I decided to raise my profile and bought a decent bottle of Australian wine and a couple of glasses. Fai and her friends were dancing in front of the band but when she came back to the bar for a gulp of Heineken I gave her my very best Tom Cruise smile and offered her a glass of my wine. Thai girls will rarely refuse a drink and we were soon clinking glasses and looking into each other’s eyes. She did have very sexy eyes. And breasts. Don’t get me started on her breasts. She told me she was in town for the weekend with her sister and that her name was Fai. Excellent. She was actually telling me the truth. We spoke in Thai and she tested me, speaking quickly and using slang, and I could see that she was impressed. Most farangs, even those who’ve lived in Thailand for years, rarely get beyond the ‘You So Pretty, Me So Horny’ stage. I spoke Thai like a Thai, and on the phone most Thais wouldn’t even realise that I was a foreigner.
The wine slid down easily, just like my eyes kept doing, but she didn’t seem to mind that I kept ogling her body. The occasional hand on my arm and thigh let me know that she was interested, and the baseball-sized hard on in my Chinos was a dead giveaway that I was up for it.
I bought another bottle of wine, making sure that I kept the receipt because Arthur would be covering all expenses. Fai and her friends kept leaving the bar for some energetic dancing, and Fai was attracting a fair amount of male attention. I was worried that some other farang might spirit her away but other than a few snatched conversations she didn’t seem to be interested and kept coming back to me and my red wine.
Eventually Hard Rock started to wind down and I found myself outside with Fai and the other two girls. They decided they wanted to continue partying so we all piled into a taxi and went to the King’s Disco in Patpong, a popular venue for barfined bargirls to take their customers. By now I was paying for all the drinks, or at least Arthur was. I parked myself at the bar with a Jack Daniels while the three girls danced the night away. Fai was as attentive as she’d been in Hard Rock. She’d dance for a while then come back and give me a squeeze or a peck on the cheek and then she’d be off again. At one point she disappeared for ten minutes and I thought I’d lost her but then she reappeared at my side and slipped something into my hand. It was an ecstasy tablet, worth about 800 baht, and she grinned at me, waiting for me to swallow it. I’m not a big fan of drugs and prefer to get my buzz from booze, so I palmed the tablet and pretended to swallow it. She winked, patted me on the groin, and headed for the dance floor.
Dawn was breaking when we finally left the disco. Fai’s sister and the friend flagged down a taxi but Fai didn’t complain when I steered her towards another vehicle. I gave the driver my address, and again Fai didn’t complain. In fact she slid her nails along my thigh and kissed my neck, which I took as a good sign. The taxi driver wanted to charge me 200 baht and I called him a robbing lizard in his native Isarn language and told him to use the meter.
We got back to my apartment and I went straight to the shower to wash the smoke and grime of a Bangkok night out of my hair. When I walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, a glorious sight greeted me. The lovely Fai was lying on my bed, her head on my pillow and her shapely legs up on the headboard, wearing nothing but her Chanel Number 7. Arthur would have been impressed. I certainly was. I realised that sleeping with Fai would be unprofessional, but her legs seemed to go on for ever and she made it clear that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. What’s a private eye to do? There was only one thing I could do. Clients are ten a penny but girls with bodies like Fai are few and far between. I mentally apologised to Arthur and jumped onto the bed.
The girl was an absolute star. She wore me out and I only managed a couple of hours’ sleep that night. She was insatiable. Against the door, in the bathroom, on the floor, by the window, every position I knew and a few that I didn’t. It was the following afternoon before she finally let me rest. I made her a coffee and we had a little chat. I said that I wanted her phone number so that I could see her again. She was surprisingly honest and told me that she was married and that she had a great husband who loved her and gave her everything that she wanted. She had a great condo in Rayong, but all her friends lived in Bangkok so every now and again she headed to the city to party. ‘If I didn’t, I’d go crazy,’ she said. And the long and the short of it was that she wouldn’t give me her phone number. She left an hour later, after another sweat-inducing session where she showed me another position that I didn’t believe was possible.
I sat down at my computer and started writing my report to Arthur. I had to battle with my conscience. I liked Fai, a lot. And I could understand why she’d feel trapped in Rayong. What happened with me could well have been a one-off. I’m a good-looking guy so maybe she just fancied me. I just put too much temptation in her way, I guess. But Arthur was my client and paying me a not inconsiderable amount of money. He deserved the truth. But Fai had given me a hell of a time between the sheets. And there was always the chance that I’d bump into her again. I reached a compromise with my conscience. I told Arthur that Fai did go out on the town but that she confined her extra-curricular activities to drinking and dancing with her girlfriends. I didn’t mention the night of unbelievable sex I had with his wife, of course. Some secrets are best kept secret.
THE CASE OF THE LYING BARGIRL
The bread and butter work of a private eye in Bangkok is running checks on bargirls. I don’t know why but tourists seem to check in their brains on arrival. They go trawling through the red-light districts of Bangkok and Pattaya until they meet a girl they think is ‘special’. The love of their life was working as a prostitute, but now she’s a good girl. She loves me, only me. Time and time again I hear the same refrain: ‘my girl is different.’ So different that they want to pay me to check up on the love of their life.
Anyone thinking of starting a long-term relationship with a bargirl has to get one thing straight from the start. Girls work in the sex industry for one reason and one reason only: money. Cold, hard cash. They’re not dancing around a chrome pole because they want to be rescued by a White Knight, they’re not spreading their legs in short-time hotels because they want to live happily ever after with a guy twice their age. So if a guy wants to settle down with a bargirl, he’s going to have to accept the fact that for the rest of his life he’s going to be funding her, one way or another. If the guy’s prepared to do that, all well and good. But the guys who come a cropper are the ones that leave their new-found girlfriends in situ. After years of running checks on girls working in the bars I’m sure of one thing: they will not be faithful. It is almost a physical impossibility. A frog and scorpion thing. But like I said, it’s my bread and butter so if a guy wants me to check on his bargirl, I’m happy to take his money.
Pete Derbyshire was a teacher from Sydney, Australia. He had met the love of his life dancing in a Soi Cowboy go-go bar. He’d barfined Noi for a week and taken her on holiday. They’d gone to her home town of Buriram and met her family. He’d proposed and offered to buy a plot of land and to build a new home for the two of them. The wedding date had been set, a sin sot, or dowry, of 100,000 baht had been agreed, and Pete had flown back to Australia to give up his job and prepare to make the move to Thailand. His plan was to teach English in Buriram and to live happily ever after with the lovely Noi. But Pete had heard all the horror stories so he emailed me asking if I’d check that Noi was being faithful while he was away.
Pete was in his late thirties and Noi was twenty two, so the age difference wasn’t that big. But what sent alarm bells ringing for me was the fact that Noi was continuing to work in the bar while she waited for Pete to return. In my experience, guys who have any chance of making a bargirl relationship work have to get the girl out of the bar scene as quickly as possible. I told Pete to expect the worst but he said that Noi had told him that she wanted to be with her friends, that she’d be bored on her own in Buriram. She wouldn’t be working as a dancer, Pete said, and she wouldn’t be going with customers. She’d just earn money from the lady drinks that customers bought her. That sounded possible, just about. If Noi had been dancing then alarm bells would really start ringing because the whole payment system for dancers is based around them being barfined. They are paid a basic salary but if they aren’t barfined a set number of times in a month, their pay is docked. But if Noi was just working in the bar for drinks, then the bar owner wouldn’t be forcing her to go with customers. Pete said that he phoned Noi every night and that she was always there to speak to him. I smiled at that. Anyone who’s ever spent any time in a go-go bar would have seen girls sitting quite happily on a customer’s knee, then rushing off to the toilet to answer her mobile phone. ‘Of course I love you, too much’. There was only one way to find out if Noi was being faithful to Pete. I would have to go in to test her, and that was going to cost Pete a 10,000-baht retainer plus any expenses I incurred.