sorry but I cannot.’ Fair enough, I thought.
After an hour of pinching and pummelling I tipped her handsomely and went home. I emailed a report to Derek, saying that she wasn’t going with customers, and was doing nothing more than regular therapeutic massages. I pointed out that she had a son, and that she hadn’t mentioned him.
He emailed me back within minutes so he must have been online. He asked me if I was sure. He phoned her every day and she always said that she loved him. She sent him several texts a day proclaiming her love. Derek suggested that perhaps I’d got the wrong girl so he wanted me to go back and get another massage and for me to tape the conversation. He offered to pay me another day’s retainer. I figured he was throwing good money after bad, and I was aching so much after the first massage that I was tempted to pass, but my rent was due so I told him to transfer the money and I’d go back the following day.
A good night’s sleep had actually made my muscles ache even more but a promise was a promise so that afternoon I turned up at the massage place and asked for another rub down from Miss Wanna. She was surprised to see me lying on the table in my baggy jacket and pants, but I told her that she’d done such a good job on my back that I’d come back for round two. What she didn’t know was that I’d put a tape recorder in the pocket of my jeans that were hanging on a peg by the end of the table.
I had arranged with Derek to send her a text while she was working on me. I chatted away, wincing as her fingers bit into my aching muscles. After twenty minutes of torture, her mobile phone beeped. She seemed happy enough to ignore it, but I said that she should see who it was as it might be a ‘special’ farang. She laughed and checked her phone.
She read the text and I asked her again if it was from her ‘special’ farang. She shook her head and said that she was still waiting to meet someone special.
‘So who was that from?’ I asked.
‘An Australian guy,’ she said. ‘He texts me all the time.’
‘What does he say?’ I asked. ‘Does he say he loves you?’
‘Sure,’ she said.
‘And what about you?’ I asked. ‘Do you say you love him?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘He is a nice man. I don’t want to make him sad and he bought me this gold bracelet.’ She held up her right arm and showed me an expensive bracelet on her wrist. ‘He gives me money, too. All the time. I say “I love you” very loudly, but then I add very quietly “the same as I love my father”. Which is the truth.’
I felt a bit sorry for Derek then, because no guy wants to hear the love of his life saying that she loves him the same as a father. He hadn’t told me how old he was but I figured he was probably in his fifties. To be honest, that’s one of the major reasons that Thai-farang relationships end in tears. The guys are generally much older than the girls they fall for, and in a way it serves them right. Does any fifty year old guy really believe that a twenty- five-year old is going to think that he is God’s gift to women? It’s about money and security, which is what ninety per cent of Thai women want. They want someone to take care of them and their families. And if they have to tell the odd white lie to get that money and security, then they will.
Anyway, I had what I wanted on tape. Wanna went back to kneading my back and by the end of the hour I was in agony. I showered and dressed and limped home. I sent the cassette tape to Derek in Dubai and never heard from him again.
Wanna was a nice enough girl, and genuine in her way. She wanted enough money to build a house for herself and her boy in Sisaket, and maybe one day she would find a man that she would love. But Derek wasn’t that man, and he’d just have to accept that. The beauty of Thailand is that there are plenty more fish in the sea. The drawback, of course, is that there are a fair amount of sharks, too.
The next day, I got another email from a guy in Canada who’d also fallen for the charms of a massage girl. Rick had met Vee in a traditional Thai massage place of Sukhumvit Road while he was on holiday six months earlier. He’d fallen for her hard and had been back twice since. Miss Vee was twenty-nine and had never been married and from the picture he sent me she had the most amazing pair of breasts. I could see the attraction. On his last trip he’d offered to support Vee and told her that she could stop work. He’d started to send her money, but wanted me to check that she was keeping to her end of the deal. I thought he was crazy. In fact, I think anyone who offers to support a girl that he’s met on holiday needs his head examining. I reckon there must be something in the water in Thailand that makes farangs act irrationally. Would a Canadian go to America on holiday and pay a waitress to stop work? Would he hell. Anyway, I wasn’t being paid to tell Rick that he was crazy. He wanted to pay me to check up on the lovely Miss Vee and I was more than happy to take his money. Normally I’d be right on the case, but the problem was that the last two massages courtesy of Miss Wanna had left me aching all over and I really couldn’t face another.
I phoned the parlour where Miss Vee worked and confirmed that they did hotel visits, which is usually a sign that there’s more than just regular massages going on. I asked if Miss Vee was available and was told she was. I said I’d call back to confirm a booking. I headed for Gulliver’s in Soi 5, one of my regular watering holes. The barmaid pulled my bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf as soon as she saw me walk in. It was early afternoon but I needed something to kill the pain. I looked around and smiled when I saw that my timing was perfect. Sitting on the far side of the bar was ‘Aussie’ Andy, a former helicopter pilot from Brisbane. I asked him if he had a couple of hours to kill which was a pointless question because he was retired and did little more than hang around bars and pick up attractive women. I said I’d pay for the hotel room and the massage. He wanted the Oriental but I told him he’d have to settle for the Miami Hotel in Soi 13 which would only cost 500 baht and which was just around the corner from Miss Vee’s place of work.
I took Aussie Andy around to the hotel, booked him in, then called the parlour and arranged for Miss Vee. The fee would be 300 baht for a one-hour massage, I was told, payable in advance. Then I headed back to Gulliver’s. I wished I was as sure of the next Grand National winner as I was of Miss Vee asking for more money for ‘extras’.
I’d had four JDs and my aches and pains were starting to go when Aussie Andy came back, smelling of soap and looking like the cat that had got the cream. Miss Vee wasn’t a bad sort, he said, considering she was thirty- eight. He’d checked her ID while she was in the toilet, which I thought was using his initiative. It showed that she’d been lying about her age and from my experience if a girl lies about one thing then you can’t believe a word she says. Anyway, Miss Vee hadn’t been in the room for two minutes before she was offering him a ‘special’ massage for an extra 2,000 baht.
Andy played it straight and handed over the 300 baht that he said was the agreed fee. She phoned the agency and said that she’d been paid, then she started giving him the massage. A lot of baby oil was used, and she spent most of her time concentrating on his nether regions before telling him that he could have a ‘special’ massage for 1,500 baht.
Andy gritted his teeth and said that he was happy with a regular massage. She poured on more oil, then asked him to roll onto his back. The price of a ‘special’ massage dropped to 1,000 baht. Andy declined, but then her top came off and more oil got poured and Andy said he’d be willing to go an extra 500. They agreed to split the difference and settled for 800 baht. I handed him the money and he bought me a drink. Miss Vee had performed admirably, he said, and her magnificent breasts were most definitely the real thing.
As soon as I got home I sent Rick an email telling him that not only was Vee working, she was also more than happy to have sex with clients. He must have been straight on the phone to her because the next day I got a reply from him. Rick wanted to know if I was sure that she was having sex because she’s told him that she was just helping out with the hotel visits because the parlour was short-staffed. She’d assured him that she only did straight massages.
I’ve never understood why clients will always take the word of their girlfriend over the evidence that I’ve given them. Time and time again I’d present my report only to have the client phone or email asking me if I was sure. Was I sure? Of course I was sure! What did they think they were paying me for? And of course the girlfriend is going to lie. She’s hardly likely to admit that she was screwing around, not when there’s money at stake, is she? I didn’t argue with Rick, I just phoned Andy and asked if there were any details he could give me that would convince Rick that he’d had sex with his nearest and dearest. Andy told me about the tattoo of a butterfly that she had on the small of her back, the three moles on the inside of her right thigh, and the fact that she whimpered like an injured kitten when she came. I passed on the information to Rick and I never heard from him again. It was probably more detail than he wanted. I felt a bit bad about bursting Rick’s balloon, but I figure I was saving him
