I like it hot

It was late, the traffic was light, and the woman drove slowly and carefully. She didn't offer me a helmet and I didn't ask for one, since she hadn't put one on her own head. It was clear that traffic regulations applied here, but nobody seemed to pay them much attention.

We drove for a few minutes, and it seemed to me that we were out of town. I began to wonder if perhaps the “Evil Eye's” colleagues were waiting in the next bushes, ready to demand the valuables I had on me. We stopped. The lady parked the motorbike near some shrubs and told me to follow her. For a second I wondered if it might be better to run away, but decided to take a chance.

Behind the wall of bushes and trees we found a typical Thai bar, well hidden. Several tables were set up in the open air, and some wooden shacks served as a kitchen and buffet. Additional attractions were the trees that grew between the tables and separated this whole business from the street. Soft Thai music played from the hidden speakers quietly, accompanied by the cicadas who made a loud constant noise.

Riding the motorbike helped cool off, but when we pulled up, it was still hot as noon. Out of politeness, I asked my guide if she'd have dinner with me, which had obviously been taken for granted, as she nodded her head without saying a word and led me to a secluded table, away from the buffet.

There were a lot of people in the bar, but the tables were separated by vegetation, and somehow it felt instantly intimate. The lights were dimmed and we sat in twilight. I asked her what her name was.

‘Trata shit’, she said vaguely, ‘but everyone calls me Fanny.’

‘Can you repeat your Thai name?’ I wanted to make sure I had heard it correctly.

‘Chonticha,’ she said slowly, and I thought I'd heard it right this time.

‘Conchita? ‘, I asked again.

‘No!Chon ti cha!’, she laughed aloud. ‘Call me Fanny, it will be easier for you.’

‘And your name means something?’ I inquired, as she looked a bit like an Indian squaw from American Westerns, who usually had names with a meaning. Chonticha thought for a moment, then said something like – ‘the waters are gone’ – and smiled modestly. I decided it was probably just a matter of imperfect English, as that would have been the weirdest name I had ever heard. In any case, it was better than the “Evil Eye” I had originally given her.

A waitress came and lit candles on the table, making it even more romantic. It turned out that the celebration of a Buddhist holiday was not taken literally here, and you could eat and drink at will. I asked about the police, but Fanny just waved her hand and said not to worry. She ordered food, and I just asked that it not be too spicy and without “bugs”, and if a fish, then a fresh one, if possible.

The conversation tended toward her work, and it turned out there was quite a difficult reality behind those nice smiles and bows. She worked from morning till midnight, with a short break during the day. Her boss paid poorly and irregularly, and would pick up on even the slightest mistake by her workers. Fanny lived with her mother, who was already quite advanced in years and hardly ever got out of bed. She had to bathe and feed her mother every day, as she couldn't cope alone. Chonticha shared these responsibilities with two sisters and a nephew, but since she lived with her mother, most of the work fell to her. It seemed she had a difficult life, but she never lost her good mood. She would burst out laughing loudly now and then.

After one of the many beers, I started to wonder how she would go home on her motorbike, although after a whole day of work and a few “Changs” she didn't look drunk at all, let alone tired. She was lively, talked a lot and laughed all the time. But I, for a change, was beginning to feel the effects of the wine I had drunk previously and all the drinks here. It was getting late, and I wondered how to get a taxi here.

‘I'll drive you back,’ Fanny offered.

‘And the police?’ I asked, referring to all the drinks she had consumed.

‘I'm at home here, so nobody's going to stop us. Don't worry about the police,’ she said, clearly amused by my silly question.

Well, I hoped she knew what she was talking about. Let's go then. This time she drove even slower than before. The wind pleasantly chilled us.

I hugged her to keep myself from flying off at the turns, and stupid thoughts started circling my head. I just didn't know how to tell her this, as I'm naturally shy.

It turns out I didn't have to make any effort, as when we arrived at the hotel everything started to happen like in a silent movie. Fanny parked the motorcycle, took my hand, and we went inside. The two young receptionists smiled kindly and didn't pay attention to the fact that I was entering the hotel with a stranger. Apparently, that was the norm here. We passed them silently, smiling back. Ferocious sex without any protection ensued, as I hadn't even had time to think about it – I was pretty drunk, after all.

It was enormously stupid, spontaneous, and surprisingly pleasant.

Later, I took a quick shower and lay down on the couch, watching her lay naked and quietly snoring. She fell asleep in seconds. I looked at her strong, dark body, large breasts, and thick black hair. There was nothing excitingly sexy about her; she wasn't beautiful, but I liked her.