Story Post - Second Part 'The Stranger and I'

His touch made me smile knowingly in spite of myself; he saw in me what I saw in him. It would only be a matter of time – and a ride in the lift – before both hands could be everywhere. I breathed out, preparing whatever nonchalant words were going to be the first he’d hear. But…wait. Before I’d finished exhaling I felt something else. An odd shiver was surging through my body. I stared forward into space knowing that something was very wrong. I’d felt this hand before, the same tightening grip and cold palm. I stood up and turned, now knowing what was to come.

Tuk stood before me with an expression that was halfway between friendly and hateful. We had known each other no longer than a month and he still baffled me with his persistence and forthrightness. Why was he here ruining what may have been such a perfect moment? Who was I kidding. As the stranger joined the counter girls to look on with interest, the dream of meeting someone gorgeous and sane had clearly been too much to hope for. Tuk continued to regard me and I knew I’d better speak. “What are you doing?” I ventured quietly. “Go to room.” The statement was not only loud but also clear. All present knew that this boyishly good-looking Thai guy wanted me all to himself. He was wearing the same clothes I’d first seen him in at a bar some time ago. The oversized t-shirt, hanging jeans, and torn trainers had proved to suit him much better off than on for under them was the perfect slim body of a twenty-something Asian. This, along with his preference to forego speaking broken English and let his actions speak for him had once been such a turn-on. Now, his declarations of love and inability to understand that a relationship was out of the question had made him decidedly creepy. He motioned his head that we should go. He meant business.

I couldn’t help but look back at what I’d stupidly thought was a possibility. There was so much more I wanted to know about the stranger, so comfortable in his own skin as he now leant back on the counter. I met his eyes this time feeling no embarrassment; as I’d been so obviously ‘outed’ it hardly mattered. He smiled amusedly to himself then gave a quick wink before he disappeared from view as we rounded the corner and stepped out into the evening heat. Was that meant as the rebuke of a straight man against the girlish melodrama of a couple of ‘fairies’? Was that a knowing wink? I didn’t have anymore time to wonder as Tuk made another grab for my shoulder. This time I angrily shrugged him off, knowing that right now I had to be assertive and definitively end things. I walked him around into a corner of a small garden where I knew we’d be out of sight and away from curious ears.

I wanted to make this as easy as possible. After a minute of stumbling through the little Thai words I knew, and a lot of gesturing to assure him things were over, I believed all was sorted. I was wrong. Tuk looked at first contemplative and then lowered his head as I made to finish speaking. I took a step back ready to leave him and as I did several things seemed to happen at once. Firstly Tuk lunged forward and threw his weight against me. Unprepared, I fell hard onto the grass behind me. In a second he was standing above me and I felt a sharp kick hit my lower back. There was another to my ribs. Another to my elbow. I saw his face contort with rage though he remained quite silent. Where were the hotel security men? When would he stop so I could stand up and defend myself? I didn’t need to answer either question. As quickly as it had started, the beating was over. Tuk had gone. From my position on the ground I turned painfully to see him dash away in the direction of his motorbike. What happened? My body jolted as I felt another hand on my shoulder. My heart racing I squinted to look up towards the moonlight. A newly familiar face was looking down at me, concern showing in the brown eyes that peered through hanging curls of hair.

I hated being so out of control and lying vulnerably in the grass was hardly how I wanted this most masculine of men to see me. I moved to break free of his grasp, pull myself up, and thank him. But instead of releasing his hold or helping, the stranger moved his bulk further over me until I realized his body was coming to rest on top of mine. Did he think I was seriously hurt and he needed to support my back as he rescued me? Was he going to teach the queer a lesson? Somehow I knew it wasn’t either. I lay still unresisting. As the warmth of his skin tingled against my bruises and he rested his weight slowly down on me I could feel him hard, his cock aroused against mine. I struggled to catch my breath and I felt beads of sweat over every part of me. All I could see was him. My vision was filled with that rugged face. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He looked deep into my eyes.

Hidden in the unlit patch of grass to the side of the window where staff had no doubt gathered to look into the night and enjoy the drama with the crazy foreigners, we held each other tight. Our mind’s were as one. Our hands and tongues began to wander…


THE END (MAYBE*)

* 'Maybe' is owing to sad fact that it has been so long since the writer last experienced what may be described in any next part that the memory cannot recall descriptive details for the writing. Please bear with us until this problem is fixed.

Post VIII - A Bitter Pill. Swallow!!

Students,

Bitter is a word with a few meanings, my favourite being the cool alcoholic beverage I am too geographically far away from to consume. It also has the meaning ‘to leave a bad taste in one’s mouth.’ Unfortunately today that is what Teacher has in his mouth and it is not something I am able to swallow down (though as I’m British I will not spit either.) A warning: you may guess that there is a storm brewing and you’d be right. If you do not wish to spend the next few minutes hearing thinly-veiled attacks on everything and everyone around, you may wish to excuse yourself, pop an apple on my desk, and return later……….. Ok? You choose to stay? Good. I assume that means you enjoy a good bitch-fest as much as any radical lesbian or muff-diving Christian.

I would like to tell you that the world I see around me is full of rainbows, smiling gay faces, and that daily I am up to my elbows in ‘A’. However that unfortunately is not the case. I, like you, have to deal with a range of unpleasant chores of life such as paying bills, marking students work (maybe you don’t have to do that you lucky buggers), and bugging the zoned-out staff in my hotel home to FINALLY do something about properly fixing my internet connection. If any of you can inform me whom I have to shag to sort out that problem then you also will be considered for ‘A’ from me… I am unsure if it is due to my former employer (read: prancing git) passing my evening classes to another teacher whom he considered to be worse off financially so leaving me with more time on my hands and less cash to flash or if I’m simply feeling some January blues. Either way I am sure that my patience is eroded and my frown lines are deepening…

Now I know it’s not in my nature to have a completely worry-free outlook and as my wise mother tells me “Boyo you are intolerant”, but I just wish sometimes that I could be a bit more ‘zen’ than I find myself able to be and not quite so inward thinking… Are you listening Id/Ego/Superego?? I am in the ‘land of smiles’ and at the moment all I do is bitch and get confrontational with those who cross me. I don’t want to look back in a few years and say “Oh Britney was I an obsessive nut job or what?” Thing is I’m sure personal friends wouldn’t suspect I was such a negative person but often when I’m on my own I think negatively and can’t just let things be… And that’s when I start to blog and you lucky students get to listen to my rant!

Sooooooo in an effort to feng shui my subconscious (read: offload), in our blog today I will allow Id/Ego/Superego to each choose one matter to give their two pence on and then said matters shall not be discussed again. (Former yellow-woggled leader of) Scout's honour. Oh and Id has been too vocal lately so he only gets one pence:

Id: Head in bed only this week, honey. No ‘A’. So… No point in beating yourself (too much.) But(t) you gotta get some juice into your (love) machine. Go get into another tight spot and find some thrust for your life. Fill your nights with play and your mornings with lay. Roll in the hay and continue being gay gay GAY!!

Ego: Students by now you should know this mo aint no goodie goodie and he aint no racialist neither. Everyone is equal and everyone (occasionally) deserves short shrift and spankies as much as they deserve praise and tongue-kissing. What I’m going to talk about then is a point concerning simple Thai folks. I do not mean to generalize and I love this country. No offence is intended (Id: “Even from a dyke’s mouth”) and none is taken, but observations must be made.

The Thai way is one where everything must be kept happy and smiley and tradition is very important. Sounds peachy, right? Yes it is until you want to do something but can’t ‘just because.’ The ‘just because’ in question is often that someone high up does not agree with it. Now as much as I love my Queen I do not think she is a deity. She is a human being who must blow her nose, visit the loo, and deal with unpleasant people just as I do. She is not above questioning and I have the right, should I wish, to suggest she is not a good Queen (which I wouldn’t because I like her, Edward on the other hand…) So if I am instructed that I must wear black for 100 days during working hours and stay in and not have a social drink on Saturday night because an 85 year-old woman of royal connection died of natural causes then have I not the right to say “That sir is dumb”? Apparently not or I will be court-martialled (And these minor points are completely the tip of the proverbial iceberg.) What makes it worse is everyone pretending to care when they actually (in Lopburi anyway) ‘couldn’t give a monkeys.’

The Thais usually have a disturbingly casual approach to hearing of death: they shrug off that a teenager was mowed down by a bus but for an 85 year old woman with a privileged life they put up a big show of sorrow. This is all about keeping face socially and never actually saying what’s on your mind. Ever. And it begins to grate. I’ll wear the black (it’s at least preferable to yellow) because this isn’t a question of respect (for which I am happy to oblige); it’s a question of being an individual with a mind that is your own. If Thai people wish to move on and change their country for the better they really should quit thinking others are better than them, quit gossiping quite so much, and form an opinion based on the facts at hand. Doing otherwise is, in my opinion, infantile and counter-productive.

BTW it is never a bad thing when Thai men make me their king… Toodles!

Superego: I gotta try and impose some decency while dealing with a whole lot of wants from brother Id. All his wants can comfortably fit into three categories: men, food, and drink. There is one place to visit to satisfy these and that place is 7/11; a grocery store chain found in every township. Sadly, as the chain is American it is hopelessly stuffed with gross junk food (and its Thai influence means any and all snacks usually contain some kind of fish flavouring.) However these points are not the only downsides as I will explain later.

I go to 7/11 daily for items such as green tea, iced coffee, water, soda water, liquor, ham & cheese toasted sandwiches, noodles, razors, gum, phone credit, and the occasional pack of cigarettes. It’s proximity to the market makes it a perfect place to spot hot Thai guys in their natural habitat. As has been mentioned in a former post, I was also picked-up by a Tarzan look-alike there (FYI I did not allow him to make me his Queen Jane…) so 7/11 is handy all-round. However. Being a convenience store I’m sorry to report that it is often far from convenient.

As you know I swing both ways and am a chap able in dealing with problems of right and wrong. To help improve my mood (and halt Id’s desire for problem-solving through violence) when I next go there to be serviced (pun intended), I have authored the following brief open letter to 7/11. I hope that should they pop by and read this, the Thai operation will make some changes (or make some sackings.) Be a man, give their hides a tan.

From the pen of: Teacher
To: Kind Yanks
Date: I don’t do dates

Dear sirs and madams,

I feel compelled to point out some problems with service in your Thai stores. This is largely to do with customers who clearly feel polite social codes do not apply to them, but also is in part down to employees not being on the ball. Please attend closely the following points for having worked as a retail lackey over several years I know a thing or two. And it will be me who gets others blood on your store’s produce if things don’t change.

· If I am waiting patiently in line with my goods please could your staff not serve the first person who comes dashing in from the street to pay a bill, thus rendering me invisible? Not only does this snap my patience like one might saucily snap a cheeky lover’s knicker elastic, but it also sadly means I will be waiting a whole lot longer since the customer will typically have not just one bill but three or four they have saved to pay together. This of course is easy for them but it makes me want to make things even easier by ensuring they never have to pay another bill again. Instead they can rest in a baseball bat-induced coma after I’ve taken their rudeness to suggest they would like to be rendered a vegetable. Please may your staff assist me in telling these folk the Thai equivalent of “Back. It. Up.” The employee would not be considered rude. They would be providing a humanitarian service.
· I cannot speak fluent Thai and your employees cannot speak fluent English. We are therefore equally matched and must interpret each other through the few words we know of each other’s language. All I ask for are “Sangsom” (liquor of choice), “True Move ha-sib” (phone credit of fifty baht), “Sandwich ham cheese”, and “Tylenol” (drugs required after the headache that oddly seems to hit as soon as I begin queuing.) Since I use the Thai verbal tones and often also point or perform charades to demonstrate what I want, I do not understand the confusion or need for three staff to listen to me repeating myself. Strange that nine year-olds can interpret me but educated adults cannot. The only thing I can think is that I am seen in the queue and it’s then decided as I’m a foreigner I cannot be understood. Believe me I have been there: I used to serve drunk Glaswegians for a living. There is no more impenetrable accent particularly with the accompaniment of alcohol (and some also hate the English) but I persevered, and never once got my face broken. Should your employees continue to serve me with their brains switched off they may not be so lucky.
· I am not a person who especially cares what others think but I do care when I am talked about in plain sight. Staff know I have been here a while and so should also know that I know the meaning of the word “farang” (English: foreigner.) Y’know? I expect to hear this every time I walk past some gossipy fishwives on the street but I do not expect or wish to hear it as employees pass comment on me while I wait in the queue (particularly after I deliberately smiled and greeted them when I first walked in.) Yes, I have been seen inebriated in the store with Social Director on more than one occasion. Yes on one such occasion I made a loud pronouncement when asked about a certain bodily organ. There is lots of gossip fodder but could everyone just do it when I am leaving or at the back of the store trying to locate the one brand of noodles out of twenty varieties that does not contain either prawn or shrimp??

Thanking you Americans in anticipation of your kind support.

Teacher.

Ps. I like Obama now.


So you see students, everything can be sorted if you just take the time to put things right. And also know that you are always right. Should you feel offended by my rant then please avoid me anytime I really have a 'bee in my bonnet.' I hope precious ones you are not offended and know me well enough to percieve that I usually am as sweet as a smurf dipped in chocolate and rolled around in sprinklings before being dressed in a pink tutu.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

No homework today: I’m not marking more.


x Teacher

Story Post – First Part 'The Stranger and I'

He was older than me, that’s what I noticed first, probably not too far into his late twenties, but enough that the creases in his tanned face were starting to frame the eyes and disturb the smoothness of his forehead. Not that it didn’t suit him; his relaxed rugged expression showed little sign of worry or the impatience usually found on arriving after travel to find staff so ill-prepared. If anything he seemed as though he shrugged off mundane troubles like he flicked away his cigarette ash. His dreamily casual air had caught the attention of all present and as he turned to check his reflection in the wall mirror yet more curious staff hurried into the lobby to see for themselves the night visitor who had journeyed so far. They joined me in surveying his broad chest and solid shoulders under a creased black Gap t-shirt. They held back as he turned from his bags and the counter. I instinctively checked my wristwatch before peering hesitantly again.

This man was light of step but in a very masculine way and I wondered if he might play some kind of field sport. As he turned to the mirror I regarded his firm buttocks, no doubt held in place by some tight white CK’s. He lifted up a hairy arm and wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow. He did this with an easy movement so the sweat caught his muscled forearm and his wide palm brushed over the skin. If he’d had a bottle of water to drench his messy curls it’d perfectly complete the sportsman look, him languidly rinsing the dirt from his skin. When he moved his free hand to pat down some wayward dark hair I saw him smile amusedly to himself, and his eyes squinted slightly as he did so. As he regarded his face just a little bit closer he buried his hands in the pockets of his faded Levi’s, stood back on his heels for a moment, then whirled around to face me.

For just a second his fox-like brown eyes met mine and a second later mine were pressing hard into the wood of the computer desk. I breathed out and closed my eyes embarrassedly. It was force of habit for me to notice attractive guys, and more so for me to survey their chests, their arms, but especially their buttocks. I could appreciate the looks of many but this guy had made me look much closer. I had been enjoying the view and had stared unguardedly. I hated nothing more than social embarrassment and he must have seen me staring like some schoolgirl.

I dejectedly opened my eyes, cursing myself, but dared to look back up. What was it that now caused the counter girls to giggle so unashamedly? I listened for his voice; he was probably flirting without even trying. I drew my gaze up to see the window straight ahead and I tried to make out the reflected scene behind me. It was then that I felt a warm hand heavy on my right shoulder…


TO BE CONTINUED

Post IV – The Good and the Bad (no uglies) of Thailand

Students,

I am often asked “Teacher, do you miss England?” The short answer is “Yes, you twit.” But to answer the question as thoroughly as you’ve come to expect, I will forego id/ego/superego this blog and instead employ a simple technique known as 'Pros and Cons'. I myself am a pro but a con is a person of dubious character and lifestyle. I’d like to tell you I have never encountered such persons. But I can’t. Another time we will use a top psychiatrical technique known as 'I Have Never' and information on con artists (read: a certain former live-in lover) will no doubt be recollected. But not this blog. The 'Pros and Cons' today regard the land of the Thai and my good/bad experiences therein. Probing psycho-anal-ysis is sure to find a hard answer as to why I miss England but am very happy Thailand is my home from home.

Pros: Mental health is taken care of here through sun, sun, and more sun plus ego is stroked through celebrity status of being one of the few young (and therefore attractive) whiteys in town. Lopburi is a rural area surrounded by mountains and sunflower fields where if one were feeling adventurous one could straddle and ride a throbbing motorbike yonder… Or a trip to 7/11 for more Sangsom liquor and an exciting Queer as Folk marathon with soul brother Brad could also do the trick. The tedious work of the house is done through hotel home staff, and the never-ending work of the teacher is made easier by (similarly) hard-working students whose (sometime) guttural minds mirror my own* My Thai students, and the people in general, are beyond gracious and kind. Though they think me ‘serious’ for not smiling quite as much as they, I have a lot to thank them for. And the men are pretty darn hot too. I would suggest that the Thai’s penchant for tight uniforms on soldiers, police officers, and doctors be shared in every nation.

There is however one more pro I will note and that is Bangkok. Though polluted, crowded, full of old ugly balding fat cartoon-bodied westerners, and frigging expensive, one night in Bangkok is a sinful delight. While there with friend Jamie (a man whose sexual drive surpasses my own) and Lee (a man who does ‘rabbit in headlights’ to a T before delivering a quip so cutting it draws blood) we ventured into the night on Jamie’s assertions that the good stuff would come our way through an (endlessly repeated) instruction to a cabbie of “No bom bom no pay!” For I to recall and accurately convey the sights of Bangkok’s dark underbelly that night would require a five-drink minimum. Suffice to say that each visit to the city has brought much reliable ‘A’ action and its innuendo-inducing name is not for nothing.

Cons: Aside from missing family and friends the last 7+ months have been relatively con-free. That is save for two western teacher ‘exceptions’ (now thankfully buggered off.) One important matter that I have said and said again is that yellow just does not suit me. In their devotion to the King many Thais wear his colour all day. I’d love to myself but all three of id/ego/superego would first have to be unconscious. As would I. The Dean may mutter but on this issue I won’t budge. Call me vain… but don’t call me fat. And if other Thai teachers would take that on-board too (perhaps by noticing the rage cross my face as they make that particular statement) I would be as happy and gay and light of step as they.

* As example, a whole blog could be devoted to Creative Writing student Chen. His ‘creative’ responses to tasks usually involve some obsecenely entertaining interpretation of his sex life. That is except for last week when in response to a fictional postcard writing task he explained his dream holiday as being a trip to the moon with his best bud to see how far they could shoot their body juices in the low gravity… In addition there have been some classic sexually-charged quotations purred by my ladyboy students, my favourite so far being “Teacher, do you have big boy?”

So you see what riles me about life here is far outnumbered by the delights of living in a country so unique and special. I am English so do have episodes of unimpressed-ness such as when forced to wait an age in check-out queues, but Miss Winter, if you are reading, you will be amused to hear of a reduction in slacker tendencies due to my working alongside colleagues whose own ‘relaxed’ approach often borders on inertia. My mind here is refreshingly clear, and students you will be pleased to hear that teaching is once more a real passion and reason to get me going each morning...

But one more thing to end, besides family and friends and f_ _ k _ _ g (more) what do I miss about England? In brief: food like lasagne, potatoes, good cereals, Dad’s fajitas and Mum’s roast dinner, hanging out and milling about shops like Topman, British music and music channels, British TV, Saturday nights with Morrell, long laugh-out-loud phone calls with Zoë, getting told off by Sister for not being her suitably brotherly role model, going to the cinema, red wine, hearing rain while I fall asleep, my books and DVDs, being able to teach more Drama, and… dogs that are well-adjusted and don’t want to jump out with their whole ‘all bark no bite’ schtick.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Take a long hard look at yourself.

x Teacher