Platform by Michel Houellebecq Read Free Book Online

throwing dirty looks in our direction. Romance, romance.

    Just past Payab Ferry Pier, the boat turned right into the Khlong Samsen and we entered a completely different world. Life had changed very little here since the nineteenth century. Rows of teak houses on stilts lined the canal; laundry dried under awnings. Some of the women came to their windows to watch us pass, others stopped in the middle of their washing. Children splashed and bathed between the stilts, waving at us excitedly. There was vegetation everywhere. Our pirogue cut a path through masses of water lilies and lotuses, and teeming, intense life sprang up all around. Every free patch of earth, air, or water seemed to be immediately filled with butterflies, lizards, carp. We were, Sôn told us, in the middle of the dry season; even so, the air was completely, unrelentingly humid.
    Sitting beside me, Valérie seemed to be enveloped by a great sense of peace. She exchanged little waves with the old men who sat smoking their pipes on the balconies, the children bathing, the women at their washing. The ecologists from the Jura seemed at peace too, and even the naturopaths seemed reasonably calm. Around us. there were only faint sounds and smiles. Valérie turned to me. I almost felt like taking her hand, though for no particular reason I didn't. The boat stopped moving entirely, and we were rapt in the momentary eternity of a blissful afternoon. Even Babette and Léa had shut up. They were a bit spaced out, to use the expression Léa later employed on the jetty.
    While we were visiting the Temple of Dawn, I made a mental note to buy some more Viagra when I found an open pharmacy. On the way back, I found out that Valérie was Breton and that her parents had owned a farm in Tregorrois. I didn't really know what to say, myself. She seemed intelligent. I liked her soft voice, her meek Catholic fervor, the movement of her lips when she spoke; her mouth was obviously pretty hot, just ready to swallow the spunk of a true friend. "It's been lovely, this afternoon," I said finally in desperation. I had become too remote from people, I had lived alone too long, I didn't know how to go about it anymore. "Oh, yes, lovely," she replied all the same. She wasn't demanding, she really was a nice girl. Even so, as soon as the bus arrived at the hotel, I ran straight to the bar.

    Three cocktails later, I was beginning to regret my behavior. I went out and walked around the lobby. It was 7 p.m.; no one from the group was around. For about four hundred baht, those who wished could have dinner and a show of "traditional Thai dance"; those interested were to assemble at 8 p.m. Valérie would definitely be there. For my part, I had already had a vague experience of traditional Thai dance, on a trip with Kuoni three years previously: "Classic Thailand, from the Rose of the North' to the 'City of Angels.' " Not bad, really, but a bit expensive and terrifyingly cultural —everyone involved had at least a master's degree. The thirty-two positions of the Buddha in Ratanakosin statuary, Thai-Burmese style, Thai-Khmer, Thai-Thai, they didn't miss a thing. I had come back exhausted and I'd constantly felt ridiculous without a Guide Bleu . Right now, I was beginning to feel a serious need to fuck. I was wandering around the lobby, with a sense of mounting indecision, when I spotted a sign saying "Health Club." indicating the floor below.
    The entrance was lit by neon and a long rope of colored lights. On the white background of an electric sign, three bikini-clad sirens, their breasts a little larger than life, proffered champagne flutes to prospective customers; there was a heavily stylized Eiffel Tower in the far distance. Not quite the same concept as the "fitness centers" of the Mercure hotels. I went in and ordered a bourbon at the bar. Behind a glass screen, a dozen girls turned toward me. Some smiled alluringly, others didn't. I was the only customer. Despite the fact that the