I have a change of pace for this week’s Book Hooks hop. Here’s a bit from my short story Butterfly, one of the offerings in my Asian Adventures series.
This story is based on my recollections of a simpler time in the East, when the world, and I, were both more innocent.
It might not be obvious from this excerpt, but Butterfly is a romance—with a whiff of heartbreak but a happy ending.
Blurb
Love never lies.
My job makes it hard to have a real relationship. I never know where my next project will be, but I can bet that it won’t be in America’s heartland. So I read a lot, and seek my own five-fingered companionship. Busy with my construction gig in the Thai northeast, I didn’t think I needed what Bangkok had to offer.
Then Lek stepped onto the stage at the Butterfly Bar and began to dance. I fell for her during the first five minutes of her set. The weekend we spent together was pure heaven. How could I know our love would drag me through hell?
The Hook
We sauntered into the “entertainment plaza”. Three stories of indoor bars and clubs surrounded a central court, which was crowded with open-air bars and carts selling skewers of grilled chicken, fresh fruit, and fried locusts. As we walked along the second-level gallery, bikini-clad girls tried to lure us inside their establishments.
“Come inside, please,” they crooned. “One beer eighty baht. No cover charge.” Briefly, the woman would hold back the dark cloth draping the door, offering a tantalizing glimpse of flickering lights and bare flesh. “Take a look. No charge. Come inside.”
The more energetic of these young marketeers would grab us by the hand, and laughing the whole while, try to pull us in. It was all good-natured, though. We’d extricate ourselves from her strong fingers and thank her. “Not now,” we’d say. “Maybe later.”
“Why not now?” she’d say, stamping her foot in mock anger. “Don’t you like me?”
Charlie stopped in front of a doorway surmounted by a blinking neon butterfly. “I came here last month,” he said with a grin. “The girls are hotter than average.” As if to prove his point, an exquisite creature wearing a fringed bra and a practically non-existent skirt came out to greet us.
“Welcome to Butterfly Bar. Come inside, please.” We followed her through the curtains and found ourselves in a space much deeper than it was wide, lit like some disco nightmare. Everywhere, clashing multi-colored lights flashed, vibrated, spun on the ceiling. Rock music pounded in our ears. Our guide settled us on a plush-upholstered bench that ran along one wall. In a moment, two frosted mugs of Singha beer sat invitingly before us, and we could turn our attention to the entertainment.
The bar that ran along the opposite wall was also the stage. Half a dozen women wearing next to nothing danced there, churning and writhing to the music. Every single one was drop-dead gorgeous.
One wore a bikini bottom made of chain mail, and thigh-high, spike-heeled vinyl boots. Her long hair fell over one eye, Lauren Bacall style, as she squatted on the bar and circled her hips suggestively.
Another beauty had short, curly hair that look bleached, a dragon tattooed on her shoulder, and a faraway look. She cupped her perfect breasts absently as she swayed to the beat, sequins flashing from the heart-shaped patch that covered her sex.
Two other dancers were doing a playful lesbian pantomime, grinding their crotches together and struggling not to laugh.
The dancers all seemed so young, despite their salacious behavior. Almost innocent.
Other women, wearing brief kimonos, circulated among the patrons, serving drinks, cuddling, or simply chatting. It wasn’t long before we had an entourage of three of these little imps. “You want massage?” asked one, kneading my shoulders with clever hands. “What your name?” asked another. “My name Ao.”
“They want you to buy them drinks," Charlie told me. "Whenever a customer buys them a drink, they get ten baht.”
“Is that all they want?” I was overwhelmed by the feminine flood surging around me.
“Well, of course they want tips. And if you like one of them enough, you can pay to take her out of the bar.”
“They’re prostitutes?” All at once I felt slightly queasy. The atmosphere was so different from a State-side joint, light-hearted and playful. I didn’t want to think about how it might be tainted.
“Well—it’s up to them. The bar pays them to dance and to push drinks. If they want to make a private arrangement, that’s their personal choice. When they decide to leave for the evening, they simply compensate the bar for lost drink income.”
“Hmm.” As I pondered this, the music changed, becoming slower and more sensual. Meanwhile, the leftmost dancer stepped down from the bar, and the remaining women moved left to new positions. A figure appeared at the right end of the bar.
Something about her caught my attention. With casual elegance, she shed her kimono and draped it over a bar stool. Then she turned toward the shrine in the corner near the ceiling. Touching her fingertips together, she brought them to her forehead and bowed, her reverent gesture totally at odds with the environment.
I felt a strange ache in my chest as I watched her mount the steps to the bar, smooth and sure on her stiletto heels. She was taller than many of the girls, slender and willowy. Her long hair rippled around her as she moved, perfectly attuned to the melody and rhythm.
She was a natural dancer. Her fluid gestures held me transfixed. She grasped one of the poles leading from the bar to the ceiling and arched backward until her hair brushed the floor. Waves flowed through her, sweet undulations that began in her pelvis and shimmered up her spine. By comparison, the other girls appeared clumsy and coarse. She was not trying to entice, it seemed. She was lost in the music. Yet there was something supremely sexy about her performance. I found myself hardening as I gazed at her, turned on for the first time since entering this den of flesh.
As if she felt my gaze, she released the pole, turned and looked in my direction. Her red-painted lips curved in a smile of invitation. Her eyes locked to mine, she unhooked her bikini top and let it slide off her shoulders, revealing sweet, small, firm-looking breasts, capped with almond-hued nipples that surely were erect. She brushed her palms over them, closing her eyes as if savoring the sensation.
https://www.lisabetsarai.com/butterflybook.html
Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today's Book Hooks hop!
5 comments:
Such a realistic image! I felt as if I were there.
Your writing is so sensual and evocative, Lisabet. Great excerpt!
What a cliffhanger! Definitely left me wanting to know what our protagonist does next!
Great excerpt. Your descriptions are always so awesome. I just love how you describe dance, the atmosphere, etc. It really brings me into the piece.
The enticement with the dance pulled her into the dancer's world.
Shalom shalom
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