An American Whorewolf in London Part 5: The Thai Off Regent Street

My first foray into the world of brothels happened in London. The deed was shared by a lovely Thai girl named Dao, and was probably the first planted seed that eventually brought me to live in Thailand. But she wasn’t the only working girl in London from The Land of Smiles to share her bed with me. A few months after that initial encounter, I happened to book an appointment with the lovely Jane. She lived in a basement flat of a big white building on a small lane off Regent Street. I got lost trying to find it (this was before smartphones and Google Maps) and wandered the neighborhood for over an hour before finally being spotted by Jane’s Chinese mamasan. She grabbed me by the elbow as I passed and led me down the steps to the small doorway under the building’s stairs and into a small, dimly-lit room where the heat was on full blast. I assumed that was so the customer could feel comfortable when sans clothing, but now I believe it was to better acclimate the Thai to her native ecosystem.

Jane was a slim, nondescript woman in her early 20s. She had the typical long dark hair that nearly all Thais have, smooth white skin and a soft, friendly face that exuded innocence. Her disposition was positively sweet. She smiled easily, was soft-spoken, and had a lilting, child-like laugh that I found infectious.

When she first entered, she seemed a bit timid. But after some small talk and friendly banter, she relaxed. It was clear that she wouldn’t take charge as the other London whores had, so I began undressing her while asking questions about her life. Where are you from? unbuttoning her shirt. How old are you? snapping off her bra. Do you like the UK? rolling down her pajama bottoms and socks. As I removed her panties, I planted a few soft kisses on her stomach. She giggled—a sound that took hold of my senses like a cowboy on a bucking bronco.

I undressed and laid next to her on the bed. She looked into my eyes for a long moment, then placed a hand on my cheek that slowly moved down my body to the right spot. Then she commenced to make the softest, slowest, sweetest love I’d experienced up to that point. My whole young life, the sex I had always seemed to imitate porn. It was fast, rough, and something of a workout. What Jane did was the opposite of that. Her movements seemed to accentuate each sensation, seemed to draw pleasure out of me like a syringe draws blood from a vein.

When it was over, Jane seemed very keen to know whether or not I’d enjoyed myself. When I assured her I had, a broad smile spread across her lovely face. She thanked me, and asked me to come back anytime. I said I would—and I did. In fact, I stopped looking for other hookers from that point on and only came to Jane for sexual sustenance. I think I saw her around half a dozen times in the subsequent months before finally finding an Essex girlfriend and quitting the UK brothels for good. The story of my English Rose will have to wait till next week. Today, it’s all about Jane.

All these years later, I can still remember Jane as if I bedded her yesterday. I often wonder about her. Did she remain in London, or did she come back home to Thailand? I half expect to see her outside one of the massage parlors on Surawong, or gripping a pole in a random gogo bar. Although today she’d be at least 30 years old. Still, I wouldn’t mind laying eyes once more on that sweet, demure, graceful lady with the infectious laugh and endearing persona. She was simply delightful. In fact, I’m not sure I’d have even come to Thailand had I not experienced Jane and her naked nubile body. Imagine my delight at discovering that the Land of Smiles was filled to bursting with beauties just like her.

Check back on Sunday for the weekly, and cheers to another week above ground in this fantastical fantasy land known as Thailand.