Reply #1 JackTheBat's post
Story was requested, so here it is, though not much to tell.
I don't remember the name of the place anymore, but it was a second floor joint on Walking Street on the right side (closer to the water). I was coming from somewhere further along because I remember hopping off a baht bus and wandering up WS, looking for somewhere to park myself (or someone to park myself in). I can't remember now why I entered this place (did I eat? did I think walking street Indian food was a good idea before bringing a girl home?) or if I just went in for a show. Either way, I was sat at a table with a drink and they played trad. indian music when all eyes went to a beautiful, curvaceous Indian woman in her late 20s/early 30s—she was dancing for our delight. Swaying, hips shaking, really seductive. It wasn't belly dancing or anything, but it was the closest I've come to some kind of Orientalist fantasy out of the erotic diary of a Nawab or something.
Obviously, she is dancing for tips, I know the score. But what I don't know is...can she be bar-fined. Man, that's what I want. (At that point in my life, I had not slept with anyone from the subcontinent and it was a personal goal of mine, having crushed pretty hard on an Indian friend in HS). I tipped (buy a rose for the lady, etc. sure sure sure), she increased her attention on me and affection. She did a few dances. We chatted a bit afterwards, but very briefly and EVEN THOUGH it was Walking Street, it didn't feel like a direct-ask kind of situation. Her eyes were really something else, and she had that kind of laser focus that made the rest of the room disappear. I told her I'd love to see her again, that I was staying nearby, etc. She smiled. "I cannot leave the restaurant." I offered to take her out properly another day, and told her where I was staying. She told me she got off at 1am.
I left, I walked the strand a bit. Went home. 1am. 2am. Nothing. Slept. My dick thanked me for an unexpected night off, but my head was still swirling with fantasies about the dancer. I didn't go back because I figured she'd made her choice. I'm sure a soapy or a beach road girl helped me forget about it soon after. | |
