In Seven’s long and storied history of whoremongering in the red-lights, he’s had some hits and misses (but thankfully no missus). The following is a record of the misses.
What’s up friends, it’s your man Seven again. Here to come clean. Here to open up. To keep it real. Even in the red-light—the land of sure things—it’s possible to strike out, and I’ve had more than my share of denials as I endeavored to add girls to my harem. In a previous blog I listed the ones that got away. Here’s an account of the ones that never got got in the first place.
It’s not her real name, obviously, but a nickname that I gave her because of the beautiful line of her leg from the back of her thigh to her ass cheek. It’s an area that I dubbed “the twethers” because it’s the spot betwixed a girl’s nethers. The best angle to view this area is from a seat near the stage in a gogo bar. I’ll include a photo to the right of this text so you can see what I mean. Anyway, Twethers worked at The Strip back in its heyday. At that time, I was juggling three other girls who worked there, so Twethers was—at least in my mind—a 4th string alternate who’d only get called up if one of my starters quit on me. So I kept a semi-flirtatious vibe between us for months, never pulling the trigger but hinting at it. Eventually she adopted a bored, eyelids-half-closed expression every time I brought up empty promises about taking her on. Then, around the time I began to get bored with my main girls, Twethers up and quit out of nowhere. I messaged her on Line and Facebook to no avail, learning later that she had acquired a boyfriend and got off the pole at his behest. That was two years ago. Every couple of months I put some bait on a hook and message it over to her. She’s never bit, and I’ve had to admit to myself that I missed my chance.
Sai works at Thigh. She’s a little cutie-pie (I didn’t even mean to rhyme) with badass stomach and back tattoos. Yeah, I know, stomach tatts rarely look good. But hers does. Her best feature is her smile. It curves down on the sides, which sounds bad on paper but is really adorable. She showed nothing but disinterest for me from minute one, yet tolerated my flirtatious conversations (flirtonversations, copyright BKK7) with only mild annoyance. And the more she spurned me, the more I wanted her (of course). Then she did the usual stripper disappearing act and was off the pole for nearly a year. Again, a boyfriend was to blame. So I was surprised to see her return just a few months ago. I happened to be in the bar on her first night back, and stuck my foot in it right away. I asked her why she came back, hoping she’d say she broke up with her boyfriend so I could offer to cheer her up with my wang, but it turns out her man died. And she was forced back on the pole to support their baby. You could almost see the light of my hope go out. The already dimly-lit gogo got even darker. Or maybe it was my imagination. Since then, I’ve seen her pretty regularly in the bar. We exchange nods but don’t talk.
Not to be confused with Sai, Sa first showed her pretty ass at Electric Blue. Sa has an amazing bod except for a smaller-than-A-cup bra size. And she has eyebrows that look kind of like she’s mad all the time, and a silicone farang nose. I’m doing a bad job of describing her, but trust me, she’s really quite fetching. Maybe it’s her pheromones or something, but Sa virtually drips with sensuality. She was besties with two of my EB harem, and while she was happy to hit me up for drinks, she didn’t endure any of my advances. I couldn’t even cop a feel. She would slap my hand away like a kung fu master. I determined that, with patience and time, I could bed her. She was cold-blooded, but I knew I’d eventually wear her down and melt that icy heart. Then the Blue closed and most of the girls flitted over to Black Pagoda. Not Sa. Sa dropped off the face of the Earth. Flash forward a year, and Sa made her triumphant return, fresh after popping out a kid. The dad was her last EB customer—a Japanese tourist who will never set foot in Thailand again. I see Sa nightly. I didn’t think it was possible but she’s even colder and meaner to me than before, in between constantly asking me for dinner money and drinks. All for the crime of wanting to bang her. It would be frustrating, because if not for the post-baby stretch marks, she’d be the sexiest chick on the soi. The stretch marks do ease the pain of her rejection.
Nam works at King’s Castle 1, and she’s magnificent. Or at least, she was. She’s 26, and starting to show her age—namely in the form of soft, mushy muscles which is the first sign of age in a stripper. But right up till now, she’d been a perfect 10. Giant natural tits, beautiful face—like the face of a model. Long, toned legs and a small round ass like a cherry. She denied me five times before I finally gave up. I couldn’t swallow her line that she didn’t go with customers. Then one night I saw her get barfined by a Japanese tourist. So the next day I confronted her on it. She claimed she doesn’t go with farang. Japanese dudes are fine. Now, I’ve had at least half a dozen girls say the same thing, all of whom ended up in my harem. So that gave me renewed hope that I could turn her around. I bought her drinks regularly, squeezed her boobs and gave her loving spanks every chance I got. She was happy to receive my affection and cocktails in the gogo but stubbornly refused to come to my room. I even went so far as to barfine her (Seven never barfines) and she even refused that. I see her nightly, though these days we ignore each other. It’s just as well, since, as I said, she’s entered her late-twenties mushy body stage. It’s all downhill for her from here.
I didn’t know I wanted to bang New until she relocated to Pattaya, and I was suddenly overcome with the urge to tie her to my bed. Too pervy too late. Originally, she worked at The Strip, and I suppose that’s why I didn’t take notice at first. This was back when the place was crawling with hotties. New was always friendly with me, and she did have an infectious smile. Also, she had a dirty mind. Normally when I get grabby or act like a cad, the girls feign modesty, giggle, and pretend to protest. Not New. She was just as aggressive with the crotch-grabbing as I was. Maybe that’s another reason I balked in the beginning. I like to be the initiator. Some guys probably like a girl who’ll sit down and stick her hand right down the front of your shorts, but I wasn’t super into it. That’s straight-up Pattaya style, so I guess it’s fitting that she moved there. It’s a better fit. But now that she’s gone, and I constantly see her scantily-clad bod and beaming smile featured in pics on the Facebook page of her new bar (Tantra, if you must know) I’m struck with a kind of nostalgic yearning to, like I said, tie her to my bed. I message her from time to time. Her replies are always risqué and come-hither, and I suppose if I went to Ptown for a weekend I could look her up. But I still see her as a never-got-got. Maybe that’ll change after a future Pattaya bender. I’ll keep you posted.
Another King’s 1 conundrum is Kik. It’s a cruel tease that she would give herself a nickname like that. I mean, to already call herself the thing you want her to be is false advertising if she’s just going to end up being a frigid asexual. And to top it off, she’s smoking hot and dances in a gogo. Yet, when I first tried to put the hard sell to her, she reported that she finds sex to be painful and unedifying, and she won’t barfine at all, period. What an absolute waste of hotness. I see her in the bar all the time, and she always smiles and wai’s me. It’s infuriating. Recently, I managed to talk her into coming over for a nude photo shoot, and I had to convince her that I wouldn’t try any funny stuff before she would agree to it. She’s full of trepidation about it, and has cancelled on me twice already. I doubt it’ll ever happen. And I guess it’s for the best. I mean, why have her over, get her naked, take provocative photos, and then send her on her way with nothing to show for it but a bunch of digital reminders of a girl I never got? Phooey on that.
I can think of a few more that spurned Seven with savage indifference, but this is getting long so I’m going to quit here. And while it seems like I’m having a winge, the truth is that Thailand is such a happy hunting ground for wretches like me that the never-got-got’s are few and far between. This life is a charmed one. Having said that though, it’s likely that by this time next year, I’ll have another depressing list of no-way girls to moan about, and a much longer list of harem honeys that came and went or came and stayed—or just came. Until then, keep your balls clean, your glass full, and cheers to more opportunities to get turned down in the greatest country in the world: Thailand.