Coronostalgia: Remembering the Pre-Virus Red-Light

Well in the space of 24 hours I went from jubilance at the news of foreign work permit holders’ admission back into Thailand to total despair at the news that in order to get in, I must apply for entry through my local Embassy—an Embassy that’s closed due to Covid—and there’s no guarantee I’ll get approved, despite an already-paid-for flight and 14-day quarantine hotel.. As usual, the morons in charge don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. So, to get my mind off of things, I’m turning my attention to days gone by…

I remember it like it was three months ago…because it was. I’d spent my whole Saturday laying around my apartment, watching The Walking Dead (thanks Pirate Bay), sipping wine, occasionally putting a paintbrush to canvas. Around 14.00 I got a text from Mew: “18.00?” She’s a gal of few words. I messaged back with a thumbs-up Line sticker. Ordered Foodpanda Chinese from the Golden Bowl—Peking ribs, salt-chili chicken wings, and spring rolls (my keto cheat day). Browsed Youtube for a couple of hours, then showered and replaced the previous harem girl’s bath towel with a fresh one for Mew.  She rolled up an hour late per usual, and I punished her with some mildly rough bdsm bedroom activities, after which she hung around and played games on her phone with her head in my lap while I sipped wine and rested my eyes.

At 8:00 I kicked Mew out and walked down to Patpong, mask-in-pocket because of all the media buzz about a mysterious Chinese virus from Wuhan, and swung into my usual seat at XXX Lounge (it’s closed and for sale now). I always felt at home in XXX, and not just because it’s the location of the old world-famous Electric Blue. In between, it was The Steakhouse Co., my favorite Bangkok restaurant before it went under.

And the collection of port and cigars from said restaurant were still for sale in XXX. So with a glass of 25 year old and a Cuban Montecristo, I settled back to watch half a dozen of my favorite girls dance in see-through lace mini-skirts and no panties. Some of the girls are pals I’ve known for years. Others are former bed buddies. But my favorite is Pui—a girl I’ve never slept with. In fact, she worked for several years at King’s 2 and I barely noticed her. Sometimes it takes a change of gogo scenery to make a girl go from ‘meh’ to meow! And whatever wasn’t working for Pui before, she pulled a major 180 at XXX. If I had to guess, I’d say it was a combination of the no-panties uniform and a miraculously toned set of abs. The way she dances (I’d call it a combination of semi-shy and self-unaware) is simply adorable. When she’s onstage, I can’t tear my eyes away. She’s friends with many of my current and former harem, and so I don’t think she’d ever come home with me. No matter. I appreciate her for the eye candy she is.


Once the cigar and port were finished, I popped up to Black Pagoda, swinging by the Patpong Museum first to say hello to the staff there. In BP I took my usual seat against the glass wall that looks south toward Silom Road to watch the tourists gawk upwards at the pole dancers on my right and left and trip over the speed bumps in the alley. Suddenly a pair of soft female hands covered my eyes as I was enveloped in a sweet perfume that reminded me of many sexual encounters in my apartment. It could only be one girl—sweet Tee. She’s currently a lesbian in a long-term relationship with a tomboy, but she makes one exception, that being me. I reached around and grabbed her ass cheeks, pulling her flush with my back. Her blonde hair tickles my cheek. I slipped one hand between us and slid it down the front of her shorts to caress her freshly-shaved vajay. She began swiveling her hips, trying to make the most of it. Then she swung round and plopped onto my lap, straddling me with both arms around my neck. As she softly, absent-mindedly dry-humped my junk, I ordered her a tequila and we toasted our good fortune at being young, wild, and free. Saa and Best came over to pump me for Mama noodle money and get manhandled. “Seven, why you never barfine me?” Best asked. How could I explain to her that I don’t have a free day in the week? I got six ho’s in this area code.

After 20 minutes of playing with Tee, I head over to King’s 1—the grand poobah of Patpong. Two of my regular harem girls work there, so I’m always made to feel at home. I sat in the back, snapped a couple of pics of the girls onstage, handed out a lollipop or two, and fondled my girls. One of them—an 18-year-old dynamo—has the softest skin I’ve ever laid my depraved hands on. Every time she sits with me, I can’t resist stroking her arms, stomach, and legs. It’s a compulsion. As I got up to leave, they each planted the required kiss on each cheek and sent me off with a semi in my pants.

I wasn’t quite tired or drunk enough to go home yet, so I swung in to Bada Bing, where a couple of dancing girls were next on my harem hit-list. I took my usual spot at the foot of the stage where the bar staff had already set down my usual vodka-soda. Dancing before me, with her g-stringed ass shaking mere inches from my face, was my girl Kik—tiny yet full of pep. Petite yet perfectly formed. I played bongos on her butt for a few minutes, then turned my attention to a girl who reclined into my lap and pulled my face down into her cleavage. It was Pop. I’ve always admired her aggressive approach, especially on the nights when their uniform is skimpy lingerie. She seems unfazed by the possibility of a wardrobe malfunction or my wandering fingers in and around all her no-no zones. Before she got herself a boyfriend, she tried inviting herself over to my place several times. I took for granted that I could say yes anytime. Now that she’s ‘monogamous’ I want more than anything to get her in the sack. But I’m patient. In Pop’s case, the long-game’s in order. So I left her before she could tire of me, and swung into The Strip.

The girl my buddies and I call “Metal Face” was there, so named for the two silver piercings that used to adorn her dimpled cheeks. She’s long-since gotten rid of them, but the nickname stuck. She’s always up for a boob massage and/or a gengle spanking, always responding with a blush and a wide grin. The grls all stopped dancing and held out their hands for lollipops. I pretended to begrudgingly rummage through my pockets and produced the exact right amount of candies for everyone onstage. The owner bought me a drink, and I wiled away the rest of the evening in the company of those cheeky, lovely gals.

At that point, I knew I’d had too much to drink and needed the comfort and quiet of my bed. Thigh Bar, Kiss Bar, Pink Panther, and Glamour would have to wait till the following night.

Whilst stumbling back to my apartment I swung in to 7-11 for some cans of iced coffee. A crucial pick-me-up for the next morning.

That’s how I remember life pre-Covid, and it’s what I hope to get back to once all this ridiculous shit is over. Step one is getting back into Thailand, but that’s out of my hands. Now it’s all up to a bunch of retards and their arbitrary nonsensical hoops. Cheers to everyone who still loves Thailand despite their inept leadership. Peace out.