Off Soi 4, Sukhumvit, Bangkok, Monday, February 28, 2005:-

Lalita has the Internet café print a copy of McKay’s picture to take the clairvoyant monk at Wat Tanorn, then logs off. A little overwhelmed by the events of the past few days, she slumps in her chair to think for a moment.

It was her sexual frigidity that was getting her the sack from the go-go bar, before McKay burst into her life. Customers had started to complain. Her technique, pre-McKay, had consisted of apologizing that she was menstruating so would a hand job do for tonight? Usually she got away with it, counting on the customer’s guilt and pity, but some of the old hands had caught on to her and complained to the mamasan. The mamasan, a good Buddhist, had been kind in suggesting that Lalita was just not cut out for this kind of work: why not serve behind the bar? Lalita would dearly have loved to work bar, but there was the problem of her mother’s cataracts - she would be quite blind in three months if Lalita did not pay for the operation, her father’s heart condition, her younger brother’s boarding school fees. Girls who worked behind the bar made three hundred dollars a month, max. Girls who were good at selling their bodies made nearly a thousand dollars a month. Lalita wasn’t making anything like that, but not because she wasn’t attractive. She looked outstanding, everyone said so and at the beginning men had almost lined up for her. Then word got around she loathed sex, which was true. When she couldn’t avoid intercourse she would lay on the bed more or less inert and let him get on with it. Girls like her can make a man impotent, one of her customers had explained in exasperation.

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