Gogo Dancer Profile: Ploy

October 27, 2019 By bangkok7

Gogo Dancer Profile: Ploy

Greetings websurfer, my name is Seven, and I’m a Bangkok whoremonger. The monger with a heart of gold, some have said. In my tenure as a red-light regular, I’ve come across some lovely and noteworthy pole kittens who have, for one reason or another, made an impression. And while I’ve mentioned the titular tiny goddess in previous blogs, the fact is she deserves one all her own. So here’s my digital tribute to my all-time favorite gogo dancer—Ploy.

I first met Ploy at Electric Blue. She was friends with Momay, whom I’d taken to banging on a weekly basis, and I was crestfallen. Because back then, I thought a monger couldn’t bang the friends of the girls he banged. I soon learned that this was not the case. Ploy was the first to teach me that lesson, actually.

She was at once adorable and sexually explosive. How she managed to embody the epitome of cuteness and pornographic simultaneously baffles me to this day.  On stage, she looked like an anime drawing. She was a skinny little thing—maybe 30 kilos soaking wet, with porcelain skin, huge beautiful fake tits and a full back tattoo. My friend Lucky described her dancing as similar to a newborn fawn learning to walk. Her laugh was lilting and infectious, and she had the sweetest demeanor of any person I’d ever encountered. Always friendly, always optimistic, never unkind even for a second. She’s the kindest, most genuine person I ever met, and I started banging her behind Momay’s back (or so I thought) because I simply couldn’t resist her. In fact, she’s the closest I’ve come to loving someone in over a decade. A purely beautiful person, inside and out.

She was a pervert’s dream, since she looked 16 at age 21, and so customers scrambled to sink their claws into her on a nightly basis. I was a jealous monger back then, and tried as often as I could to keep her safely under my wing, plying her with drinks, buying her meals, and keeping her busy. I saw her as a fragile thing to be protected. Little did I know that that seemingly frail frame was tougher than anyone could guess. And she wasn’t as innocent as she looked, either. I figured that out one day when she informed me that not only did she know I banged Momay regularly, but that they both would be stopping by for a threesome. What a night that was. They were like kids in a candy store. They completely took charge, and as far as I could tell had the time of their lives. We all did. Ploy and I had 5 great years living as friends and bedroom playmates.

 

We didn’t just bang, either. We actually used to hang out outside the gogo, going to movies and out to dinner. We cruised through a mall or two—and never once did she ask me to buy anything for her. I did, of course, just to see that smile light up like a sunrise. She had a weakness for stuffed animals and ice cream. Once, after saying how much she liked mine, I got her a mini Thai bonsai tree. Whenever she came over, she brought food. Usually it was something she cooked herself. And she always stayed late to clean up after me. Some days I wondered who was taking care of whom. Throughout my life, my relationships with women have primarily been power struggles, where one person had the advantage of not caring quite as much as the other, and we both vied to see who would best the other in what amounted to a competition. Not so with Ploy. She had no such self-serving aims or dark-hearted intentions. In fact, her only desire when it came to me seemed to be ensuring that I was happy, no matter the cost.

When her mother died, her first instinct was to run to me, and I consoled her for weeks. When she was briefly homeless, I let her stay at my place. She repaid me by cooking, cleaning, and keeping me company in bed. Looking back, it’s no wonder she endeared herself to me so completely. I suppose that’s why it affected me so deeply when she disappeared. It’s also why I’ve been referring to her in the past tense, because right about the time I was considering giving up whoring for the sake of this girl, she got knocked up by a random young Thai guy and left the pole for good. That was a little over a year ago. I haven’t seen her since, and I don’t know if I ever will again, and it breaks my heart. But when I come across Facebook photos of her and her kid, I still see that same sweet girl. The red-light life didn’t crush that out of her like it did to so many countless others.

Every once in a while, she sends me a message, telling me she misses me and plans to come see me soon. I don’t know if she means it or if she’s just trying to lift my spirits. In the meantime, I’ve replaced her in my harem and I soldier on, because that’s what a professional monger does. In spite of this, I’ll continue to miss her and think the best of her. Because she is the best—of everything. The best bedroom buddy, the best (Thai) friend, and best person to ever cross my path.

So here’s to Ploy, a shimmering dream in stilettos, a sweet memory, and here’s to anyone who finds a diamond on the rough sois of the red-light in this, the greatest country on Earth—Thailand. Cheers.