Private Dancer - a must read for those thinking of having a relationship with a WL

[Brothelcreeper]

I have just started to read this awesome book. Private Dancer.

You can download it for free here:

https://epdf.pub/private-dancerb5cc8...709d3e4da49949.

I saw this book recommended on another forum and thought I'd give it a read. Man, it's good. Based on the real Bangkok, although some of the characters are a little more of a caricature, but it does an excellent job of fleshing out the different perspectives of the characters, their own backgrounds and how they see things, rather than just being from the point of view of one character.

Perhaps worth reading by any punter but especially those thinking about visiting Bangkok and getting involved with a WL there or dating one over here.

It is written from the punters viewpoint as he falls in love with the bar girl and the WL’s viewpoint. He thinks she likes him and even loves him, she thinks he is just another mug punter and takes him for a ride.

Here is an example. Pete is the punter that falls for the bar girl and he arranges a joint birthday party with her for him and her together.

This is how he sees the party and then after that, the way the WL, Joy, sees it.

Pete:


One evening as we were having dinner, Joy asked me what Chinese horoscope sign I was. I told her I was a monkey. She was a rabbit. She frowned. "Big problem.

"Rabbit and monkey always have big problem," she said. "Rabbit is very soft. Likes things gentle. Quiet. Not changing. But monkey always changing. Never the same. Rabbit cannot trust the monkey."
"Because the monkey will pull the rabbit's ears?"
She nodded. "Big problem, Pete. Really."

There was no doubting her sincerity. I asked her what farang star sign she was and she was a
Libran, same as me. Our birthdays were only ten days apart so I suggested that we had a joint birthday party. She seemed thrilled by the idea, and said she'd get her family to come down from Surin, a nine hour bus ride. I wasn't sure where to hold the party, so she said she'd book the VIP room at the Chicago Karaoke Bar. That was where Joy had worked when she'd first arrived in Bangkok. I'd been there with her a few times. It was in a district called Suphan Kwai, literally Buffalo Bridge, a down market entertainment area frequented by Thais. Joy was an excellent singer, she'd sit next to me, gazing into my eyes as she sang, and even though I couldn't understand all the words, the sentiment was clear. The karaoke bar wasn't doing that well so there usually weren't more than a few people there, but her singing always generated applause and cheers. She'd only worked there for a couple of months because the money wasn't good. She was paid two thousand baht a month as a hostess and hardly anything in the way of tips. She told me that she didn't go with customers, so she barely earned enough to live on. Sunan and Mon had persuaded her to join them in Zombie, but she liked to go back to see her friends there. Having a birthday party there would give her lots of face.

It was a great party, as it turned out. I arranged for a big cake, with Mickey and Minnie Mouse and "Happy Birthday to Joy and Pete" written in pink and blue icing. I went to Zombie with Nigel and I paid bar fine for Joy, Mon and Sunan. I gave Joy her birthday present, a gold bracelet made of interlinked hearts that had cost almost ten thousand baht. She was so pleased, but she gave it back to me and told me to give it to her at the party, so everyone could see.

There were already a dozen or so people in the VIP room when we got there, mainly Thai men in their twenties. Two of them were Joy's brothers, the rest were cousins, she said. They were introduced to Nigel and me, but they seemed more interested in the bottles of Johnnie Walker Black Label that Joy had ordered. I was older than all of them but none waied me and I wasn't sure if that was a sign of disrespect or because they thought that as a farang I wouldn't expect it. Joy's father arrived after an hour and I waied him. He seemed surprised and I got a half-hearted wai in return. Joy had said that he was sixty but he looked older, a thin, wizened man with bony arms. He sat in a corner and one of Joy's cousins handed him a tumbler of whisky.

A waitress came in with a menu and Joy ordered food for everyone. Lots and lots of food. There was Tom Yam Gung, the hot spicy shrimp soup that's Thailand's most famous dish, shrimps in batter, spicy beef salad, omelette stuffed with pork and vegetables, catfish curry, deep fried oysters, steamed crab claws, the food just kept on coming. So did the booze. By the time midnight came we'd gone through half a dozen bottles of whisky and a couple of crates of Carlsberg. More and more of Joy's friends kept turning up. Most of them didn't even acknowledge Nigel or me, the only two farangs in the room. Not that it mattered, Nigel was fondling Mon most of the time, and I was getting quietly drunk. Joy was attentive as usual and was singing love songs to me. Mon had brought her daughter, Nonglek, three years old and as cute as a button.
At midnight Sunan lit the candles on the cakes and Joy and I blew them out. Joy kissed me. "The bracelet," she whispered. "Give my bracelet now."

I took the gold out of my pocket and gave it to her. She held it above her head so that everyone in the room could see it, then made me put it on her wrist. Mon cut the cake up and everyone had a piece. I'll tell you what was weird, though. There was only one piece left at the end of the night. The piece with my name on it. I asked Joy why they hadn't eaten it and she shrugged. "I don't know," she said. Later I asked Nigel what he thought. He reckoned it could have been a sign of respect. Or contempt. It worried me for quite a while.
At two o'clock in the morning there were no signs of the party breaking up. Bottles of whisky kept coming and everyone was taking it in turns to sing. People kept coming and going, friends of Joy and her sisters, but no one offered to pay for drinks - I guess Joy had told them that I was paying for everything. I wasn't annoyed, it was a joint birthday party after all, but it would have been nice if they'd brought a bottle with them, some indication that they were prepared to contribute. And no one had a present for Joy. No presents and no cards.
Nigel said he had to go because he had work in the morning. I was tired and fairly drunk, so I said I'd go with him. I paid the bill. It came to more than ten thousand baht. I got up to go. No one said goodbye. No one said thank you. Joy took us outside and helped us find a taxi. Nigel got into the taxi first. Joy kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you for everything you do," she said.
I gave her a thousand baht so that she could buy more whisky for her family and friends. Her face fell. "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Whisky very expensive," she said. "My family drink a lot."
I gave her another five thousand baht. She waied me. I got into the taxi. "Great party, Pete," said Nigel.
"Yeah," I said. We drove off. Joy stood on the pavement, waving until we were out of sight.

Now this is how Joy the WL sees the party.

We all had a great time and I had a hangover for two days afterwards. We didn't finish until seven o'clock in the morning, and that was only because we ran out of money. We switched to Thai whisky after Pete and Nigel went because that's cheaper, but we ordered more food because everyone was hungry again, and Bird had some marijuana and we started smoking that. Everyone loved the gold that Pete had bought for me and made jokes about the fact that it was made up of hearts. They reckoned I'd stolen Pete's heart and they thought it was really funny that he'd gone so early. They wanted to know how much money the party had cost, and how much money Pete earned. I said he earned millions of baht every year and I showed them the bill. They were all impressed, even Sunan, and Sunan has a lot of money.
Park waited outside until Pete and Nigel went. I saw him sitting on his motorcycle when I went out to get a taxi for the farangs and he started pulling faces, trying to make me laugh. I met Park the first week I worked in Zombie. He's one of the DJs, he's twenty-five and he comes from Udon Thani. His sister works in Spicy-a-go-go and she's become quite a good friend of mine. Park's really good-looking and he's got a great body. He and his friends work out at a gym during the day and they're always comparing muscles. It's really funny when they get competitive about their looks, they're as bad as girls sometimes. His stomach is really hard, like a turtle's shell, and his skin is really smooth. He was going out with another dancer when he met me but he chucked her and said he wanted to go out with me instead. At first I said no but he kept after me, pestering me until I said okay. The reason I said no was because he had a bit of a reputation. Mon warned me about him, she said that Park made a bee-line for any new girl if she was pretty and young, but he told me that I was different, that he really liked me. He didn't try anything on the first time we went out, either. We went for a meal after work. He didn't have any money so I had to pay, but I didn't mind that. The DJs earn even less than the waitresses, and besides, I'd been short time with an old Swiss guy and he'd been really generous so I had two thousand baht.
Park made me laugh a lot, he told me lots of stories about the crazy things that happened in the bars, and he told me about his family.
I didn't sleep with him until the second date, and it was amazing. He was so gentle with me, not rough like the farangs, he'd kiss me all over and whisper stuff to me until I'd go all tingly. Anyway, Park went up to the VIP room with me and we sang duets together and everyone
applauded. He saw the piece of cake with Pete's name on it and made a big thing about eating it. I fed it to him and then kissed him in front of everyone. I showed him the gold bracelet that Pete had given me and he wanted me to give it to him to sell. Every month he had to pay five thousand baht for his motorcycle and he was behind in his payments. I told him that I couldn't sell the gold because Pete would get angry, but I promised that I'd give him the money the following day and he said that was okay. He'd bought some yar bar tablets with him and I swallowed a couple because I was starting to get tired. They perked me up a treat.
After we left the karaoke bar, Park and I went back to his room and passed out. It was the best party ever.

[rooter]

Some good bed time reading

[LoveGlove]

Hey BrothelCreeper - had a quick skim through the ebook. Chapter 11 pretty much sums up a WL except in this story the cunt gets the WL, she gets to dance on his pole an he gets an eternal happy ending.

Thanks for the link it has an assortment of other useful ebooks.
Just downloaded an ebook on “Dating Pilipinas” except it’s written in Tagalog.

[Bunty4]

HeyBC.... Thanks for this book...very nice guide into Minds of MLs and WLs for newbies like me. Time you wrote a book about 1000s of punts.😉

[Brothelcreeper]

The book is getting better the more I read it. On page 90 now so almost halfway there. Can’t put it down.

It is a very interesting insight into the mind of a punter and the mind of the WL.

[Bunty4]

Yes....I have chewed upon 110 pages.....will be a great thriller move.... actually also points out how stupid a punter like can get... Fuck, these girls think so different...it's also probably because they can't afford to get emotional in jobs or Thier crazy life will be further complicated.

[God Member]

!0,000 baht or only $500 for a big double birthday party with lots of guests and including food, beer and bottles of American whiskey that goes for over eight hours sounds dirt cheap to me. I was looking to the end of the extract to read that the punter was totally ripped off. Instead he throws a huge party for peanuts. How long ago was this book written?

[liminal]

!0,000 baht or only $500 for a big double birthday party with lots of guests and including food, beer and bottles of American whiskey that goes for over eight hours sounds dirt cheap to me. I was looking to the end of the extract to read that the punter was totally ripped off. Instead he throws a huge party for peanuts. How long ago was this book written?

Please remember it’s fiction . Albeit laughably accurate for some... Som Tum anyone ?

[halfway]

I can remember the good old day's of KTV in Dongguan, All the girls had the same script and you could pick the experienced girls on the model of phone they had.

We used to joke about whether the mummy's had a book they would hand out to the girls, laying out the speech and the plans on how to get things from the punters.

[God Member]

Please remember it’s fiction .

Yeah I know it fiction, but it still has to be internally consistent. He builds up the expectation that the party is costing the hapless punter a fortune, mentioning how much food is being served, how many drinks and what type, all the unexpected guests showing up, the fact that it went for eight hours. And then it turns out it only cost him a lousy $500!

Does the rest of the book have logical flaws Brothelkeeper?

[Brothelcreeper]

Another extract from the book. Katoeys are ladyboys:

As soon as Pete had left Fatso's, Big Ron started taking the piss out of him. He's merciless, is Big Ron. No one's safe. Mind you, he had a point with Pete. Pete's been in Bangkok long enough to know how these girls work. They don't start working in the bars because they want to meet the man of their dreams, they do it because they want to earn money. That's all farangs are to them, a source of income. It's like Big Ron says, we're like money machines to them, ATMs. Joy's pressing Pete's buttons and he keeps paying out. He's asking to get ripped off. There's only one way to find out if a bargirl likes you, I mean really likes you, and that's to stop giving them any money. You'll find out soon enough what their real feelings are. They're gone like the fucking wind. But there's no mystery with Joy. She's even sold the gold he gives her. That there should show him what she thinks about him. He reckons he's giving her jewellery, she sees it as money.
I stopped trying to have a relationship with the girls long ago. It always ends in tears. Now I just pay 'em and screw 'em, simple as that. They're happy, I'm happy, no one gets hurt, and that's how it should be. It doesn't mean you can't have fun with them, you can. I'm not like Big Ron, there's an anger when he does it. I think he doesn't even like the girls he screws. Receptacles for jism, he calls them, and he usually does 'em two at a time. Nothing wrong with it, but it's the way he badmouths them that I don't like. I mean, I came in this morning and he was fuming. I asked him what was wrong.
"Got a right fucking pervert last night," he scowled. "Wouldn't even let me come over her face."

See, there's an anger in him, you can see it in his face when he talks about them. I reckon a bargirl shafted him badly some time in the past, and now he hates them all. That happens a lot with guys who try to get close to the girls they bar fine. They try to treat them like regular girlfriends, and they get all resentful and bitter when they get burned. Better to not even try to get involved, that's what I say.
See, that's one of the reasons I prefer katoeys. I know the guys take the piss out of me, but you know where you are with a katoey: it's a straight forward financial transaction, no emotional involvement, none of that stupid flirting, "I love you no shit", all that sort of crap. They know they're guys with their dicks cut off, I know they're guys with their dicks cut off, all I want is to come and boy, do they know how to do that. They're experts. It's like I always say, no one knows what a guy wants more than another guy. That's not to say I'm gay, because I'm not, I reckon homosexuals are sad fucks who need therapy or medication to put them back on the right track.
Katoeys don't look like guys, they look like goddesses. There's this bar in Patpong, King's Castle I think it's called, where half the dancers are katoeys. It's a great bar, one of the busiest on the strip. Now, the thing about King's Castle, is that all the katoeys are absolute stunners and they dance at the front. The girls, the real girls, are as ugly as dogs, and they dance at the back. Most of the punters don't even know that they're katoeys, they just think that the pretty girls are at the front and the dogs are at the back. Most of the guys who bar fine the katoeys don't even know they're going with men. They go back home to Germany or Denmark or wherever they're from thinking they had a night of great sex with a pretty Oriental girl. Little do they know they were with a man and that they came inside a cylinder of flesh carved from a dick and sneakily lubricated with a spot of KY Jelly. Unless you really know what to look for, you'd never know. They've got tits, great legs, superb arses, and they make love the way women do in blue movies. Lots of enthusiasm, lots of noise. Your average Thai hooker does it with her head turned to the side or with her eyes closed, but katoeys do it like they love it. Okay, I know it's an act, but at least they take the trouble to fake it.
But afterwards, there's none of the lies that the bargirls tell. None of that crap about sick fathers or young sisters who need money for school or dead water buffaloes. You pay them and they leave. Strictly business. And that's the way it should be. They give you sex, you pay for it, end of story. Katoeys never phone you up to sweet talk you, or curl up next to you and tell you that they love you, only you. Katoeys don't bother with the lies, the games, the crap. You're better off with them. Trust me.

[Brothelcreeper]

Yeah I know it fiction, but it still has to be internally consistent. He builds up the expectation that the party is costing the hapless punter a fortune, mentioning how much food is being served, how many drinks and what type, all the unexpected guests showing up, the fact that it went for eight hours. And then it turns out it only cost him a lousy $500!

Does the rest of the book have logical flaws Brothelkeeper?

It is a 2005 book so that might explain it ?

I don’t take everything literally as it is fiction but I am really enjoying the ways the WL’s manipulate the punters.

[Brothelcreeper]

The punter had hired a private investigator now as he doesn’t believe that the WL doesn’t have a boyfriend or husband at home. The punter actually makes the WL take him to her unit to see if a boyfriend is living there so the WL calls her friend from the taxi and all trace of her boyfriend is removed from the unit before the punter arrives there.

Oh the deceit.

This is the PI’s story:

I've had a few farangs in my office over the years, and they always have the same story. They meet a girl in a bar, they fall in love and want to marry her, but they want to check that the girl is being faithful. I think they're crazy. What do they expect? Bargirls are prostitutes, why do they think a prostitute is going to be faithful? They don't become prostitutes because they want to settle down and raise a family, they become prostitutes because they want money. And most of the time they give their money to their boyfriends or husbands, or they're on drugs. Most of my clients are Thais, and I do a fair amount of marital work, and in my experience, if one partner suspects his spouse is being unfaithful, the chances are that he or she is. There has to be something to spark off a suspicion, so if a situation doesn't feel right, it probably isn't. But when it comes to farangs and bargirls, I can guarantee that the girl's lying. She's either got a boyfriend or a husband, or maybe a kid up country that she's not telling the farang about.
Most of the farangs I do work for have only been in Thailand for a week or so. They come here on holiday, meet a girl, pay her to stop working, then go back to wherever they came from and keep in touch by letter and phone. I think the distance makes the attraction all the more intense, it's as if they've fallen in love with a fantasy figure. How can they expect a girl from a different culture, who doesn't even speak their language properly, to fall in love with them after a few days? How gullible can they be?
Pete was a bit different because at least he'd been in Thailand for a while and could speak some Thai. That just made it all the more surprising that he should fall for a bargirl's charms. He showed me her photograph and frankly I couldn't see what the attraction was. She was a typical Isarn girl with dark skin and a small flat nose, not my type at all. He gave me a photograph of her house near Surin and the address, then asked me how much it would cost to check her out. I explained that it wasn't going to be easy, her village was close to the border with Cambodia and strangers would stick out a mile, and I told him what I'd need as a fee. He left me a deposit, gave me his address and phone number in London, and that was it. Actually, I'd have done the job for considerably less. I had a personal reason for visiting Surin. I have an old girlfriend who lives there and it had been a while since I'd seen her. Pete's case gave me a perfect excuse for visiting her.

[Brothelcreeper]

I never used to tell farangs that I loved them, I thought it was stupid, but Sunan taught me that it's better to say it. You get more money. Especially if you tell them while you're screwing them, just before they come. You breathe really heavily and gasp that you love them, they really like that. And at the airport, of course, when you're saying goodbye to them. If you say you love them and cry, they give you money, it works every time. I usually go with Sunan and Toine to the airport and the first time I saw her cry I was really surprised, I didn't know what was happening. Toine gave her ten thousand baht and a big hug, and afterwards Sunan explained that she was doing it because that's what farangs do when they say goodbye. I asked her how she could cry so easily and she said she thought of something sad. That's what I do now when I go to the airport with a farang, I think about my mother dying. It works. Eighty per cent of farangs give you more money when you cry.

[Brothelcreeper]

The private investigator finds out that the WL is indeed married even though she swears to the punter that she isn’t.

This is the punters reaction to the devastating news that the love of his life, the WL that he trusted, was a fucking, lying, deceitful bitch.

I was sitting at my desk going through notes on up-market London hotels when Phiraphan's fax came through. The first sheet was his report and I read it as it came off the machine. Married without registration. I read the phrase a dozen times before the sheet spewed out of the machine. Married without registration. That meant they'd gone through the marriage ceremony but hadn't registered it with the authorities. But married was married, whether or not they'd done the paperwork. According to the report, Joy and her husband had been living in the house in Surin for the past three months. Ever since I'd started paying her a monthly “salary”, in fact. Phiraphan said that the whole village knew that Joy was married, and that Joy and Park had known each other for more than a year. A year. That meant that she'd known him before she met me. It had all been a lie. Everything she'd ever said to me, her declarations of love, her insistence that she had only me, that she didn't have a husband or boyfriend, none of it had been true.
The second sheet was a questionnaire that she'd signed. There were two signatures on the form. I guessed that the second one was Park's.
The third sheet consisted of two photographs. The quality wasn't that good but the top one was of Joy and a Thai man, the other was a picture of Joy's house. It took a couple of seconds for the significance of the second picture to sink in. Then I realised. Since I'd been there an extension had been built on to the side, an extension sheltering several pick-up trucks and a motorcycle. And it was probably my money that had paid for it.
I sat down and stared at the pictures. She had a husband. A husband. She'd gone back to Surin with him. She was living with him. She was keeping him, with my money. She was making love to him. Sleeping with him. She loved him.
I dropped the sheets of fax paper on to the sofa and paced up and down. Maybe there'd been a mistake. Maybe Phiraphan had made it up, maybe he'd wanted to justify his fee. You could never believe anything a Thai told you, nine times out of ten they'd tell you what you wanted to hear.
I picked up the sheets and read them again. Everyone in the village knew about Joy and her husband. I'd been to the village with Bruno and Pam. I'd been introduced to Joy's family and friends at the birthday party. If what Phiraphan said was true, every single one of them had known that I was being deceived, that I was being played like a one-string fiddle. I stared at the questionnaire. It was definitely her signature. It was definitely her in the photograph.
No, there was no mistake. No doubt. She was married and she'd been lying to me from the moment I set eyes on her. I wanted to telephone her there and then, to accuse her, to scream at her, to ask her why, why she'd lied to me, but I knew there was no point. First, she'd deny it. She'd try to convince me that there'd been a terrible mistake, that I was the only man she loved. And if that didn't work, she'd just cut off all contact. I'd never hear from her again and she'd find another stupid farang to subsidise her lifestyle. She was playing a game with me, the game of conning the farang. That's all I was to her, a farang to be played with. Big Ron had warned me,

[Brothelcreeper]

and God knows I'd heard all the stories myself, I knew the dangers of falling for a bargirl but I'd always believed that Joy was different, that Joy was being straight with me, that she wasn't playing a game. I'd been wrong, right from the start.
I paced up and down the flat, faster and faster, wanting to do something, wanting to react, but feeling totally powerless because she was so far away. That's what the hurt the most, the fact that I couldn't confront her with her infidelity.
I kept looking at the photograph, hoping that there had been some ghastly mistake, but it was definitely her, sitting next to her husband and smiling prettily at the camera. It was the same guileless smile she had in the photographs that Bruno had taken of the two of us in Isarn. How could she do it? How could she lie to me? How could she write the letters she'd written?
I'd told her, before she'd agreed to stop work, I'd told her that if she had a Thai boyfriend or a husband I didn't mind, I'd still be her customer. I'd still see her, I'd still give her money. But if she wanted me to take care of her she had to be honest with me. She'd looked me straight in the eye and lied. She had no one, she'd said. She only had me. Why had she lied? And what about Sunan? And her father? And all the people I'd met in her village? The girls in Zombie? They must all have known that Joy had a husband and that I was only the farang meal ticket.
I looked at the photograph again. It was the kitchen of her house, Joy and her husband sitting at the kitchen table, the table where she'd given me a cup of tea to drink. He was wearing a denim shirt that looked several sizes too big for him. I stopped pacing and stared at the photograph. I recognised the shirt. It was one of mine. I'd given it to Joy two or three months ago. She'd come back to my hotel in a tiny tank top and I’d wanted her to wear something less revealing when she left in the morning. I'd given her a pale blue denim shirt and told her that she could keep it. It looked much better on her than it did on me, but she'd gone and given it to her husband. How could he wear it? Didn't he have any shame? I was sleeping with his wife and he was wearing my shirt. Was the money that important to him? Or did Joy mean so little?
None of it made any sense to me. If he really loved her, why didn't he take care of her? Why didn't he get a job and ask her to stop work? How could he live with himself, knowing that his wife was sleeping with another man? How could he wear the fucking shirt? Didn't it remind him of what his wife was doing? And what about Joy? Didn't she think about me every time she looked at the shirt? Didn't it remind her of the time we spent together? Didn't it remind her of me? Or was it just a shirt she'd conned out of the stupid farang? Maybe it was a trophy of sorts.
I looked at the photograph more closely. She wasn't wearing the Mickey Mouse watch I'd given her. She always had it on in Bangkok, it matched the one I wore and she always made a big thing of showing them to her friends. Now she was back in Surin, she wasn't wearing the watch. What did that mean? The shirt was okay but the watch wasn't?
It was as if I was involved in some weird game but that I hadn't been told all the rules. I didn't even know how I could win. If I stopped giving her money, Joy would just go and find some other farang to support her and her husband. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
I wanted to win, I wanted to show her that I wasn't the same as all the other farangs who were being fleeced in the bars. I wanted to show her that I was different. I paced around my apartment, wracking my brains. If I was going to get my own back I was going to have to take my revenge Thai-style. I was going to have to think like a Thai.
12

[Brothelcreeper]

-
NIGEL
Pete telephoned me one evening and told me that Joy was married. Can't say I was all that surprised, I mean most of them have husbands or boyfriends. Why wouldn't they? They don't work in go-go bars because they want to meet the man of their dreams, do they? They work for money, it's just a job like any other so of course they don't cut off all their relationships. Did he really expect a hooker to be faithful to him? Well, maybe he did, but that's his own fault. I'd told him enough times the way things were, and so did the rest of the guys in Fatso's. I made sympathetic noises but I couldn't say too much because there was a pretty little thing from G- Spot lying next to me and although her English wasn't too hot a lot of these girls understand more than they let on. Pete kept saying that he wanted to get his own back and I tried to talk him out of it. "It's a bloody game to them," he said. "And I want to show them that I'm a better player than they are. I'm not going to let them win," he said.
He's wrong. It isn't a game to these girls, that's the whole point. It's a way of life. It's how they earn their living. I don't reckon he should have tried to punish her for doing what comes naturally. She was a hooker, hooking, and he had no more right to punish her for that than to take revenge on a spider for catching flies. I didn't tell him that, though. In fact, I barely remember what I did say to him because half way through the conversation the girl I was with started to get a bit jealous and began trying to get my attention. She succeeded, too. I told Pete I had to go and that I'd speak to him later.

[exstar]

Interesting read ... and pretty depressing as well ... I hope I don’t ever fall in that trap

[God Member]

Hey, after that winge of mine about the party scene this has really picked up! Keep it coming!

[F0x]

This is a ridiculously good read lol.

Thanks BC.

Though, to be clear, this is a specific set of circumstances, thai bargirls are a slightly different breed than the normal WL in a Brothel imho.

Not that this means an ML/WL here cant pull of the same thing, but if the book really denotes the thai culture properly, then the mentality is next level.

Interestingly the ppints of view make sense from all angles including the WLs.

Already well into the book and cant stop reading haba