The next night, Kieran picks you up on his scooter, weaving through Bangkok's neon arteries.Street vendors wave skewers dripping with hot fat, girls in short skirts squeal across zebra crossings. The air smells like chili, exhaust, sweat, and money.
You stop in a quiet soi near Thong Lor.The sign is tiny — just a black lantern above a dark wood door.
Inside, it's hushed.No pounding EDM, no drunk backpackers.Instead: deep leather booths, low jazz, private shadows. Soft golden lights flicker off glasses of whiskey.
It's classy. But you can feel the rot underneath.Kieran knows the bartender. Hands are shaken, low Thai exchanged. Then he leans close.
"They keep a few special girls here. They'll come to us if we look interested. Just… act like you belong."
It's almost comical how beautiful she is.
Tall — taller than most Thais by a head — with long black hair in loose waves, skin a warm gold, legs that don't quit even under the modest slip dress she wears.Her eyes sweep the room. They land on you, and a small smile curves her lips.
She saunters over, perches on the arm of your booth. One delicate hand rests on your shoulder. The other sets a glass of something clear on the table.
"You new here," she says. Not a question.Her English is soft, accented, teasing.She leans closer. Her perfume is sandalwood and citrus. Her cleavage dips forward, just enough for you to see the soft inner curve of her tits.
"Name's Mew. Like the cat sound."She giggles. Her hand slides down your chest, stops right over your heart."You want company tonight, handsome foreigner?"
Kieran mutters something about checking on a friend. He's gone.It's just you and her.
You lean back, pull out your pack. Light a cigarette. Watch her through the smoke.She tilts her head, eyes dancing, like she's waiting for instructions.
"Stand up," you tell her.She does, graceful as poured syrup.
"Turn around."
She spins slowly, letting her hair spill over one shoulder. Her ass is round, soft under the thin slip dress. You exhale smoke, watch it swirl around her.
"Now take it off."
A little shiver runs through her.Then she pulls the straps down, lets the dress slide to the floor. She's bare underneath — no bra, no panties, just warm golden skin, nipples dark and tight, a small shy tuft between her thighs.
She stands there, naked, while you smoke. Your cock is already hard, pressing against your zipper.
"Beautiful," you say.She bites her lip, eyes sparkling. "And you… dangerous."
She sinks to her knees without being told.Her hands are warm on your thighs as she opens your pants, pulls your cock free. Her sigh is almost reverent.
"Ohhh… big," she whispers, licking her lips. "Want to taste you…"
Her tongue flicks out, runs along your length, wet and hot. Then she sucks just the tip, swirling it in her mouth with a little hum that vibrates straight through you.
"Good girl," you growl.She moans around you. The vibrations make your hips jerk.
She starts to work you in earnest — slow bobs, saliva dripping down to her hand, slicking everything. Her other hand cups your balls, squeezes gently.You take another drag, exhale it right over her head. She looks up, eyes wide and glossy, mouth stuffed full of you.
When she pulls off, a string of spit still connects you.
"You taste so dirty," she pants. "More… please fuck my mouth."
You oblige. Grip her hair tight, use her throat.She gags once, twice, then relaxes her jaw. Lets you slide all the way in until her nose presses your belly. Her throat clenches, and a tear slips down her cheek.
"God, look at you. Bangkok slut already."
She moans around you, eyes rolling up. Her hand is between her own thighs, fingers moving quick. She's getting off on choking on your cock.
You pull out, smear her spit across her cheek with your thumb.Then you stand, haul her up, spin her around so her hands brace the back of the booth.
"Legs apart."
She obeys instantly. Her ass pushes out, pussy glistening.
You line up, sink in with one hard thrust.She cries out, fingers clawing the leather. Her pussy clenches around you, hot and soaked.
"Ahh— so big— oh my god—"
You fuck her slow at first, savoring the tight slide, the way her walls flutter every time you bottom out.She whimpers, head dropping forward, hair hiding her face.
"Say who you belong to."
"You— you, foreigner— ohh fuck— please—"
You pick up the pace. Harder. The sound of your hips slapping her ass echoes in the low-lit bar.A couple across the room watches openly. The girl there has her hand down the man's pants.
Mew looks over her shoulder, mouth open, eyes feverish.
"They… they watching… oh fuck, I'm so wet—"
You reach around, rub her clit. Her whole body jerks. She clamps down so tight you have to grit your teeth.
"Come for me," you growl.
She shatters — her scream muffled by biting her own wrist, legs trembling. Her pussy milks your cock, and you thrust through it, chasing your own edge.
When you come, you bury yourself deep, groaning, filling her up.She moans, pushes back, greedy for every pulse.
You both slump into the booth.Her head on your chest, your hand in her hair. Her thighs still twitch now and then.
"You come back here again," she murmurs, eyes heavy."I'll give you even more. Bring my friend. We both suck you together, yes?"
You grin.Bangkok is everything they warned you about — and more.
When you step outside, Mew's number in your phone, your cock still sticky, Kieran is waiting by the scooters.
He smirks. "Told you this city's dangerous."
You light another cigarette."Where's the party tomorrow?"
He grins wide. "Penthouse off Wireless Road. Thai elites, Korean heiresses, spoiled trust-fund brats. Exactly your style."
Your pulse jumps.Bangkok isn't done with you yet. Not even close.