Job in Nana Plaza

And she'd always see in the news how they wind up dead in Thailand, all the time.

Every day, another dead farang, usually found dead in a hotel room or dead by committing suicide, jumping off buildings, balconies of tall buildings, sometimes farangs doing swan dives in shopping malls, one Finnish farang the other day jumping from the sixth floor in Suvarnabhumi Airport...

"The ones who come here to visit, I can understand; maybe they have an unhappy marriage, can't find a girlfriend, just want the excitement. Men are men. Men everywhere are pretty much the same."

"But the farangs who live here, die here, I don't understand... Why leave a rich country? In movies, TV I see them in big beautiful farang houses, big fancy cars... Why leave that? Why live here? Bangkok is so hot, polluted, dirty, traffic so terrible. The farangs living here must be criminals, or running from something, or crazy..."

"They must have demons... Ghosts..."

"I think most of the farangs are just buffalos..." Karen said. ("Buffalo" being a derogatory Thai slang word for stupid person.)

"They're big, with big buffalo penises, and usually fat and stupid like a buffalo."

"They're walking ATM machines..."

"They're butterflies, flying from girl to girl, bar to bar, massage parlor to massage parlor..."

"Flying buffalos..."

"The good farangs, mostly, like from movies, TV, they don't come here... The farangs here are so old and fat, missing teeth..."

"And now the heaps of Chinese coming. They're always spitting and chain-smoking. Can't speak English or Thai, never tipping..."

"The Arabs and Indians can be trouble too. They grab your pussy. That's why I wear two pairs of panties..."

"Only go with the rich Arabs and Indians. And rich Chinese. The Chinese from Shanghai are the best..."

"I had a customer from Shanghai. He was young, tall, handsome and nice."

"Japanese are my favorite customers... So polite and well-mannered. And they tip if you ask them..."

"Koreans, too, I like; dicks not too big, sometimes give generous tips..."

"Koreans? They're doing the plastic surgery, penis extensions, silicone dicks, one last month, as big as a buffalo! I had to leave work early that night. My pussy was sore for days!"

"The Africans usually have the biggest dicks, and they fuck you sadistically. I charge them 10,000 baht for the 'boom boom'..." Jem winced, as if having PTSD. "But I like the black Americans. The rapper guys, with the jewels, diamonds. They're sexy and rich..."

"I like the handsome young Korean boys who come to the bar... They're so pretty!"

"Occasionally a young, handsome farang, too, comes, but not many."

"And the handsome farangs these days are coming with their farang girlfriends..."

"Farang girlfriends?" Na asked, perplexed there'd be farang females anywhere near Nana Plaza.

"Many young couples, coming to the bars as tourists, just to watch us, drink. Post about it online. One took a girl for a 3-some, but that's not too common."

"Most are backpackers, young, not much money. They have a drink or two and leave. Every now and then the girls will stuff good tips down our bras, though. One pretty blond girl, hammered, French-kissed me and gave me 6000 baht."

The girls told Na that the bar would pay them extra to do dance performances, often involving kissing or simulated lesbian sex.

Most bars aren't allowed to have actual live, full nude, girl on girl, oral sex shows anymore. Most don't have the infamous "ping pong" ball shows, either, anymore, where they'd have girls shoot ping pong balls out of their snatches (and sometimes into another girl's or customers' mouths!).

Typically it's pretty boring, they told her.

"Our bar doesn't make us be nude, won't let us, on stage, take off our panties... You can be topless, but it's optional. So generally you're just standing there, topless, or in your underwear, trying to make eye contact with a customer who looks to have cash and might like you."

"It's boring, mostly. Lots of nights, no customers buy you drinks or bar fine you. Sometimes you'll have 3 or 4 customers a night bar fine you. It can be tedious or exhausting. It varies wildly... High tourist season is better, for sure, but even then, you never know..."

"But it sure beats the rice fields."

"And 7-Eleven..."

"Ka..."

4

Na didn't wish to waste time, especially after paying the majority of her life's savings on her bus ticket and first month's rent, so her very first night in Bangkok, she accompanied her roommates to work at the bar...

Entering Nana Plaza's vicinity, Na was on tenterhooks, experiencing sensory overload...

Despite seeing pictures, video, actually being at Nana, in person, whiffing its miasma, she felt not only queasy but also had a presentiment of disaster...

Bangkok smelled different at night. Sour, acrid. And Bangkok looked different at night. The ribs, lights of the skyscrapers seemed malevolent, phallic. The skyscrapers evil, imposing penises sprouting, ripping from the city streets...

The whole place was ugly, like a festering ulcer; a prodrome; the pavement to Nana a promontory into an ocean of decadence, an abyss of the absurd...

The din of roaring engines, music and language beat at her eardrums, giving Na tinnitus; the streets a chaotic séance, an orgy of light and movements making her feel as if she were a ghost at a banquet...

In front of the plaza she saw scores of pretty young ladies, a platoon of them, in tight-fitting attire, lining the sidewalk outside...

"Who are they?" Na whispered to Karen, as they lifted up from the backseat of their motorcycle taxi, and Na gave a 10-baht coin to a humpback old lady beggar, who had the gait of a crab...

"Those," Karen contorted her face and grimaced, "the streetwalkers?"

"Streetwalkers?"

Karen shook her head at Na's echolalia and naivety...

"The streetwalkers there... See the ones nearest to the front? Those are mostly former bargirls; maybe they stole from the bar, a customer, or are too old to work; a lot of them have STDs."

"The ones there," she nodded towards the further end of the block, "are crooks, gangs, many ladyboys. They go after drunk farangs stumbling out of the bars. They'll offer super-low prices, drug and rob the farangs, steal what they can from his hotel room... Some ladyboys gang up and beat the farangs, too, mug them... Phi Song Nang..."

Na's expression was discomfited, and she looked at the streetwalkers with a mix of pity and shame. To Na they were a cortege, a lane of bones. Walking dead...

"Pay no mind to it, Na. It's karma, both for them and the farang... Perhaps the next life will treat them better..."

Behind the streetwalkers, Na noticed a pale young farang in camouflage army fatigues.

The farang appeared to be crying tears of blood. Na gasped, spun away and grabbed Karen's arm, followed her roommates into the complex...

The 3 went through the police-manned security checkpoint and weren't searched, as the patrons were. To the bargirls the policemen were like scarecrows...

At the front of the "World's Largest Adult Playground" were several open-air bars, filled with a rowdy mix of regulars and tourists, motley crews of Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, Malay, a few Arabs, upper-caste Indians, but mostly the clientele was white- Europeans, Brits, Americans, Australians... Farangs.

The first bar on the right had a Filipino band singing classic rock songs, currently a brutal rendition of "Hotel California", and they were a couple pool tables in there, with a group of bald, overweight 50ish farangs in tank tops, rugby jerseys, camo shorts, and flip flops.

The farangs were guzzling beers, laughing, yelling and cursing at each other playfully as they bent and angled, caromed their pool cues...

Na felt dizzy, seeing the endless open bowl of bars on each level of the 3 storey plaza.

There were gaggles of scantily clad young Thai girls and gorgeous, leggy ladyboys everywhere, holding up signs for beer specials, cajoling, cooing, and caterwauling at the passing bar-goers roaming the quadrangle.

Every customer she saw was male. They ranged in age from 20ish to 60ish; most of the farangs in tank tops and cargo shorts, the Asians generally slightly better dressed, in slacks, golf shirts, dress shirts.

Every one of Nana Plaza's visitors, the men, to Na were monolith, the same creatures, atavistic votaries of genitourinary vice, divided and united in their hunt for pleasure, tits, ass, and cunt...

But to Na none of the men seemed real, none seemed human, exactly. They were more akin to cartoons, effigies...

At the far end of the U-shaped plaza, when walking up the back stairs to the bar, Na noticed Nana Plaza followed traditional Thai customs and had its own Spirit House and a couple bargirls were praying, making offerings of fruits and juice to it. Buddha could only imagine the ghosts that dwelt in there...

It was still early, so the bar wasn't very crowded, at all, as they entered... Only a few scattered spectators and three somnolent girls on the dais, standing around, bored, as the DJ blasted Van Halen's "Jump".

They went to the dressing room, in the back-left area of the bar, where Na met and received her locker key and timecard from the mamasan, and her roommates showed her how to punch in.

The mamasan was a whale of a woman (who the girls called "Seaweed", behind her back) and wore a long loose hot pink frilly dress, snakeskin sandals and had possibly the most bleached white face Na had ever seen (the rest of her body being way browner).

The mamasan had a quick chat with Na, explaining the rules: NO drugs, NO stealing other girls' customers, and NO phones, pictures outside of the dressing room...

Na gave the mamasan a respectful wai and thanked her. The mamasan, indifferent, went back to watching a Thai soap opera on her phone.

After snacking on mangoes and pickles, the girls changed into black thongs and demibras.

They assisted one another, spraying perfume, applying heavy loads of make-up, dotting on body glitter, and each stepped into, fastened the ankle straps of their bar-supplied silver, 10cm high heels that clacked noisily as they walked towards the exit.

Na, heart racing, followed her strutting, smiling roommates, and marched out of the dressing room, climbed up and hit the stage.

The night's fangs were growing longer, and business, traffic in the bar was picking up...

5

The girls worked in shifts, one rotation, a phalanx of ladies stood atop the stage, some pole-dancing, twirling and twerking.

But most just stood and shifted halfheartedly, doing the so-called "Bangkok Shuffle", the bored bargirl semi-dance; the girls more interested in scanning around the bar, flashing glassy smiles, batting eyelids, attempting to attract interest, affection...

Another phalanx worked the room, stalking the floor, hoping to strike up conversations, coax customers to buy them drinks.

There was also a crew of waitresses, plump and on the older side (former bargirls, Karen said) who served drinks.

A DJ in the lower right corner of the bar, a tall, skinny, ponytailed, energetic Thai in his 30s, occasionally yelled "come on" or Thai curse words into a handheld mic as he danced and played music from a laptop, mostly classic rock, generated by a YouTube playlist.

The lighting was dim, walls paneled in mirrors.

The room was filled with cigarette smoke, zephyrs of booze and a murmuring, collective hum of the patron satyrs, esthetes; the bar's music so deafening that fluent conversation was rendered fatuous. Sign language and shouting matches prevailed...

Na wore a button with the number "44" on it, and, not long after she first took the stage, a waitress patted her on the butt and pointed over to a man in the far left corner, who was staring nervously at her, his convex cheeks red as a beet.

Na stepped down from the stage, sauntered over, smiling, waied to the man, scooted in and sat next to him, closely; their bodies pressed together, sutured at the sides...

The man smelled heavily of liquor and struggled to make eye contact...

A 40ish Brit, in Celtic football colors, he had a receding hairline, turnip face, and massive beer gut.

The red face spoke in sputters, with an accent Na had trouble understanding.

He had a terrible stutter.

"Tttttttt... Wwwww... wooould, you llllike tttttttto..."

Na couldn't make out what he meant but got the point when the waitress brought her a lady drink, soda water on ice...

Surprising Na, the man clumsily pawed at her thigh and soon enough, was rubbing on her panty-clad pussy. Although awkward, he was gentle in the manner he caressed her cunt, unlike so many of the Thai boys who'd roughhouse her...

"Hhhheehhhh hhhhow mmmmm mmmmmmuch?"

Na told him the bar fine, and her pay for play price, which she, on advice from her roommates, inflated a bit, given the drunken state this punter was in.

The Brit agreed, his eyes swimming in sperm, and Na waved the mamasan over...

Na waied him, went back to the dressing room, changed into her street clothes, and afterwards rejoined him, and they left the bar, and she held his clammy, bear paw of a hand and led him upstairs, to a short-time hotel...

As soon as they entered the stuffy, windowless, parking space-sized room, the man instantly tore off all his clothes, and Na chortled at the faded shamrock crudely tattooed on his flabby left man boob...

It wasn't until he was naked that she realized how much more massive, how much taller he was than her, particularly without her high heels...

Na had been instructed by her roommates to shower, and especially have the punter shower, but this man wasted no time with such formalities and peeled off Na's short cut-off jeanskirt and halter top in mere seconds and nearly ripped her bra and panties as he yanked them down and off.

The punter was hard, rock hard, his cock larger than Na had seen in person. She'd only seen such big dicks in porn films. It was curved and thick as a banana and sprung out even beyond his distended gut.

Its heft and shape reminded Na of a snake, a white-lipped pit viper, she'd once seen slithering into a mangrove...

He tore open the condom he'd bought at the hourly hotel's desk and rolled it on and, still standing, roughly turned Na and pressed her, face first to the wall, towered over her.

Then he spit in his hand, and Na screamed when she felt him insert his dick, quickly and violently, straight into her asshole.

The man clasped his hand over her mouth, muffling her cries, and Na shuddered in pain as he reamed her hard. Staring at the wall, it turned from puke pink to an effervescent neon green, the shade she'd seen before in the cab; the wall appearing like an infinite alien ocean...

Na had never been fucked in the ass before and didn't care for it. The pain was unbearable, especially with his dick being so big.

Fortunately, he came after only a minute or two, pulled out, and let Na loose. The wall morphing back into its previous pink hue as he freed her...

Na spun around, with a venomous expression, and wanted to smack him.

The punter, trying to apologize, his stuttering now imputing guilt, reached into his shorts, which were lying on the floor, fished out his wallet, and paid her 2000 baht extra, on top of the 3000 baht she'd asked. Being handed the 5000 baht made Na feel slightly better.

The punter dressed as fast as he undressed, not even pausing to unsheathe the browned condom from his still hardened cock, and practically ran out the room without attempting another word.

Na limped to the shower for ablution, and washed out her asshole, which throbbed and stung with a burning pain and bled slightly.

Her anal ache increased, and she lumbered out of the shower, toweled off.

She reached over to her purse, where she kept a blister of pain pills, tramadol, which Karen had given her (warning her that some of the farangs had cocks bigger than she'd probably had before and that she might need time to adjust and should take a pill or two if she hurt).

She certainly hadn't expected that, to be sodomized without warning, so viciously.

Her roommate had also told her to charge extra for... that service...

After popping the pill, she placed a cold can of soda to her ass, and the pain eased.

She played on her phone, texted Pear again, and watched a singing show, "The Masked Singer", on the tiny TV in the hotel room, and left when the hour was up, returned to the bar, and chugged a Red Bull to offset the drowsiness, torpor she began to experience from the tramadol.

Altogether she'd already earned 5000 baht, plus 100 baht from the lady drink, plus the 500 baht she'd make tonight as her nightly salary. It was more money than she'd made in her entire life...

6

Na was turning out to be quite the attraction.

She was indeed drop dead gorgeous. A knockout, with her fair skin, shiny, flowing mane of blood red hair; her big round brown eyes, and her slim, geometrically perfect figure, especially her shapely ass and legs longer than the average Thai girl...

But it was likely her youthful, innocent schoolgirl appearance and manner which won over most of her admirers.

She had more customers buy her drinks, starting with a grizzled Aussie who kept winking at her, then a pair of boisterous, high-fiving Colombian identical twins, and later a 60ish Serbian who spoke like Dracula and tried to get Na to give him a blowjob in the bathroom but declined to pay her bar fine...

Dracula may not have bar fined her, but 3 other customers did...

The first bar fine (well, technically the second after the sodomizing Celtic supporter), was a 20ish Frenchman in a purple Adidas tracksuit who had the biggest hook nose ever, and she wondered if he could smell from a kilometer away with that thing!

The Frenchie was also well-endowed between his legs, and fucked her for a good, hard 20 minutes or so, changing positions frequently.

Na was quite grateful she'd taken the tramadol and couldn't feel much of it.

As advised, she kept her eyes closed the entire time and thought about her favorite member of BTS, Jungkook.

Though he'd banged her aggressively, the Frenchie was polite, a gentleman. They kissed, with their tongues, and Na, for a split second had an amorous shiver, a spark she'd not felt before.

The Frenchie tipped afterward, generously, too. His expensive watch implied he had the means...

The second was a drunken, balding, 50ish Korean businessman, who spoke in mumbles, Google Translate; his face pockmarked, his limbs blotched with eczema...

He had trouble achieving an erection, so Na sucked him off, and the Korean moved her hand underneath him, had her slip a finger up his ass, which finally got him up.

The man's cock was rather small, perhaps 3 inches, and it was a nice change from the last two.

The Korean snail-fucked her missionary style, for only about 30 seconds, and Na hoped she could find more customers like him, but the little limp dick didn't tip her until prompted and was stingy when he did... Only giving her 20 baht! The parsimonious scum!

It didn't bother her too much, though, because in all, she'd made around 15,000 baht that night.

Her last bar fine was... peculiar...

It was a diminutive but handsome, physically fit young farang, with a crew cut, sharp emerald eyes.

Although handsome, he wore a dirty pair of blue and white elephant pants and a hideous shirt, a dark green t-shirt that had a picture of the ugliest beast, a frightening, extraterrestrial monster, "Cult of Cthulhu" printed in bold black lettering above...

In a most sonorous voice, the handsome farang said he was from Toronto. Na had never heard of it, Toronto, and, when about to ask him to buy a lady drink, he offered to pay her bar fine immediately and did...