November 28, 2022
Krabi, Thailand

As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’ve become a bit more adventurous than I used to be. If an opportunity comes up to try something I’ve never done before, I say “yes” unless there are good reasons for me to say no. 

You may have read the story of my kickboxing fight on Koh Phi Phi a few years ago. It was a chance to try something different, and I am glad that I did, even though I came out on the losing end of it. What I didn’t include was what happened to me afterwards. 

Punch drunk

I left the bar feeling victorious in my defeat and I was holding my winnings- a rather large pail of terrible liquor and juice with a straw protruding from the rim. The time was probably right around 11pm, and I began exploring more of the island community in the dark. 

There were still many bars, restaurants, massage shops, and convenience stores open, so it wasn’t really that dark. The sidewalks and streets were lit pretty well as I staggered along, not from drink, but from the ass-whooping I got in the ring. 

As I passed by one of the alcohol outlets, I spied the guy who earlier in the day was my divemaster drinking at the bar with some of his friends. I limped inside and joined him for a bit. We talked for a while about my seasickness and diving in the future, and I told him of my fight experience. He was duly impressed. 

You want special?

After he left, I was paying my tab when the woman taking my money asked me where I was going next. I said that I was going to get a massage because I was sore from my activities both in the water and in the ring. She said that I didn’t need to go anywhere else, as they offered massage there at the bar. 

News to me, but as it sounded convenient, I accepted. She led me to a large room in the back of the building where there were three mats laid on the floor with curtains encircling them for privacy. I undressed down to my shorts and lay on the center mat as instructed. 

This was not my first massage in Thailand, and I wasn’t unaware of the possibility of being offered a “special massage” near the end of the regular one. It was for this reason that I kept my boxer shorts on, as an indication that I was only there for the regular massage. I had found that most of the time, this worked as planned, and the lady performing the massage understood that I wasn’t interested in any extra services. 

This young woman did not recognize my signals, and after what was a fairly routine and adequate application of pressure to my muscles, she asked me if I wanted her to “rub you here?” I declined politely, paid her along with a tip, then walked out into the night again. 

You want…?

After the massage, I felt a bit more energetic than before, and while my left leg was still hurting, the rest of me was pretty relaxed and rejuvenated. Heading in the direction of my guesthouse, I noticed that the bars had closed already due to the laws restricting their hours. 

As I was passing some small businesses on one of the side streets, there were two ladies sitting on chairs in front of another massage shop. One or both of them asked me if I wanted a massage, but I told them that I had just finished one. The woman on the right started asking me where I was from and some of the usual questions that a foreigner gets when they meet locals. 

She seemed nice to talk to and as I wasn’t really sleepy, having had a long nap between the diving and the fighting, I chose to answer her questions. She was pretty, which definitely had an effect on my decision to stay and chat. Not stunning, but kind of a “girl next door” kind of pretty, which made me feel more comfortable. She patted the seat next to her and invited me to join her as we talked. 

After a few minutes of asking and answering questions with her better-than-broken English, she asked me if I wanted a blow job. I declined. Then a hand job was offered as an alternative. Again, I declined. As I have explained in the past, I don’t like paying for such services because it means that the woman doesn’t really care if she is attracted to me or not, she just wants money. 

When I told her this, she said she understood, and our conversation continued on without any more mention of “special” services. Though she did slip her hand into mine a couple of minutes later. And I realized that she hadn’t actually asked me for money.

Missed warning signals

As we sat talking, we were joined by two more ladies who evidently worked at the shop. My new “friend” asked me if I wanted to drink beer. I pointed out that the bars were closed and the convenience stores had stopped selling alcohol due to the midnight legal deadline. 

She said she knew where we could acquire the supplies we desired, and I was willing to go for a walk with her to get them. After a few minutes walking hand-in-hand down some side streets, we arrived at someone’s porch on which rested a styrofoam cooler full of beer. We (rather,I) purchased four large bottles of Chang, a local Thai brew, for ourselves and her workmates. 

When we got back to the shop, we distributed the beers and sat down again, but this time she sat in my lap. I wasn’t complaining. As we sipped our beer, one of her friends started talking to her, and though I didn’t understand a word of it, I could tell that the other woman wasn’t particularly happy. The girl in my lap just giggled mostly at the mild scolding she was getting. 

She gave me a quick kiss, then disappeared into the shop where I assumed she had to use the toilet. The other ladies soon went inside themselves and I was left sitting outside a closed massage shop in the middle of the night all alone. 

After a while, the other two ladies came back out and were starting to head off down the street into the night. I asked best I could where the girl was, but I didn’t understand the answer. They walked on and again I was sitting alone with a slowly-warming bottle of less-than-mediocre beer.

Well, that changes things

After waiting for what seemed a longer time than I reasonably should have, I stood up and had a small conversation with myself. Should I go check on the girl? Or should I just go back to my quarters in the guesthouse where I would crawl into my bed and close the privacy curtain to block out the television playing “The Beach” in a loop 24/7 non-stop. 

Wisdom would have chosen the latter option. But the combination of more than a bucket of alcohol and intrigue got the better of me so I tentatively tried the front door of the building. It was open, so I quietly let myself in. I walked down the hallway past the massage chairs and beds to the rear of the shop. What I saw there made me give up any thoughts of romance.

The girl was in one of the back rooms, curled up in a fetal position on the cold tile floor. I immediately went into protective mode. I knelt beside her and asked if she was okay. She groggily smiled at me and let me help her onto one of the mats. Then I went to where the refrigerator was and got her a drink of water. 

She gratefully sipped and then looked at me. “Thanks you”, she mumbled in her liltiing Thai accent. Then she put down the cup and placed her hands on my face. “You so nice and handsome.”

Should have chosen Leo

What can I say? My carnal urges came swarming back and I didn’t act as perhaps I should have. Forgetting that just moments before I had just been tending to a woman in distress, I accepted her advances and we began making out on the mat. 

She was a really good kisser, and that kept me focused on my goal. After a few minutes, clothing started to come off. As I made my way down from her neck, I noticed that she had small breasts, possibly not even an A-cup. This didn’t really concern me, as every woman has slight differences in features. As long as they belonged to her, I was fine with it. 

As my journey southward continued, she began to moan “I want you fuck me. Fuck me!” Pretty good English. Of course hearing this is like a green light to not slow down, but I mumbled that she needed to be patient, as I had scheduled other tasks before that would happen. Plus, there were bells ringing in the back of my still-slightly inebriated brain that I didn’t have any protection on my person. But she was rather insistent about it. 

I removed her lower clothing and as my fingers brushed against her groin, I discovered objects that I was not expecting.

I quickly sat up and blurted, “Oh.”

In a slightly deeper timbre, she asked, “Now you understand?”

Yes, yes. I understood. 

She then went back to her “normal” higher-pitched voice and started with “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I think that she thought that I was going to hit her or start yelling. 

Instead, I assured her that I wasn’t angry. I smiled and muttered under my breath that “this was bound to happen at some point.”

I told her that I had really enjoyed her company up to that point, and that making out with her had been really nice. But I wasn’t going to be able to continue. This was not one of those times I was ready to say “yes” to a new experience.  I collected my t-shirt and returned it to my torso. 

I kissed her goodbye and walked back in the dark to my hostel with the awful movie that wouldn’t stop.