A Tale of Two Thai Girls

By Wesley (from USA)

Three months in the kingdom of Thailand and my head was still swimming with the madness of the transition. I'd found work as a sort of English mercenary for a private company that rented English teachers out to public schools.

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I had three different schools, in three different districts of Bangkok that I would visit each week, sometimes two in a day. I was busy.

When my roommate at the time caught me enthusiastically lounging on my day off and asked if he could hire me to help grade some papers, I had no desire to get involved. Until his "gik" descended the stairs and asked what we were doing with a strange, crisp English accent.

I had never seen her before but could not believe that this creature was so intimately associated with this guy. She had long dark hair and a nutty brown skin that stretched tight over her small frame's concise, yet full and hypnotic curves. Her tight fitting white tank top and knit shorts rippled like sails in the breeze with her taught muscles rising and falling with her shifting hips as she hopped her way down the last few steps with such a casually seductive grace that I immediately looked away and tried to find something nearby to pretend to have been busy with.

I knew that my roommate would be leaving Thailand in two weeks and, having up until that point failed to get too far beyond the odd drunken one night stand, a predatory light went off in my head. And so it was that I came to make the acquaintance of the beautiful miss May. Our next meeting was at a restaurant not far from the JJ Market. I'd bumped into my room-mate there and he invited me to join them for dinner. That evening I threw as much charm as possible on the table, got a phone number, and left it at that – for several months actually.

I'd taken a job working at a cram school near Ramkhamhaeng University and made the tragic mistake of giving my students a private email address where I could be reached. It wasn't long until I'd been asked for my number and, within a few days of divulging it, I had a clingy admirer.

She was a fantastic girl – very cute, very smart, very cool interests and hobbies. After we'd gone out a few times and reached the “movie at my place” stage she came over one evening. The first thing she did was start cleaning my apartment. I'd heard this sort of thing might happen but nothing in my past had really prepared me for it, so I stood awkwardly and wore a blank expression for a few minutes until she was satisfied with the order of things. We watched a film, made out, cuddled and chatted about those probing intimate things Thai girls don't wait very long to start asking about.

Bangkok at night

Apple, that was the name she used, told me about a time when she was a young girl and had wet herself at school and had to spend the whole day pretending nothing had happened, even though she knew everyone knew it had and was whispering about it. The question she asked me then was strange. In her lilting, broken English she asked “Do you also have some shame?” and she smiled at me. My mind whirled. As I saw it, and still see it really, I have more shames of real gravity than could be easily listed. I told her about a boy I had basically had ostracized in a small country school I used to attend, something I felt horrible about not long after I realized what I'd done and I still hope didn't leave to horrifying a mark. I figured it was an adequately heinous admission.

She absorbed it without skipping a beat and then, looking away, told me she was still a virgin. Again, my head was set spinning. This presented a host of possible problems. I was afraid of getting too involved too fast because that declaration being put on the table meant that there was huge emotional investment on her part, way beyond anything I was putting into it at that point. I might have thought that it was a bit of a white lie on her part, but it was introduced so late in the game, after there had been plenty of time to try to lure me to bed with such pretense. She wouldn't have been the first Thai girl I'd gone out with to try it.

With great difficulty I managed not to pounce and decided to take things slowly and make sure I was committed enough to give her fair return on whatever investment she was making.

We kept doing on dinner dates, walks around the campus and stadium, and the occasional movie night, but the text messages got to be too much. There were several coming through in any given hour and she was furious if I failed to respond to any of them. My pleas that I was a busy guy and couldn't always stop and think of something to text back were falling on deaf ears and I fell silent. She'd finished the program she'd enrolled in before I really started dating her so there weren't any mandatory encounters, but the texts persisted, and some of them were really angry.

Around this time there had been another incident with two graduate students who'd come for an advanced conversation class at another school in the building. They approached me and asked if I'd like to have lunch at a canteen nearby. We ate, chatted, and exchanged numbers. Later the same day I got a very angry phone call from a gentleman with a middle-eastern accent telling me that I should stick to teaching and stay away from other people's women.

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 Coupled with this girl's ceaseless and increasingly threatening texts, that got me a little spooked. It was then I remembered May. She'd seemed incredibly sane; I'd call her up and ask if there was any real reason for concern, like angry cousins or something, or if this sort of nuttiness was typical of a Thai lady smitten. Young and foolish, the lighting of this bulb had a domino effect and I soon had secondary, even tertiary agendas.

We met at Molly Malone's and went upstairs to found a corner booth. Draft stout for me and gin martini for her (which stood out to me as most girls that age drink alcoholic slurpees). I stared across the table at her sharp, exotic features. Her face had an almost northern Indian quality. She would come to tell me much later that she was in fact often mistaken for an Indian, something which was incredibly offensive to her.

She was originally from the deep-south and as her mother was a teacher, they had to relocate. For all intents and purposes, May was a girl of the city, the countryside mostly relegated to distant childhood memory. She still lived at home with her mother and stepfather, who was an Englishman and had been in the picture for a long time (thus the accent). She was an undergrad student in her 2nd year and the incarnation of every feminine fantasy I had ever entertained in my then short life.

As the alcohol flowed I felt more comfortable broaching the topic of her “status”. Things were left in a kind of limbo state that evening, but it didn't last for long. I moved into a new, very conveniently located place and it was game on. I'd honestly never been happier. May was very kind, beautiful, and energetic with an appetite as insatiable as my own. While there was not much actual “dating” between us, it was a charged 6 months until...

One day I got a call from Apple. She was proud to announce that since we'd parted ways she'd had a relationship that culminated in a single sexual encounter; it had left her feeling empty and sad and she wanted to talk to me again. Still young and stupid I thought that this painful emotional experience may have calmed the urge to cling, and since May and I were still on officially unofficial terms I couldn't see any harm in getting together for dinner or coffee and seeing if there was anything there.

Tragically, I wasn't allowed the time to let things take that subdued and easy to manage course; decision was forced upon me with aggressive haste.

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The day following the re-introduction call I'd met some friends for drinks, it being the Songkran holiday and all of us without responsibility. I got home at around 11, with a headache and the growing sense I'd blown too much cash and probably said a few things that would be embarrassing in the morning. There was another call. This time she was on her way home, it was dark, mother was out of town, and she was cornered by a man not far from her house. He had attempted to rape her. She said she was feeling scared and would like to come over to my place so she wouldn't have to be alone. I wasn't sure I believed any of this, and I wasn't sure I wanted company – even if it was a young, essentially untouched, and incredibly attractive woman. But I had to act fast, so I gave her directions to my apartment.

When she arrived she wasn't as shaken as I would have expected, but I didn't make anything of it and went through all the motions I thought one should under the presumed situation. Eventually, after a fairly sparse conversation, she made a very emotionally charged grab and locked herself around me. She was soft and so beautiful, and I was powerless.

The next morning at around 10, my phone rang and before I'd had a chance to open my eyes and look around for it, I heard Apple's voice, “Hello, Ka”.

My heart dropped. I didn't waste time with politeness retrieving my phone. The call was already disconnected. I ran into the bathroom and called May back. She was furious. Her rule had applied to both of us and was that if there were to be any indiscretion it should be properly concealed from the other. I begged and bargained, I cried, and eventually I gave up.

Apple had known about May, I had told her about that during that first call and mentioned it the night before. She'd done it on purpose. She actually made a defense of herself and attacked May's character, but I wanted no part of any of it. I asked her to leave. I bought a bottle of liquor, then a second bottle, and a water gun. I'm not really sure what I did after that. 

I woke up three days later with a backache, black eye, headache and 10 very angry voice messages from my boss; but when I thought about either of the girls I'd just lost, I felt no pain at all.

Editorial Note: In some ways the antics employed by Apple remind me of the sort of thing that working girls get up to. Jealousy can be a powerful emotion with these girls anger is quick to follow once you are tagged as her ‘boyfriend’.

I’m glad that you resolved this situation in the time-honoured Western tradition of drinking yourself into a stupour, thanks for the story.

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