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!
