Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Raw Silk
Lisabet Sarai
Excerpt
Chapter One
Breathe… Moist, ripe, heavy, laced with the scents of jasmine, garlic, diesel fuel, the tropical air was strange but welcome after the stale atmosphere of the airplane cabin. Kate O’Neill stepped off the passenger bridge and filled her lungs gratefully. Even in business class, the twenty-hour flight had been grueling. Kate ran her fingers through her tangled auburn curls and tried to smooth the wrinkles from her practical cotton skirt as she joined the crowds queuing at Immigration.
She felt a bit dazed. Only a month ago, she had answered the advertisement in the Boston Globe, and now here she was, half a world away, surrounded by foreign faces, buoyed by the musical rise and fall of Thai and half a dozen other Asian languages.
It was nearly midnight, noontime in Boston. David would be headed out to lunch soon, perhaps to their favorite falafel place in Harvard Square. She remembered telling him of her decision to take the job, as they sat there nursing their espressos. His stricken face, the tears welling in his brown eyes—it was painful to recall.
Why had she chosen this course, so sudden and so radical? She was happy in her work, a senior engineer at a relaxed, progressive software company. Her family, her friends, her Back Bay condo, her dance classes, her volunteer work—all tied her to New England. Then there was David, her lover of nearly three years, since they had met in graduate school. David was bright, funny, creative, gentle, strong. He shared her love of the outdoors, her interest in film, her enjoyment of exotic cuisines. David was her best friend as well as her partner in the bedroom.
A clear image of David came to her—lush, wavy brown hair, compact, wiry body, deft hands and eager manhood. On their last night, he had sunk to his knees before her, weeping, begging her to reconsider. Then, the next morning, he had taken her, unexpectedly, in the airport parking garage.
Partially hidden by the open trunk of the car, he’d begun by kissing her hard, backing her up against a concrete support pillar. As their tongues had entwined, he’d raised her skirt, pushed aside the fabric of her panties, and stroked her clitoris, lightly at first then with greater force. Even as she’d worried about their exposed position, she hadn’t been able to help but respond, rubbing against his hand as he inserted one, two, then three fingers into her, all the while continuing to stroke with his thumb. His whole hand had been inside her underwear, stretching the elastic, as she’d born down, trying to work him even deeper into her.
Then, without warning, he’d stopped. Turning her around to face the pillar, he’d pushed her skirt up to her waist and pulled her panties down around her knees. Kate had been only too willing to spread her legs wide, holding on to the rough concrete with both hands. A car had driven past, seeking a parking spot, as David had eased his cock into her hungry depths.
“Next, please.”
She started, embarrassed, as a young man in uniform beckoned her forward to the counter. As he examined her passport for what seemed like hours, she wondered whether she had made a mistake leaving David and her home for this land of strangers. David, though always enthusiastic, was not usually so daring and inventive, but perhaps he was changing. Her vague dissatisfaction and the sharp pang of wanderlust that had seized her when she’d first spotted the advertisement—were these realistic justifications for committing herself to a year in a foreign culture?
Finally, the inspector stamped her passport, with great ceremony, half a dozen times. Then the serious youth surprised her by breaking into a brilliant smile. “Welcome to Thailand, miss. I hope you enjoy your stay here.”
Kate smiled back. “Thank you.” She suddenly knew that she had chosen well. However this year turned out, it would be an adventure, a welcome variation in her well-ordered life.
She followed the stream of people to the baggage carousel and retrieved her luggage without incident. Pushing the cart ahead of her, she emerged from the international arrival area, into the confusion of the general concourse.
The area outside the gates swarmed with noisy humanity, faces everywhere, waving hands, shouting voices. Here and there, signs on sticks bobbed above the crowd, with hotel logos or the names of individuals. Kate scanned the scene nervously. She located the placard inscribed ‘Katherine O’Neill’, just as its bearer, a balding Thai with a drooping black mustache, noticed her. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
“Miss Katherine?” The man grinned at her as she nodded, his lively black eyes taking her in at a glance—her petite frame, unruly curls, rumpled clothing. “Welcome to Bangkok—City of Angels! I am Chaiwat, Mr. Edward’s driver.” He clearly meant Edward Harrison, her new boss. “Mr. Edward sent his own car, to bring you to your house. Please, follow me.”
Without waiting for her reply, he took charge of the luggage cart and started through the crowd toward the exit. Kate struggled to keep up, watching his back recede, worried at having lost control of her bags, trying to make progress through the press of bodies without seeming impolite.
Chaiwat was waiting for her on the curb, still grinning. “Stay here, please. I go get the car.” He disappeared into the humid night.
Kate leaned wearily against her largest suitcase. She had never met Edward Harrison, the managing director of DigiThai, Ltd., although they had spoken several times by telephone. How considerate of him to offer her the services of his personal car and driver. Of course, he was an American—from Chicago, she recalled—and no doubt understood from personal experience how exhausted she would be after the trans-Pacific flight.
A sleek white Mercedes sedan slid up to the curb, and almost before it stopped, it seemed, energetic Chaiwat was loading her cases into the trunk. He held open the back door, and she sank down onto the leather-upholstered seat with a grateful sigh. She drifted in and out of a half-sleep as Chaiwat drove out of the airport and turned onto the highway toward the city.
From under heavy eyelids, she watched the roadside sights fly by. Garish neon signs, in English, Thai and Chinese, lit up the night with the names of multinational corporations. Gleaming, modern buildings two dozen stories high alternated with stunted blocks of grimy concrete, weak fluorescent light visible through their open windows. Every now and again, she would glimpse the peaked, layered roofs and delicate spires of a Buddhist temple, rising incongruously from the middle of a residential or industrial district.
The full moon rendered the scene even more alien. High above the horizon by now, it lent a silvery sheen to the buildings, while creating sharp black shadows between and behind them. Brighter than any manmade illumination, it reminded Kate of an old-fashioned flashbulb. Each tableau seemed frozen in meticulous detail, captured by the moon like a surrealistic snapshot.
The car was silent, seeming to float over the road. The slight hiss of the air conditioning soothed her. Kate tried to stay alert, to pay attention to her new surroundings, but drowsiness was irresistible.
She found her mind drawn back to David and the scene in the parking garage. The recollection, on the edge of sleep, was vivid, almost hallucinogenic.
She could feel his hands, grasping her hips, positioning her for his thrusts. Despite their exposure, he did not hurry. His cock stretched her deliciously as he slid in, practically in slow motion, as if he were savoring every centimeter. He was deep inside her, but only for a moment before he started to withdraw. It was as if he were trying to memorize her body, imprint it upon his senses. He lingered at each stage, focused on each motion, constriction, texture.
Her own body was afire, but her urgency did not seem to communicate itself to him. Her nipples, hard as little pebbles, brushed against the smooth cotton of her blouse, raising a little gasp that she tried to suppress. David made no sound, breathed deeply but smoothly, in rhythm with his strokes, while she found herself panting, smothering her moans. She writhed in his grip, rubbing her bottom against him. The rough curls of his pubic hair on her bare skin made her wild.
She reached behind her to grasp the base of his penis with one hand. The other hand found its way between her own legs, working its way among the slick folds to find her clitoris. She squeezed David and massaged herself, both hands moving together. David responded, drawn out of his reverie, catching fire from her. He began thrusting harder, faster, deeper, just as she craved. Now he was panting too. She had to stop her self-caresses in order to hold the concrete support in front of her with both hands. Otherwise, the force of his thrusts would have knocked her over.
David made an animal noise, deep in his throat. He dug his nails into her flesh, pulling the mounds of her buttocks apart to have better access to the juicy cleft of her sex. Kate arched her back, opening herself wider, aching for total penetration. Again and again David plunged into her, riding her with a ferocity he had never shown her before.
She loved this position, the feral quality of being taken from behind. She loved the danger too, the chance of being discovered with her panties down and her private parts glistening with moisture. The thought of this, of how they would look to some passerby, was the final stroke. That image, added to the furious friction of David’s cock, the tingling in her nipples, the brush of his pubic hair on her thighs, his fingernails marking her ass, finally pushed her to the edge and beyond.
David felt her spasms, and matched them. He collapsed forward onto her, both of them leaning against the pillar. As their breathing gradually slowed to normal, David fondled her breasts and left tiny, precise kisses at the back of her neck.
Kate started, suddenly alert. Her real environment reasserted itself, the supple leather beneath her, the artificially refreshing breeze from the air-conditioning vents. She realized that Chaiwat was watching her in the rear-view mirror, at the same time as she found she had both hands in between her legs. Her sex ached with imagined or new hunger. She couldn’t tell which. Casually, she moved her hands to her sides and sat up a bit straighter, trying to ignore the grin she saw reflected toward her.
The car had left the highway now, and was cruising through nearly deserted city boulevards. Then Chaiwat turned sharply right. The car wound through a maze of narrow lanes, lined with stucco and cement walls and an occasional wrought iron gate. Finally, he brought the Mercedes to a halt in front of one such gate, got out and rang a bell. The grille slid open. Chaiwat was already back in the driver’s seat guiding the car into the compound.
“Here we are, miss. Your house. Mr. Edward hopes you like it.”
Kate extricated herself from the car’s comfortable embrace. The house was small, almost a cottage, but had two stories, and was surrounded by lush gardens. A huge tree with gnarled, contorted limbs stood before the building, bearing drooping masses of vines and creepers. She breathed deep, savoring the sweetness of flowers she could not name. The humid air caressed the bare skin on her arms. She heard the chittering of insects and, softly, the music of flowing water. There must be a pool or fountain. She smiled to herself as she noted a balcony on the second floor, overlooking the garden.
The front door was open, with a feminine figure in silhouette against the light. As Kate approached, the woman glided forward to meet her, barefoot, the bright colors of her sarong vivid even in the semi-darkness. The woman placed her palms together at breast level, and bowed slightly, bringing her fingertips to her brow. “Welcome, madam. I am Ae, your maid.”
“Hello, Ae. I’m pleased to meet you,” Kate began, but the young woman had already picked up one of the bags that Chaiwat had unloaded, and was carrying it into the house.
Kate followed, marveling at the maid’s grace, even when she was lugging a heavy suitcase. The woman’s jet-black hair hung down her back to her waist. Her diminutive stature made Kate, barely five feet two herself, feel huge by comparison. Ae turned back to make sure Kate was following, an innocent, joy-filled smile on her lovely features. “Please remove your shoes,” she reminded Kate.
Kate left her slip-off pumps in the foyer, and entered the living room. Polished teak floors under her feet, whitewashed walls, floor-to-ceiling drapes across sliding doors that led to the garden—simple, comfortable-looking furniture of some blond wood, a spiral staircase of wrought iron in the corner, leading to the second floor—Kate surveyed her new abode with pleasure.
There was a well-equipped kitchen and dining alcove, plus a breakfast bar with rattan stools. On the counter stood an enormous basket of exotic fruit, elaborately decorated with ribbons and colored foil. She read the card—it was another welcoming message, signed Warmest wishes, Edward Harrison.
Once more Kate wondered about her new boss. He seemed very concerned about her comfort and welfare. Well, she would meet him soon enough. Today was Saturday—Sunday, by now, she corrected herself—and she planned to start work on Monday.
Ae glided down the stairs and stood quietly, waiting to be acknowledged. “Your bags are upstairs in the bedroom, madam. I put out towels in the bathroom for your shower. Do you need anything more tonight?”
The notions of a shower and a bed were overwhelmingly appealing. “No, thank you, Ae.” She turned to thank Chaiwat and say goodnight, but the driver was nowhere to be seen. A strange man, she thought, remembering his almost lustful stare in the mirror.
“Then goodnight, madam.” The lovely creature made another half bow, which Kate recognized from her reading as the traditional waiof respect. “If you need anything, please call me. My room is just outside the back door.”
“Goodnight, Ae.” Kate watched the maid check the lock then close the door firmly. Were all Thai women so exquisite? Looking at Ae, Kate felt an odd pressure in her chest, like a sob trapped, tears unshed. Like catching a glimpse of a deer motionless along the roadside, or finding a single, fragile lady slipper blossom half buried in the mold of the forest floor.
Kate shook her head to clear it, and slowly pulled herself up the stairs to the bedroom. Soon hot water was streaming over her, incredibly delicious, sluicing away the grime of her journey and easing her aching muscles.
As she rubbed herself dry, she could not help but approve of her own body. Her creamy skin spoke of her Irish background, her muscular thighs and calves of her years of ballet and modern dance classes. Her breasts were not large, but they had a pleasing symmetry, with plump nipples that stayed erect regardless of her state of arousal. Her hips and buttocks were surprisingly full, contrasting with the general impression of petiteness and delicacy she conveyed to the casual observer.
She brushed the towel lightly over the reddish curls below her navel, and felt a faint electric thrill, echo of her earlier desire. With a sigh, she turned out the light, climbed into bed, pulled a sheet over her nakedness—she generally slept in the nude, a habit she had acquired while in college—and tried to relax.
The room stayed bright with moonlight filtering in through the translucent curtains. The sliding door to the balcony was open. Through the screen, the gentle breeze brought the garden scents into the room.
Despite her exhaustion, Kate found it difficult to sleep. After all, it was the middle of the day back in her normal time zone. The moon made patterns on her closed eyelids. She tried the strategy of focusing on them, watching them ebb and flow like wavelets on a beach. She began to drift a little along with the moon-tides.
Then, she heard a sound, or thought she did, a human sound like a cry or moan. Silently she rose, and went over to the balcony door, peering between the curtains. Was there someone there, perhaps hidden in the deep shadows under the twining tree? Then she heard the noise again, from the left, the far corner of the garden, where the moon shone full on an intricate sculpture of a Thai temple.
At first she could not see anything. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she discerned two figures below the temple on its pedestal. A man and a woman, in a fervent embrace.
Ae’s multi-colored sarong revealed the identity of the woman. Her companion’s face was in shadow, hidden in the luxurious mass of her hair. He stood behind her, encircling her with his arms, his right hand massaging her breast, while his left was cupped firmly over her pubis. Ae writhed in his grasp, clearly welcoming his touch.
Kate watched, holding her breath, as the right hand unbuttoned the maid’s blouse, one slow button at a time. Simultaneously, the left hand loosed the twists in the cloth that held the sarong around her waist. The fabric fell to the ground, revealing the girl’s shapely thighs and buttocks.
The man’s right hand now grasped her right nipple, delicately rolling it between finger and thumb. The left hand traveled languidly up the front of her body to the other breast, capturing the other nipple in a symmetric caress. The maid arched her back in pleasure, pressing her buttocks against her partner’s body. Another soft moan escaped her lips.
Now the man released Ae’s breasts and turned her toward him. The moon lit up his face, and Kate recognized Chaiwat’s drooping mustache and ironic grin. Somehow, she was not surprised.
He was not particularly tall, but he towered over the tiny figure of the maid. He bent to kiss her, full on the lips, then stripped off his trousers and shirt with amazing speed.
Kate continued to watch the naked couple. Chaiwat lifted Ae with both hands and settled her onto his ready cock. Kate felt a stirring between her own thighs as the maid wrapped her legs around Chaiwat’s waist. The driver held his partner firmly by the buttocks, and began to rock her up and down, slowly at first, with time for one long breath between each thrust. Meanwhile, he used his tongue on Ae’s breasts, circling one nipple then the other, in the same deliberate rhythm.