Stephen Leather - Confessions of a Bangkok Private Eye - True Stories From the Case Files of Warren Olson

I lay down on the massage table while she went to work on me. She had strong fingers and knew what she was doing. In between grunts and groans I chatted away in Thai. I started by telling her that I had a sore back because I’d been driving my wife and daughter to Nong Khai and back, and it was easy to go from there to asking her about her family.

She told me that she had a four-year-old son-something that Derek wasn’t aware of-and that he was being cared for by her parents in Sisaket. Her Thai husband had run off when the baby was born and hadn’t been heard of since. She had to work to support her son and her parents and she made a reasonably good living doing massage. The boss of the shop gave her half of the fee, plus she got to keep all the tips. Most of the customers were farangs, and generally farangs are better tippers than Thais, she said.

It was easy to start chatting about farangs, and I suggested that she wouldn’t have a problem finding a Westerner to take care of her. She laughed. I asked her if she had any special farang friends and she said that there was an American that she liked but there was no mention of an Australian and certainly no mention of Derek. As we got towards the end of the massage I asked her if there were any extras on the menu and she just laughed and suggested I try one of the soapy massage parlours. ‘They have girls there that can take care of you,’ she said, ‘I am sorry but I cannot.’ Fair enough, I thought.

After an hour of pinching and pummelling I tipped her handsomely and went home. I emailed a report to Derek, saying that she wasn’t going with customers, and was doing nothing more than regular therapeutic massages. I pointed out that she had a son, and that she hadn’t mentioned him.

He emailed me back within minutes so he must have been online. He asked me if I was sure. He phoned her every day and she always said that she loved him. She sent him several texts a day proclaiming her love. Derek suggested that perhaps I’d got the wrong girl so he wanted me to go back and get another massage and for me to tape the conversation. He offered to pay me another day’s retainer. I figured he was throwing good money after bad, and I was aching so much after the first massage that I was tempted to pass, but my rent was due so I told him to transfer the money and I’d go back the following day.

A good night’s sleep had actually made my muscles ache even more but a promise was a promise so that afternoon I turned up at the massage place and asked for another rub down from Miss Wanna. She was surprised to see me lying on the table in my baggy jacket and pants, but I told her that she’d done such a good job on my back that I’d come back for round two. What she didn’t know was that I’d put a tape recorder in the pocket of my jeans that were hanging on a peg by the end of the table.

I had arranged with Derek to send her a text while she was working on me. I chatted away, wincing as her fingers bit into my aching muscles. After twenty minutes of torture, her mobile phone beeped. She seemed happy enough to ignore it, but I said that she should see who it was as it might be a ‘special’ farang. She laughed and checked her phone.

She read the text and I asked her again if it was from her ‘special’ farang. She shook her head and said that she was still waiting to meet someone special.

‘So who was that from?’ I asked.

‘An Australian guy,’ she said. ‘He texts me all the time.’

‘What does he say?’ I asked. ‘Does he say he loves you?’

‘Sure,’ she said.

‘And what about you?’ I asked. ‘Do you say you love him?’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘He is a nice man. I don’t want to make him sad and he bought me this gold bracelet.’ She held up her right arm and showed me an expensive bracelet on her wrist. ‘He gives me money, too. All the time. I say “I love you” very loudly, but then I add very quietly “the same as I love my father”. Which is the truth.’

I felt a bit sorry for Derek then, because no guy wants to hear the love of his life saying that she loves him the same as a father. He hadn’t told me how old he was but I figured he was probably in his fifties. To be honest, that’s one of the major reasons that Thai-farang relationships end in tears. The guys are generally much older than the girls they fall for, and in a way it serves them right. Does any fifty year old guy really believe that a twenty-five-year old is going to think that he is God’s gift to women? It’s about money and security, which is what ninety per cent of Thai women want. They want someone to take care of them and their families. And if they have to tell the odd white lie to get that money and security, then they will.

Anyway, I had what I wanted on tape. Wanna went back to kneading my back and by the end of the hour I was in agony. I showered and dressed and limped home. I sent the cassette tape to Derek in Dubai and never heard from him again.

Wanna was a nice enough girl, and genuine in her way. She wanted enough money to build a house for herself and her boy in Sisaket, and maybe one day she would find a man that she would love. But Derek wasn’t that man, and he’d just have to accept that. The beauty of Thailand is that there are plenty more fish in the sea. The drawback, of course, is that there are a fair amount of sharks, too.

The next day, I got another email from a guy in Canada who’d also fallen for the charms of a massage girl. Rick had met Vee in a traditional Thai massage place of Sukhumvit Road while he was on holiday six months earlier. He’d fallen for her hard and had been back twice since. Miss Vee was twenty-nine and had never been married and from the picture he sent me she had the most amazing pair of breasts. I could see the attraction. On his last trip he’d offered to support Vee and told her that she could stop work. He’d started to send her money, but wanted me to check that she was keeping to her end of the deal. I thought he was crazy. In fact, I think anyone who offers to support a girl that he’s met on holiday needs his head examining. I reckon there must be something in the water in Thailand that makes farangs act irrationally. Would a Canadian go to America on holiday and pay a waitress to stop work? Would he hell. Anyway, I wasn’t being paid to tell Rick that he was crazy. He wanted to pay me to check up on the lovely Miss Vee and I was more than happy to take his money. Normally I’d be right on the case, but the problem was that the last two massages courtesy of Miss Wanna had left me aching all over and I really couldn’t face another.

I phoned the parlour where Miss Vee worked and confirmed that they did hotel visits, which is usually a sign that there’s more than just regular massages going on. I asked if Miss Vee was available and was told she was. I said I’d call back to confirm a booking. I headed for Gulliver’s in Soi 5, one of my regular watering holes. The barmaid pulled my bottle of Jack Daniels off the shelf as soon as she saw me walk in. It was early afternoon but I needed something to kill the pain. I looked around and smiled when I saw that my timing was perfect. Sitting on the far side of the bar was ‘Aussie’ Andy, a former helicopter pilot from Brisbane. I asked him if he had a couple of hours to kill which was a pointless question because he was retired and did little more than hang around bars and pick up attractive women. I said I’d pay for the hotel room and the massage. He wanted the Oriental but I told him he’d have to settle for the Miami Hotel in Soi 13 which would only cost 500 baht and which was just around the corner from Miss Vee’s place of work.

I took Aussie Andy around to the hotel, booked him in, then called the parlour and arranged for Miss Vee. The fee would be 300 baht for a one-hour massage, I was told, payable in advance. Then I headed back to Gulliver’s. I wished I was as sure of the next Grand National winner as I was of Miss Vee asking for more money for ‘extras’.