When I told the station chief this, his eyebrows raised, and, with that simple gesture, I “got” that we would move on to a new phase.Less than a week later, the Indian doctor summoned me to his apartment. Gay sex I could see, in passing, that two glasses and a vodka bottle had been set out on the dining room table each time. After the sex, I’d be sent on my way. Despite the question, I knew he would have me because already that long slender finger with the signet ring was inside me and along the upper side of the doctor’s buried cock, and he was rubbing the rim of my opening with the gold metal. So did Ambassador Bacher. So did Ambassador Bacher. His wife, Lidka, was the honorary sponsor of the concert, so we were in the king’s box. I played tennis on the embassy circuit. The ambassador himself, though, as if he’d heard me react to his presence, turned at the door of the room he was entering, and looked directly at me. But he had neglected thus far to do so. This was barely a year before the scourge of AIDS reared its ugly head-a time when every man in Bangkok was still barebacking.
