IBO - Brian R. Lundin (100 books to read in a lifetime .txt) 📗

dancer Monique will be on shortly, enjoy the show,” Suelee said and waived to another young Asian woman carrying a tray and had dollar bills between her fingers. The room was crowded, noisy and smoky with old and young men, some in suits and ties, and some more casually dressed. The room had full-length mirrors on the side and rear walls. A long bar ran alone the left side of the room and cut into the wall in the back was a shimmering curtain and a stage with a runway that extended into the center of the room that took up the front wall.
A large circular bar surrounded the runway and lighted by track lights that ran along its sides. A bright light focused from the ceiling to an over-weigh Asian comic who was telling nasty jokes.
“We want Monique, we want Monique,” the crowd starting yelling.
The comic tried to continue his routine but the yelling drowned his voice out. The crowd was getting rowdy and booed the comic and his stale jokes. He gave the crowd the finger and walked off the runway. For a moment the crowd quieted down when the lights dimmed and a husky voice announced, “Monique is coming.”
However, as the minutes ticked by and Monique failed to appear the crowd became impatience and started yelling again. When the crowd seemed to be ready to riot there was a drum roll and the runway became completely dark. When the lights came on there was a beautiful Asian woman standing on the runway with her arms stretched skywards. She had glossy black hair long and thick, large brown eyes with lush eyelashes and high cheekbones, which saved her face from roundness and gave it shape, an arched nose gracefully arrogant and a full mouth with even white teeth.
Her body was all smooth curves, but because she was tall, she did not look plump. She was dressed in a gold and white toga and her body was covered with a white glittering powder. The music began drums and a flute and she started to move. Malik and Pops moved their chairs closer to the stage. She jerked her hips slowly, stamping one foot and then the other. Her arms began to tremble, her shoulder moved, her breast shook, and then her flat belly began to move hypnotically as the rhythm quicken, she closed her eyes, as each part of her body seemed to move independently of the rest. Each men in the audience felt that he was alone with her, embracing her, making love to her and her dance was just for him and this was not an act, not a bit of show business wizardry but that her sensual gyrations were compulsive, that she did it because she had to, she was driven to a sexual frenzy by her own voluptuous body. The audience was tense, silent, perspiring, mesmerized. She started wrapping herself around a pole on the runway in time to the beat of the drum. Her perfect right thigh was arched around the pole and the lower part of her body was embracing the rigid pole. With a sudden motion, she slowly and seductively started taking off the toga. Monique unwrapped herself from the pole turned her back to the audience and took off the toga. As the toga fell to the floor, she twisted the muscles in the cheeks of her behind, which caused the crowd to hoot and clap. When she turned around, she was very naked. In time with the beating drum and flute, she slowly walked to the front of the runway. She walked in front of a group of older men and began twisting and bending over and shaking her large breast in their faces. There a glittering substance over her public area and it illuminated when hit by the spotlight.
The men began clapping louder and some of them began slipping dollar bills into a white garter that had a rose attached on her thigh. She worked the crowd giving the tipping men a big smile and an extra gyration. Malik noticed five white men who looked American and drunk howling at the girl and calling her over to where they were sitting around the bar. One of the men who were red-faced and drunk got up from his seat and started dancing. He staggered a couple of times and his friends laughed. As the dancer approached the group the dancing man tried to grab her leg, still smiling the dancer moved farther back on the runway. The drunken man tried to pull his way upon the runway, which was about four feet off the floor and slipped hitting his head hard on the bar. Embarrassed he begins cursing and calling the dancer names. As his friends tried to calm him down the man threw a glass at the dancer barely missing her. The dancer retreated off the runway and was replaced by three big Asian men; three other men had now approached the area of the bar where the men were sitting. They helped the man off the floor and led him to the door as his companions joined him. In a moment, the dancer returned and continued her performance as if nothing had happened. The lights dimmed again, the music stopped and when the lights came on, she was gone. The audience clapped loudly and Malik and Pops joined in.
“Man oh man. That was some act,” Pops said.
“Yep sure was except for that horny ass holes who tried to grab her. Guess that’s why we are considered the “Ugly American,” Malik said
“Wonder what is all that glitter shit on her pussy?” Pops asked.
“Shit if I know,” Malik answered.
Shortly a very dark skinned young woman came over to their table. She had long silky black hair and dark brown eyes. She was wearing a low cut orange silk negligee that revealed her ample bosom, black high heel shoes and dark fishnet stocking. As she placed the napkins on their table purposely showing them her generous cleavage the fragrance of the Guerlain perfume she was wearing was over powering, she smiled, she looked black but there was something different about her.
“May I take your order?” she said in a sensuous whisper and assumed a lascivious pose.
She had an English accent, with a hint of something else.
“Two beers,” Malik said.
“What is all that glitter on the dancer?” Pops asked pointing at the dancer.
Without looking up at the dancer and with no hesitation or embarrassment she said, “That’s pussy dust.”
“Pussy dust,” Pops said smiling.
“The customers love it, it sparkles in the dark and twinkle in the light,” she said.
“That’s some act,” Malik said.
Smiling and showing perfectly white teeth, she continued, “I have heard some of the men get into trouble when they get home, because the dancers also give lap dances and the dust can get off and on the man’s pants right at the crouch. They could have a hard time explaining that to the little wife at home.”
They all laughed as she walked away.
At exactly six o’clock they got a call from the desk, it was Xaon.
“Your car has arrived Mr. Johnson.”
Malik told Pops about the call and they looked at each other.
“Our car?” they said in unison.
Malik and Pops caught the private elevator and went to the lobby. Standing at the desk was Askido looking radiant.
“Was everything all right at your hotel?” Askido asked. “Yes it’s very nice,” Malik said.
“We’re going to meet Morressy at the restaurant in a couple of hours, so I Thought you might enjoy a tour of the city and a little of its history.”
“That would be great,” Malik said as they entered the limousine.
The “car,” was a black stretch Cadillac limo with a uniformed driver, who Askido introduced as Wanthree. Pops and Malik sat on the large rear seat and Askido sat on the jump seat facing them. She was wearing a short black mini-skirt and black boots. Malik had to avert his eyes, as he was tempted to peek under her dress. Seemingly sensing this she crossed her legs as she passed Pops and Malik a martini and said,
“Morressy tells me that you just graduated from Harvard, very impressive.”
“Yes I did.” Malik responded.
As they drove, they saw several monks wearing orange saffron robes walking slowly down the street. Askido instructed the driver to pull over and park and they watched.
“Most Thais are Buddhist and the monks are making their morning merit. The monks who vow to live a life of poverty depend on the generosity of the people to sustain them. As you can see some of the people are giving them food and water and others are giving them money. Buddhism does not require the faithful to attend the temple every Sunday like some of the Christian religion do, most Buddhist go only on religious holidays or when they need to consult a monk about a problem or serious decision they have to make. At the temple, they may pray or merely meditate in front of the Buddha.
“Who’s that,” Pops asked.
“The Buddha is known as the enlightened one. Buddhist applies the name to a person regarded as embodying divine wisdom and virtue. Siddhartha Gautama, a religious philosopher and teacher who lived in India some 500 years before Christ and was the founder of the religion.”
“I don’t know that much about Buddhism, what is it all about, do they believe in heaven or hell?” Pops asked.
“Not in the Christian sense, they believe in the truth of Dukkha. That is all forms of existence are subject to dukkha, which means disease, unsatisfactoriness, stress and imperfection and Dukkha is caused by tanha or desire. One can eliminate the cause of dukkha, which is desire, by following the Atthangika-Magga, or Eightfold Path, which is essentially the right way to live one’s life. I guess it would be similar to the Ten Commandments in the Christian Bible. If one follows the Eightfold Path that leads to right thinking and self-denial it will enable the soul to reach the Nirvana a divine state of release from misdirected desire, and upon their death they will be hurled by a thunderbolt into a state of enlightenment forever.”
“That’s some powerful shit,” Pops said.
After the monks had passed, they continued.

“Bangkok has a tropical monsoon climate and it has been called the world hottest city, even in your winter months, here it is always warm and sunny. Bangkok was once a fishing village on the Chao Praya River and it means the city of wild olives or groves of olives. Waterways were the chief means of transportation until the mid to late 19th Century when the Kings Rama IV and V began a lot of construction projects which included roads and building, which was the beginning of making Bangkok a modern city.”
“Where to now?” Malik asked.
“The Grand Palace,” Askido answered.
The driver turned onto Na Phra Lan road and parked in front of a large compound surrounded by high white walls, gate, and occupied an area