the third sex

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I couldn’t resist it.

I have just had out-of-town friends staying here in Bangkok. These are a lady in late middle age, and her 30-year-old daughter. Both thoroughly nice, respectable British people who know nothing much about Bangkok’s seamier side, never having been here before. I took them round some of the usual tourist places, and then a couple of evenings ago suggested a dinner in Patpong, a tour of the night market, and a couple of drinks at a music bar.

During our stroll through the night market, they glimpsed through open doorways some of the action going on in a couple of girlie go-go bars. During the visit to the music bar, they voiced an interest in a closer look at the go-go, so I took them into King’s Castle 1 and we sat down and they were gobsmacked at the beauty of the girls and at, as I carefully explained to them, the fact that any punter could take any of the girls he wanted. But they were far from horrified, and they enjoyed the visit.

As we sat there, I weighed up in my mind the likely consequences of what I planned to do next. Either they would be disgusted, or they would be intrigued. Either way, it would make a good story for them when they got back home.

So without any explanation beyond saying there was somewhere else I thought they should see, I took them across the way and into KC3, Patpong’s premier ladyboy bar. We sat down and ordered drinks. “What do you think of the girls in this place?” I asked casually.

The two ladies looked. “Beautiful, the same as in the other bar,” they said.

“Well,” I said, savouring the moment. “There isn’t a single girl here. These are all boys. Or, to be more precise, ladyboys.”

For a moment, I really was afraid they would topple off their bar stools, as they craned their heads upwards at the girls dancing on the little stage that is in the centre of the bar. There were about a dozen ladyboys dancing, with of course many more around the bar. The place was pretty full with customers. It was a good night in KC3.

“Goodness me!” they chorused. And from then on, the two ladies were utterly fascinated. It certainly is going to be a story they will be telling for a long time after they return to England.

But they were intrigued, and not at all put out by the experience. “How do you tell them apart from real girls?” they asked.

“That’s easy,” I replied. “The ladyboys are the most beautiful. The others are just girls.”

Of course, they never did find out my preference for ladyboys. I was afraid that some of the girls in KC3 might make it obvious that they knew me, as I have seen a good many of them with their pants down, but they behaved almost demurely. For a change.