by Unknown
When he stops talking, I hold my breath. He’s on all fours above me and, as he promised, he’s starting with my breasts. One nipple, and then the other are gently licked, sucked, and then almost chewed on. Sensations shoot through me like nothing I’ve felt before. My body arches up toward him, and I hear a bass rumble. He’s satisfied with his work, and enjoys my reactions. Can he be savoring this as much as I am? His hands move from my waist to my hips, and he pins me down to the bed, sliding his face down to my belly button. He’s branding me with a trail of hot kisses that stops just over the apex of my legs.
He starts talking again as his fingers slide into my so very wet and hot fold. He says he will start with one finger and then two and see how it goes. At the same time, he will go pearl hunting.
Pearls are his other domain of expertise and he’s looking forward to playing with a pearl of Jade.
At that point, my mind is so far gone that I’m not sure I understand what he’s saying. But then I do. As one finger slides easily into me, his mouth covers my most sensitive spot and I loose myself.
I shamelessly alternate bucking my hips down onto his hand, and lifting them against his mouth. A tornado of sensation sweeps me away, and I realize that I’m moaning louder and louder.
For an instant, my brain switches back on and remind me we have company in the adjacent bedroom. I grab a pillow from the top of the bed and cover my face just in time to smother the scream that comes out of me when he inserts a second finger.
There is a tear inside me. Oliver’s felt it, and his fingers stopped moving the very second before I screamed. I freeze trying to block out the pain, and concentrate on the more pleasant sensations still shooting inside of me.
Soon enough, I start moving against his hand again and, as I push the pillow away from my face, his mouth is back on me. He’s moving very gently, and lets me control the depth of his exploration until an incredible frenzy takes over my body, and I jerk madly.
I don’t see stars, but I become a star, and explode under him. I don’t have words to describe what I just felt. I feel as if my entire body has shattered. The pieces slowly come back together as I catch my breath.
“This was incredible,” I whisper.
Oliver chuckles, and kisses my tummy just under the belly button. He pulls his fingers out and the emptiness makes me whimper. He pulls away and I feel unbelievably cold. I hear him fumble with the nightstand drawer… oh, right, protection.
Good, one of us is still thinking. There’s a pause and then he slowly crawls back on all fours above me.
As he progresses upwards, his mouth follows the same trail he explored on the way down. Each kiss tingles, and heat starts to build up again. He stops and nibbles my breasts on the way up and, incredibly, I spark back to life. The pool of heat is back between my legs.
He teases me for a while, and then asks, “Ready for more?”
I nod and smile at him. He smiles back, and looks at my face as he slowly eases himself into me. I close my eyes and tilt my hips upwards. There’s a jolt, like stabbing, and my breath catches in my throat. Oliver stops and waits. I take a big breath and move my hips again in his direction, tentatively at first, and then, since the pain is gone, I put my hand on his perfectly muscled ass and pull him onto me.
I shudder again as he speeds up. I’m lost in lust, floating above the bed in a fabulous ocean of sensations, and I shatter again.
Millions of pieces of me are scattered around Oliver. It’s like he’s become a part of me that I will never be able to live without. I get lost in the moment, and I know that it’s not only a physical reaction, it’s the fact that he’s the source of all this heat radiating in me that makes me reach perfect bliss.
I open my eyes and study the way he looks at me. It blows my mind away. At this moment, my life is so perfect that I wouldn’t trade places with anyone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SATURDAY MORNING, I WAKE UP on a cloud, and I’m sharing it with Oliver. He’s curled up against my back. I think he hasn’t let me go since we fell asleep, but, then again, that was not so long ago. I try to free myself from his arms and he stirs and pulls me back to him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
“To the bathroom to brush my teeth.”
“Okay. Don’t make me wait too long.”
“Sure thing.”
I get out of bed, and I realize I’m so sore that it’s almost painful to walk. He notices.
“Are you alright?”
“Nothing we can’t fix later,” I joke while trying to remember what painkillers I have in the first aid kit I travel with.
I close the bathroom door, brush my teeth, swallow two pills, and hop in the shower. I turn the water on and it comes down strong and hot. How nice, I think, I will never take good water pressure and unlimited heated water for granted anymore. I stand under the scalding stream for a moment and try to decide if it’s better than the cascade shower. I’m not sure anymore.
When I get back in the room, Oliver is fast asleep. It’s only 8am so I decide to let him sleep. I have a naughty smile on my face, I’m kind of proud to have worn him out.
I put on some clothes, and go to open the separation door leading to Chanlina’s room. I knock lightly on the door and she opens it. She’s ready to go and by the way she greets me, I know she’s been up for a while. We decide to go downstairs to find the breakfast area, while we wait for Oliver to wake up.
While we eat, she tells me what she wants us to do today. She wants to go to Chatuchak. It’s the weekend market that is at the last metro station of Bangkok. I had read about it when I did my research before landing in Asia. It’s the world’s largest market. It spreads over 35 acres. I guess you can really shop until you drop when you’re there!
❦
We take the air-conditioned subway that is so clean you’d think it opened yesterday. Surprisingly, very few people are riding it. Oliver explains that the price of the ride is still too expensive for most employees, which is why they stick to the crowded bus system, or the motorcycles. Furthermore it’s Sunday so the office crowd is not riding to work.
The market is huge, and it starts with food stalls. You can get peeled grapefruits, slices of pineapple, and other exotic fruits some of which I can’t identify. It’s a bit early in season for the durian but I can see some stalls that already have them. The durian is a stinky fruit that is an acquired taste. It has a skin that evokes prehistoric monsters, and it reeks. Compared to durian, stinky French cheeses smell like roses. I wasn’t crazy about the fruit when I tried it in Chinatown in Manhattan. I find it too starchy.
Chanlina sees me hesitate, and says, “Wait, we’ll have durian ice cream for lunch, that will be an easier way to introduce you to it again.”
We walk through a section of handicrafts: there are silk scarves in a rainbow of colors, carved deity heads, sitting Buddhas, and Buddhas that are lying down. Some modern paintings of the local iconography such as lotus flowers or extended hands with fingers flexed backward. Using her own hands, Chanlina moves through the various painted positions and we laugh as I try to imitate her. There is no way that I can reach even the easiest positions.
As we walk away to the next section of the market, she plays with my hands, hopelessly pushing on my fingers. She lays my hand on a flat surface, and tries to elevate my palm. It doesn’t go very far. Chanlina understands that the problem is not that my finger muscles are unable to make a move in the outward direction; it’s that my articulations are not as lax as hers.
Chanlina takes Oliver’s hand and tries. She doesn’t get a much better result, as his fingers only extend outwards a little more.
“Possibly the years of piano,” he says.
“You’re a musician?” I ask.
“Not a good one, and I haven’t played in a while.”
“Don’t believe him, he’s a wonderful player,” Chanlina says, “He can also draw, and he designs fabulous jewelry. Oh, and he can cook too.”
I interrupt her laughing, “You don’t have to pitch him to me,” I say. “I’m already sold.”
She laughs, too, and says, “Yes, I figured that out but I wanted to make sure you know that there’s more to him than his good looks.”
“Would you two girls please stop talking about me as if I was not here in front of you?” he asks.
I can’t tell if he’s really offended, or just toying with us. The urge that I have to reach for him is becoming overwhelming. I don’t act on it because I try to stick to the local etiquette, even though we’re in a place full of tourists.
A busload of German tourists arrives next to us, and the crowd suddenly thickens. I watch them approach; and I think that if I can’t hug him or kiss him in public, I can still take advantage of the mass of people walking our way. He cocks an eyebrow as he sees a naughty smile spreading on my face. The crowd reaches us, and, under the pretense of making room for them, I press my entire body against him. I purposely pull away too slowly for him not to notice.
“What was that about?”
“Withdrawal symptoms,” is my answer.
His grins and says, “Oh, right, your addictive personality.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Chanlina asks.
“My control issues,” I tell her.
“What’s that?”
“Well, when I like doing something, I have a hard time stopping. I over do it. For instance, if I open a box of chocolate, I can’t stop before I finish the entire box.”
“Don’t you get sick?”
“That’s beside the point.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then you’re a lucky girl.”
Chanlina looks puzzled, and I can see the wheels of her brain turning through her eyes. She’s thinking about the things she likes to do, and I guess there’s nothing she would do endlessly if she had a chance. Then a mental light bulb switches on.
She gives me a worried look as she asks, “Is that the problem that drug addicts have?”
“I’m not sure about the others. However, I can tell you that’s why I seldom drink and never smoke at all. I’m afraid of losing control.”
“Then it’s a good thing you never touched drugs.”
She looks so sad when she says this that I wonder if she lost members of her family to drugs.
We’ve walked to the amulet part of the market. I look at medals that remind me of the Saint Christopher my grandmother used to sew inside my mother’s coat when she went for a trip. There are also miniature stone carvings of all sorts of gods.
I see a very cute Ganesh. I’ve always had a fondness for this god. The obvious reason is that he’s the patron of science, and, like Agatha says, I worship science. I also like that he is the symbol for obstacle removal and wisdom. The miniature bronze sculpture is lovely, so I ask for the price. It’s a whopping ten dollars. For that price, at home, you can’t get art, you only get lunch. I’m about to take money out of my pocket to pay, when Chanlina blocks me, and starts to argue with the seller in Thai.
Two minutes later, she turns around and says, “Five dollars and you’re still overpaying.”
I pay the man, and thank Chanlina. She’s surprised.
“Well, your negotiation skills paid for half of it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a present from you,” I tell her, “So now I know I will think of you every time I look at it.”
I look at her frown, and I ask why this seems to makes her sad.
“Because you talk as if you are going to vanish from my life soon,” she says.
Her eyes are shiny and I’m at a loss for words. I was trying to say something nice, and it backfired on me. I should have known better. Now I’m afraid to try to make it better; when I try to explain I usually dig myself in deeper. Oliver comes to my rescue.
“Come on Chanlina, you’re being too gloomy.” He says, “I have things that make me think of you every day, like the first drawing you ever made for me, and you know I’m not about to vanish from your life.”
She cheers up, and apologizes for being so dark.
“Don’t worry about it!” I tell her, “I can’t even begin to understand what you’ve been through in your life, so I won’t blame you for misunderstanding me.”
I wish I could hug her to make it all better, but I can’t. I wonder if Oliver’s mum is a hugger. If so, Chanlina is going to get a serious culture chock!
The afternoon passes quickly, and we return to the hotel exhausted from walking in the damp heat. I’m happy, and I think I could get used to this feeling.
But I should know better.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHEN WE GET BACK TO the hotel, Oliver leaves us to go to a meeting in the adjacent building with some stone dealers with whom we’re to have dinner later at some fancy Chinese restaurant.
Chanlina and I take advantage of the pool, and float on our back looking at the Bangkok skyline. I say to Chanlina that I believe I was a hippo in a prior life because I so love being in the water up to my nose. She giggles and I know she’s remembering the dancing hippo from Disney’s Fantasia, which I showed her online after I had told her how my brother had stopped me from trying to go to ballet lessons.
We go back up and get dressed for dinner. I throw on my all-purpose black dress. Agatha’s the one who picked it out for me a few years ago when we had to attend an official research fundraiser. I feel comfortable in it; it’s a classic, and, as Agatha so smartly put it, “it shows the front goods, while minimizing the back assets.”
I put on my make-up while I’m sitting on Chanlina’s bed, while she tries on the new clothes Oliver purchased with her at the market. I’m fascinated. She has no idea how fabulous she looks. She’s got a figure to kill for and a natural elegance that is so amazing she could actually model dressed up in a garbage bag and look chic!
She’s not coming with us for dinner. She says she hates those boring meals with a bunch of dressed up grown-ups, and she’d rather stay in her room and watch movies on television. She’ll leave the separation door open so that we can come say goodnight when we get back.
Oliver calls me from the lobby, and I go downstairs. He came up to change earlier, while we were at the pool. As I step out of the elevator, Oliver and I both do a double take. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other dressed up.
My heart skips a beat as I take in his new look. I spent the afternoon with Indiana Jones, and now I’m going out for dinner with James Bond.
I’m not sure which one I like better but, right now, I think he’s really hot with his dark suit, white shirt, and red tie. Very classy.
He’s classy, but icy cold. During the taxi ride to the restaurant, he remains silent, and I let him be. I have very dark moods too, and I’m enjoying the scenery anyway. I’m a city girl at heart. While I can’t see myself living in Luang Prabang, I imagine that I could live here, in Bangkok. The city has a pulse similar to Manhattan, with the bonus of a more laid back population.
What I’ve discovered that I love about Asia is the lack of raised voices. I’ve learned that in this part of the word, if you lose your cool, you lose face. Here losing face is bad, very bad.
“Preoccupied?” I ask as we get out of the car and enter the magnificent hotel in which the restaurant is located.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” he says, “There is a deal I’m working on, and we were unable to reach an agreement earlier. I’m uneasy because I’m not sure what the other guy really wants.”
He sighs, and runs a hand from his forehead to the back of his head. It’s a stress gesture that I’ve never seen him make before.
“The dinner was organized to celebrate the closing, but it’s just going to be a continuation of the discussion. I’m sorry I won’t be very good company tonight,” he says.
We reach the restaurant, and are walked to a very large table set for ten. Once we’re seated, two empty chairs remain. Oliver introduces me to some of his fellow dealers. There’s a giant man from Turkey wit
h a diminutive wife; well, maybe she’s not shorter than me, but he’s so large and she’s so thin that she appears unsubstantial. Next to them is a couple from Israel, and then there is a Chinese couple. I sit next to the Chinese woman who starts chatting with me. Her accent is so perfect that, for an instant, I feel as if I’m listening to a BBC program. She was raised in Hong Kong and then studied at the London School of Economics.
She tells me that she used to assist her husband and work with him. She has stopped, now that they have four children. Even with help, she says, it takes a lot of work and organization to run a big household like hers.
Despite her light chatter, I can feel that she’s stressed. Actually, everyone at the table seems under pressure.
The last couple arrives. They’re all smiles but the existing tension goes up a notch. He is American, in his forties and she’s Thai, and probably much younger. With the ton of makeup she’s wearing, though, I can’t tell for sure. She sits between this man and the Turkish giant.
As soon as they are settled, the staff pours us a drink. I taste it, and it’s a fabulous iced tea. I ask my neighbor what type it is because it doesn’t taste like anything I’ve ever had before.
“It’s chrysanthemum tea,” she says. “It’s a cooling tea. It helps cool the body for the digestion… and it also helps cool the mind before the discussions get too heated.”
The hint is clear: whoever ordered for the group is expecting fireworks.
Nevertheless, she’s most pleasant and acts as if it’s a normal social dinner. She chatters about the advantages of living in Bangkok as we’re served tiny plates with bite-sized portions of various specialties. There’s a soup and then mini kebabs with shrimp and scallops, and it goes on and on.
The food is amazing, but no one seems to be enjoying it, except me. They’re all so tense that if one wrong word is spoken, the room will explode. Periodically, I glance in Oliver’s direction. He’s engaged in a heated discussion with the latecomer, and, even though he’s keeping the appearance of calm, I can see that he’s more than annoyed. His hands are rolled up in fists so tight that his knuckles are white.
