Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

"Over there, Karnchana," the mama-san says, nodding at one of the intimate little booths along the back wall of the club. She reaches out, gives my hand a squeeze. She knows without asking. "The sort you like, the blonde one by himself."

I see him, sitting there alone. He's tall, blonde, long hair the color of straw. He has a beard. A blonde beard that matches his hair. He's a little overweight, the way so many farang are and he's older. I like that. The older ones, they're usually quieter. The mama-san, she knows I like the quiet ones. The ones like you. I walk towards him, catch his eye. Smile. He smiles back, a little nervously. Maybe it's his first time here? He eyes me, his eyes on my legs, long and slender, looking even longer in that short dress. He can't make up his mind where to look.

"Hello," I smile happily, sliding in beside him, looking down now, shy. This one will be easy. "I'm Karnchana ... Would you like to buy me a drink? Can I get you another ... Budweiser?" He's drinking Budweiser. The mama-san will like that, it's far more expensive than Singha. Maybe I can get him drinking Mekong Whisky later. "Are you from Amerika?"

He smiles now. Smiles at me. "From California," he says. "San Francisco... yes, another Bud."

I wave at the barman. He grins, nods. Of course he knows what this one is drinking. Channarong is good. He knows what everyone is drinking, sometimes before they do. I nestle in closer to the American.

"You're so big," I say, taking his hand in mine, looking at it. Holding it. Placing it on my leg, just below the hem of my dress. "Is everyone in Amerika so big? I'd like to go there one day."

He likes to talk and I encourage him, I even listen to him. He likes Thai girls, he says we're so kind and gentle, we're real woman, not like women in America. Of course I agree with him, although really, I'd rather be like an American woman, so free, so independent. Sometimes we see them here in the club, sitting there casually watching us with farang men. Are they jealous? Are they envious? Do they look down on us? I can't say, I've never talked to one but I'd like to. I'd like to find out from a farang woman what life in America is like for them.

This one though, he's happy to be here. Not like some of them. Some of them, those farang men, you feel so sorry for them. They're so bitter, there's so much anger and resentment in them. They've had such bad experiences with farang women. This one, he's no exception to that but he's not bitter. He was married, his farang wife left him, now he's here searching for the love and happiness he never received and after an hour with me, he knows he's found what he's looking for.

A couple of hours, half a dozen expensive Budweiser's and three even more expensive Mekong Whiskey's plus a dozen glasses of colored water for me that each cost more than his Mekong whiskey's and he's convinced that I'm the girl of his dreams, the girl of his fantasies. I'm the girl he's waited half a lifetime to meet. He's more than a little drunk, ready to leave with me.

Just like you were, last night.

He's already in love with me, so he says. Just like you were, last night. He keeps telling me I'm beautiful, that I'm the most beautiful girl he's ever met, that he loves me, that I'm the only one for him. Just like you did, last night. He's eager to pay the bar fine. He's eager to love me, eager to leave with me.

Just as eager as you were, last night.

"But will you still love me tomorrow?" I smile a little sadly as I respond to his kisses.

Really, I'm not ever going to ask that question again. I don't want to know the answer. I don't want my heart broken yet again. I don't want to know what tomorrow will bring. I stifle a sob, bring a smile to my lips, a sparkle to my eyes, but that sparkle is unshed tears rather than happiness. I slide off his lap, stand, take his hand in mine, so large, so pale, so soft. A wave to the mama-san. She's already threading her way towards us to collect the bar fine.

An all-night fine.

He doesn't want a short time, he says. He says he loves me.

"I'll love you forever, Karnchana," he slurs. "I want to take you home with me. I want to save you, I want to take you away from this."

How I hope that his words are from his heart, that he means them. That he will take me away from this. That he will love me forever. That he'll give me the opportunity to love him forever in return. But I know he won't and I won't ask. I tell myself that never again will I ask but I know I'm lying, I know I'll continue to hope.

For now, it's enough that he wants me. It's enough that he's already paid me. It's enough that he says he loves me. Like all the others before him, he's drunk. Drunk on Budweiser and Mekong Whisky and desire. Drunk on the beauty of my body. Drunk on the knowledge that my love tonight is for him, that the slender beauty of my body is his to worship, his to adore, his to make love to.

His to use.

Just as you used me last night. Just as every other farang I have ever left this Club with on every other night has used me.

Just like you, the light of love is in his eyes. Just like you, he loves me tonight, for always, for ever. Just like you, I know he'll only love me while his moment of pleasure lasts. I'll give him my body, I'll give him the pleasure he desires, I'll give him everything he desires, all the time knowing that just like you, he'll only love me until the morning sun drives the romance of the night away.

I know he won't love me forever.

He won't love me tomorrow.

Only for tonight.

Like you.

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