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A guy named Joe
A Year of Living Dangerously
1976 was the year I lived dangerously. I was with the wire service in Bangkok, and though a little wiser, still young. The Khmer Rouge had taken over next door, and renamed Cambodia a thing called Kampuchea. The head of state was a portly little fellow named Pol Pot. He was a first class asshole, it was widely known, and had taken his model for the new Kampuchea from the French Revolution, and proclaimed the months of his conquest as Year 0.
He introduced something they called agrarian communism. The capital was resettled to the countryside or killed. Phnom Penh shrunk from over 300,000 inhabitants to around 20,000. Those who were suspected of having collaborated with the Americans were executed; the regime went xenophobe. It regarded anyone capable of speaking a foreign language a collaborator or counterrevolutionary. We in Thailand watched thousands of refugees cross the border escape starvation and death.
There were stories every day, even if the editors back home did not care. The troops were not coming back to save anyone. There would be interest when the magnitude of the horror became apparent, but it was not when I was there, when it was happening. Vietnamese intervention in Kampuchea resulted in a continued flow of refugees into Thailand, as well as guerrilla fighters. Granted they were facing out, rather than in, but it was put on the spike back home.
Southeast Asia was so fifteen-minutes ago.
But it suited me at the time.
I was blue for three days after the night with Amazon. My physical woes were mostly mended and I was horny again. And I blush to say that the memory of that incredible cock still floated through my mind at times.
But to love a cock that big would take some work, and some gentleness, to make it right for both lovers, and all I saw in Amazon was unresolved anger. Anger at himself, anger at everyone around him. I decided it might be amphetamines. I actually forgave him for the way he treated me. He had more demons than I did. And if he didn't turn the cheek the way I wanted, well, I was OK and was the wiser for it.
Speed was everywhere it town. It had become popular during the war, and it was cheap. Mellowed the buzz from the Thai Sticks and the alcohol and let a man thrust hard all night. My butt still felt raw from it.
So in the process of forgiving my enormous tormentor, I also decided that the contrast of artificial boobs and the rampant cock was something I couldn't resolve. Noy on the other hand was soft, soft skin and soft cock. But her eyes still glittered. Hang with the whores and you hang with the whores, I decided. Then the note appeared below my door.
It was on a heavy linen note-card. The words were few, and simple. "I am sorry." It was signed "Oy" in delicate calligraphy. I put it down. I was confused and I did not want to think about it. The nice thing about being young is that the libido always comes back.
I was jerking off the third night after the rape. I thought of that giant cock, of course, but I thought about my oldest fantasy. Joe. Joe with the soft sweet eyes, gentle, but I imagined him taut with desire, hard as a rock, spurting over my belly, spurting everywhere. Then melting together.
Funny. I had not seen him since senior year. I wondered, as I drifted off, what had happened to him.
It had been an interesting few months since arriving in Bangkok to report the news. There was plenty of it, and not one seemed to care.
It was comfortable in Bangkok. Thailand had been a vital base for America in the Vietnam War. Thais always supported the winner. That is why the Japanese did not dethrone the King. So Thailand hosted dozens of US bases in the war. But to the west it was different. In 1964 Cambodia received military aid from China; the country severed ties with South Vietnam in 1963. The Viet Minh ran supply lines on the Cambodian side down the Ho Chi Minh trail.
I learned my history because it was my job. In 1967, the communist Khmer Rouge began guerilla warfare against the Cambodian government.
On Feb. 23rd of 190, Tricky Dick approved the 'secret bombing' of Cambodia; on April 30th, he announced that US troops were sent into Cambodia. Just before, on March 18th 1970, General Lon Nol staged a coup, sending Prince Nordodom Sihanouk to a well-heeled exile in the Peopl's Republic of China.
From 1970 to 1973, Cambodia was a sideshow of the real war. In 1975 the Rouge was in, and it was the only war.
Three nights after I got raped I read the note from Oy and decided I needed to get out again. I could not let this thing eat at me any more. I ventured out for a drink after I filed copy for the stateside market. There were disturbing reports coming out of Kampuchea. I had learned to say the name and write it with a straight face. The Khmer Rouge were absolutely unchallenged. There had been an awful sucking vacuum as the US pulled out. Now there was nothing to stop anything. The cops were gone.
This particular story was about refugees who had fled across the Thai Border. I thought I might have to go up there and get an exclusive by-line. On the way home I decided to stop at the Trocadaro Hotel. The hotel had been popular with the R&R crowd, recharging from the war, and it had been on hard times since the bulk of the troops pulled out in 1973 and now, three years later, it was on hard times. It was trying to re-invent itself as a tourist place. It was as resolutely a hetero place as any in town, and I if I did any mental cruising, I wanted it to be with men who were comfortable as men.
I was approaching the bar in the humid darkness. Just as I was about to ask for a cold Amarit beer I heard an all too familiar chanting from the bar to my left. It couldn't be. Amazon was out in the afternoon, and she had apparently been here for some time.
She was a mean drunk. She was yelling at a tourist with a plump face and blonde hair. Amazon had apparently decided she had found a German. It wasn't hard. The Germans were here in a mob, and the Thais loved them because they were a replacement for the soldiers who were not coming back. So what if they were pigs. It doesn't mean they aren't nice people, right?
Amazon had a bar girl on either side of him and he looked like he might have been awake since he raped me. It looked like he was getting ready to hit the German, and he had no idea just how strong Amazon was.
The bartender was a middle-aged Thai who had stopped polishing glasses and turned his attention to the commotion. I should have turned and left, but I'm much smarter now than I was then. I didn't want those poor little girls to get hurt in his rage. I figured I had hurt enough for everyone, the German included. I walked down the bar to get the girls away from him.
Now, he was tall and he had a good reach, even if a lot of it was hair and heels. Just as she was rearing back to let a fist fly at the German on his right, I yelled out "Hi, Amazon! Let me buy you a beer. I forced myself in between the German and the girls on bar stools. It took him a couple of seconds to recognize me and then I got a big wicked smile. He was really high. While this was going on, rather than gratitude the bar girl behind me apparently had been counting on the German for some serious Bhat if he went down, and wanted revenge for the almost punch and tried to smack Amazon on the back of the head with her pocketbook. I managed to lean out fast enough to prevent it.
But here was another lesson in life. The other girl joined in and succeeded in whacking her on the Afro, spilling the beer in her hand.
Things went downhill real fast then when Amazon elbowed the bar girl on his left in the face. The two of them and the German ran out of the bar crying and screaming in Thai. Amazon was fixated on the door where the girls left and I thought it was over. I started to sidle out of the place and put it behind me when the Mamma San came in started screaming at Amazon. It was delicious, watching the little woman yelling upward at her. I should have left right then, but then I saw that she was carrying a large big black fan-shaped pocketbook. She was going to hit Amazon with it and that was not going to go down well.
In less than a second, Amazon turned and delivered a left hook straight to her chops and she fell back on her rather hefty butt with a very surprised look on her face which turned sudden to tears as she got up and fled out of the bar entrance behind her. Amazon's face screwed up in surprise. He must have been really gone. Instead of freaking out, he slumped down onto one of the barstools. Now it is time to go, I thought, and started to walk out and then there was a screaming Thai guy from behind us. Turning around I saw a very Mak-mak Mo-ho Thai in a white shirt, black pants and pointed plastic shoes about eight feet away. But what is really drawing my attention was the .38 jammed in his belt.
I think he got out about two sentences before jerking the gun from his belt, but it may have been three. He stood with his legs apart, the gun cocked, holding it two-handed and shaking like hell.
I stepped off the bar stool and stood in front of Amazon. High and drunk or not he did not deserve to die for whacking a bar girl and this guy did not want to shoot me. I was counting on it. While this is happening all at once - suddenly there is a man standing next to me, shoulder to shoulder, blocking the Thai from having a clean shot at Amazon. He had wiry dark hair and a powerful physique.
I knew him. It was Rick. His katoy mistress Oy had got me into this. He was wearing one of those long formal au dai shirts and was a bit taller than me. I was pleased not to stand there alone. Neither one of us spoke a word to the Thai who then screamed a couple of more sentences and ran out of the bar.
That was it. We took Amazon under the arms and those tits stood up erect even if he couldn't. We put him in a pedicab, and Rick gave some instructions in Thai I could not hear and a fist-full of bhat.
The cab pulled away into traffic and I saw the corona of Amazon's afro slump on the seat.
"Thank-you for your assistance," He said. "It is curious that you intervened, after what happened."
"What is curious is that I am here, and you are here and she was here. What does that mean. You knew? Are you following me?"
"Yes and no. Oy told me she was here and out of control. She asked me to take care of it for her, but unfortunately I was detained at the restaurant or this would not have happened. And as to his treatment of you, Oy was informed when he cooled down the next day. He was quite contrite. He realized he had an opportunity to strike up a relationship with a handsome westerner that could have accommodated his time here and he threw it away." He fished in his shirt pocket for a maroon package trimmed in gold. Dunhills, of course. He lit one and exhaled a blue cloud that mingled with the fumes of the buses. "For what it is worth, this is probably a result of remorse as much as anything."
Handsome, I thought? "He is fucked up, big time. He needs help," I said. "I hoped I would never see him again. Not ever." Handsome? Maybe that accounted for the vibe I felt when I left the restaurant. It seemed like an eternity ago. Three days and a night.
"I don't blame you. Perhaps I can buy you a drink as a small token of my regret. The Oriental is probably a good antidote to this place."
I was impressed. The Oriental had been the best hotel in town for over a century, treating guest and semi-conquerer with great luxury and dignity. I had been to a reception there the month before. The place was British Empire at its zenith. The accommodations and public rooms were supposed to be sumptuous. The sps was reputed to be one of the most beautiful in the world. Dignitaries and distinguished travelers have all followed the Chao Phya river through the heart of the brown ciry to The Oriental.
Now I was going there in a cab, with a restaurateur who served a good steak, and was maybe a spy. And not one of ours. His hair above his brow was crisp, and the gaze of his dark eyes frank.
Like I said, a year of living dangerously.
Copyright 2004 any_mouse2003@yahoo.com