Introduction
On the surface, the musicians could easily have passed as a death metal act from the late eighties. Three tables’ center and left from stage, hands swaying in the air , singing in what felt like perfect crowd sync with the thrashing woes and wale of a popular early-nineties rock ballad, even if only for a brief moment, Christopher Stevenson forgot himself in the crowded downtown-discothèque-dance-drinking dwelling of the seaside resort city on Thailand’s golf coast.
As quickly as the live tremolo note had peaked on a handful of 20 inch speakers, the synergistic mood was just as instantly ceased, warped and reborn at the hands of the house disc jockey, skillfully replacing and resonating the entertainment confines with the bounce, base and binding grind of a hip hop lineup. Much of the male makeup taking queue to rest, body motions of the remaining standing dancers shifted from heads to hips.
Finished musicians collected their equipment. Chris shifted his attention from the now inactive stage to the other three occupants of his table waiting to upturn yet another toast in the name of hormones and hedonism. The solely seated western man across the round table fingered the golden transparent contents of his glass, nursing ice cubes as girls on either side enticingly shook and swayed their assets as if the table was a pole.
“What a night mate. Not only did we pick up these amazingly stunning birds, but we’re drinking their booze for free.” The matter-o-fact declaration from the table’s senior gestured for Chris and the two girls to pick up their glasses. “Bottoms up! Moat Kaew…Neung…Sawng…Saam…”
His buzz was scaling a blurred peak line. Upon emptying the tenth glass of a strong soda and spirits mix, the surge of an invoked spirit realized yet another pseudo-epiphany on this full moon–time was limited before the night would inevitably come spinning down. Ten minutes, perhaps twenty – all the previous moments of swaying, swinging, singing, glass tipping and toasting mashed together on a thin rice noodles and beef balls base. For perhaps the fifth and final time this evening, he excused himself.
A slowly moving chain squeezed tightly through narrow spaces between packed groups of tables and their bobbing throbbing partiers. The restrooms were on the other side of 200 square meter room. Intimately pressed between strangers, his bladder had expanded near its limits, slowly moving forward in the crowd, step by step.
Finally reaching a break in human traffic at the entrance to the sex oriented bathrooms, Chris’s attention was drawn to a female creature standing in front of the female side entrance 5 meters away. She was staring at him with the most peculiar luring eyes. It wasn’t just the skimpy red spaghetti strap one piece dress, silky smooth long black hair and white legs forming the base of her voluptuous curves, this girl was especially, familiarly eye catching. It was someone he knew—intimately. He rubbed his eyes as he came closer, and like that the girl had disappeared, assuming have gone into the girl’s restroom. It couldn’t have been who he thought.
Continuing into the male’s room, he emptied deluded poison onto chopped lemon slices at the bottom of an ivory fountain. The blissful moment was suddenly interrupted by firm grasp of his shoulders from behind. Jerking his head sharply, he soon eased up his tense shoulders allowing the restroom attendant masseuse to earn a 20 baht tip. It was always strange to have a man rubbing him as he held his own pride and joy, but at that particular moment of intoxication, it felt good. The popping and cracking of neck muscles sent a soothing relief through out his upper extremities as he finished his duty. Closing his eyes as the last drops drained, flashes of luring eyes were so vivid in his mind. She was so beautiful. So familiar. It couldn’t have been her. She’s already dead.
Continue to Chapter One, Page One
