I woke once, before dawn, to find Prean's head resting against my shoulder. Her silky hair fanned across my chest. I stroked it with one finger, amazed by its softness. Her ripe lips were parted. I longed to trace out their sweet outline. My finger hovered above her mouth, but I didn't dare touch her. I wondered what it would be like to wake her with a kiss.
When I slipped back into my dreams, her image accompanied me.
* * * *
In the morning, Su was a different child, impossible to keep in bed. She chattered away in Karen as the Prean tried to get the girl into her grimy shorts and shirt and comb the tangles from her hair. With me, she was much quieter, but anyone could see that Nong Su was fully recovered. I sent off a silent prayer of thanks to the Buddha.
I paid the hospital bill. Luckily it was only four hundred baht. If I didn't buy any sweets or magazines until pay day, I'd still be able to send Mum the usual amount.
"I have to get the mail at army headquarters,” I told Prean. “And buy the commander's whisky. Wait here and I'll pick you up on the way out of town.” I left them in the noodle stall, with Su was slurping up a bowl of guaytiao so fast I was afraid that she'd choke.
It took me longer than I'd expected. The guys at headquarters wanted to talk—gossip about the officers, speculate on the latest political crisis. Then I had to go to three different stores before I found one that had a full case of the commander's brand. I expected Prean to be worried, but when I pulled up in front of the restaurant, she was sitting calmly, a distant smile on her lovely face. Daydreaming, like me?
The bone-rattling trip back to the camp went much faster than the previous day's tense journey. Prean and Su sang at the top of their lungs; Prean tried to teach me the words to one of their folk songs. But I was too concerned about the flak I'd get for keeping the Jeep overnight to enjoy the ride.
After letting them off at the same junction where I'd found them yesterday, I bounced through the dust up to the main camp gate. It was blocked by a panel of wire mesh two meters high. I honked. Normally the gate would be open during the day.
A soldier peered out at me, his rifle at ready. It took me a moment to recognize this stiff, aggressive figure as my easygoing friend Kai.
"Nu! Where have you been?"
"Jeep broke down.” Given the crappy vehicles that the government allocated to the camp, this wasn't at all implausible. “Couldn't get it fixed until this morning."
"Why didn't you call? Chokchai's been on the commander's back, yapping about you stealing army property."
"My mobile battery's dead. Sorry, I'll go see the commander right away and apologize.” I grinned at my buddy. “Maybe this Sang Som will make him feel better."
Kai lost his momentary smile. “I doubt it. Things are pretty tense right now."
"Yeah, I noticed. Why is the gate shut?"
"Last night, someone was killed. One of the hill tribe kids."
"What? What happened?"
"Nobody really knows for sure. Some teenagers were playing football near the water tower. Chokchai and Heng were stationed at the gate, watching. Maybe one of them said something, called out some insult. Some kid made a smart remark back. There was a scuffle. Next thing anyone knew, we heard shots. We found a seventeen year old bleeding on the ground, his friends clustered around him crying.” Kai looked grim. “The kid died before they even got him to the infirmary."
"Shit.” In my mind I heard my mom complaining about my language, but there wasn't anything else to say. “What now?"
"The brass are sending somebody up ‘to investigate’ tomorrow. Meanwhile we're in lock down to keep out reporters. News blackout. Security alert. You know the drill."
I did. I remembered the week I arrived, when three Karen men were caught stealing food from our mess hall. Guards had hustled the offenders out of the camp. The soldiers had come back empty handed, and the camp had been locked down for four days.
I thought of Prean. I could only hope that she and Su had managed to sneak back in unobserved. Anyway, there wasn't anything that I could do about it. No use worrying about her.
I couldn't stop, though. I groveled in front of the commander, grabbed some lunch, endured Chokchai's jibes, reported for my guard duty at three. All on automatic. All the time, at the back of my mind, I was seeing Prean's lithe, graceful figure. How could she go on, one day after another in this desolate place, without any hope for change? Mae La was limbo—once you arrived here you were stuck. There was nowhere else you could go.
Later, in the evening, I lay on my bed in the stuffy barracks, staring at the ceiling, thinking about her. Kai and his fellows had invited me to play dice. The rest of the division were in the mess hall, drinking beer and probably telling dirty jokes. I didn't feel like company, or at least, not theirs.
I heard a low whistle outside the door. It wasn't any bird that I recognized. I sighed and closed my eyes. It came again.
I opened the door to find Prean at the foot of the stairs, smiling up at me. My heart flopped in my chest like a hooked fish. She was wearing a sarong and a fringed, multi-colored tunic of woven cotton. Festival clothes. She gave me a wai, a deep bow that caused her glistening hair to fall across her breasts.
"Khun Nu. I have come to thank you.” It was dark—aside from the commander's office, the camp had no electricity—but a full moon showed me me every detail of her beautiful face. My cheeks felt hot. I had stripped to my undershirt, but my uniform pants grew tighter and more uncomfortable than ever. “Without your help, Su would have died."
"Never mind, it's nothing. I'm glad I could help. Anyone would have done the same.” Shame washed over me. I remembered my temptation to abandon her, and was suddenly very glad that I had resisted. Helping you is the least I could do, I thought, when I'm part of the machine holding you prisoner here.
"No, that's not true at all. Believe me. I've been here a lot longer than you. Most of the soldiers here have no heart at all. They think we're sub-human. You risked your own position and safety for us.” She reached out to me. “Come. Let me show you how grateful I am."
I froze, suddenly understanding what she had in mind. “What? No—no, really, that's not necessary..."
She arched one delicate eyebrow. “Don't you want to? Don't you like me? I had some notion that you found me pretty."
"I—no, it's not that, you're lovely, it's just—well, I don't want to take advantage ... You're so young, so sweet..."
A bitter laugh. “Take advantage? You think you'd be the first soldier here that I've fucked?” Her crudeness made me cringe, but then her voice grew softer. “Please, Nu. I want to be with you. I want to be close to you. You're the only man in Thailand who has ever treated me like a human being."
I knew it wasn't right. I wanted to resist. But I let her take my hand, let her lead me along narrow, overgrown paths where the moonlight could hardly penetrate the overhanging vegetation. My conscience cried out ‘No'. My mind echoed the warning. I ignored them, choosing instead to listen to my body and my heart.
I watched her body sway in front of me. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I could see her slender back, with its cloak of gleaming hair. I swallowed hard at the sight of her hips, their swell distorting the patterned fabric of her sarong. I was sweaty and nervous as she led me through the forests near the camp boundaries and up to higher ground. The aching lump in my groin made it difficult to walk.
The path opened into a grassy clearing. Moonlight poured in. To my left rose a steep wall of limestone. The plash of falling water reached my ears. Rivulets emerged from the cliff at several spots and tumbled into a mossy pool at its base, before spilling over and flowing down hill toward the camp. The cool breeze was rich with the scent of growing things, free of the fetid aromas of the caged humanity.
I took a deep breath. Prean stopped by the pool. She turned to me, her arms wide in invitation. I stood rooted in that magical spot, snared by her beauty.
"Nu?” Her voice released me. I gathered her in my ar
ms, burying my face in her fragrant locks. The soft flesh of her breasts pressed against my chest, sending a thrill through my limbs that settled in my groin. Amazed at my daring, I ran my palms over her cloth-wrapped hips, around to her buttocks, and pulled her body tight against mine.
She ground her pelvis against my swollen cock. I moaned, finding her lewdness shocking but irresistible. “Mmm,” she murmured. “I guess that you do like me, after all.” Before I could stop her (and only part of me wanted to), she had slipped her hand between us and unfastened my fly.
My rigid penis sprang into her hand, an arrow to its target. She stroked it delicately, like some fluttering bird that might escape. It swelled at her touch. As it hardened further, she started to squeeze, pumping rhythmically from base to tip as though she was milking a goat. She smeared the sensitive bulb with moisture leaking from the eye, and I nearly lost control. Meanwhile, with her other hand, she grabbed my head and pulled my lips to hers.
Her mouth was open from the first. Her kiss was bold, all tongue and teeth, honest in its need—the hot, hungry kiss of a woman starved for loving. I returned the kiss, as best I could, lost, dizzy with lust. My senses reeled. It was too much. The fever of her mouth, the cool silk of her fingers on my cock. Her scent, grass and smoke, salt and musk. Her taste, lemon and mint. I felt my balls contract and groaned, sure that I was about to embarrass myself by spurting all over her hand.
Prean knew. At the last moment, she released both my cock and my mouth. Her smile was full of mischief and understanding. Stepping away from me, she pulled her tunic over her head. Jet locks tumbled over her bare shoulders. I stared at her breasts, white and plump as little chicks with tips dark as tamarind pods. My palms ached to cup them, to feel them yield under my touch. She loosed the tucks holding the sarong around her hips. The fabric dropped to the ground, revealing her flat belly and winking navel, her pale thighs and shapely calves, and at the center of the universe, the tangled patch of black fur that hid her sex.
My cock twitched, eager for a taste. I was too shy to move.
Her scent was sharper now. She knelt and spread the sarong upon the grass, then lay on her side, watching me. “Please. Take off your clothes, Nu. I want you."
I tore my shirt off in two seconds. The stiff trousers were more of a struggle. First, I had to pry off my combat boots, and peel away the sweaty socks which felt painted on. Prean watched my clumsy efforts to disrobe, her eyes wide with desire. She never laughed.
At last I was as naked as she was. I felt the mountain breeze kissing my nipples, dancing across my buttocks. My penis had drooped somewhat during the fight with my clothing, but at the sight of Prean, reclining like a goddess upon the ground, it swelled instantly,
I knelt beside her, wanting to run my hands over her moon-gilded skin but still unsure. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss my breasts.” I pursed my lips gently around a nipple. I didn't want to hurt her. The nub of flesh throbbed in my mouth. Prean writhed, pressing her flesh against my mouth. I sucked, some instinct from childhood taking over, while kneading her other breast.
"Yes, oh yes ... that's right, just right.” She grasped my other hand, the one not occupied with her tits, and pulled it down to the spot where her thighs joined. My fingers brushed against her wiry thatch. A shock of lust surged through my body. Then she parted the fur, guiding my fingers into the slick folds of her sex.
For the second time that incredible evening, I came close to exploding. I held my breath. Her hands urged me on, invited me deeper. The whorls of flesh at her core were damp velvet under my fingers, impossibly soft and slippery as a river eel. As I stroked, new liquid welled up from her, coating my fingers. I breathed deeply, thrilled by her raw scent, perfume of the sea rising up in this mountain clearing.
She moan and writhed under my touch, arching her back so that I could penetrate more deeply. Her eyes were screwed shut. She was biting her lip. “Please, please, please,” she was chanting, but she was beyond the point of instructing me.
I knew, though. Finally, I had no doubts. She had already rolled onto her back. Without removing my hand from her sex, I straddled her. My cock reared up between us, thick and dark like the rest of me. I rubbed the tip over her slippery lower lips, gathering her moisture. I positioned myself at her shadowy, fragrant entrance. I could feel her flesh flutter around the swollen rod of flesh, beckoning, inviting. I closed my eyes and let my cock sink into her depths.
Heat. Wetness. Electricity. A thousand nerves, a million suns exploding. Earthquakes, tsunamis, the roar of thunder, the whisper of the wind. She was the ocean and the sky and the earth in one. I felt her tighten around me, pulling me deeper. I felt her need, and her trust. I knew that I was supposed to hold on, to prolong the connection, to bring her to the peak and set her flying before letting go myself. I couldn't do it. It was too much. Anyway, she was there now, with me, I could tell, rocked in the same cyclone of sensation as I was. With one monumental thrust, I released everything, pouring my seed into her.
I felt her rise with me in the swirling darkness that gathered around us, bold and clever, fragile and lost. I knew her, and knew that I loved her.
The moon had sunk behind the peaks when we returned to ourselves. Droplets of dew pearled on our skin. I gazed at the woman by my side, a stranger, a foreigner. Her eyes were blue. Her skin was nearly white. Her language was full of peculiar sounds I couldn't even begin to mimic. Yet I had never felt closer to another person.
She opened her eyes. Her smile replaced the light of the moon. “Thank you, Nu."
My old insecurities awakened. “I'm sorry—that I was so quick, you know, that I couldn't hold on..."
She shook her head. “Silly man. You were perfect.” She pulled me down into a leisurely kiss. I felt my penis starting to rise once more.
* * * *
I was whistling as I shut the barracks door behind me and headed for the gate. Nearly a month had passed since my awakening in Prean's arms. It was a bright, fresh morning. I could smell fish frying, somewhere, but thankfully, not the latrines. I strolled up the main road toward the gate, trying not to look as though I was in a hurry.
"Hey, Peasant! Why are you out of uniform?” Bom was on guard duty, but Sergeant Chokchai was hanging around as he often did, looking for opportunities to make trouble.
"I've been discharged, sir.” I put special emphasis on the honorific, but suspected that Chokchai would miss the sarcasm. “My mother isn't well. I need to go home and help her."
"Going back to plant rice, eh?"
"Yes, sir. Most likely, sir.” Actually, Prean and I planned to buy some goats. I'd read that goat cheese fetched a high price in Bangkok. Mum had promised they could graze in the backyard, at least until the herd got too big.
We'd be poor. But we'd be free.
"I knew it! I knew that you weren't army material. You never had what it takes."
"No, sir, I think that you're right.” Thank the Buddha, I added mentally. Getting to know Prean had made things amazingly clear. Even if it weren't for her, there was no way I was going to continue to be part of the things that went on here.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out the gates of Mae La for what I hoped was the last time.
"Well, goodbye, and good riddens,” Chokchai called out after me. “There's plenty of Isan hicks out there who'd love to have your job."
"I don't doubt it, sir."
Turning my back on him, I started down the dirt road toward the junction where my lover waited. It would be a long, hot walk to Mae Sot, and then a hard ride in an open pickup across the country to my village.
Knowing that Prean would be at my side, I was looking forward to it.
* * * *
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Shot at Love
© Yvette Hines
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Chapter One
"Hmm, who's that creamy vanilla dream that just walked in?” Moni Wa
lker inquired as she eyed the tall attractive white man that walked into the room. He had to be at least six-two, with wide broad shoulders she would love to wrap her arms around as she ran her fingers through his short sandy blond hair.
The temperature in the room went from cool to blazing within second as she watched the man move deeper into the room. Her mind emptied of anything else, but him. She couldn't even recall what she and her sister had been discussing before he arrived. Buildings. Clothes. Teens. Food. Pictures. Who in the hell knew. But, she wanted to know him like Abraham knew Sarah.
She became flushed as moisture seeped into her panties from her swelling, throbbing sex. Squeezing her thighs together below her dress, she didn't know if she was attempting to quell the arousal or heighten its feeling. Damn, I'm throbbing.
LaMonica or Nica as she called her twin sister, turned from the buffet table and looked across the room where the man was deep in a conversation with her brother in-law and his partner, Paul.
"That's the other Dee.” Meaning that they occasionally called her husband Dee as well. “Dwayne is one of Detrick's friends.” Nica snatched up a lumpia off the mound of food piled high on the saucer in her hand and sank her teeth in it. “My husband and his partner Paul have known him since high school."
Moni sipped from her drink, preferring an Amaretto Sour, but settled for the select brand of white wine her sister and her husband had on chill for the party. Detrick Rauglins was a big time lawyer in the Norfolk area and had just won a case against the city to have the few remaining low income housing section, known as the “projects", remodeled on the inside instead of the facelift and proverbial name change the city gave it years ago. Moni had agreed to come to the “party". She was now stuck in the room with her sister and brother's nine to five working friends. Where most of the men were married or in serious relationships that had them practically marching to the altar.
Yup, she was bored out of her damn mind. “Blah, blah, blah.” She gazed over at her sister, who was working on her second lumpia. “Is he married?” Moni stared around the room at the wives and wife hopefuls in the house gathered in small clustered between the men and tried to see if anyone was giving a special smile at the cream colored sensation. The only thing she saw was a few women glance in his direction, give him a subtle once over, but immediately resumed their discussion with friends. Probably discussing the latest in front yard flowerbeds.
Coming Together: At Last, Volume One Page 24
