Monday, March 07, 2005

A Potpourri of Queer Emotions (Fr My Bangkok Trip)

9pm on a Saturday night at Babylon sauna, standing in front of the open air dining area together with hundreds of others waiting for the foam party to start. Clad in just our swim trunks (I wrapped a towel around for added protection), we started dancing to the disco music, our skin itching to be soaked in industrial foam that would fall from foam-maker machine hung above the enclosed area, like mania from heaven, dehydrating every inch of our skin. Desmond suddenly appeared next to me, and I told him in Cantonese that I think the guy standing in front of me is cute. He told me softly that this guy speaks our language.

10am on a Saturday morning in Babylon barracks. I rushed out to the common washroom in just my towel. I was an hour late for the Chatucak shopping trip, but then my sisters would most probably thank me for allowing them extra time at helping themselves to the gorgeous ‘breakfast spread’ up on the reception level. Slapped an inch of facial wash cream on my face, and started feeling around for the longest of time for the tap to turn on the water. Damn the design! How are we supposed to complete our facial regimen with one hand constantly pressing on the tap for the water? As I was struggling, I felt a hairy hand on the tap, and then a giggle as I recoiled from the surprise. Wiped the facial wash off my eyes and found a Habate (Ang Mo, or Caucasian guy) standing in front of me. He kept his hand firmly on the tap for a full two minutes until I completed the whole routine. I gave him a nice hug and the sweetest smile I could conjure up before returning to my room.

You took the empty seat on my left and immediately wrapped your right hand on my body. It was a Saturday night at the agogo boy bar. Even though the show had ended, there were many patrons lingering around still. Somehow you couldn’t find anyone else to attack. I was now the centre of attraction for my sisters as I struggled to turn down your advances politely, but it grew more persistent from kisses on the face to fondling of my nipples, to free sex offers and attack of my manhood (of which had grown soft from the unwanted attention, and you wondered if I was even gay). Lily said since the tables had turned and I seemed to be your agogo boy instead, I should now charge the drinks on you. Khob Khun Krab!

We arrived at the Newman agogo boy bar to a full house seating. The sofa seats lining the walls were fully occupied. As the mamasan scurried around to find us seats, I felt you touched my hands softly. Didn’t matter you were clad in just your white undies with a semi erection underneath, you had the most sincere and decent smile in the length and breath of Suriwong street. We were forced to take the bar seating right on the edge of the raised dance pool, where the performance will take place. As I sat there sipping my Coke and watching the show, you stood quietly behind me, both arms locking onto my body in a tight embrace. I’m sorry I did not buy you a drink (I only had enough money left for the airport tax tomorrow), I’m sorry I did not ask you to sit down (there were no empty seats around me), I’m most sorry I could not take you out for the night (I was sharing the room with my bf). But you held on nevertheless for the full 90 minutes, oblivious to the countless stares of admiration from the other patrons. On our way out, you slipped a pink balloon poodle and a stalk of rose into my hand, careful not to catch the attention of the outrage mamasan. I turned back at the entrance in time to see you disappeared into your world once more.

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