Something Different

Something Different

By Steve Jones

Copyright © 2021 Steve Jones

Smashwords 2nd Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction, all characters, names and events in the book are products of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Something Different

So where did it all begin? I suppose there are many moments when my story may have begun but I guess it really started one night in Bangkok and it began with one brief but unexpected encounter. For a moment there was nothing, only darkness, then the darkness began to fade into a swirling grey mist and slowly I opened my eyes and tried to focus; I had no idea where I was.

Through the small, grey window I could make out a neon light flickering in the dark, in the street below I could hear the familiar, spluttering sound of a passing tuk-tuk; I could have been anywhere in Bangkok. I pulled at my wrists but they were both tied firmly to the corners of the bed, my ankles were secured just as tightly at the other end. The alcohol was beginning to weave its spell and I wanted to go back to sleep but I tried to keep my eyes open. Above me the ceiling fan gently hummed sending waves of air softly over my skin. The bathroom door was slightly ajar allowing a thin shaft of light to cut across the room; inside I could hear the sound of running water.

How did I allow myself to get into this situation, not that I had ever been in a situation like this one before, tied up and naked on a bed in a seedy little hotel room. I tried to remember how I’d got there but once we left the main road, I became lost in the maze of narrow sois. I wanted to go back to my room, but I was in no position to go anywhere. Suddenly the bathroom door opened and there she stood, framed in the light; I tried to lift my head to look. She was quite ample for a Thai woman, the black, leather bodice, bulging at the sides. She held something in her hand but I couldn’t make out what it was. What did she want and why had she brought me here?

When I woke it was daylight. The ceiling fan still gently hummed above me but the flickering neon light was gone and so was the woman. I was still tied to the bed but one hand had been released allowing me to reach the other. My head was still hazy from the night before and I fumbled at the ropes for several minutes before I was able to release myself.

The room was bare except for the bed and a small table. I looked around for my clothes which were scattered on the floor. The first thing I checked was my wallet, thankfully it was still there. I had no idea who the woman was or how to find her again. I dressed and went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. My head groaned as I leaned forward into the sink.

I left the room closing the door behind me; outside was a bare corridor with several other doors. I walked to the end and down a flight of stairs. I had obviously paid for the room the night before because the woman sitting in reception paid no attention as I left.

Outside it was hot, noisy and humid. I needed a shower but first I had to get back to my room. I walked to the end of the soi and flagged down a passing tuk-tuk.

Khao San Road, I told he driver. I didn’t stay in Khao San Road but every tuk-tuk driver in Bangkok knew where it was. I’d moved to the area because it was cheaper, everything was cheaper; cheap rooms, cheap food and cheap beer. My money wasn’t going to last forever, especially at the rate I’d been spending it.

I’d taken a room in a quieter area, down near the river, away from but near enough to all the temptations. It was in an old wooden house on a soi behind the fort. It was a bare little room but it was cheap and if I stood on a chair I could just see the Chao Phraya river from my window. Mr Chai, the owner, was an amiable man who didn’t seem to mind if I came home drunk now and again. It was strange but that little wooden house felt like home; and in any case it was all that I had.

After taking a shower and a change of clothes I went out to get some breakfast. There was little to do in my little wooden room other than look at the painted blue walls and listen to music. I felt as though I knew every nail, every crack and every flake of paint and had listened to every record that I had, one thousand times over.

Although I’d been staying in Banglampu for nearly two months I still had no set routine. In fact I preferred to move around, not wishing to be seen to be too predictable. I liked to think that I was anonymous but I guess the truth was most people knew me and knew that I drank a lot. I stopped at a small restaurant beside the 7-Eleven on Phra Sumen Road and ordered the set breakfast but when it arrived I didn’t really feel hungry. I looked at the little curled up piece of bacon on the plate in front of me, the little red sausage that tasted nothing like a real sausage and poked around with my fork at the rubbery, little egg.

Oh how my life had changed in just two short years. Two years earlier I had been a married man, I won’t say happily married, but at least married. I had a house and a mortgage and a good job. Life seemed so predictable, reassuringly predictable and I had no reason to believe it would ever change. Our relationship was not what it had been but we had never exactly set the sheets on fire. My wife had never shown a great deal of interest in sex and thought erogenous zones had something to do with earthquakes. For sure the ground had never shaken for us; it was strictly the missionary position with the lights off. After I once suggested that we made love on the kitchen table she didn’t speak to me for a week.

You could therefore imagine my surprise when one day she suddenly announced that she was having an affair with a butcher from Huddersfield and was going to have his baby. This was an even bigger surprise because she was a vegetarian. To add insult to injury, told me that she had started eating meat again. I thought of all those sermons she had preached about cruelty to animals and how many times I’d been forced to endure nut cutlets and chilli con tofu. What would she be eating now with her butcher boyfriend? Prime lamb chops produced from sheep raised in the Yorkshire Dales? Premium sausages produced from outdoor reared, Lincolnshire pigs? Thick, juicy steaks produced from prime Aberdeen Angus beef? Certainly nothing like the thing in front of me, I bet.

Such are the peculiarities of the British Legal System that she managed to justify all this on the grounds of my unreasonable behaviour. No doubt I was also to blame for turning her into a carnivore again; having been married for almost ten years I was used to getting the blame. The court awarded her the house although I was allowed to keep the three piece suite and the dining table. A suite and a dining table weren’t much good without a house and so I sold them to a second hand shop for two hundred pounds, a fraction of what they had cost.

When the divorce was finalised I took a room above a fish and chip shop until I could find something more permanent. At least I had my job, I thought, but the company thought differently. Just two weeks after I moved into the flat I was called into the Directors Office and handed a letter; my job had been made redundant. So I had no wife, no house and no job and in short that is how I came to be tied up, naked on a bed in Bangkok.

When I first came to Thailand I had intended to go south to Ko Samui and use some of the redundancy money to take a holiday, but Bangkok had got its claws into me and there was no better place to fall through the net of society. I used cheap sex and cheap beer as an antidote to the divorce but that way of life soon became a downward spiral. I knew I couldn’t carry on that way forever and I needed to get a job but I had no desire to go back to England. In the Bangkok Post there were always jobs advertised for English Teachers but the schools were always somewhere obscure, near the old airport or across the river.

I finished breakfast and ordered a beer, I knew I shouldn’t but somehow it made me feel better. My mind drifted back to the night before and the mysterious woman. I couldn’t be the only man in the world who wanted to try something different or woman for that matter. Not that I could claim to understand the sexual desires of women any more. After my wife ran off with the butcher and renounced vegetarianism I gave up trying. His meat obviously had more appeal.

The mysterious woman had come up to me in a bar, as women often did in Bangkok. They usually asked the same questions, ‘where you come from’, ‘how long you stay in Thailand’? They were really saying, ‘do you want to have sex with me’? This woman was different though, more subtle in her approach. At first she gave the impression that she was disinterested and it took a while before she got onto the subject she had in mind. From what I could remember, she told me she used to have a regular customer who liked to be tied up; she realised that this was something of a niche market. It may sound a little odd but I’m sure many men have had fantasies about being dominated by a sex craved mistress; it’s just not the sort of thing you discuss with your friends down the pub. I’d never done anything like it before but I was interested to try. I’d often been dominated by my-ex wife, but for her, the aim was humiliation rather than for any sexual pleasure on my behalf. I could just imagine what she would have said if I’d asked to be tied up on the bed; I would have been sleeping on the sofa for the next month. This was the first time I’d met a woman who wanted to do something different and I’d been too drunk and too paranoid to enjoy it; I’d also been too drunk to remember it

I took another gulp of beer and topped up the glass. I once heard about a man who had an outfit made, so he could dress up like a pantomime dog and walk around on all fours. His wife used to take him out for walks in the park and when they got home made him sit in a kennel. Every time they passed a lamppost or a tree she made him cock his leg and if he didn’t, she would hit him with the lead. They obviously didn’t care what other people thought or perhaps that was what turned them on. I wondered what sort of sex life the couple had; did he get on top of her or did she mount him, doggy style?

Just what had gone on during those dark hours of drink induced oblivion? What had that mysterious woman done to me, whatever it was I had obviously paid for it, although I had no idea how much. I don’t suppose something different came cheap and I bet she made a good living from it. I tried hard to remember; through the grey mist I saw two large buttocks hovering over me, I could sense the stinging whip but it was all very vague and I couldn’t tell which was real or imagined.

An idea suddenly came to mind. Some of the greatest ideas come in an unexpected flash of inspiration as it did for Archimedes in his bathtub and Newton when the apple fell from the tree but I didn’t think my idea would be regarded as quite so profound. I took another gulp of beer and thought about it. I was fast running out of money and somehow I was going to have to earn a living.

Chapter 2

The Mysterious Woman

You could always rely on Aussie Bill to be propping up the same bar every lunchtime. He was a large man with a red face and a large round stomach which betrayed his favourite pastime. Bill used to run a backpackers hostel in Sydney but he had sold out, packed his own bags and now lived off the proceeds. He had intended to open a bar in Bangkok but had decided there was no money in it, not least because he would probably drink all the profits.

How’s it goin’ mate? Without asking Bill ordered another beer and placed it on the bar in front of me.

Bit of a heavy night last night Bill, I told him.

Tell me about it.

It was just an expression which was just as well. I had no desire to tell him that I’d been tied up, naked, by a strange woman. We passed the usual pleasantries, discussed the weather which was always the same, where we had been which were usually the same places and what we planned to do which was usually very little. I wanted to find out Bill’s opinion about my idea but it wasn’t an easy subject to bring into the conversation. Do you every fancy being tied up and spanked Bill, or maybe dressing up as a French Maid? As I looked at Bill bursting out of his shirt, with sweat pouring down his face it was difficult to imagine him dressed as a French Maid but I needed to ask.

Do you ever fancy trying something different Bill?

What do you mean, like that Leo Beer?

No, I mean girls, don’t you ever get fed up with the same old bum, bum?

The day I get fed up with that is the day they put me in a box.

I mean don’t you ever fancy trying something really different?

Bill put his glass down and looked at me warily, I hope you are not going queer on me?

No, I mean something different with a woman.

Bill picked up his glass, took a large gulp of beer and then put it down on the bar again.

I remember the last fella I heard about who fancied something different. A Kiwi guy he was who’d only been in Bangkok for a couple of weeks. He met a Shelia in a bar on Sukhumvit Road, bought her a few beers, got on like a house on fire. He couldn’t believe his luck, only been in Thailand for a couple of weeks and now he’s got this Shelia all over him. End of the evening she invites him back to her place, even better.

Bill’s eyes began to bulge as he got into the story. He took another gulp of beer and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

So she takes him in a tuk-tuk to a little hotel somewhere down the back streets, no idea where he is but he doesn’t care, this sounded strangely familiar. When they get to the room she says she wants to do something special for him and wants to tie him to the bed. Did you ever hear anything like it eh? Would you let a Thai woman tie you to a bed? I shook my head vigorously as though it was a ridiculous idea.

Bill became more intense and more serious as he continued; he was so engrossed in the story that he forgot all about his beer which sat getting warm on the bar.

So she undresses the guy and then ties him face down on the bed. The Kiwi fella is lying there like a dog with two dicks lapping it up, he can’t wait to find out what she’s going to do. When she’s finished, the Shelia jumps off the bed and stands back. Suddenly the wardrobe doors burst open and one of those lady boys jumps out dressed as Batman. Before he can say ‘cock robin’ he’s got the caped crusader stuck up his backside.

I cringed at the thought; maybe I had a lucky escape the night before.

What did he do?

What could he do, he was tied to the bed and he’d got Batman on top of him? Gave him a right good poking and the Shelia is stood there cheering him on. By the time the caped crusader had finished the poor fella needed stitches. Just imagine going into casualty and having to tell the nurse you need your rectum sewing up? Talk about embarrassment. I heard the fella has a panic attack now every time a Batman movie comes on TV. Bill suddenly remembered his beer and lifted the glass from the bar.

If somebody could get turned on by dressing up as a dog I was sure there must be somebody out there who could enjoy having sex with Batman. I doubted Bill would understand and thought it best to keep the idea to myself. I wanted to find out more but after my experience with Bill I decided personal interviews weren’t such a good idea. After all, if I asked too many questions about people’s sexual preferences, I’d either get a reputation or a black eye or maybe both.

I decided to try the Internet to learn more but finding somewhere discreet was a problem. The places around Khao San Road tended to be quite open and anyone could see what you were doing, which in most cases was simply e-mail or posting photos of last night’s Pad Thai dinner on social media. Eventually I found an Internet Café in a shopping mall, which was quiet early in the morning and I took a seat at computer number twelve which was furthest away from the girl sat at the till. The first word I tried was ‘sex’ but the response was overwhelming with over thirty million hits. I needed to refine my search and so the next word I tried was ‘kinky’. The result was not quite what I had been looking for but never the less made for some interesting reading. In particular there was an article about a farmer’s wife who was divorcing her husband on the grounds that he was having an affair with a sheep. According to the article she claimed her husband had bought expensive lingerie and other gifts for the animal. She told the court that her husband hadn’t bought her any new clothes in the last five years and the sheep was now better dressed than she was. In the newspaper they had printed an artist’s impression of the sheep wearing stockings and a suspender belt.

The next word I tried was ‘bondage’ and this time the results were more promising. Searching by image produced even more interesting results. I continued changing the words and each time the Internet threw up more sites. I thought I was quite open-minded but I had to admit I was quite surprised by some of the things I saw and the things people liked to do. I was so engrossed in my research that I didn’t notice the two young women who came up behind me. When I did, I quickly tried to close the web page but much to my shock every time I tried to close one page another embarrassing page suddenly appeared. I kept clicking on delete but the pages came faster and faster; I frantically tried to close them all but the sites kept coming. Eventually I hit the mains switch and the screen went blank. I turned around with my arms open and pleaded innocently, mains failure.

The rest of the computers in the room continued to show the home page and the girl on the till came walking down the room to see what had happened. I could feel the two young women looking over my shoulder. The girl flicked the mains switch and rebooted the computer while I pushed back my chair and waited. She typed in the password and soon the picture of a naked girl and a donkey with the biggest erection I had ever seen, appeared on the screen. I opened my arms again in a forlorn gesture of innocence, paid the fifty Baht and left.

I really needed to find that mysterious woman again, she was the key. I’d met her in a bar somewhere near Nana but I didn’t get the impression she worked there, more of a freelancer who drifted around in search of business. With no other clues to go on it was the only place to start and so the next night I went back there. The Lucky Bar was open to the street, the sort of place where people could come and go almost unnoticed. It was the sort of place I preferred to drink rather than a dark room behind a closed door or a gaudy strip curtain. You could see what you were getting for your money and what you might be getting into.

It was a Monday night and the place was quiet. There were two or three girls hanging around the bar but there was no sign of the mysterious woman. I suppose it was too much to hope I might find her that easily and so I sat down and ordered a Beer Chang. I didn’t come to this area of Bangkok very often, it was the sort of place the two week package tourists came in search of the nightlife they’d heard so much about. The drinks were twice as expensive as other places but I would go there now and again just for a change of scene. At least the prices slowed down my drinking.

After a while a slightly overweight man came and sat down on the stool beside me. His bright, flowery pattern shirt was stained with sweat. After ordering a beer he turned around and held out his hand.

Hi, I’m Mike. From the accent, the shirt and the introduction he was obviously American although I had no idea which part he was from. It didn’t take long for Mike to tell me. Mike was a real estate salesman from Chicago, he was divorced from his wife Nancy who was now married to a musician and living in Denver. Mike had hit his sales target for the last four years in a row, the only salesman in the company to achieve this feat, and so had decided to take a well-deserved holiday. After ten minutes with Mike I felt that I knew his life story. All Mike knew about me was that my name was Steve.

I once met a British guy in New York, called Steve, Mike continued to tell me, came from a little place, don’t suppose you’ve heard of it, called Wales. Strange thing was, he didn’t like to be called British.

Mike was about to tell me how he had managed to hit his sales target for the last four years in a row when a girl walked up and stood beside us at the bar. She looked over her shoulder and gave a little smile. Mike turned to me and grinned.

Want to see a real salesman in action, watch this?

I couldn’t help but think Mike was not going to be the one doing the selling this time. Hey, why don’t you sit down and join us for a drink.

The girl sat down on the stool beside Mike and gave him another little smile. She was unusually tall for a Thai girl, quite slim and with a little too much make up for my taste.

My name is Mike and I’m from the US of A. He held out his