The Girl With The Eyebrows Has Moves
Phuket, Thailand.
“Why do not you visit tomorrow and I’ll cook you lunch,” she asked, while clearing the empty plates and cleaning down my table.
“I believed tomorrow’s your day off?”
“I mean to my location, not the restaurant. It’s simply a room, but I have a small electrical range that I use on the balcony. I can cook pad krapow moo for you.”
“Maybe,” I stated. “However let’s go get some drinks tonight.”
Residing in Thailand was changing me into a classification of guy that I never ever believed I ‘d be. Though it’s also a classification of man that’s so extremely foreign and ridiculous that it’s become downright interesting for me to observe. I gleefully view myself as if I were viewing some mindless simulation in a video game. What’s he going to do now?! What zany experience will befall him next?!
The category of man that I mention is the kind that chooses up his waitress at a little, al fresco dining establishment next to his fitness center in an alley in Patong, Phuket, and after that sleeps with her.
Though I didn’t suggest to choose her up or sleep with her. We were just making breezy conversation about my preferred Thai dishes and the ones that she was competent at cooking. It was a late afternoon on a Tuesday throughout low season, and so the dining establishment was empty and Phuket was uncharacteristically peaceful. The residents were simple, almost bored, almost unpleasant, and in requirement of social interaction. All of it happened so naturally.
She was my waitress– the only waitress, actually, in that 10-seater joint– in her early twenties with chunky hair, soft functions and fair skin that revealed her Chinese origins. She dressed fashionably in denim black joggers and matching black V-neck, an only bra strap teasingly exposed, with fashionable, tortoise-shell glasses well balanced precariously on the suggestion of her nose. She was assembled well with the exception of her unnaturally thick eyebrows, too arched and balanced, that were apparently made use of with a broad, felt-tip marker, the kind with the excessive fumes. They were too over-the-top to be a mistake, and she was too impeccable otherwise, so I presume they were a new trend that I was uninformed of.
“You’re not from here,” I said. She didn’t fit the profile of the other residents.
“Chiang Mai,” stated Eyebrows. “I’m brand-new, though. 8 months.”
“So how come there’s no great pad krapow moo in Phuket?” I asked her. Pad krapow moo– holy basil pork– was my meal of choice that I would consume every day in Thailand. In some cases two times. Always with a fried egg.
“All the good chefs moved to Bangkok to open restaurants and Phuket’s stuck to the leftovers. The cook here is alright, but I’m much better. He won’t let me touch anything, though. Possibly in a few months.”
“You like to prepare?”
“Hey, I’m from fucking Chiang Mai– I can cook anything!”
Eyebrows had an edge to her that was too audacious for a Thai girl, who are generally meek and reserved while the sun’s still up. I chalked it approximately her living in Patong Beach, where she must be hit on numerous times a day by inebriated, obnoxious foreigners on holiday. (Thankfully, I wasn’t any of these things at this unusual moment.) The joint was empty so she sat and talked while I ate, about her household in Chiang Mai, her uncle’s restaurant that we were sitting at, and how she believes she was embraced due to the fact that she’s a “beach, not mountain, woman.” I finished my pad krapow moo and she cleared the meals.
“Why do not you come over tomorrow and I’ll prepare you lunch?”
Unusual– I never ever received this kind of invitation in the past, particularly from someone in the service market. This must be the deal in Phuket: it’s ordinary for the waitresses to date the customers. This shit wouldn’t fly in Bangkok, or anywhere else in the world.
“Maybe,” I stated. “However let’s go get some beverages tonight.”
Eyebrows got off work at 9pm. I left my motorcycle at my hotel and strolled back to her uncle’s restaurant, in the alleyway next to my gym. She appeared shorter than in the past, but the eyebrows were the very same. We strolled a couple of blocks north to Bangla Road, quite perhaps the most appalling street in all of Southern Thailand (intoxicated tourists, unpleasant touts, thumping and flashing intense lights techno), but we were in the state of mind for live music, and Bangla Road was the place to get it.
We hopped from bar to bar on the primary pedestrian drag, struggling to discover a location that matched our mood. Some locations were too sports-barry, while others were too Russian hookery. Bangla Road has progressed considerably over the previous decade given that I first came here, the most shocking modification being the white backpacker girls who are now handing out leaflets for the Pussy Shows, obviously attempting to fund their extended journey, while their regional teenage bosses lorded over them with 50 baht notes. How the tables have actually turned.
I stayed with shitty mojitos (since there are no excellent mojitos on Bangla) and Eyebrows downed shot after shot of tequila.
“I don’t really like to drink,” she said. “My secret is, I just have 4 or five of these, and after that I’m good for the night.”
“If anyone has four or 5 of those, they benefit the night. That’s a dumb secret,” I stated.
“You’re dumb,” she stated.
So Eyebrows drank her tequila and I consumed my mojitos and we ended up unavoidably intoxicated and inevitably constructing in the corner of that huge beer hall at the entryway of Bangla, the one with the complete stage and live music. There was a Filipino cover band with each band member dressed from a various category: a Bob-Marley lookalike on skins, a stunning goth chick on bass, and a flamboyant, Nonthaburi dating androgynous lead vocalist in a red velour one-piece suit with a cigarette mustache and slicked back hair. He was all over the location, blending popular tunes from Michael Bublé to Beyoncé to YMCA.
Eyebrows took her 6th shot of Cuervo and I changed to San Miguel Light to hydrate.
“What should we do now?” I slurred.
“We can go around the corner to the other bar, or go consume moo ping,” she provided.
“You understand what I wish to do?”
“What?”
“I desire to find a location to lay down with you.”
I chose my words thoroughly so as to not come off creepy, but then came off even creepier than if I had simply stated, Let’s go someplace and fuck. “I want to find a location to put down with you” has a strange, morbid undertone to it, does not it? Like, “I want to set with your still-warm remains …”
“Okay.”
We discussed the logistics: we could not go to my hotel since all guests were prohibited. We were in Patong, Phuket, after all, and hotels didn’t desire the risk of unregistered hookers running around, taking bathroom tissue and stabbing their clients. And Eyebrows resided in a female-only dormitory where guests weren’t enabled after sundown.
“There need to be a love hotel,” she stated. We roamed the blocks surrounding Bangla Road, littered with motels and hotels and hostels, looking for any indicator that they charged hourly rates like in Tokyo. No such luck. We asked the front desk of one of the mid-range hotels, and they gave us a disgusted and suspicious (dispicious?) look and said, Mai mee– sold out! then shooed us out. We hesitated to attempt that again.
“How could you not know of any?” I asked her. “It’s all right that you have actually done this before. I’m great with it.”
“What type of woman do you think I am?” she stated. Well …
“Let’s just go to my hotel,” I said, beat. “I’ll just pay for another guest.”
We went to my hotel and, fortunately, the front desk was unmanned. I quickly ushered Eyebrows to the elevator and we snuck up to my space on the 17th floor, kissing in the elevator and corridors along the method. We swiftly got and undressed into bed where we had common sex up until the end, when Eyebrows needed to carry out an extraordinary ending up relocation in order to activate her own orgasm. We rested and she performed her maneuver as soon as more, with surgical precision and consistency, and we came all at once and strongly, like some fabricated scene in a shitty Hollywood film.
We awakened in the middle of the night, twisted, not understanding where one body ended and the other began. Eyebrows put her clothing on and I bid farewell to her at my door Nonthaburi Dating instead of the lobby.
The next day, I transferred to a hotel in downtown Phuket, far from the traveler neighborhoods and closer to my coworking office. Eyebrows didn’t seem shocked. “Okay, well it was great to meet you,” she messaged.