Read Online Miss Bangkok: Memoirs of a Thai Prostitute by Bua Boonmee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bua Boonmee
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would come to the bar every night, sing karaoke, and drink sake until he was so drunk he could no longer stand. I think that he also fooled himself into believing that I was just playing hard to get, and he seemed more than prepared to do plenty of chasing. He visited me every night, after he had finished work for the day, and he was usually laden down with gifts.
Although I had nothing but platonic feelings for Hiroshi, I did flirt with him; I saw it as a small trade-off for maintaining the money his patronage provided. Hiroshi, in turn, saw his gifts as money well-spent as they helped him assert a false sense of ownership. Knowing he had good connections in Japantown, I decided to ask Hiroshi to find me a better job. I had no idea what he had in mind for me.
His friend owned a bar called Jasmine’s on Soi Thaniya, and I agreed to work there on the assumption that I would be behind the bar. I had no idea that I was soon to become a commodity, a product to be picked out and paid for. When I presented myself to the manageress, or what we called the mamasan , she immediately requested that I change out of the outfit I arrived in and into a silk dress with a blue tag with ‘34’ written on it.
I looked confusedly at Hiroshi, who was standing nearby, but he waved his hand as if to dismiss my concerns.
‘Pay no attention to her, mamasan ,’ he said. ‘I know this girl and she is grateful for the opportunity you are giving her.’
‘Hiroshi…’ I started to say but he interrupted me by gently nudging me into the dressing room.
‘You are here to entertain me and nothing else. Don’t be foolish Bua. Do you think I would deceive you?’
In the dressing room the other girls assured me that Hiroshi had arranged for me to work there in order to prevent other men from meeting me. He would be able to control who I spent my time with, and who I was allowed to speak to. I trusted that he cared about me, so this seemed like a plausible suggestion, although I was vaguely uncomfortable with being brought into a world where women were lined up like pieces of jewellery that men could select as they wished—even if we were just providing company to them.
Before I turned 19, I had accidentally become a hostess and would spend the following seven years working at Jasmine’s. Every night, I lined up with the other girls, smiling graciously at the patrons who selected, with mamasan ’s help and recommendation, which one of us he wanted to be his hostess for the night. My situation in Jasmine’s was unusual compared to other hostesses because mamasan was told to keep me available for Hiroshi alone. She always informed me of Hiroshi’s arrival, and I would join him at his table immediately, regardless of who I was entertaining at the time.
Hiroshi proved to be the caring man I had first believed him to be. He did everything in his power to make my life as enjoyable as possible. He showered me with money and attention during his pursuit of my affections. I saw him as my guardian; someone who gently guided me in life, but who also allowed me considerable freedom. He paid handsomely for my company, but he generally permitted me to talk to other clients if he was not present, allowing me to earn commission on the drinks they ordered. I earned 80 baht in commission for every drink they bought. Besides the drinks commission, I earned a fixed wage of 8,000 baht a month and Hiroshi never failed to tip me 500 baht each night that I accompanied him.
In fact, the Japanese were easy to work with because I didn’t have to ask if they would like to order a drink. Once I sat with a client, a waiter instantly came with a tray of drinks and put a glass of cola in front of me, which would also earn me commission. Japanese men knew what was expected of them and were very generous with money. I rarely had to ask them to buy me a drink.
Still, I dared not think what would happen to me if Hiroshi’s opinion of me ever changed or if he discovered
Although I had nothing but platonic feelings for Hiroshi, I did flirt with him; I saw it as a small trade-off for maintaining the money his patronage provided. Hiroshi, in turn, saw his gifts as money well-spent as they helped him assert a false sense of ownership. Knowing he had good connections in Japantown, I decided to ask Hiroshi to find me a better job. I had no idea what he had in mind for me.
His friend owned a bar called Jasmine’s on Soi Thaniya, and I agreed to work there on the assumption that I would be behind the bar. I had no idea that I was soon to become a commodity, a product to be picked out and paid for. When I presented myself to the manageress, or what we called the mamasan , she immediately requested that I change out of the outfit I arrived in and into a silk dress with a blue tag with ‘34’ written on it.
I looked confusedly at Hiroshi, who was standing nearby, but he waved his hand as if to dismiss my concerns.
‘Pay no attention to her, mamasan ,’ he said. ‘I know this girl and she is grateful for the opportunity you are giving her.’
‘Hiroshi…’ I started to say but he interrupted me by gently nudging me into the dressing room.
‘You are here to entertain me and nothing else. Don’t be foolish Bua. Do you think I would deceive you?’
In the dressing room the other girls assured me that Hiroshi had arranged for me to work there in order to prevent other men from meeting me. He would be able to control who I spent my time with, and who I was allowed to speak to. I trusted that he cared about me, so this seemed like a plausible suggestion, although I was vaguely uncomfortable with being brought into a world where women were lined up like pieces of jewellery that men could select as they wished—even if we were just providing company to them.
Before I turned 19, I had accidentally become a hostess and would spend the following seven years working at Jasmine’s. Every night, I lined up with the other girls, smiling graciously at the patrons who selected, with mamasan ’s help and recommendation, which one of us he wanted to be his hostess for the night. My situation in Jasmine’s was unusual compared to other hostesses because mamasan was told to keep me available for Hiroshi alone. She always informed me of Hiroshi’s arrival, and I would join him at his table immediately, regardless of who I was entertaining at the time.
Hiroshi proved to be the caring man I had first believed him to be. He did everything in his power to make my life as enjoyable as possible. He showered me with money and attention during his pursuit of my affections. I saw him as my guardian; someone who gently guided me in life, but who also allowed me considerable freedom. He paid handsomely for my company, but he generally permitted me to talk to other clients if he was not present, allowing me to earn commission on the drinks they ordered. I earned 80 baht in commission for every drink they bought. Besides the drinks commission, I earned a fixed wage of 8,000 baht a month and Hiroshi never failed to tip me 500 baht each night that I accompanied him.
In fact, the Japanese were easy to work with because I didn’t have to ask if they would like to order a drink. Once I sat with a client, a waiter instantly came with a tray of drinks and put a glass of cola in front of me, which would also earn me commission. Japanese men knew what was expected of them and were very generous with money. I rarely had to ask them to buy me a drink.
Still, I dared not think what would happen to me if Hiroshi’s opinion of me ever changed or if he discovered
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