“And in the end, we were all just humans—drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.”
– Christopher Poindexter
I never expected to meet anyone special that evening and had little interest in accepting the invitation to this exclusive party. However, since I had no one to share my thirtieth birthday, I thought a foray into the social scene might boost my spirits.
When I entered the Park Avenue apartment, my attention was immediately drawn to the pleasant sound of live piano music. A woman was rendering a stunning performance of Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Piano Concerto, a favorite of mine and a piece of music that incorporates a fine balance between dramatic and sublime passages.
She played the powerful parts aggressively, her expression intense, and performed the romantic, sweet portions with a soft, light touch. About twenty people reclined on couches and overstuffed chairs, drinking wine and eating hors d’oeuvres while silently listening.
I settled into the last available seat near the piano and glanced at the performer, a lovely young woman with blue eyes and straight blonde hair that fell behind her like a curtain. As she played, I watched the tips of her nimble fingers dance across the black and white keys like a ballerina, bringing the music to life as the pianist’s gaze darted across the keyboard. She glanced up for a moment, tilted her head toward me, and before I could blink, our eyes met, and I felt a connection I’d never known before.
After her rendition and the enthusiastic applause that followed, she walked to another part of the room. I watched her socialize with some of the guests while I chatted with the hostess for a few minutes and kept my eyes on the lovely pianist. She was engaged in a conversation with an elderly man with bushy, white hair who, I presumed for no reason, was also a devotee of the arts.
As I tilted my head back to drink the last few sips of my Dom Pérignon, I peeked above my glass and saw her walking toward me.
What kind of magnetism is this?
“Hi, I’m Ashley,” she said, with a bright smile. “You seemed entranced when you watched me play. I assume you enjoyed the music.”
I paused, took a deep breath, amazed that she was standing in front of me. I wouldn’t have known how to make it happen.
“I loved it. You played so passionately, so lost in the music, and I know your interpretation was what the composer had in mind. It’s my pleasure to meet you, Ashley. I’m Mark Eastman.” I extended my hand.
She gathered my hand in hers and held it for a moment as I felt her warmth flowing into me.
“Thank you. What a nice compliment. Are you a musician?”
I shrugged. “I do play the keyboard, but only by ear.”
“Really? That’s such a wonderful gift,” she said with a tight-lipped smile and a tilt of her head. “I wish I had it. I have to read the music. Tell me, what are your favorites?”
“The concerto you just played is my absolute favorite. I love Tchaikovsky’s 1st Piano concerto, almost anything by Chopin, and everything by Gershwin. Do you play professionally?”
“Yes, I’m a concert pianist, but I’m just here as a guest of the hostess. We both attended Julliard. Helen is a wonderful soprano.”
“I know, I met her through a mutual friend. Helen and I chatted a bit backstage after her performance in Les Mis. She has a beautiful voice. I’m glad she invited me to her party for two reasons.”
I looked into Ashley’s eyes, waited a moment and then gazed at the ceiling, anticipating her next question.
She didn’t disappoint. “Hmm, two reasons? I could never guess. Tell me.”
“The first and most important is that I met you.” Her face lit up as she smiled and stared at me, waiting to hear the second reason. I added, “And it’s my birthday.”
“Oh, wonderful!” she said and kissed my cheek. “We have to celebrate. How many candles?”
“Born in ’85, thirty candles.”
“Well, I’m still in my twenties, but I’ll have twenty-nine on my next cake. Does Helen know it’s your birthday?”
“No, and I’d like to keep it that way. I only want you to know.”
Ashley smiled. “Thank you, I’m honored. Let’s make a toast.” She lifted a bottle of champagne, freshened our drinks, and as we touched glasses, she said, “Happy birthday!” She paused, adding, “and to first meetings.”
I held my glass high, and with a broad smile, said, “To first meetings and birthdays.”
We spent the next hour chatting, comparing our musical tastes, and I asked if she wanted to go someplace with me after the party, but she had promised Helen she would stay overnight.
She gave me a charming smile that made me feel I had known her forever and asked, “Can we meet tomorrow night?” She spoke with an elfish grin. “Maybe we could go somewhere in the Village and soak up a bit of Bohemia. That is, if you’re available.”
“Yes, sounds wonderful.” I was elated. “Tomorrow night is fine. I look forward to it.”
When I reached her Upper Eastside apartment, the door was slightly ajar. I rang the buzzer, but there was no answer. I waited a while and cautiously walked in. I heard the sound of the shower running as she cried, “I’ll be right out, Mark.”
My imagination took me everywhere.
After twenty minutes, Ashley emerged dressed in a blazing red, short-sleeved dress. She asked me to help fasten a string of pearls around her neck, and then we left.
She suggested we dine at the Gotham Bar and Grill, an elegant and romantic restaurant in the Village noted for its fine food and candlelit tables. Afterward, we strolled in Washington Square Park, talked about music again, and found our tastes for Classical and Jazz were the same.
Somewhere along the way, maybe near the Fifth Avenue Arch, we stopped to kiss. As I held Ashley’s body against mine, my heartbeat skyrocketed and steadily grew faster when I felt the firmness of her breasts pressing against my chest. I couldn’t wait to take her home.
When we arrived at her apartment, she invited me in. I closed the door behind me and turned to see Ashley waiting in the dim light, her mouth slightly open, the tip of her tongue tracing her lips as she gazed at me with a sultry stare. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. A moment later, she brushed her fingertips along the pearls encircling her neck and then let them slide downward between her breasts. She kicked off her heels and took a few short steps toward me, staring into my eyes with the same intense look I noticed when she played the dramatic passages of Rachmaninoff’s concerto. Then she rushed toward me like a woman on fire.
I gathered her in my arms and we kissed passionately—our mouths open—our hands racing about, exploring each other’s bodies. More kisses followed. I sensed her deep, rapid breathing and heard her loud moans as her body pressed against me. We were out of control, lost in our passions as we tore at each other’s clothes. I had to have her now!
I held her tight, her body quivering as I moved her against the wall, and while still kissing her, I slipped off her dress and let it fall to the floor.
Her naked body trembled as she slid my head down to her breasts, pressed my face against them and wrapped her legs around me. What followed unfolded into a night of wild debauchery and pure passion. It wasn’t about making love, not in the least. It was lust, pure and simple.
I left in the morning. Later that day, Ashley called my cell phone and whispered sensual musings into my ear, arousing my imagination to new heights. After that, we met every night to share our passions. Sometimes she awakened my fervor and my frustration by playing the piano wearing a short, lace-trimmed satin slip, never letting me touch her until she finished and gazed at me with a wicked smile. Her movements were always aggressive. She’d smother me with ardent kisses, biting my lip along the way as a prelude to the bouts of passion yet to come.
Ashley and I spent the entire summer together. My desire for her intensified each day until it consumed me, and I could think of nothing else. We were always touching—always—no matter where we were, in a taxi with her dress pulled above her knees, or when sitting close to each other in a restaurant, surreptitiously playing under-the-table touching games. We never said we loved each other, but I knew from our first kiss I could never live without her.
Months passed. Ashley wanted to get married. When I said no, she threatened to leave me. I couldn’t bear the thought of another man’s hands on her. It would kill me. I knew I could never let her go. We were married in City Hall with only Helen attending.
After a month, things changed. Slowly at first, then all at once. Ashley became violent during sex. Her deep scratches marked my body. Some of them bled and became infected. When we kissed, I had to pull away, knowing she would bite my lips until they were sore and swollen.
We no longer listened to the music we loved. We were obsessed by our passions and nothing else mattered. She canceled most of her recitals and tours, and there were no more private piano renditions at parties or for me. All that was left for us to share were our constant searches for new and more intense variations of sex.
I was torn. This was no marriage. I couldn’t bear what was happening, but it was impossible for me to leave her. I was trapped. I still had to have her—own her, feel her, kiss her. My constant thoughts of Ashley in the arms of another man, gazing up at him with a look of love, tortured me and made me shudder.
Finally, I had no choice. I had to force myself to change my attitude. I couldn’t take it anymore. Thoughts of killing her constantly ran through my mind and images of choking her until she fell to the floor dead gave me a sense of relief. If she were dead, I would be free.
Killing her could be an option if she were an unknown. That way, she wouldn’t be found for a long time and I could leave the country. But Ashley was a famous pianist in New York, with schedules to keep, and she would soon be missed. The consequences I would have to endure by killing her were of no concern, but in the end, I knew I couldn’t do it.
What was I thinking? I kept telling myself it was all a dream. There was no Ashley. But it was more than that. The nightmare was that there was an Ashley and there could be no escape. I closed my eyes for a moment and took myself down a long, winding road leaving her behind in the distance—farther and farther away—smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the night, out of my life forever. Those few seconds of imaginary paradise, being away from her, gave me a brief moment of peace…the peace I had known before I met her. But it was a reverie and only wishful thinking.
I married her because I didn’t want to lose her. Now, I wanted a divorce so that I could. Even as I had those thoughts, the pangs of her being with someone else, kissing her, feeling her, plagued and tormented me. Could I ever escape? Had I created my own prison? If I ever got out of this, I would never let it happen again—never.
I searched for a resolution to my dilemma and decided to take a drive with her into the countryside, park somewhere surrounded by autumn leaves, and tell her I wanted a divorce.
We drove to Belmont Lake State Park on Long Island. It was late afternoon, and we walked along the water in silence. There was a cold chill in the air, and when the wind kicked up, we went back to the car and talked. She leaned her head on my shoulder. Her breath hinted of delicate flowers, and I almost succumbed to her touch but knew it was poisonous.
I rested my hands on the steering wheel and took a moment to think. I shifted in my seat to face her. “Ashley, you know things aren’t going well for us.”
“Why do you say that? Things are fine just the way they are. We both know deep inside how much we want each other.”
“Is our marriage the way you want it to be?” I asked.
“Yes. We give each other what we need. That’s what relationships are all about.”
I raised my voice. “Maybe I no longer need what you have to give.”
“That’s a lie.” Her voice trembled. “You know you want me! You’ll never find what we have with anyone else, ever. What is it you want me to do? Play the piano for you again? Act out new fantasies? Tell me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
I took a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”
“Fine,” she said, biting her lips.
“You agree?” I asked, startled.
“Yes, let’s go home. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
I never expected her to agree so easily, but I was thankful she did. I turned the car around and slowly drove along the gravel road until she started punching me in my face and shoulders. I stopped the car and held my arms up to protect myself.
She kept punching me and slapping my face with her open hand. Blood dripped from my nose. “No divorce, Mark, none. That will never happen!” She screamed.
“Get out! Get out now!” I yelled.
“Damn! Stop shoving me.”
I leaned over, pushed her out of the car and locked the door.
As I started to drive away, she grabbed the door handle, held on to it while running alongside, and began screaming, “Mark! Mark! Stop! I gave you what you needed, my life, my body. Mark, please, no divorce! I’ll change. I promise.”
I increased the speed slowly, thinking she would let go, but she held on, her feet and legs scraping along the gravel road as her arms stretched from the outer door handle. The faster I drove, the more determined she seemed to hold on until she finally let go and fell to the ground. I stopped the car and helped her in. Her face was bruised, her arms and legs dripping with blood. Dirt and small pebbles were ground into her wounds.
I thought her cuts and bruises would heal in a few days. But whether they did or not, it didn’t matter. I had to be free of her—divorce or no divorce. Distance mattered, so I had to go far enough away to avoid the temptation of changing my mind. It would not be easy for me to leave.
My addiction to her was so compelling that I thought it would be impossible, but I had to escape from her and never allow anything like this to ever happen again. I took her back to our apartment, treated her injuries, and gave her a strong sedative, telling her it was medication to help her pain. I watched her eyes close as she fell into a dead sleep. Whether she lived or died didn’t matter. I had to get away, far away—and fast!
My flight to Bangkok was uneventful, except for the recurring sound of Ashley’s angry voice invading my mind.
“You will never find what we have with anyone else. What is it you want me to do? Play for you again? Tell me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
Damn. I pushed her enraged words out of my mind and turned my attention to the onboard movie. It was a diversion, but as I watched the film, my mind relentlessly drifted back to her.
What am I doing? I need her so much. Dammit! I had to get her out of my head. Sex without love is passion without affection. I never want that in my life again—ever!
I turned off the movie and switched to a classical music station. Every note reminded me of my connection to Ashley and the neurotic, sex-soaked relationship that consumed us.
I almost turned the music off but stopped myself. I wouldn’t allow her to deprive me of my greatest pleasure. The dramatic four opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth pounded in my ears as if it were an omen—the fate motif—and after three glasses of Cabernet, I closed my eyes and found peace.
The plane landed at Bangkok International Airport at midnight. When the doors opened, the polluted air rushed in, literally taking my breath away. The cabin smelled like a mixture of old urine and something burning, so I made a hasty exit.
I found a tuk-tuk driver who took me to the Shangri-la hotel on the bank of the Chao Phraya River, which meandered its way through the heart of Bangkok. I checked in but was exhausted and hungry, so I ordered coconut curry with steamed rice sent to my room. After enjoying the taste of its subtle spices, I slipped into a deep sleep.
I awakened in the late morning, looked at the room service menu, and selected Nong Khai Pan Eggs, thinking it was the closest thing to a western breakfast. I was pleasantly surprised to see two sunny-side-up eggs in a pan, surrounded by scrambled egg whites, and accompanied by fried roti bread and fresh mango juice.
I adjusted my watch for the twelve hour time difference, deleted all calls and messages from my cell phone—especially those from Ashley—and shut my phone off for good. I needed no contact with the outside world and no reminders of what I had left behind.
I spent the next three weeks touring Bangkok. It gave me the opportunity to use all my senses to soak up the smells and delights of this exotic city. I had a massage every day, took a cooking class, ate the street food, visited temples, and learned to meditate. Bangkok was an enriching experience, but it was time to see other parts of Thailand.
I took a first class overnight train to Chiang Mai. I had no idea what it would be like, but the concierge at the hotel had told me it was a good place to go.
When I arrived, I checked into a small guesthouse that offered meals and began reading a book about Buddhism which was in the drawer of my night table. The book was thought provoking and spiritual and its peaceful words turned my thinking pleasantly inward.
One of its messages was to keep my focus only on myself. Although thoughts of Ashley had mostly disappeared, remnants of our passionate moments together still stuck in my mind. I was akin to a recovering alcoholic: The drink was gone, but my mental addiction lingered. I had to be careful not to slip.
After dinner at the hotel, I realized I had skipped the usual body massage that I enjoyed so much in Bangkok. The Thai body manipulations put me into a relaxed dream-like state like nothing else, especially when it was carried out by a young female who used her hands, elbows, forearms, knees, and even her feet to massage my body into a state of ecstasy.
I walked out into the night air. A row of tuk-tuks stood in front of the hotel and a smiling man waved me into the first of these three-wheeled open taxis. The driver spoke English with a lilt in his voice, and I asked him to take me to a place where I could get a massage.
He turned and asked, “Do you want a regular massage or a sex massage?”
He surprised me. I had an idea what a sex massage might be like, but wanted to hear more.
“Tell me about the sex massage,” I said.
The driver shook his head and hesitated as if he didn’t know where to begin. “Oh, sir, there are many different types. I cannot explain it so well. Some ladies, at little cost, will massage you everywhere, maybe for fifteen minutes to make you feel good in every part of your body. You may also visit a place where you can have a choice of a nice Thai girl for the evening in a private room, or stay with you for a week. She will be your companion, go dancing with you, and go to restaurants. She will smooth sun lotion on your body at the beach and do everything you want, whenever you want her. She will be your slave.”
“Slave, eh? I’m not sure I want that. In fact, I’m not sure I want any of those things.”
“It is your choice, sir, but I have to tell you that I know a place where you will find the most beautiful girls. You have to be careful about meeting Thai women on your own. Some of them are lady boys—men who look like beautiful women. You will not know the difference. You will only have to look and see if they have an Adam’s apple to know for sure, but they cover that, too. If you go with me, sir, I can take you somewhere that will bring you happiness beyond your dreams with a beautiful girl, a place like nowhere else in the world.”
That was a lot to take in all at once. My mind ran in different directions. If anything, female companionship would be my only desire.
I leaned forward. “Tell me, what is your name?”
“It is Syamm, sir. It sounds like the former name of my country, but it is spelled as you see posted on my license.”
“It is my pleasure to meet you, Syamm. I’m Mark. I’d like to hire you for the evening. I need a distraction, something different from anything I’ve ever known.” I paused and thought. It was a moment of decision for me and I took a deep breath. “All right, Syamm, take me where I will feel pleasure in my mind and body.”
“Ahh, you will not be disappointed, Mark, and you will have an evening that will live forever in your memory.”
Syamm drove me to a small shopping mall. At first, this kind of setting disappointed me. It had lots of small stores and a few restaurants, and it didn’t appear to be a place that would live forever in my memory.
We walked to a building that had a gaudy, red flashing neon sign on it with Thai lettering that had no meaning for me. After we entered, we walked up a gold spiral staircase with red carpeting which led us to a large darkened room with candlelit tables. To one side there was a colorful buffet of Thai delicacies.
A few men, many of them older Thais, sat drinking, eating, and talking. Men in tuxedos walked about bringing drinks to the various tables in an unrushed manner while others were engaged in whispered conversations with the patrons.
We sat, and were greeted by a young Thai woman who wore a colorful dress embellished with splashes of magenta, green, and blue silk fabric. On her head was a gold tiara which included an image of Buddha sculpted into the center. When she asked for our drink order, I turned toward Syamm.
“You must have a Tum Yum Siam,” he said. “You will like it very much.”
“What’s in it?”
“It is a martini made with vodka, lemongrass, lychee syrup and a little ground Chile pepper. It is very good, and you are not to worry. There will be no cost. All the food and drink is free.”
We ordered two Tum Yums and helped ourselves to the enticing offerings at the buffet. Syamm had the grilled pork sticks with turmeric, and I, the stir-fried chicken with cashew nuts. As we enjoyed our meal, Syamm asked me to look at the girls. To one side of us was a large glassed-in area. Behind it were about thirty young women sitting under bright lights, a stark contrast to the candlelit area where Syamm and I were sitting. Each girl was dressed differently, some sexy with tight dresses and others less dazzling. Each had a card attached to her dress with a number on it. All the girls were beautiful, each in their own way.
Syamm told me that the cost to be with one of these girls was fifty U.S. dollars for the evening in a luxurious private room. I thought it was quite expensive for a country like Thailand, where a family could live on that amount of money for a week or more, but the cost was not a consideration for me.
I scrutinized the women but soon saw only one. She was dressed less provocatively than the others—more demure. In addition to her beauty, I sensed a softness about her, and perhaps an inner smile. She had shiny jet-black hair piled on top of her head and wore a two-piece pink suit. Attached to the upper part of her clothing was a white card with black numbers on it.
Number 23.
She would be the one. There was no question. I was going to order another round of Tum Yums. It was a delicious drink, but I was afraid if I waited I might lose her to someone else.
So I seized the opportunity and gestured to one of the tuxedoed men. When he arrived at my table, I whispered in his ear: “Twenty-three.” He nodded and led me to a counter where a woman at the cash register took my money. She told me my time with her would be four hours. A moment later, “Number twenty-three” was announced in a brash voice over the loudspeaker.
I watched the young girl, dressed in pink, leave the glassed-in area and walk toward me. She was indeed beautiful, and the inner qualities I perceived from afar were more apparent up close. She greeted me with a slight bow, her palms pressed together in front of her lips as if in prayer.
I acknowledged by tilting my head downward and placed my hands together the same way. It brought a soft smile to her face and gave me the opportunity to take a closer look at her. Her black hair and dark brown eyes matched mine. Her lips, full and inviting. She led me along a narrow hallway and opened the door to a clean, neat room. It had two plush twin beds, a TV, a couch, and a spacious, well-appointed bathroom.
I didn’t know what to expect, so I stood motionless alongside a wall as Number 23 sat on the couch with her legs crossed and her hands folded on her lap as if she was sitting at a bus stop. She looked up at me with a thin smile.
I focused on her lips, luscious and moist and imagined kissing her, tasting her beauty. Her exquisiteness overwhelmed me. As she glanced at me, I saw her eyes saying, “Take me, I’m yours.”
Three gentle taps on the door broke the silence. A woman entered with a tray of towels, soaps, and small bottles of Lychee and pomegranate juices. Number 23 took some money from her purse and handed it to her as they exchanged smiles and pleasantries.
I was still standing against the wall, self-conscious, not knowing what to do. I felt as if I were on a first date with a beautiful girl, skipping the dinner and the concert, and now waiting at her door for a goodnight kiss.
I couldn’t take my eyes off this exotic woman. Her ways were soft, her movements slow and reserved. She didn’t appear to be hardened by life. I knew nothing about Number 23, but my senses told me that in addition to her beauty she exhibited a hint of innocence and perhaps shyness.
She loosened her hair and let it fall around her face and below her shoulders. She unbuttoned her jacket, kept it on, and began to unfasten her white lace top, hesitating at each button, and glancing at me after she opened each one until she exposed the soft curves of her breasts.
I took the few steps to the couch where we sat next to each other, and she put her hand on mine. “Wait,” I said.
Her eyes widened and she appeared surprised as she turned to me, my face inches from hers. Enraptured by her captivating red lips, I traced them with my fingertip, and she responded by kissing my hand.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Leila,” she answered calmly.
“My name is Mark. Do you speak English?”
“Yes, sir. Not like you, but I do speak well,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Can we talk for a while?”
“Yes, of course, for as long as you would like.”
“How old are you?”
“I am twenty-five years.”
She slid closer to me, her thighs pressed against mine. I became aroused and my heartbeat raced. I excused myself and stepped into the bathroom. The counter was lined with exotic shampoos, body washes, and hair gels. The towels were white, rose scented and fluffy. Two terrycloth robes hung on hooks, along with several clean, pressed, white karate style outfits. I looked at myself in the mirror. Beads of sweat covered my forehead as I listened to my heart beating faster. I took a long cool shower and dried off. I put on one of the karate uniforms, returned to Leila and sat next to her. She was partially dressed, as I had left her.
“How long have you been doing this?” I asked.
“For two years, two times a week. I come from a poor family and had to earn money for my education. My time at the university is now over, and as of tomorrow, I no longer must do this kind of work.”
“Fate has it then. Do you mean I’m your last…uh…”
She answered with a broad smile. “Yes, you are my last client.”
Would she be free after tonight? Could we meet?
“What did you study, Leila?” I asked, trying to think of something to say.
“I studied education. I always wanted to be a teacher and will begin work at the Panyaden School here in Chiang Mai where I was once a student myself. I will be teaching English and music to children age ten to twelve years. Please, may I ask what you do?”
“I’m an engineer and am on leave from my job. I will return to it eight months from now. You don’t have to answer this, but do you have a man in your life?”
“No, there is no man. Perhaps it is because I am so shy.”
Shy? How could that be? She’s offering me her body.
I held her close and kissed her. When our lips drifted apart, my eyes remained closed and the warmth of her kiss lingered.
“I would like to see you tomorrow, Leila. Would that be possible?”
“Are you married? Do you have someone?” she asked.
“There is no woman in my life.”
She looked down at her knees and said nothing.
I interrupted her thoughts. “Take a chance,” I said, almost begging.
She turned toward me with a thin smile as our eyes locked.
“Well, maybe this one time.”
“Can I call you?”
“No, we can meet.”
“When? Where?”
“Perhaps tomorrow afternoon at two p.m. at Wat Umong. We can meditate together. It is a Buddhist temple set in the mountains, only a kilometer from Chiang Mai University where I was awarded my degree. I walked there many times after classes, and it became a place that filled my heart.”
“Should I wait inside the temple?” I asked, smiling.
“It will be best if we meet on the narrow, wooden bridge that crosses the small lake near the holy place.”
She sounded sincere, but I wasn’t sure if she would show up. She knew about men and was aware their immediate needs had to be satisfied. Maybe she wanted to please me for the moment and then be out of my life forever. But it was my turn to take a chance.
I arrived early, stood on the bridge, and looked out at the lake. Images of the surrounding trees in their blazing colors were reflected in the light green, transparent water, mirroring their beauty. Silence was everywhere, except for the songs of the birds tweeting their calls to each other, and it wasn’t long before I saw Leila strolling toward me wearing a navy blue dress. Her jet-black hair fell along her back almost reaching her waist, and she looked even more lovely in the sunlight, with little makeup, than she had the night before. I took her hand and kissed it.
“Thank you for coming,” I said.
She looked at me with a wide smile.
“I didn’t feel I was taking a chance,” she said. “I know you are an honest man. A woman can feel those things.”
We followed a path through the dense forest until we came to a gold-trimmed, pagoda-style temple set on the side of a mountain. Leaving our sandals outside, we entered through an ornate doorway and I immediately felt the cool air brush across my face. Monks in their traditional orange robes ambled by, greeting us with a gentle, brief nod.
Wat Umong consisted of several cave-like tunnels, each about twelve feet high with aged bricks lining the walls. Statues of Buddha in varying stages of peaceful repose rested at the end of each dimly lit passage.
I took Leila’s soft hand as we walked through one of the tunnels. We stopped and she pointed to the ceiling which showed faint ancient drawings.
“Look at the pictures carefully, Mark. They were done seven hundred years ago and are mostly faded, but you can still see some of the images. Can you see the elephant?” she asked, pointing.
I tilted my head upward and searched for a moment.
“Yes, I see it. It’s so lifelike.”
Leila turned toward me and spoke in a low voice. “I have never been here with anyone else. I made this temple my private sanctuary, a place to meditate and feel its tranquil eloquence. Being alone with Buddha connects me to his enlightenment and inspires me to follow his path.
“When you and I talked about meeting each other, something inside me said it had to be here. I don’t know why. I know there are deeper feelings within me that have never surfaced and perhaps being in Wat Umong with you will change all that. It’s as if my feelings are in a locked room, I’m searching for the key and found it. Maybe there was something about you. Your gentleness, your ways, that said to me Wat Umong would be the fitting place for us.” She smiled as if coming out of a trance, and looked into my eyes. “So, here we are.”
“Thank you for your trust, Leila. It’s good to be together.”
She clasped her hands shyly before her. “Yes, it is. When we were looking at the drawings, I imagined us together centuries before, in another life, walking in this temple and staring at those same pictures, ablaze in their original brilliant colors as we walked with the monks.”
Leila kneeled in silence in front of a gold Buddha and I knelt next to her, feeling her dedication to her faith as she lit a candle. When we were ready to leave, we sauntered toward the entranceway which was flooded with bright sunshine along with the familiar sounds of songbirds—a vivid contrast to the darkened, quiet and serene tunnels.
“Mark, when you looked at the face of Buddha, did you see him smiling?”
“Yes, I felt his inner peace and sensed his gentle smile.”
Leila grinned. “That is good because when you see Buddha that way, smiling, it means that you are calm in your heart. Not everyone notices his subtle smile.”
“Thank you for telling me that. Maybe I feel at peace because I am with you. Tell me, Leila, I noticed that the gold Buddha’s left hand was palm up on his lap, and his right was over his knee facing downward. What does that mean?”
“Buddha was meditating, connecting to the world with his right hand falling upon the earth. It represents the moment of Buddha’s enlightenment. It is life’s true path for all of us to seek. I have knelt before him many times over the years. Today is special. Thank you for being at my side.”
“I felt your oneness with Buddha, but I’m not sure what enlightenment means. Is it a spiritual awakening?” I asked.
“In essence, yes, and it is important to know that it is more than an intellectual understanding. It is an intuitive knowing.”
I glanced at her. “Like love?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, like love.”
“It’s a beautiful religion, isn’t it?”
“It is a way of life,” she answered.
I lit another candle, left an offering, and we walked through the woods where we stopped to kiss. The softness of her body melted into mine as our lips blended and it cleared my mind of all thoughts.
I used to think only the universe was perfect…but now there’s Leila.
We saw each other every day for the next month and visited more temples. All of them were elaborate and ornate, but none more tranquil than Wat Umong where we knelt together, and where I prayed for Leila to be mine. When Syamm said my experience of meeting a beautiful Thai woman would live in my memory, I never dreamed it would come true, and never like this. Maybe the Lord does move in mysterious ways.
Leila and I shared our affection with the touch of our fingertips across a table or with sweet kisses as we walked along a lonely path. I knew we would soon make love, but I wanted to prolong the time before we shared any deeper passions so I could taste our innocence a bit longer and enjoy my fantasies of what was yet to unfold.
As we roamed the streets of Chiang Mai, we ate the delicious food from street vendors and kissed often. We watched a live performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony by the Chiang Mai Symphony Orchestra complete with a full chorus. We visited nightclubs, danced at a Full Moon beach party, and drank only Thai green juice and melon refreshments because Leila didn’t drink anything alcoholic—and now, neither did I.
I felt tender feelings for her when we first met. Now, we were closer—much closer. I still had time on my passport but had to find out how to extend it so Leila and I could be together longer. I knew I was in love with her but hadn’t expressed it in words.
One day, Leila looked at me. Her eyes sparkled and her face wore a big grin. “Come away with me for a few days, Mark. My sister, Arisa, married well and owns a beach house on Koh Samui. It is an island on the east coast of Thailand and it is available to us while she is away.”
“Sounds perfect. Yes, of course,” I said, thrilled.
We traveled a full day by train, bus, and longboat, arriving at this exclusive island at dusk. Arisa’s house couldn’t be any closer to the beach. It took only six steps down a weathered wooden stairway before our feet touched the sand. The swimming pool was off the patio in the back of the house, surrounded by palms and sweet-smelling frangipani trees.
That night we swam under a dying moon hanging low in the sky, surrounded by a galaxy of twinkling stars. Afterward, I took Leila’s hand, led her inside, and lit two candles, one in the bedroom, another in the bath area. I stepped into the shower, and soon Leila was beside me.
As the warm water enveloped us, she whispered, “I love you, Mark,” then paused and added, “I have never said those words to any man.”
I kissed her and she trembled as my hands glided over her slim, curvaceous body, lingering at her breasts.
“I love you, too, Leila. Very much.”
The cascading water splashed over us as her hands explored every part of me. A moan hummed through her lips, her arms drawing me closer until our bodies were one and we exploded in one passionate moment. We held each other for a long time, not speaking as we shared short, sweet kisses and then stepped out into the candlelight.
Leila took my hand, looked into my eyes and whispered, “We were two, now we are one.”
Her words were like kisses…soft, lingering.
We went to bed and fell into a deep sleep.
Early the next morning, Leila awoke alert and bubbly. She prepared a traditional Thai breakfast consisting of coconut pancakes, steamed local fish, and asparagus. We devoured the delicious colorful meal, served on shiny white platters, and planned the day.
We hired a Safari Jeep with an open top and drove off to explore the central part of Koh Samui, which is mostly a tropical jungle. We wore jeans and hiking boots with leech socks over our legs to prevent the bloodsuckers from attaching themselves to our feet and skin. Leila prepared a picnic box containing spicy prawn salad sandwiches and sweet basil lemonade to take with us and we stopped to buy a kilo of lychee fruit for snacks.
We drove along the narrow dirt road into the jungle, but the roar of our engine soon overpowered the gentle sounds of nature. I stopped, removed the key and heard only the intermittent tweets of the birds and the chirping of insects.
Leila leaned back, and with a peaceful smile on her face, closed her eyes and listened. After about a half hour of meditation, we continued on. We stopped at a rubber plantation where we saw white liquid dripping into buckets from cuts in the trees.
Fascinating sights were everywhere. We drove another two kilometers and stopped at a clump of palm trees. A black-bearded man pulled up on his motorcycle with a leashed monkey. While still tethered, the monkey scurried up the tree and began throwing coconuts down for him to collect. I had never seen that before, either, but Leila said she had watched the same scene many times, and it always made her laugh.
The dirt road ended with a pile of large rocks in front of us and we could go no farther. We parked our Jeep, put on our daypacks containing our food and supplies, and walked along a well-worn path, not knowing where it would lead.
In the distance, we saw a waterfall rushing into a picturesque blue lagoon, sparkling in the sunlight. As we got closer to the cliff surrounding the lagoon, we discovered there was no trail to take us down to the water’s edge, and the nearest hiking trail leading to the lagoon appeared to be several kilometers away.
Diving into the lagoon from where we stood would be dangerous and out of the question. The lagoon was too far below, but there were two thick ropes that hung from the cliff and led to the sandy beach and rocks surrounding the lagoon. It would be easy to use the ropes to climb down, but using them to go back up would be impossible. We decided to utilize the ropes, and when it was time to leave, we would walk to the hiking trail and take the arduous trek back up to our Jeep.
A large dark cloud swept over us as we eased our way down wearing our daypacks. Ten minutes later, our feet touched the warm sand and the roar of the waterfall filled our ears. We removed all our clothing, rubbed suntan oil on each other, dove in and swam behind the waterfall.
Soon the cloud passed and sunlight shone through the raging sheets of water, illuminating the darkness behind us. With our feet on an underwater ledge, we kissed and made love. Only afterward our bodies began to shiver in the cold water.
We swam to the edge of the lagoon and climbed onto a large flat rock where we rested our heads on our daypacks and let the sun warm us. I glanced at Leila lying next to me. Her eyes were closed and small beads of water were scattered over her oiled, naked body as she stretched her arms over her head.
The sound of the waterfall plunging off the cliff was powerful and dramatic, but it didn’t suppress the songs of the tropical birds singing their melodies, adding their sweet voices to the rush of the falling water.
Soon, Leila’s eyes fluttered open. She brought her knees up and wrapped her hands around her legs.
“I told my family about you, Mark, and they were very happy for me. They knew I found someone special before I even said anything. Maybe they noticed my smile and peaceful face at dinner.”
“We feel the same, Leila, not only about each other but about life.”
“We do. Be thankful. It’s a gift.”
For the first time, I had a woman in my life who truly loved me. Love may be mysterious and elusive and maybe it can’t be defined, but there was no mystery about how we felt. We were both in love.
We soaked up the sun for another half hour and prepared to leave, knowing we would return to our secret lagoon many times.
“I’m happy we found the path that took us here,” I said.
Leila gathered her things, placing them carefully in her pack. “Buddha says there is no path to happiness. Happiness is the path.”
“Then happiness will always be with us,” I said.
“It will, because we know we will stay on our path.”
We dressed and hiked up the steep hill, stopping along the way to rest, until we got back to our Jeep.
We rested, then in a burst of excitement Leila called out, “Come, Mark, let’s go to a place that is very special for me.”
We drove to a beach where a huge golden Buddha more than thirty meters high sat on the sand atop a wide, gold-trimmed staircase. Crowds of people surrounded us. I stared at it in amazement. The Buddha held the same pose as the one at Wat Umong, his left hand on his lap, the other touching the earth.
It was magnificent but no comparison to the time I was at the temple, on my knees with Leila in front of the Buddha at the end of the tunnel. There were no crowds in the tunnel, only us, immersed in the sublime eloquence of silence.
“Tell me,” Leila said, “how do you see him?”
“He is smiling, so I must feel peace and calmness within me,” I said.
“We feel the same.” She grinned shyly.
We arrived back at our beach house at night, watched a movie, and talked. Leila was quiet. She didn’t say anything, and her face seemed solemn.
She sat next to me and took my hand.
“Do we have a future together, Mark?”
I never expected Leila to broach that subject. I thought it would be the man’s place to bring it up, especially in Thailand.
I wasn’t ready for marriage.
“Of course, Leila, we’re in love. That means for all eternity,” I said, smiling.
“I apologize for asking this, but should we talk about marriage?”
“Yes, but we don’t have to rush into things. We know what we have, and we won’t lose it.”
“I want us to have babies, Mark. I love you so much. Do you want me to tell you what’s in my heart or do you prefer I say it another time?” A tear dropped along her cheek.
I moved closer and held her face in my hands. “Leila, no one means more to me than you. You are my first and only love. I have never felt this way about anyone. I thank you every day—every moment—for giving me this gift of love we share. It will be our to share forever.”
“I am thankful for what you have given me, too, Mark. It is truly an unexpected present and it is not something many people have in their lives. We are blessed, and I prayed for you to be in my life when we knelt together in front of Buddha.”
“I know how you feel.”
“I am sorry.” She paused as if to carefully consider her words. “But I must say that maybe you don’t know how I feel because you’ve never brought up marriage.”
“I’m tired, Leila. It was a long hike. We’ll talk about these things over the next few days. I promise.”
“Thank you for saying that. I know you are an honest and caring man and I will look forward to that time.”
Morning came. I opened my eyes as the bright sunshine slithered through the bamboo blinds. Leila awoke, turned toward me, took my hand to her lips, and kissed it.
During breakfast, I told her I wanted to extend the time on my passport to make sure we could continue to be together, and I needed to know how to go about it.
She beamed.
I decided to call the embassy, and I asked Leila to bring my cell phone from the closet in the bedroom.
Leila walked back in as she turned on the phone. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she gazed at the text messages. Tears streamed along her cheeks and her hands trembled as she placed the phone in my hand. The final text was still on the screen.
My dearest Mark,
I don’t know where you are. I miss you so much.
You said we would never be apart, and our need
for each other would go on for all eternity.
I believed you, but you lied.
We need each other.
Please call me and come home.
Keep the promises you made.
I can’t bear the pain.
Your wife,
Ashley