Bangkok Adventure Ch 2

The sun was trying to beat it's way through the dense pall of traffic pollution hanging over Bangkok. What did filter through caught Ming's body in silhouette against the window. Her remarkable hair stopped where the cleavage of her bum started.

She was chattering but I wasn't listening. She was chattering about last night and about how I'd had to throw Kee out so we could get some sleep. The older girl, Mai had asked to leave at a more sensible time. I was trying to eat something spicy on rice while browsing through a

What's On

-style magazine about the city's spicy nightlife. There were two clubs I was trying to find. One was a really expensive place targeted at Japanese businessmen but my sources told me it had a really good lesbian show on Thursday nights. It was called the Kyoto Lounge. And today was Thursday. The other was an exclusive place for lesbians. If fact it was so exclusive that I could find no trace of it. I mentally kicked myself for not asking Mai if she knew about it; maybe she had worked there.

Ming cast a shadow over the magazine and I looked up. She was standing there with a carved wooden brush in her hand.

"Isabel?"

"Yes, darling?"

"

Qing

…"

"Qing what? Speak English, you need the practice."

Her pretty face screwed up theatrically as she searched for the right words: "Please… brush my… hair!"

"All right," I said, forking the last of the rice into my mouth.

"I sit on lap!"

"No you won't – I can't do it like that. Just turn around." I twisted in my chair and started to pull the brush through her hair in long strokes from the top of her head to the base of her spine. He legs were slightly, invitingly apart, her hands on her hips and her head tilted back a little. Occasionally she would squeal when it stopped dead in a tangle.

"Where we go tonight?" she asked.

"A fancy Japanese place, maybe."

"Wah… With Japanese girls?"

"No Ming, they don't need to import Japanese girls here. It's a place for Japanese businessmen."

"

Deng le

! Is this place good?"

"I don't know, I've never been there. But it was recommended to me."

"Rec… recommended?"

"Someone else told me it was good."

"

Deng le

," she nodded.

"Keep your head still," I told her. She smelt great. "Which shampoo did you use?"

"Shampoo?

Bu deng le

. Don't understand."

"Hair soap."

"Hotel stuff. Mai washed it before she go. In shower. She really nice woman, she look after me…"

I batted her ass with the back of the brush and she ran off giggling.

The taxi driver knew the Kyoto Lounge. The place was away from Phatpong and had its own driveway. This was fortunate because we were stuck for twenty minutes in a line of Jaguars and limousines. The club was based at a big house that had been extended with a canopy over the drive at the front door.

Inside, the discretely-lit decor was essentially Japanese. There were four reception desks so no-one really had to wait; most of the dark-suited business-clones were showing membership cards to deeply-bowing greeters All the women were Japanese and dressed in Kimonos. (So much for my idea that there would be no Japanese women here.) Ming and I were waved to one of the desks. The receptionist stood and bowed and said something in Japanese. Assuming she wanted my credit card, I handed it over. She spoke again and, seeing the blank expression on my occidental face, ran off in a flurry of short steps to a side door. She returned almost instantly with a Japanese man in a tuxedo. He bowed as low as his female underling; but not quite.

"Good evening, Ms…" He glanced down at the credit card. "Good evening Ms Cavafy. Welcome to Kyoto Lounge. It is an honour to greet you." I smiled. "Please forgive me," he continued, "for asking if you and your companion have a reservation."

I shook my head: "Sorry, I was not aware that a reservation was necessary." Then my brain kicked into gear. "Of course, I should have anticipated that in the case of such a prestigious and renowned establishment as yours, a reservation would be essential." I bowed back to him a little… well, enough to let him glimpse my tits behind the halter-top of my dress. It worked.

"One moment, please," he said, and quickly checked the list lying on the desk. "Fortunately, we can indeed accommodate you tonight." He said something to the receptionist in Japanese and she quickly swiped the card. "Perhaps you would give us the honour of your signature?"

I bent to take the pen, then hesitated. The entry fee was not too short of I diplomat's ransom. I glanced up at the manager who was looking down my dress again. "Of course," he spluttered, "the price is inclusive of everything!"

"Everything?"

"Yes, Ms. The show starts in fifteen minutes precisely."

I signed and, after another round of bowing, we were waved through to a bigger reception area – one with a bar. Ming had her arm hooked around mine and we paused at the door as I looked out over some twenty identical Japanese male haircuts. The chatter subsided as they turned towards us. They were looking at me; a very tall Western woman with a small Chinese friend in tow was not exactly what they had expected of the prestigious and renowned Kyoto Club. I smiled, inwardly cursing myself for not holding out for free admission.

A space opened up near the bar. I ordered a big vodka, Ming a glass of Australian wine; there was no charge. The men, some reluctantly it seemed, started to drain their glasses and make their way through the next door. Soon it was just us and the two bar-tenders. What next? Had they forgotten us? Ming touched my arm and I turned. Standing behind me was a beautiful Thai woman, her hands together under her chin, her head bowed. My first reaction was that the management must have run out of kimonos – she was completely naked. I said hello.

"Good evening," she said, "my name is Lin. I am here to make sure your visit is extremely enjoyable." Well, I thought, that explains the delay; they were looking for someone who spoke English. I was impressed already. She was slim with full firm breasts, a dusting of pubic hair and did not mind at all that I was staring at her body.

"Please come with me?"

We followed her into a theatre and she led us towards the front past the already-seated businessmen. The auditorium was fitted-out Las Vegas-style with bench-seats around some twenty tables. Each table had its own naked Thai 'server' standing close-by to take orders. The stage was in darkness but I could make out some remotely-controlled studio television cameras and a number of very large flat screens on the walls. As we got comfortable, Lin asked if we'd like the same drinks. When I said yes, she bowed and disappeared.

"Wah…" whispered Ming.

I kissed her on the cheek: "Looking forward to it?"

"Yes," she said, "but too many men."

I turned to look at her. She was wearing a blue cocktail dress with a fairly see-through top. In the light of the table lamp I could make out her dark nipples pressing against the fabric. "They are the audience," I said, "we didn't come to look at them."

Lin returned with fresh drinks just as the Japanese folk music faded up and the auditorium lights faded down. As one, she and all the other servers knelt down by the tables and the stage lights came up. The stage was set as the interior of what I assumed was a large Nipponese house or maybe even a small palace. The businessmen applaud politely. To the right was a bedroom, to the left an even larger bedroom with three futons and lots of big cushions scattered about the floor. Scattered about the futons and the cushions were lots of oriental women in various stages of undress. All of them seemed to be wearing their hair in the elaborate style of the

geisha

. (I say 'seemed to be' because I suspect they were using wigs.) The scene was tantalisingly lit so the audience could see quite a lot, but it had a hint of even more going on in the half-light. You didn't have to be a genius to work out that this wasn't the locker-room of a ladies' golf club; this was a harem.

Two slightly older, kimono-clad women walked into the bedroom and started to fuss about the place, tidying-up and arranging flowers. Eventually, they nodded to each other and stepped through into the harem. The concubines sat up and paid attention, some of them even stood, looking and waiting. The women consulted for a while, then one pointed to a girl who seemed smaller than the rest. The second woman approached her, said something, and tugged at the belt of her flimsy robe. She took it off and stood naked for a moment, covering her pussy before finally raising her hands behind her head. Satisfied, the woman nodded and, holding her wrist, led the little concubine through the door to the other room. The harem settled back into its routine.

The two sat side-by-side on the bed as the first women disappeared through the 'outside' door. The attendant – if that's what she was – talked to the girl, her finger wagging. The naked girl nodded nervously in response. Then the woman reached for the youngster's nipples and started to squeeze and tug them. Eventually she seemed satisfied and she tapped the girl on the knee. The concubine parted her thighs and barely flinched as her mentor reached down and peeled back the hood covering her clitoris. The woman licked two of her fingers and rubbed the exposed button. It was all functional, totally devoid of passion but that didn't stop me getting a warm feeling between my own thighs.

The door opened again and the first woman came back leading… a giant of a man. The women got off the futon and bowed deeply. The audience yelled raucously and applauded. He was huge in all dimensions, a Sumo wrestler – no doubt one who had fallen on hard times. Without the usual throwing of salt and stamping around, he pulled off his fancy robe and handed it to the attendant. With a huge scowl on his face, he slapped his shoulders and belly and bowed curtly back to the women. Then he removed his wrestling belt. This was something of an anti-climax at first; his cock was well-concealed beneath the folds of flesh.

Something made me glance to one side, towards the group of businessmen at the next table. Their leader was a young good-looking guy. (I knew he was their leader because his naked server was on her knees between his legs licking the underside of his cock.) The four other guys looked like Yakusa thugs; it was too dark for me to see if any of their fingers were missing.

On stage, the concubine was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide, her mouth open in awe. Her minder stayed close to her as she doffed her kimono. Her 'colleague' was already naked, one hand searching between the man's legs. With a little encouragement, the concubine stepped forward and fell to her knees. The woman's hand was now pumping quite hard and we could see the man's semi-erect penis. The girl leaned forward and closed her lips around it. The wrestler's eyes rolled and he reached down, his big paw touched her on the nape of her slim neck. Her head started to bob eagerly. Amusing as this was, I was far more interested in what was happening back in the harem.

One of the other concubines was slumped across a cushion and peering through a gap in the rice-screen wall. Her robe was open at the front. As I watched, she raised a knee, causing the garment to slip back; she reached down between her legs. On one of the futons a girl was in the process of being up-ended, her ankles framing her pretty face, her bum in the air. The concubine who had done the up-ending was now behind the girl, supporting her as she licked between her legs. Other women had paired off, hands gently stroking and massaging, hips pushing up against fingers and tongues. The girl peeking through the wall was now masturbating furiously, her fingers making fast circular movements over her clitoris.

In the other room, the Sumo wrestler grunted something and the small girl leapt to her feet, bowing and saying, 'Hai!'. She stepped back against one of the attendants who wrapped her arms around her slim body and clasped her hands over her chest. We could now see the man's cock; it wasn't that it was small, just that the rest of him was so bloody enormous. He stepped forward, stooped and grasped the girl's bum in his huge hands. Her legs opened as he lifted her to waist height, the attendant supporting her upper body. The other woman held his cock by the root, aiming it carefully. The concubine's slim torso suddenly slammed towards him, her back arching as she was impaled to the hilt. The wrestler and the two attendants then worked in unison to push her back and forth in short, sharp thrusts and the girl squealed with feigned delight.

The woman watching through the wall had slowed things down a little, her delicate fingers now tapping lightly on her clitoris to keep it interested. Another naked concubine had squat down next to her, her breasts between her knees, her face to the little window. She too, started to masturbate.

The wrestler was now beginning to huff and puff. One of the attendants asked him something and he nodded. Immediately the concubine was on her feet and gripping the wooden frame at the end of the futon, her bum in the air, waiting for him. He unceremoniously shoved his cock in and started fucking her again. The attendants stood close-by, knowing the end was close. After a few thrusts he pulled out, allowing one of them to grab his penis in her fist and pump him hard. His semen jetted across the girl's back before the woman lowered her head to suck the rest out of him. The two watching concubines celebrated noisily as small, familiar earthquakes erupted inside their bodies. As one of the attendants dried the girl's back with a towel, the wrestler slobbered a kiss on her upturned lips and the lights faded again.

It had been a well-produced show, but the girl-on-girl action had been a little too peripheral for my taste. As most of the businessmen made their way out to the bar, I turned to Lin.

"No lesbian show?"

"Yes, miss, in fifteen minutes after they change the scenery," she explained.

"You speak good English. Where did you learn it?"

"Thank you, miss, I studied it at school. But I used to work at the Canadian Embassy."

I reached up stroked her thigh: "They must miss you, darling. Do you speak Japanese too?"

"Yes. You must speak Japanese to work here."

I reached behind her and ran a finger along the gentle valley where her bum-cheek met the top of her thigh; I wondered if she had been with a woman before. She didn't move, but she sucked in a little air through her open lips.

"Is there anything I can do for you, miss?"

If she only knew! "Yes, Lin. More vodka, less ice." I handed her my glass. "And more wine for Ming."

"Yes, miss."

As Lin turned away, Ming put a hand on my thigh: "

Wo jiao Lin Hanyu

. Me teach her Chinese."

"

I

teach her Chinese!"

"Okay, Isabel,

you

teach her Chinese!" And we laughed.

"How much wine have you had?"

As the room filled again, the server from the next table talked to Lin. Then Lin talked to me.

"The gentleman at the next table asked if he could please talk to you after the show."

I glanced over the dividing panel and our eyes connected. He bowed his head. It wasn't difficult to guess what he wanted, but I nodded back and said yes to Lin.

When the stage light went up for the second time, we were looking at a classroom. It was hard to take it all in at once. There were about a dozen desks, each with a young girl wearing the archetypal Japanese schoolgirl's 'sailor's uniform' complete with long white socks and polished black shoes. They were chewing pencils, reading books, and writing on notepads. There were maps and tourist posters on the walls, a big globe and a tv set perched on a video-player. Geography! The Japanese businessmen applauded loudly. So did Ming.

At the front of the class was a teacher in her forties. Unlike most of her students, she was definitely Japanese. She was wearing a severe pink blouse and a black skirt. Turning to the white board, she started to write Japanese characters with a Magic Marker. Some of the girls were chattering inaudibly, but the level of the music suggested that the audience didn't need to hear what they were saying. Subtly, the action developed. At the back of the class, one student was reading what looked like a porn comic-strip magazine. The others ignored her, even when she raised a leg and lowered it onto her desk. At this stage, one of the tv cameras zoomed in to provide a closer view. The girl had her hand down her white panties and was rubbing her clitoris.

Closer to the front of the class, a girl had stood up to help her neighbour. As they examined an illustration in a text book, the girl put her arm around her friend's neck and reached down into her top; we could see her fingers moving under the navy-blue top. Eventually, the seated girl sighed and lifted her arms to allow the other – now perched on the desk behind her -- to take off her top. Once her unnecessary bra had been removed, she leaned back, resting her head in her friend's lap, arching her back and making it easier for her to massage her fine young tits.

Ming wriggled next me: "Wah…. This really good." I reached the other way and casually stroked the nape of Lin's neck. Still she didn't move. On the stage one of the students was leaning back in her chair, apparently aroused by something. She stretched, raising her arms, then brought them down over her breasts and belly. Her bum was shifting oddly on the chair. Leaning forward a little she stroked the inside of her thighs, before tucking the skirt of her uniform up around her waist. A close-up from a camera revealed that she was impaled on a dildo attached to the seat of the chair. A wire ran from the chair to an electrical socket in the wall. The skirt was the wrap-around type because she quickly got rid of it by unfastening it at the waist. Now naked from the waist down, she leaned forward, held each side of the desk and started to raise and lower her hips. Not only did the dildo look big, it seemed to be rotating and bending at the same time. Mouth open, she panted heavily; and she did not seem to be acting.

The girl with the comic-book had her panties off and, with thighs akimbo, was showing us all how much she enjoyed masturbating. But my eyes were now drawn to two students who walked hand-in-hand down-stage, closer to the audience. They embraced and kissed passionately, their hips grinding, their hands all over each other's body. Suddenly they stopped and stood back a pace. Looking at each other with eager faces they undressed down to their shoes and socks and began to pull at their nipples and finger their pussies. It was as though they were trying to turn each other on. They were certainly turning us on. I tugged Lin's ear and she looked up at me and smiled. Must have seen it all before, I supposed. I bent down and whispered: "Is this on every night?"

"No, miss, lesbian night Thursdays and Saturdays only." My god! What was the Saturday night show? Ming had finished her wine so I sent Lin off for replenishments.

Ming was nudging me again. The two nearest students had moved tantalisingly close to each other. Each now had a couple of fingers up the other's pussy. They were thrusting really hard, but not letting any other parts of their bodies touch.

At the front of the class, two girls had approached the teacher. She was standing with a resigned expression on her face as one carefully unbuttoned her blouse while the other quickly stripped off all her own clothes. Then the students swapped. The naked one folded the teacher's blouse and laid it on the back off a chair. The older woman's bra soon followed it. The girl lifted one of the full breasts with both hands and traced around the nipple with her tongue. The teacher's licked her lips and breathed heavily as the second student – now also naked – gave her other teat the same treatment. As both her nipples were sucked into their mouths, the teacher's head slumped back and her passionate moan could be heard over the music. The girls paused for breath – and to reveal that the woman's glistening nipples had engorged to an impressive length. Then they started again, eagerly sucking and pulling.