Bar Girl (30 page)

‘That’s nice of you, Steve.’ She laughed. ‘Why did you come here then?’

‘Ah, Siswan. Modest as ever!’ He laughed with her.

Siswan shook hands with all three of the men. It was Harry’s hand that lingered too long. She spotted the sign immediately. His palm was too clammy as well. Like shaking hands with a dead fish.

‘So, gentlemen,’ she asked. ‘What will it be?’

‘A beer for me please, Siswan,’ Steve told her.

Thomas asked for the same. He seemed quite nice. A newbie as far as Siswan could judge. He was still a little embarrassed by the sights and sounds of the bars. He wouldn’t be for long, though, Siswan thought. A few drinks and the inhibitions soon fell away. It was Harry who waited for her to look at him before ordering.

‘I’ll have you, sweetheart,’ he said with a laugh.

‘Really, Harry?’ she asked him, staring into his eyes. ‘Can you afford me?’

‘Whatever it takes, darling!’

‘More than you’d be willing to give, Harry,’ she said, smiling.

‘I told you before, Harry,’ Steve butted across. ‘Siswan isn’t for sale.’

‘What a shame.’ Harry allowed his eyes to linger over Siswan’s breasts. ‘What a bloody shame.’

In the end, Harry ordered a beer and the three men started what was to be a long drinking session. After an hour they had each consumed enough to make them easy prey for the bar girls. Even Thomas was enjoying the attention Mai was giving him.

Harry was in a deep and meaningful conversation with Nok that seemed to mostly consist of him sliding his hands all over her body. Nok didn’t mind. Not in the least. She quite openly allowed his searching fingers to wander wherever they wanted. After all, it was her job. Whilst he was spending money, ringing the bell and running up his tab, he could touch anything he wanted.

Steve sat at the bar and attempted a conversation with Siswan. The noise of the music blasting out from the huge loudspeakers made it a little difficult.

‘So, Siswan,’ he shouted. ‘When are you going to marry me?’

‘What was that, Steve?’ Siswan laughed.

‘I said, when are you going to marry me?’

‘Oh, I thought that was what you said. Couldn’t be sure though. The music is very loud.’

‘You’re not going to answer me are you?’ He laughed.

‘No, Steve.’

‘Was that an answer?’

‘Yes.’

‘You will?’

‘Will what?’

The conversation carried on in that vein for quite a while. Siswan enjoyed Steve’s company. He was easy to deal with and he was spending a fortune.

‘I suppose I’ll have to ask Joy, then,’ he said, finally.

‘Good idea, Steve.’ Siswan laughed back. ‘She’s looking for a good farang husband.’

The reality was that most of the girls were. The dream in the laundry had been about money in a pocket. The dream amongst the bar girls was that a good farang, a farang with a good heart, would come along and take the girl away from all this.

Of course, in the dream, a good heart meant a farang who had a lot of money and didn’t mind spending it. The dream always had the clause that the farang would take care of the girl, her child or children, as well as the rest of the family. The dream didn’t come true very often.

Siswan knew of one girl who had married a farang. He had a very good heart indeed. Very big. He’d fallen in love with the girl and asked her to marry him. Three months later she was back working the bars.

It hadn’t worked out. After the initial lust had died down he’d sent her packing. Told her he didn’t like her family or her two kids. Didn’t see why he had to support her whiskey drinking father and her fat, lazy mother. The reality of life was never included in the dream.

Steve turned his attentions towards Joy. Siswan didn’t mind. Nor did Joy. Even Steve was happy with the situation. He knew he’d never get Siswan to come out from behind the bar. Never.

She tallied up the ledger. The girls were doing well. The three farangs were out for a good time and, as always with farangs, a good time meant lots of alcohol. Siswan, herself, had already earned more from drinks that evening than she had from her wages.

Harry rang the bell again. Drinks all round. She decided a cocktail called ‘sex on the beach’ would go down well. Orange juice for herself though.

The sound of the bell brought more customers. Well, not exactly customers. More like freeloaders. If a bar had a party of revellers, who were ringing the bell often enough, it would always attract those farang who were out for a cheap night. The cheap charlies.

Several men now sat around the bar, sipping from their cheap bottles of beer, whilst the unsuspecting merry makers continued to ring the bell. Continued to buy a round for everyone.

Siswan despised the farangs who did that. They were mostly long timers. Farangs that worked in the country as English teachers, diving instructors, or some other job that didn’t make a lot of money. They would frequent the bars almost every night, sipping from their bottles of beer, whilst keeping an ear open for the sound of a bell ringing.

It was even worse when one of the girls had a birthday. All the balloons would be the giveaway. The girls would order an array of colourful balloons to decorate the bar and a buffet of food for everyone to enjoy. They would pay for it all out of their own pocket as well.

The whole idea was that the girl held a party for everyone. The bar would get busy and the bell would be rung often throughout the night. At midnight, all the balloons would be burst to celebrate the birthday and also to ward off any evil spirits from attaching themselves to the girl for the following twelve months.

The parties always attracted the freeloaders. Free food. Free drinks. They could sit and drink all night without ever putting their hands in their pockets.

When all the decent customers, as well as staff, pinned money to the girls dress as a sign of good luck, and also to help her pay for the food and drink she had provided, the freeloaders would skulk off into the night. They had spent the whole night drinking, eating, even groping the girls that didn’t know them too well, and then they’d move off to find another free drink, and maybe another free grope, at some other bar.

Siswan didn’t like them. She didn’t like people who just took and never gave. When the bell rang again she pointedly served anyone who was joining in and ignored the freeloaders.

‘Hey,’ one of them shouted above the noise. ‘Where’s my drink?’

‘What did you order?’ she asked.

‘No. From the bell,’ he told her. ‘Free drink for everyone.’

‘Yes.’ She looked at him. ‘But not for you.’

‘That’s the spirit, Siswan!’ Steve had overheard the brief conversation.

‘Best you clear off to some other bar, mate.’

Siswan smiled. She was glad that Steve had noticed. He knew the tricks well enough. Now he knew that Siswan wouldn’t cheat him he’d be even more inclined to drink at the bar.

‘Thanks, Siswan,’ he shouted over.

‘You’re welcome, Steve.’ She smiled.

Siswan never cheated the customers. Even when the girls had told her she should overcharge the drunk ones, she never did. She had learned straight away that the farangs didn’t mind spending their money. Didn’t mind buying a few girly drinks. Didn’t mind too much about anything. What they hated though, what really got them angry, was being ripped off. It didn’t matter if they spent several thousand in a night, didn’t matter one bit. As long as they didn’t get cheated.

She knew of one bar that had regularly ripped off the customers. When the farangs were drunk enough, and called for their bar tabs, the girl would very often add a hundred, maybe two, to the total. If the customer did check, the girl would just smile and mumble an apology. Those bars never had regulars. Once they knew the bars that cheated, the regulars never went back. The bars soon went out of business once word got around. The farangs were loud, sometimes ill mannered, occasionally downright offensive, but they weren’t stupid. They weren’t stupid at all.

It didn’t take long for the other cheap charlies to realise that Siswan wasn’t going to be playing their game. They finished their beers, paid the small tab, and left. The two other customers who had joined up to enjoy the three revellers were paying their way. No problem.

‘Hey, Siswan!’ Harry shouted over. ‘Come out and enjoy the fun!’

‘And who would serve the drinks, Harry?’ she shouted back, with a smile. She watched as Harry slipped a finger inside the crotch of Nok’s shorts.

She shook her head and returned to serving more drink.

The public scenes of sex had shocked her when she had first started. The groping, kissing and touching had been an eye opener. Now she was used to it. It happened all the time. A hand on a leg. A hand up a skirt, inside a blouse, down the back of a pair of jeans. It was all part of the bar scene. The girls didn’t mind and the farangs thought it was all very funny.

Amidst much laughter, one or two would see just how far a bar girl was willing to go before she dragged herself away from the probing fingers. All part of the game. The game between the sexes. Between the races.

Money was what it was all about. Money was the prize. If a farang was willing to pay enough, he could see his wildest fantasies come true. Two in a bed, three in a bed. Whatever. It was all about the money. One farang she had met when she first started had summed it all up for her.

‘We’re like kids in a sweet shop, Siswan,’ he’d said. ‘The only difference being is that we’re not kids and the sweets aren’t sweets.’

Thomas, who Siswan had guessed would indulge himself after a few drinks, was really getting into the concept. He had Mai wriggling her behind all over his crotch and, at the same time, was feeling up the back of Joy’s thighs as she drooled all over Steve. No one seemed to mind. Least of all Joy who was enjoying the attention.

Siswan was still surprised by the girls sometimes. When the bar was quiet, and they had time to sit and talk amongst themselves, all she ever heard them do was bemoan the farangs. They’d each take turns in telling their tales of debauchery, each trying to out do the others as to how awful their experiences had been.

Many times Siswan had heard them say that they were leaving. That the life was killing them. That they hated being sex objects to drunken old fools who thought the girls actually liked them. Many times she’d listened as they moaned about the farangs who were taking Viagra, the ones who couldn’t get enough, the ones that wanted anal sex as well as vaginal.

From what she’d heard she would have guessed that the girls hated farangs, hated them with a vengeance, but here they were again. A few drinks inside them, a dose of ya baa for Nok, and they were all over the farangs. As though they couldn’t get enough.

The evening finally ended at three in the morning. Steve, who could hardly stand, was escorted home by Joy, who could hardly walk. Harry, who’d made another vain attempt at buying Siswan, finally wandered off with Nok and Bee each supporting an arm. Thomas, the quiet man, staggered off with Mai in search of a place to dance.

Siswan cleaned up the mess left by the revellers, secured the wooden boards and added up the cash against the totals in the book. A good night. A very good night. The girls would be pleased with their cut of the lady drinks.

Before making her way home, Siswan called to the bank and used the twenty four hour deposit drawer. It wouldn’t do to be carrying that much money around with her. She called for a motorbike taxi and returned to the apartment block. At least she had the room to herself that night.

When she turned up for work the following day, Nong was already there. The older woman looked worried.

‘What happened last night?’ she asked, as Siswan approached.

‘It was a good night. Very busy,’ Siswan told her. ‘Why?’

‘The police called. Mai got hurt,’ Nong said.

There was always a risk of getting hurt. All the girls knew it. There had been many stories. Sometimes a farang went too far. Sometimes what fuelled his desire was something that the girls didn’t enjoy. He could get angry. Things could get out of hand.

‘What happened?’ Siswan asked.

‘I’m not too sure,’ Nong said. ‘The police called. The cleaners in the hotel found her. She was beaten. Quite badly, I think.’

‘Where is she now?’

‘In the hospital. I should go,’ Nong said. ‘To see her, I mean.’

‘Yes. You go,’ Siswan agreed. ‘I’ll take care of things here.’

Whilst Nong was gone the other girls turned up. They looked tired. Worn out from the night before. Only Nok seemed awake, and that was drug induced.

‘Where’s Mai?’ she asked Siswan. ‘Got lucky with that farang, I suppose.’

‘No,’ Siswan answered. ‘She’s in hospital.’

Bee and Joy suddenly took an interest as well.

‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know. Nong has gone to see her,’ Siswan told them all.

‘Did she get beaten?’ Joy asked.

‘It seems so, yes.’ Siswan took control. ‘Until Nong gets back we won’t know. It’s no good talking about it until then.’

The girls moved back to their favourite corner. There really wasn’t any point in discussing what had happened. All they could do was wait for Nong. Up until then it was just business as usual.

When Nong did arrive, they were all eager to find out the news.

‘She’s not too bad,’ Nong told them. ‘The cleaners in the hotel over reacted because of the blood.’

Nong told them the whole story. Mai and Thomas had gone off to find a night club but the farang had been too drunk to dance. They’d had another drink and then made their way back to his hotel.

Mai had gone into the bathroom to shower whilst Tom had virtually collapsed on the bed. When she’d come out, he was asleep. She’d covered him with the sheet, removed his shoes and climbed into the bed beside him.

When she’d been in the shower her period had started. She had been really pleased but also a little worried that Tom wouldn’t like it if she couldn’t have sex. She’d gone into the bedroom to get the sponge out of her handbag but when she saw Tom fast asleep she didn’t bother. If he wanted her in the morning she could slip it in then. She tucked a pad into her panties and very quickly fell asleep.

Apparently, while she slept, Tom woke up and started touching her up. By the time she awoke he was already pushing into her from behind. He obviously hadn’t noticed the thin pad as he’d pulled down her underwear. She was half awake and still pretty drunk from the bar. She forgot about the sponge.