A gay sex stories: Edge Running Ch. 02
I arrived in Bangkok two months later under the name of Doug McClure. I was still a doctor, though, and I still had a prescription pad that gave me, as a documented Doctor Without Borders physician, worldwide access to pharmacies. I was treated like gold by Tony Scarlotti, the troupe manager, and all of the other dancers. That was a good thing, being able to make more than the other dancers in the troupe, because I could be pickier when men showed up at the stage door after a performance looking for paid companionship.
We were settled in substandard rooms, two guys to a small room, at the Babylon Bangkok Hotel in the Silom red-light district part of Bangkok–one of several red-light districts there–between the large Lumphini Park and the Klong Toy industrial Chao Phraya River wharf district. None of us spent too many nights in our own hotel room, though. The club dancing was more a cover for how money really was made in this business. Girlie clubs predominated in the area but there were more than enough gay night spots too. We were booked to do two Chippendales Dancer-type shows three times a week at DJ Station, a night club with a stage off Silom road. Our hotel was off Satorn Road, which ran parallel with Silom, with the red-light district between them. We also did three shows at a smaller and seedier venue, Roger’s, off Silom Road. three nights a week.
At DJ Station, we performed on stage in a revue at 10:00 p.m. and midnight. In between, three of us had to be go-go dancing in glass cages elevated around the dance floor, where the dancing was to band music alternating with a DJ spinning records on a sound system. This was the classiest of our venues, as we were on stage or in glass cages out of the reach to the patrons.
The gig at Roger’s was more demanding than this, but this is where we dancers made money above basic sustenance. In the small print of our contracts that none of us had seen was a stipulation that the bulk of our contracted fees was not due until the end of every second month of dancing. This was to keep us from disappearing on our own as soon as we got to Bangkok. We were doled out just enough advance money to keep us from starving by eating street food–there were street food carts out all over the area. Anything above that was earned by tips while we were dancing or tricks taken on our own time. I fared better than the others as the lead dancer and troupe doctor, but even I had to make nice-nice with the patrons while I was dancing to encourage them to stuff money in my thong and I had to take a trick now and again.
At Roger’s the patrons were close to the stage and could pass tips for “feels” and between shows we went down on the club floor in just our skimpy costumes and were supposed to mingle with the customers and get them to order drinks for us and more drinks for them. We also could more intimately mingle with them and arrange hookups either off the premises after our night was done or in rooms behind the stage when we weren’t performing, where the house took half the take.
The patrons at DJ Station rarely got close enough to us to pass tips and we weren’t required to come down into the club during the intervals–though we could by invitation of a patron, who paid for the privilege. The patrons at DJ Station were much wealthier, though, than those at Roger’s. They could send an invitation to an individual dancer to go with them after the show was over. Bangkok never closed, so the dancers in the troupe got their best meals by going with a patron after a DJ Station show. They got fed and watered, but they had to either hump a guy or lay on their back and open their legs afterward. We had to be flip-floppers in this business. We were studs either way the patron wanted it. This wasn’t a problem for any of the guys in our troupe. They often got a much nicer bed to sleep in for the night than the shared hotel room at the Babylon Bangkok hotel.
Sex was definitely not a problem for the members of our dance troupe. We were all oversexed versatile studs–and in pristine shape–or we wouldn’t be in such a dance troupe to begin with. Most of us had paired up before leaving New York, and when we didn’t have a patron to service for money and benefit, we fucked each other. I had paired with a younger, olive-complexioned and dark-haired Mediterranean-stock Greek god by the name of Panos Stifano. We roomed together, flip-flopped each other, telling each other it was nothing personal, just for practice, and occasionally hunted together even in New York before arriving in Bangkok.
Thus, we had no trouble agreeing to go with a drug dealer after a gig at Roger’s at the end of our first week in Bangkok. I was willing to dispense some downers or uppers to the guys in the troupe and most definitely pills to prevent STDs, but I wouldn’t give them any of the really hard stuff. Bangkok was famous for readily available pure heroin and cocaine, though, and Panos was into that. On a Friday night he’d hooked up with a Thai-Chinese dealer, Kevin Lu, who also had some black American soldier in him. He was in his thirties, rangy, but hard bodied–a hard-used body too, having been in some knife fights. Panos had agreed to go with him before consulting with me. The best I could do was go with them to watch out for Panos. Lu didn’t seem to mind it being a threesome.
Lu took us to a gay hotel, the BBB Inn on Rama IV Road, near Lumphini Park. The rooms there were basic and could rent for $35 a night or $10 an hour. They preferred U.S. currency. The room as good as we had at the Babylon Bangkok and Lu was paying, so that was fine. Lu was also dispensing the cocaine in exchange for the fucking, so that was fine too–for Panos. I made clear I wasn’t interested in that. I might have left when it came out, but I wanted to be around to help Panos if he had a medical emergency.
Panos took his hit, as did Lu. It transpired that Lu really didn’t care that I came with Panos. After Lu watched Panos and me having sex for a while, he wanted to be doubled by us. Panos and I fucked him together, Panos, already in dreamworld, lying on his back on the bed, Lu on top of him, pointed to the ceiling, in the crab position, and me, sober and monitoring the situation, on top of the pile, holding Lu’s legs raised and spread, as Panos held his cock steady inside Lu’s passage and I pounded him.
This wasn’t all that unusual for our Friday nights other than we didn’t often double a patron. What was notable about it was that Lu apparently was impressed with me. This led to me being hooked up with a higher-level Thai drug lord, Dusit Thanat, who approached me, not at Roger’s, but at the DJ Station, and who almost became the undoing of me.
* * * *
“You know I don’t like going out and sitting with patrons between sets, Amnot,” I said. I was at the mirror in the dressing room, already beginning to line up the face paint to start making myself up for the next show. The paint didn’t go on my face.