The short walk from the 'Arrivals' across the bridge and to Don Muang Train- Station was all it took to have the sweat run in rivulets down my back and chest.

Back in Bangkok.

Back to heat and dirt.
6 lanes of cars and buses, not to mention tuk-tuk's and mopeds belching smoke into the midday heat.
With more than a little regret, I was remembering the teak-paneled, cool hotel-room at the 'Strand' in Rangoon, I had left that morning.
The glazed tiles on the floor and that miracle of miracles… the brass-showerhead in the bathroom actually sending a rain-shower of warm water over me from its multitude of holes.
Such luxury, after days of hard traveling around Burma.
Enchantment still playing in my mind as I pushed my way with the crowds into the train to Hualamphong.
Clutching my travel-bag, shirt sticking to my body, but the wonder of Shwedagon still gleaming in my minds eye.

Less than an hour ride from the airport… and here I am looking at the street-vendors selling dried, flattened squid hanging from delicate frames attached to bicycles in front of the big Railway Station in the middle of Bangkok.
The city overwhelms me with smell and sounds, smog and dirt, but also the suggestion of delights to be found in the belly of this monsterous 'City of Angels'.

Here I am back in a room at the Station Hotel, just because we stayed here before.
Funny how even a flea-bag place like this can seem to be a place one welcomes in it's familiarity.
At least I know what to expect…ha, besides, it will only be 'One Night in Bangkok' for me.
I am ready to admit to myself that I do feel a bit of loneliness… for, what seems like the first time in months, I am on my own.
My friend is winging his way to Kathmandu right now.

Alas, here we were, China-Town, Bangkok.
Dark, dirty, hot and steaming with the possibilities of sin.
My friend had been promised the delights of sex with 'real' girls by his guide.
Not the tarted up flakes of PatPong, but the more exotic delights of 'up-country' clean girls.
Hmm… I could not see myself letting him wander off into the night alone with a chap I distrusted immensely.

Narrow streets, then the broken embankment of a khlong where I know the ripples in the water, breaking the reflection of the dim street-lamps, were rats swimming along side of us.
Across the fluid darkness, the surprising sounds of a Chinese Opera. Light spilling across to us from the back of the stage, open to the canal, with curtains of crimson red wavering in the putrid air.
It makes me shudder, my mind playing pictures of a gapping wound with blood spilling and the slashed hero crying un-melodically.
I hurry after my companions almost tripping over a huge block of ice, slowly melting in the middle of the path.
Swearing, I stagger on, feeling the burn of the cold on my hand as I had to catch my fall by gripping the ice.
The alley we have made our way through, ends in front of a block of flats it seems.
An open entrance-hall with stairs going up around the iron construction of a lift, which is stuck 6 feet up, slightly askew, with no cable attached to it any longer.
The elevator-shaft now a convenient depository of rubbish, smelling of all the world's ills.
The rats in the rubbish-pile don't even acknowledge us, as they scurry for edible bits.
I am past the shivers and the hair in the back of my neck has stopped standing up… I want to remember how to get out,… alive.
The naked bulbs on the landings are just enough light to get us to what seems to be our destination.
A large door, like others we have past, but re-enforced with metal.

Yesterday we were listening to the little bells tinkling on the rafters of Wat Phra Kaew, awed by the deep blue and red and gold.
Following saffron-robed monks into the coolness of the temples, our bare feet welcoming the tiles with their smooth, cold feel.
The Frangipani bushes and the swept walkways.
The light being thrown into all corners by the myriads of small, mirrored bits of glass and tile on the columns that held the swooping roofs with their dragons head spouts at the ends.
The burnt orange and green glazed tiles, shimmering roofs of the Grand Palace.
Making me fold my hands and close my eyes, …wai, namaste!
Silence.

From behind the door comes the thumping beat of pop music… performed by talented imitators from the Philippines, always somehow smoother and more accomplished than the original and therefore false.
It makes me feel uneasy and I do not quite know why.
This door leads to something I need to know?
I wonder if I want to go on… as the chap pushes the heavy door and holding it open just enough for us to pass, beckons us inside.
Music from the ever-present boom-box… a hall with neon lights above.
The door has closed behind us and we are blinking into the bright, compared to the alleys we wandered down, light.
A bench, hallways to both side from this common room and what reminds me of a tellers-wicket, against the wall opposite.
A couple of young Thai men sitting on the bench are staring at us.
The guide is chatting with the Chinese man inside the tellers-cage.
I wish he was not wearing a ratty sleeveless t-shirt, wish that he would not be fat with greasy hair and beady eyes… but he is!
We are being appraised with cold, distant eyes.
I am not able to stop the cold creeping up my spine and around my heart.
Have a hard time holding myself back from running, bolting out that door that is firmly shut behind us now.
My friend is talking to the guide… the Chinese man is talking to him as well… intense hard words it seems.
I am not listening to understand … it is a murmur in my head as I watch a small flock of girls pass at the end of the hall. Some stopping to look at me… us, some coming close to talk to the Thai's on the bench.
4 or 5 of them.
I walk to the end of the hall, look down the corridor, where the sound of a toilet being flushed makes me look away from the girls and down the way… a row of hastily partitioned-of cubicles with curtains.
A man coming from the loo, buttoning his pants.
Sounds of sex.
Smell of sex.
Some sweet incense burning below a Buddha up on the wall, on a little shelf with plastic flowers and a flickering bulb of orange light.
I am close to the girls, still staring at me, standing there in the neon light of the hall… they are 10, at the most, 12 years old!
Maybe.
Made to look like little women, but children.
Another man leaving a cubicle… a young Thai with a flushed face.
This is not a place for farangs!
Startled by my presence and clearly frightened.
Hurriedly making his way past me, out to the hall… and out the door.
I can hear the Chinese man talking fast and loud to the guide.
My friends voice… and I hear the girls giggle shyly, holding each others hands, as they stare at me… and I at them.
Small faces of something that used to be beautiful, just a month ago. Or a year, or a week…!
A harsh command scatters them down the other corridor into more cubicles.
I watch their scantily dressed backs shuffle down the dirty hall.
A sadness has settled in my mind that I can not make go away.
What am I doing here… and what is all this?
This is Bangkok and I am here because I can not refuse.
The excitement of the new, strange and exotic.
The hushed whisper of sin in all its sweetness?
No, these girls are not my desire, or are they?
Small bodies, boyish… soft.
An imagined sweetness of voice and breath.
An body that molds itself into your desire?

… and suddenly a wisp of a girl smiles at me as she slides by to stand in front of the young men on the bench.
She can not be more than… than Jimmy in that hotel in Pagsanhan in a country not too far from here?
In my minds eye I see them running, fetching water for the family in the village they live in… both of them.
Yelling happy insults to each other, laughing.

… and still, she is here.
And so am I.
What the hell am I doing here.
I am falling into the well of my mind… dark, slimy… falling, falling.
NO,… not here, not NOW!
I know I have a minute before I will not be able to stop the tears welling up from inside of me.
I turn and rush forward.
Grip my friend's hand and pull,… pull him to the door.
He is not resisting.
We drag open the door… the Chinese man is yelling.
Looking over my shoulder, I see the young Thai's standing facing the door looking scared, but angry.
The Chinese man having stepped from the cage yelling, the guide holding his arm… and behind them, almost in slow motion, a little girl waving good-bye!
Stumbling down the steps of the stairs to the entrance hall.
Holding my friend's hand and pulling him along.
Crying, and feeling scared.
Feeling sad and much like screaming.!
Out… and into the night…the heat, the dirt…the safety of this city that swallows you up in mercy… Bangkok, City of Angels!

I can feel my friends arm around my shoulders… mine is around his.
We have this.
We have made it.
We are still here.
Sitting in a tuk-tuk winding our way back to the Station Hotel, where I know we will share a few shots of Mekong and look into each others eyes… knowing that we have been close to life tonight… and maybe less.
Because that is the other side of the coin.
I feel devastated inside… know that I will not forget this night, no matter how much Mekong I will spill.
We will touch heads tonight and think of the little girls back in that place.
Will try to find that island that every man is, in ourselves and swim for it!
Will get up and walk down the stairs tomorrow, find it hard to eat…to breath, to be…but get on that bus to Chiang Mai, because it will take us away from here!
Away from Bangkok.

When I wake up, curled up on top of the bed… it is dark.
Another tropical night.
Smell of spices and dirt.
Heavy, moist air full of promises… I need a wash!
In the little alley next to the Hotel there are food-stalls.
More like carts, wok on one end and a glass-cage holding the ingredients for the simple selection of dishes available, on the other.
My mouth waters, I am hungry and thirsty.
It is easy to select and smile at the sturdy, short woman, who chuckles and chops at the same time.
Then dispatches the imp by her side to get the beer I asked for… after taking some money from me, from the restaurant down the block.
I sit at the table on one of the 3 stools, on the street, in front of the cart where the woman chops, chatters and soon the air smells of lemon-grass and a little of coriander.
The little boy shuffles up , making motor noises, and plunks my bottle of beer on the table in front of me… smiling broadly at me.
I play the 'shake-hands' game with him, and leave some baht in his palm, which brings whoops of delight from him and cackling laughter from mother and the other women near.
He dutiful gives it to mum and returns to the little table smiling.
So while I wait for what smells like a delicious meal, we play the 'what's your name 'game… why am I not surprised that his name is Tran… or something like it. My obvious inability to pronounce it correctly a source of some delight to the little boy.
It feels strangely sane and safe here in the alley behind the Train-Station.
The light above the cart/kitchen casting a friendly halo of belonging around me as well.
Tran is scooting down the lane for another beer with my meal, which is scrumptious. He shakes his head at my attempt to pass more baht to him, but picks the chewing gum from my hand with his slim delicate fingers.
Others are sitting around the tables at the next stall, Thai's and Chinese but it seems I am the only farang here tonight.
Still, it feels calm and relaxed even though there is the occasional noisy moped weaving down the lane.
Tran is imitating me eating.
Thinks it is tremendously funny.
Waves good-bye, when I finally have paid and gotten up to walk back to the Hotel.
It seems to trigger a picture that will not quite come up from the deep in my memory.
Nagging in the back of my mind as I walk slowly away… not really wanting to leave this,… this sanctuary.
Maybe tonight this is indeed a place full of angels?
I am feeling good.
Hunger sated, a couple of Singha Beer and a little sanity regained from a circle of light around a stool, a small table and a cart-kitchen.
Or was it Tran, that little funny boy?
Walking down RamaIV, it seems like sadness seeps into my head the further I get away from… from where?
Places that in the end just exist in your memory.
Places that have been… and keep being markers of something like changes.

Lights, noise, smog and men talking at me… not so far down the road… to here.
To PatPong!
Seems like the right place then, after all… desperation, sadness… I know how it works for me.
Maybe for everybody else as well.
Bring on the painted ponies… the lights and the music. The false laughter and the fake smiles. Even mine.
Down the road… seems not so busy here in PatPongIII!
Is this why I left my papers at the Hotel!
Why I have only a measured amount of money in my pocket… me protecting myself?
Oh the smell of sin, the wavering sadness of desire given up for fast answers and even quicker exchange of a few greenbacks!
Yeah, I am here… am open, licking my lips in anticipation.
Come on angels, take me away from my sadness, to something… anything!
Sin, just a little… just a dip of the wick, a wicked dripping desire… a deep longing…unfulfilled for many days and nights…weeks and weeks.
That was a country away and a lifetime ago, it seems.
Tran… hmmm, maybe I can find a Tran here!?
Or better still a boy with a woolen hat and dirty-blond hair… that makes me wince… too close!
So I find myself in front of the 'LonelyBoy'!
Yeah right, find myself… more like looking for it!
But in that self-deceiving way that one wanders around the cheese if one were a mouse, pretending not to want it!
Ah, mouse or cheese… what will I be tonight.
I smile to myself sliding into the 'club'… music thumping through the door.
The few stools at the bar are empty.
The whole place is virtually empty.
Hmmm… one white man is having an animated discussion with a young Thai man next to him.
The little stage/floor is empty and only lit by one blue spot-light.
Well, a beer then… of course 5 times the price than an hour before.
And somehow I feel less sane.!
The Thai chap behind the bar seems bored and less interested in having a conversation than me.
So I suckle my beer… and another, having slipped from desire to drink.
Am beginning to hate myself for being here, for loosing myself to the night.
For not being strong enough to walk out of here and laugh about myself.
So I just have another overpriced beer.
Letting the little animal loneliness chew away at my heart again.
So much easier to just sit here and feel sorry for myself, than go out and walk away from this circus.
Because I buy into the dream they are selling here… need to buy into it so desperately.
Because,…because it makes no sense otherwise.
Makes no sense, to feel what I feel about someone very far away… a boy at that.
Wanting to hold his head between my hands.
Feeling his lips in chaste kisses on my cheek… and wanting more.
Wanting all the wet and dark sins that race through my head.
Wanting to be back in Manila or Pagsanhan.
Wanting Jimmy to moan into my ear as I am pulling on his hard cock until he laves my hand with hot stickiness.
Wanting Rolly to 'fuck-my-face' until he quivers.
My throat is dry, I know I am not sober any longer, but will have another beer.
And the pressure in my pants makes me ask about the boys… who should be here, dancing… sliding up to you, me!
Oh,… they are at the beach place?!
Beach place… yes, more Whities in Pattaya than BKK around this time of year.
Now is beach season.

I am stunned.
No boys?
Well, maybe he can find one.
He will check…
Hmmm… another night of school for me, it seems.
My suspicious mind is suggesting it will be expensive.
So, it is.
An old man with the air of control around him… pushes a boy towards me.
Well… boy is pushing it a bit.
More like older adolescent.
Nice face, slim body… does he shave?
I guess it is … him, or … more beer.
Oh well, lets face it… I will kneel in my church tonight.
Have come to pray before my light.
Will need forgiveness and absolution from the hands and mouth of one more innocent… my mind howls at that bit of bullshit.
Lets fuck.

Oops, I need a little help up the stairs to the 'room' one can rent… after one pays the bar to take the boy upstairs.
Ha, my kept boy and his captured man.
I giggle, but it is the alcohol.
Boy has a name… he makes me repeat it several times… but I have learned it already today.
Yes… this may be salvation after all… his name is : Tran.
He is clearly not sure about this silly, drunk farang.
But maybe it will be easy money tonight.
I am sure he has experience that way.

We are sitting on a ratty sofa watching a porno flick while boy rubs my crotch and I rub his neck.
Kiss his ear and am happy that I can smell clean skin.
Hmmm… his skin is soft, he is cuddly.
And shrinking!
Somehow he seems smaller than just a little while ago.
But it is past all this anyhow.
I will not get out without leaving another piece of myself… not to speak of all my money.
Boy takes my hand and drags me into the 'room'… oh well… cardboard walls and no ceiling.
A curtain for a door… and it smells distinctly of sex.
Despite the alcohol in my body, I get even more turned on and am quite willing to do the nasty right on the couch… no matter who is looking on.
Seems to me they are selling tickets to the show anyhow… there are holes the size of camera-lenses in the walls.
Wait… camera lenses…
…it is wasted on me.
I want boy to stop changing the sheet and get naked!
He drops his clothes and slides on to the clean sheet.
Looks damn sexy… like cheese to the mouse.
I want to nibble on him.
But this mouse has other ideas… thinks me is the cheese and undresses me quickly.
Drapes himself over me , grinds his not all that big cock against mine and moans in a put-on way into my ear.
Wait… he is grabbing my cock and is pumping it… wait.
Wait… I am panting.
Hold on… I push him away… and slap his hand away from my cock.
Booze or not… we will have it not all the mouse way.
This cheese wants to have a bit of fun.
I am not sure where the edge is coming from, but my sadness is hard around the edges now.
Tran is a little surprised and his smooth skins slides easily along mine.
I slap his tight little bum, he clenches and snaps away from me… except I am holding his neck in my hand and am pulling his head towards mine.
He is squirming, but relaxes as my lips press hard against his and I am forcing my tongue between them.
His hand snakes up my leg towards my cock again… smack!
His eyes open wide…hmmpf, his response is muffled by my mouth on his.
I am kissing him deeply, playing with his tongue and stroking his slightly reddened bum.
It seems clear now that it will not be a 'quickie' so Tran relaxes into my embrace more… my hands stroking the soft insides of his legs, as they open wide.
I lift his hands to my neck and he winds them around my neck, holding me close, as I stroke his ball-bag with my finger-tips.
I want him to do exactly what I want… really I want him to just be my responsive plaything.
Did I say that… yes… I did. I do.
I want to do what I want with him… ahhh, why am I angry, and why at him?
Or am I actually angry at him?
There is the impulse to smack him on the butt again.
Just to make sure that he knows that it will be my game tonight.
Tran makes little noises as I caress him all over.
Why… do I need this?
But I do.
I am mad.
Am closer to the darkness than ever before.
I push his head down my chest to my cock.
He resists my push, but… smack… opens his mouth and his tongue finds the head of my cock, slides across it, oohhh… and he slips his lips around my glans and down… ohhh, down.
He is no amateur… and slowly but steadily swallows most of me, before coming back a bit.
Licks around and across…before sinking back down.
Speeds up a bit.
Than holds me in his mouth… sexy boy, while his eyes are asking.
I have forgotten about the holes in the paper-walls, about the noises from outside, the curtain or even where I am.
Now I want only this… want to have Tran whose face is morphing into all other faces, do this and all that is spilling over from my dreams.
I draw him around so we are folded cock to mouth and mouth to cock.
I suck and lick, kneading his bum… biting his balls.
Spit slick my finger only to shove it up his hole… at which he whines…mouth clamped around my cock.
This is all too much force… love has got nothing to do with this!
I want this boys sex… any boys sex… want a naked boy with woolen hat!
Here in my arms!
Tran is timing his sucking to my assault of his bum… my finger digging for his 'button'.
He is helping, by twisting in the right direction.
Although he is obviously torn between my mouth on his nice small cock… hard to the breaking point and delicious in my mind.
I am not sure if it was me finding the right spot, or Tran finding it for himself, with the help of my finger… whatever it was… it was suddenly over for him.
Driving himself deep into my mouth and sucking on my cock in real lust. Making love to it… as he is moaning his closeness to his release from all the tension building in both of us.
His body stiffens, cock pulses and small splashes of hot cum are pooling in my mouth.!
He is shaking a bit, while bucking into me.
Holding my cock with one hand and himself with the other.

I flip him onto his back, sit over his chest holding his hair, his head with my left hand while jerking myself off with my right… growling my boys name as I cum all over his chest and face!

Tran has slid off the bed and has cleaned himself up.
He stands up… and before he slips into his clothes I put my arm around his hips from behind and kiss his bum.
He giggles and leans down… kisses me hard on the mouth and shakes his finger at me!
He leaves… but is back in a minute with an open beer.
We share… he giggles again.
I am not sure if I can get up… but Tran pulls me up and I dress, while he finishes the beer.
I want to smile at him, but am ashamed now.
Want to just leave.
He leads me down a set of stairs that let me out into the night… on another street, not PatPong… not into the lights and the music.
I hand him more money… he smiles… and waves good-bye.
Waves good-bye, like the little boy earlier… and I suddenly remember… the little girl in the China-Town brothel some weeks ago!
City of angels… why do I feel wounded by you?
Slashed and bleeding.
I hurry down the street to find a tuk-tuk to escape into the darkness.

Back at the hotel I don't have to force myself to puke… comes all by itself.
And hurts.
All over… especially in my heart.
I force myself to drink most of the bottle of water and swallow a bunch of Aspirin with it.
And fall into bed…and into dreamless sleep.
I guess animals do not dream!

A shower of sorts… food will have to wait until the plane has taken of.
I munch on peanuts while sitting on the train going out to the airport.
Hunched up in the departure lounge I am wearing all my clothes, as I shiver in the frigid air of the aircon hall.
Always the same, but today I am shivering inside as well… and huddled into a corner I pull the woolen hat out of my pocket and slip it over my head and eyes.
I do not want to be seen today.
Want to hide, want to smell my boy and be forgiven my trespasses.
Maybe I will be able to sleep some on the plane… 5 hours to Colombo, Ceylon.
Maybe I will be able to dream…


TAK