Nok and Chompu

The heat clung to Richie like a second skin as he stepped out of the taxi onto Sukhumvit Road, the neon glow of Bangkok’s nightlife pulsing around him. He’d come to Thailand for the chaos, the freedom—the kind of anonymity that let a man reinvent himself. At 42, he was no wide-eyed backpacker, but the city still thrummed with possibilities, each alleyway a promise, every glance from a pair of dark, kohl-rimmed eyes an invitation.

He hadn’t planned on falling into the arms of the bar girls. Not at first. But then, he hadn’t planned on Nok or Chompu, and certainly not Nok AND Chompu! 

Chompu 1

She was waiting for him at Sugar Moon, a dimly lit club where the air smelled of jasmine and spilled whiskey. Nineteen, with a laugh like wind chimes and a body that moved like she’d been born to it. Her English was halting, but her hands were fluent—brushing his thigh under the table, tracing the rim of his glass with a fingertip. “You handsome man,” she murmured, and Richie, flattered, let himself believe it.

Her friend Chompu seemed quieter, more intense. Where Nok was all soft curves and giggles, Chompu watched him with a gaze that cut. She spoke better English, enough to tease him. “You butterfly,” she said once, smirking as Nok clung to his arm. “Fly from flower to flower, na?” He’d laughed, not understanding the edge in her voice.

 The three of them tumbled into the night, ending up in his hotel room. Nok straddled him, her hair tickling his chest, but his eyes kept drifting to Chompu. She was a few months younger, still 18 she’d said with a proud tilt of her chin—and thinner, fragile almost. But there was a fire in her that Nok lacked, a spark that drew him in.

Nok 1

He reached for her, but she slid away, landing on the bed beside him with a laugh. “Not so fast, farang,” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Nok first.”

 Nok’s hands were on his belt, but Richie’s attention was on Chompu. On the way her hipbones jutted out, sharp and inviting. On the curve of her waist, the dip of her collarbone. She noticed, and he saw the triumph in her eyes. She was used to being overlooked for Nok, he realized later. This was her game, her way of taking control.

Chompu reached out, her fingers trailing down his chest. “She’s too slow,” she teased, shooting Nok a look. “Let me show you what a real Thai girl can do.”

 Nok pouted, but she moved aside, letting Chompu take her place. Her hands were smaller, her touch more precise. When she kissed him, it was hard, demanding, and when she straddled him, there was none of Nok’s playful hesitation. She rode him with a focused intensity, her eyes never leaving his face.

Chompu 2

After, they curled around him, Nok soft and drowsy, Chompu alert, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin. “You stay with us tonight, na?” she said, and though he’d planned to explore the city, he agreed. There was something about her that intrigued him—something he wanted to understand.

He woke in the early hours to find Chompu watching him, her face lit by the glow of her phone. “What are you doing?” he mumbled, and she smiled.

“Looking at you,” she said. “You sleep like a baby.” 

He shifted, aware of her gaze on him. In the dim light, she seemed younger, almost vulnerable. “What do you want from me, Chompu?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I want you to be happy. To enjoy your holiday.” Her fingers traced his jaw. “To remember us when you go home.”

“And Nok?” he asked, glancing at the sleeping girl beside him. “What does she want?”

Chompu’s smile turned bitter. “Nok wants what Nok has always wanted—to be loved. To be seen.” She leaned closer, her breath warm on his cheek. “But you see me, don’t you, Richie? You see what I am.”

Nok 2

He did, more clearly with each passing moment. He saw a girl who knew exactly what she was doing, who understood the game better than he ever could. And he was drawn to her, to the sharp edges and hidden depths.

In the days that followed, they were his guides, his confidantes. They showed him the hidden corners of the city—the street food stalls, the secret gardens, the rooftops where the city lights spread out like a sea of stars. And they gave him access to a world he’d never have entered alone.

He paid, of course. For their time, for their attention. It was understood, if unspoken. But Chompu… Chompu was different. She asked for less, gave more. There was a hunger in her that went beyond money, a need to be seen, to be wanted.

Chompu 3

One night, drunk on whiskey and the thrill of her, he asked, “Why me, Chompu? Why did you choose me?”

She laughed, the sound sharp and bright. “Because you look at me. Really look.” Her fingers tangled in his hair. “Most farang, they look at Nok. But you… you see.”

He kissed her then, hard and deep, tasting the salt of her skin. Later, as she slept beside him, he wondered if he was being used. If she was playing him the way Nok played the other tourists. But when he looked at her face, peaceful in sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Nok 3

He left Thailand a week later, his wallet lighter, his heart heavier. The girls had been a vacation fling, a fantasy made flesh. But as his plane took off, soaring over the glittering sprawl of Bangkok, he found himself thinking of Chompu, of her sharp smile and sharper eyes. She’d been right, he realized. He had seen her. And she had seen him…

… to be continued.