wife asked me if it would be OK for a friend to spend two weeks with us while she waited for her own place to become available, I hesitated. Knowing how certain family and friends have the propensity to firmly entrench themselves like parasitic plants given the chance, I did not want to run the risk of ultimately being the ‘bad Farang’ when having to forcibly evict the squatters. The words, ‘she’s very pretty’, however swayed my decision and shortly thereafter, Gigi arrived on our doorstep. I wasn’t to be disappointed!
She works at a well known go-go bar and judging by the amount of mid morning arrivals back ‘home’, she seems to be very popular! A strange thing about her is that she is very religious, and soon every nook and cranny of my apartment had some deity, complete with floral garlands and smoking incense, staring sternly at me. I counted 35, and according to Gigi, this is but a small part of her collection. Every morning an elaborate ritual played itself out as her and wife (now also caught in a fervor of rapture) make offerings of whisky, fanta, cigarettes, fruit and the USS Nimitz. OK, the aircraft carrier is a bit of an exaggeration, but the rest cost a small fortune every day. Although I am a real admirer of the true Buddhist faith, when I saw several deities being duplicated I politely queried them and was met with icy stares. More is luckier they declared coolly!
Once the smog from all the joss sticks has cleared, Gigi now assumes the lotus position and undertakes a strenuous one hour meditation session. What goes through her mind and what she tries to atone for is anyone’s guess. Then follows a phone call from her ‘favorite’ boyfriend in Germany who daily wants to know if she is being faithful. Gigi, to her credit and canniness, is very straightforward. “Send me money every month and I stop working”, she tells him. I know as well as she does that this will never happen. Nevertheless, in spite of earning only a small civil service salary and having to save for a major operation, he sends what he can. This is normally blown in a few hours redeeming items she has already pawned, and which will be re-pawned a few days later.
The male ego dictates that we all consider ourselves damn fine lovers who are able to make even the most street hardened hooker cry out in delight. I asked Gigi if any man actually stood out among the rest in her memory. She took a long time thinking this over and eventually conceded that one, an Australian, did. Visions of a cross between Valentino and Mel Gibson came to mind, but it turned out that she only remembered him because he had a funny face? No customer has ever brought her to orgasm. Male, female or a combination of both. She is open to any sexual orientation. When I asked if she enjoyed ‘le petit mort’, the big ‘O’, she shrugged her shoulders and said she got more mental and physical pleasure from her religion. A former sponsor once jokingly offered to buy her a newspaper to read while he got his money’s worth. Her main and only ambition in life is …..Yes, you guessed it, Money! She doesn’t care whose feelings she hurts or whose emotions she tramples on in her pursuit of it. ‘I show you how easy to get money from Farang,’ she said one morning as we were discussing matters fiscal. An hour later, ten thousand Baht was gleefully winging its way over on the Western Union jet stream. Gigi nonchalantly awaited its arrival while playing a computer game. ‘Do you ever pay them back?’ I asked. ‘Sometimes,’ she replied, ‘If they come on holiday and remind me I owe them money, then I will go one or two times for free. After that, they pay again!’
What does she think of the average Farang she meets on a nightly basis? Not much, they are there to pay my rent. Most are boring and we learn to say the things they want to hear. If they smile, we smile. When they cry, we hug them to make them feel better, but all the time think they are weak. Some are fun and I will go with them for cheaper, but never for free. Some will pay whatever I ask. Women are nice sometimes.
In the short time I have known her, Gigi has repeatedly stated that she wants to get a proper job and get out of the sex scene. These attempts only last a day or two and then she naturally just gets sucked back into the wormhole that is the bar scene. Why? She holds the common Thai belief that she does not have the correct school papers that all employers ‘insist’ on. I personally believe that this is just a poor excuse to avoid actual physical work and justify what they do. Papers maketh not the person! Yet in spite of all I’ve said so far, I still genuinely like Gigi. After a successful sortie she inevitably came home with a chocolate or ice cream for me and did her fair share of the housework. She also refused the offer of a bed and preferred to sleep on the floor. Cream time was my favorite part of the day as Gigi, fresh from the shower and clad in only a skimpy pair of shorts and thin T shirt sans bra, would openly rub various creams and lotions all over her body. A sly smile would indicate that she knew I was devouring the scene and she would stretch out the torture as long as possible. It was a tough time, but someone had to do it!
Strangely enough though, although being fantasy fodder, I was not besotted with Gigi to do something stupid and even having numerous nights alone when the wife was away, nothing happened. This interestingly may have been a bit of a turn on for her, if that was possible, because she often asked me to massage a stiff calf muscle or wanted my opinion on certain items of clothing she paraded in front of me. I would be a liar if I say that certain lewd thoughts did not cross my mind. The main stumbling block was that I knew what Gigi was about and that I would merely be another smoking cartridge expelled and expended from her arsenal of lovers. I was not vain or arrogant enough to believe that I could bring her to an earth shattering climax that would indebt her to be my love slave forever. Personally I am still from the old school that prefers a bit of cuddling and emotional attachment in preference to just plain carnal sex. however good it may be.
One of my questions caught her off guard for a moment, but because I had experienced the effect personally in one of the bars she had worked at before, I needed to know the truth. Ever entered an establishment feeling totally sober, yet after only one or two beers you are wasted, disorientated and an easy mark? I asked Gigi if the girls had any tricks up their sleeves (well, bikinis would be a better choice of attire in a go-go) for gaining the upper hand with punters and / or drunks. She gave me a naughty smile and said “some girls” are known to drop the contraceptive pill or eye drops into client’s drinks and others have some ‘medicine’ that they rub onto their breasts which induces an early nights slumber for their kindly host of the night. Most reputable establishments don’t tolerate this, and it’s mainly the freelancer element. Although she did not know the name of the latter mentioned ‘medicine’, she knew where to get it.
Gigi left us after her allotted time and I was in a sense sad to see her go, yet also relieved, as things could have become a bit too much to ignore and then my Alpha male syndrome would have taken over. One day she walked into the apartment as if she had never left, and straight away I noticed that she had indeed kept to the promise of losing a few kilos and she looked good, very good! The bra was once again absent, which for any Thai woman is a big No No in public. I stared blatantly and made a comment about the chilly weather. She smiled knowingly. I asked about her favorite German man, but she merely waved the question away. ‘Oh him, not hear for a long time. He have operation and maybe die. No problem, I meet man from Holland now and he take care for me. I think we buy bar soon.’
Well Gigi my dear, it’s your life. Enjoy the moment, because that is all it is, a brief passage of time that is over in the blink of an eye. You are a professional sportsperson in your own right and your sell by date draws ever nearer.