The cacophony of sound whirls through my brain as I pad my way through the
streets of Bangkok. People everywhere, wheeling wooden carts and selling
their wares of cakes, vegetables, fake Rolex watches. The juveniles in
seedy street cafes drink coffee out of greasy cups, talking and laughing
amidst a cloud of cigarette smoke. The dark night does not stop the
one-legged beggars from harassing them, getting money quickly when the
disgusted patrons send them away. A ragged man playing with a knife,
sitting on the curb stares at me, but I take no notice.
The crescent moon lays like a boat amongst a sea of stars. Their beauty
hides an ominous truth. How many alien colonies will we have to fight
against? The thought depresses me.
I feel like I'm in the car with Jack and Rose as they leave hand prints on
the steamed up window. Sweat trickles down my temples, sending rivulets
down my neck. I can hardly breathe and it's not just the humidity.
Something's about to happen and I can hardly wait. I keep walking, my black
clothing still showing in the dim light of the lamps.
I reach the bad side of town, where the stench of the open sewers attacks
my nose and everywhere there are people like me. People wearing black,
hunched over with their hands in their pockets, not wishing to be noticed.
A pubescent boy pees onto a crumbling wall and a girl, his sister probably,
waits with a toddler on her hip.
Bangkok is beautiful on the outside, but I come to this part of town to
remind myself that everything has a rotten side. Scratch a little beneath
the surface you'll see that everything, and everyone, is a little bestial.
I've made a living on that knowledge alone.
The collar of my shirt is sticking to my neck and I know now that my pants
are just too tight. A feeling of uneasiness comes over me, but I shake it
off. I'm feeling the best I have in a long while, and nothing is going to
stop me having a good time. None of this happiness shows on my face. Let
people search before they find who I am. A pretty little oriental girl with
almond shaped eyes slides up to me and asks, "You want girl?"
Yeahbaby. I need girl. There is no way I'm going to make it through
tonight without girl. Short of spraining my wrist jerking off in a dingy
little alleyway. I look her up and down, seeing her carefully made up white
face and her shiny red Chinese dress with the slits to her hips. Her hands
are small and smooth, signs she is not a single mother. She gazes at me
through her eyelashes, with her head slightly bowed. Her silky black hair
hangs like a curtain from her head. What a find. A perfect porcelain doll.
In the middle of all this filth.
I take her hand and she leads me through the people and through the muddy
alleys to an old lady's house. The old lady obviously disapproves of the
girl's career choice and doesn't stop jabbering and waving her arms. She
looks at me as though I were an alien. Haven't she ever seen an American?
The girl's little room is barely furnished; just a mattress and a small
dresser. The yellow paint is peeling and the floor is rough. She takes both
of my hands and kisses them. Damn, I love submissive Asian women.
I grab her roughly by the shoulders and pin her to the mattress, kissing
and biting her neck so hard there should be bruises tomorrow morning. The
darling doesn't even make a sound. The urge in me to take complete control
over her, to show her that I'm the more powerful one, to exert my
masculinity, takes over. I rip at her satin dress until she is completely
naked. I appraise her slight body with the tiny breasts and she doesn't
look at me. I could make you feel so damn fine, baby, I could make you
scream the name of all the gods you know and I'll show you the gods you
don't. But that's not what I'm here for. I'm about ready to burst. I
straddle her, thinking I must have been a tiger in a past life, I love
capturing and conquering so much. As I slam my body into her, not bothering
about protection, I think of the friend I'm going to meet tonight. Someone
who would never let me take over like this, never let me win. Someone who
commands subservience and meekness from me, because it's the only way I can
take control. To submit fully, is to manipulate his mind. And it's the
hatred in his face, the way he despises me that I love the most. He has no
fucking idea what he does to me, and I'll be damned if I let him know it.
Let him think that I hate him too. Let him think that I'm inferior. That
I'm not worth anything. It brings out the best in him.
I move faster and faster inside the body of this girl, barely taking
notice of the pain in her face and the glistening of the tear in her eye.
As I picture his face once again, my body erupts, and I relax. Bliss.
My bestial nature has surfaced and I am ashamed. The vacant expression on
the girl's face wracks my heart and I am brought down from the heavenly
ecstasy she had provided. I reach out, caress her now clammy face and run
my fingers through her shiny hair. I hear myself murmur, "I'm sorry." But
am I? I don't know.
I put my leather pants on again and pull out a wad of money. Enough to pay
for her dress 30 times over. I tuck it under her pillow and leave her lying
still, empty, alone.
I make my way to the centre of the city. He will be there, I know, because
I planned it. That bastard smoker wants him out of the way for good, and
I've got him here to play with. Should I tell him it's all my devious work
he's in Bangkok away from the action? Or should I tell him I helped get him
away from a planned assassination? Both are true, for once. Am I friend, or
foe? Last time I saw him, I told him I was his friend. And I managed to
kiss him. Fucked up look on his face was priceless.
But he's going to be here, and this is what I live for. That pure primal
look in his eyes when he sees me. That quiver in his bottom lip. The way he
lets go of his suppressed anger and need for domination to hit me, thinking
that he's in control of the whole game. Maybe we'll play cat and mouse, and
I'll probably let him catch me. See what he does. What I love the most is
the way he lets his sadistic nature, his sexual perversion, take hold of
him, taking pleasure in hurting me. His partner could never satisfy him. He
is as repressed as the Dalai Lama in her presence. He needs me and I need
him. I don't care that he doesn't know it.
The centre of the city is still alive at this time of night, all the
scooters, buses and 3-wheeled taxis beeping their horns as if no one could
hear them. I stand on the corner opposite the noodle bar, where he's
supposed to meet his 'informant'. The tension is making me hungry and I buy
a sticky rice cake, stuffing it into my mouth and getting it all over my
fingers.
My trained eyes scan the area almost subconsciously, checking for
suspicious people. A tiny girl of about seven stares at me with her black
eyes and points me out to her friend. I must look like a freak with brown
hair, green eyes and being a foot taller than everyone else is. Otherwise,
everything else is normal. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise
as I think of what's going to happen tonight. If it weren't so hot, I could
have been in the comfort of my leather jacket. My gun had to be stuffed in
my boot.
I prepare myself to be the wonderful cool, calm, collected, ever-sarcastic
ratbastard that he knows so well. Usually I can do this with a mere blink,
but tonight, well, tonight's kinda special. I drop the change I got from
the cake-lady into the outstretched can of the girl who stared at me and I
smile at her.
A man with brown hair settles into the low stool at the noodle bar. His
trench coat looks extremely out of place in the heat. It's him. It must be
him. And he's alone. My heartbeat quickens. He has his back to me and is
ordering a bowl of noodles. The air seems to change. The blare of the horns
trying to outdo each other wreak havoc on my brain as I try to come to a
decision whether to cross the road and see him now.
I gulp.
A man wheeling an ice-cream cart looks at me and narrows his eyes. A kind
old lady also turns to look at me. It's Bangkok. Everyone looks at me.
Don't be paranoid. She jabbers something in Thai and they both,
simultaneously, turn to look down the road to where a group of western
people had gathered. Everything seems surreal. My eyes follow. There's
something strange here. But nothing. It must be the humidity. I turn my
head again to the noodle bar to see him turn his own head to look straight
at me.
Fuck.
An evil grin forms on his face as I recognise someone I did not expect to
see.
My brain races back to the group of westerners down the road.
Shit no.
I race down there at full speed. Everything around me is a blur, the faint
street lights, the people, the smell. As I reach the group of people, I
push my way through them to see...
No it can't be.
A tiny lady, with bright red hair kneels on the ground. She looks so out
of place in this tainted world of darkness. Her head is bent over a man. A
man sprawled across the roadside. A man with blood all over his chest. A
man with brown hair and a trenchcoat.
Fuck.
They got him.
They followed me to Bangkok and got him.
They got him fifty metres from where I was supposed to meet him.
All those people staring, the whore... they were...
I led him straight to them.
I didn't even hear them because of the noise.
I couldn't save him this time.
I brought him here to keep him safe. I brought him here.
It's all my fault.
Oh my god. I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.
You must believe me, I am so sorry.
The little lady raises her head and looks at me plaintively. I want to
collapse. Her expression changes as she recognises me. I am so sorry. My
head is moving at full speed. I'm sorry.
Everything has a bad side.
Where is the bastard who killed him?
Probably after me.
And I run.
the end.
One Night in Bangkok
by Tina
"One night in Bangkok and the rough guys tumble."
—Chess, the Musical
Oops. I forgot to warn about character death. Oh well.
