Back in Your Room at the Sukhothai Bangkok Hotel

You wake in a strange room ... no, it's your room at the luxury hotel where you're staying for vacation. Your mouth tastes foul, as if the entire Chinese army had marched across your tongue wearing dirty sweatsocks after marching in them across a salt marsh, then through a dirty stable. Maybe the Aegean ones.

Malee is sitting in an easy chair across the room, playing or working on her phone. Playing, apparently, because whatever she's watching ir looking at makes her laugh. Then she notices you moving.

"Hi," she smiles at you.

"Hi," you reply, trying to rise to a sitting position. You immediately regret it. "Oh, God, I feel like ****. What happened?"

She looks at you with concern. You decide you could die happy if she looked at you like that every time you felt this bad for ... oh, say the next thirty or forty years or so ...

"You got pretty drunk. What do you remember happening?"

"Well, I remember signing on with your boss's ... I guess OUR boss's, now ... company. Isn't it illegal, or something, to get a guy hammered before he signs a contract in Thailand?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, but try proving it against a man of Kuhn Kulap's status. I'm afraid your ... our ... testimony wouldn't be worth much next to his. Besides, didn't you WANT the job?"

"Well, yeah. Still seems kind of unethical, though. I ... don't remember much after that, though ..." Suddenly, an image flashes through your mind: you, lying naked under the sun next to your new boss's pool. You look at Malee in something aporoaching horror. "Waitaminnit. Did I ... I didn't get naked, did I?"

"Well, Kuhn Kulap wanted to take your measurements, so yes, you ..."

"Shit! Oh, shit! How could you let me? I was wearing your panties! What is Mister Dan going to think!?"

Malee giggles for a split second, then sees how upset you are and cuts the laugh off. But she doesn't ... maybe can't ... wipe the smile off her face. "Don't worry, little flower. Kuhn Kulap is a sophisticated man, a cosmopolitan who understands people's ... eccentricities," she says as if wearing her panties had been your idea. "He also realizes he gave you no warning you would be ... asked ... to disrobe. You lost no face with him ... and gained a great deal with me. I am so proud of how you ... handled ... the whole negotiation." She kisses you, tongue parting your lips, then starts kissing down your throat, alon your carotid artery, while she continues, "And you looked," *kiss* "so sexy," *kiss* "in your panties," *kiss* "with your cute little bulge ..."

You feel nothing but relief as she tells you that you lost no face with Mister Dantanavanawong, your new boss, though it bothers you a little that he needed to be a "sophisticated cosmopolitan" in order to accept something you only did at Malee's request. Then you feel flattered, and proud yourself, when she says how proud of you she is. When she starts kissing you, her erect nipples pressed against your chest, and calling you sexy, you feel ...

"Malee, honey, I ... think I'm still hung over," you tell her regretfully. It's true she's making your penis react in completely predictable ways, but your head is pounding, you're semi-nauseous, and your mouth and tongue still have that Chinese-army-in-dirty-sweatsocks thing going on. You take half a step back, just enough so you can see her face ... and cleavage ... while you speak, hoping one or the other will miraculously make you feel better. They don't. "I'm sorry."

Malee pouts and presses herself against you again. "I really wanted to give you your reward tonight," she says, reaching around and grabbing your ass with both hands.

There is a short, uncomfortable silence between you, while you worry about disappointing her again. Then she says, "I know!" leaps across the bed, giving you a delicious view of her pert but curvy bottom, and picks up the house phone. "Hello? This is room 1009. Do you have any opening at the salon in the next hour or so? Great! I'd like to book time in the sauna, then the hot tub, and then a massage for one." She listens for a moment, looks over at you, and then says, "No, a male. Okay, thank you!"

She turns back to you and says, "You have an appointment in the spa in fifteen minutes. We'll let them sweat some of those poisons out of your body, then relax in the hot tub, and then get a nice massage. That hangover won't have a chance by the time we're done with you. And then ... we can have some fun!"

A few minutes later, you're in an elevator with Malee, dressed only in a hotel bathrobe and your new flip-flops. You're not particularly comfortable in so little clothing in public - you feel unprotected, exposed - but Malee told you that you'd need to be nude for your massage and that is perfectly acceptable wear for a spa visit. At least, you grumble silently, I'm not running around in short-shorts and a girly blouse this time.

You follow Malee to the spa/salon, where she once again takes control, speaking Thai to the receptionist, who gave the impression of staring daggers at you without quite ever looking at you for more than a second or two. Malee turns back to you and says, "Just confirming your appointment for you, little flower. Have a good time, do what they tell you to do, and I'll see you in a few hours."

The receptionist bows stiffly in greeting and says, "This way, please, Kuhn Aaron," so she speaks English. You'd thought most employees of a luxury hotel would speak your language, so why did Malee do the talking, and why in Thai? Apparently, you're going to have to get used to living in a country where everybody but you has a secret code they can use at will to exclude you ... unless you learn the code.

You dpend an hour sweating in the sauna and feel a little ... no, a LOT ... better when you're done. Then, after a brief but hot and steamy shower to wash away your sweat, you spend another hour in a hot tub. By the time you're done with that, your muscles all feel like melted marshmallow. You don't think you've ever been so relaxed ... physically, at least ... in your life, though a few things keep scrabbling around in your brain like rats in a cage ... your failure with Malee last night, the ridiculous costume she gave you to wear today and the hostile reactions other hotel guests seemed to have to it, as opposed to Mister Dan's ... and your drunkenness this afternoon. You've never been hit quite so hard by **** before, though at twenty you're hardly a heavy or regular drinker, and it's troubling.

But the physical relaxation eventually leads to some mental repose. Everything will be okay, you think. Better than okay. I've got a great job for the next year, a girl who thinks I'm sexy and ... charming? ... and I'm on an adventure in frikkin' Thailand. Life is good, quit overanalyz ...

A spa attendant has to wake you to bring you to the massage room. After drying off and re-donning your robe and sandals, you enter, remove the robe, climb up and lie, face-down, on one of those weird massage tables with a padded hole for your face.

"Good evening, Kuhn Aaron," says a voice ... a male voice ... from behind and above you. "How are you this evening?" Apparently you have a masseur, not a masseuse.

You're ... a little ... conflicted ... about this. You have one of the most beautiful women you've ever known waiting for you to feel human enough again that she can suck your cock, and you certainly wouldn't want to jeopardize that blossoming relationshio, but your mind can't help but flash back to that "Two and a Half Men" episode where Charlie turns his brother's chiropractic office into a massage parlor, complete with Happy Endings. You put those kinds of filthy fantasies out of your mind, however, and answer, "Fine, thank you. Very relaxed. A little nervous."

"I see. Have you ever had massage before?" his English has a slight French accent. Is that why he isn't calling you "Erinn" like everyone else you've met here seems to do?

You detect the scent of some kind of oil. "Well, I will do my best to allay your nervousness and deepen your relaxation. You may call me Prasong. If you feel any discomfort or wish me to continue in any area, please let me know."

He begins your massage, starting with your shoulders. His touch is gentle but his hands are strong, and the massage goes deep, deep into the muscles of your shoulders, neck, back and triceps. You find yourself groaning in contentment.

Then he begins using those strong hands to massage your ass.

There is a sudden flash in your mind ... visual and tactile ... of a hand, a very obviously MALE hand, strong and thick-fingered, with black hair on the attached arm ... stroking your cock.

You try to put it out of your mind, but it won't go. You try to ignore it, but it's hard ... and soon, so are you. Most of your muscles are soft as warm Jell-O, but your shoulders tense up again. What the Hell is happening to you? You've never fantasized about a man before, and now you've got ... not the woman of your dreams, because you never dared to dream this big! So what's going on?

"You seem to be tensing up a bit," Prasong tells you, "Here, let me help you." He returns to rubbing your shoulders, the warm oil easing your muscles but not your mind. Eventually, he returns to his deep massage of your legs, thankfully skipping over your ass this time. His fingers turn your leg muscles, as well, to warm, thick gelatin. He stops at your ankles, not touching your feet.

"Okay, time to turn over now," Prasong says.

You hesitate for a moment; your boner has gone down since Prasong's strong hands have moved away from your ass. Was it just his squeezing and thrusting, the way Malee has done? But then why would you see ... and FEEL ... a man's hand on your prick? And what if it happens again, in plain sight?

On the other hand, Malee told you to do whatever they told you to do, and she gets ... unhappy ... with you when you fail to do as she requests, or fail her generally. You can't risk that again so soon. Sighing, you turn over.

Prasong smiles again and begins massaging your shoulders and chest deeply before moving to your biceps, forearms and hands. Who knew HANDS could get so tense and tired? Then he works on your solar plexus and lower ribs before moving to your stomach. And it begins again.

At first you're okay. While he's working the upper parts of your belly near the solar plexus and ribcage, you get a ... twinge ... of arousal, an occasional vision of that hand and what feels like a memory, though it couldn't possibly be, of a warm, strong, manly hand on your ... thing. You can basically ignore it AND your slowly stiffening prick, because Prasong is very studiously doing so.

But the further down he goes, the closer he gets to your ... manhood ... the more vivid and worse, PHYSICAL the fantasies become. You can feel the hand on your flesh, the strength, the warmth, the rubbing sensation. Worse, you see faces: Veera, Mister Dan ... you don't need to imagine Prasong because he's standing over you, rubbing you down ... By the time he reaches your hips, you're helplessly humping the air, hips and ass moving as if programmed.

Prasong couldn't possibly not notice, and eventually he seems to decide that enough is MORE than enough. He steps back from the table, looking away from you. "Kuhn LaFleur," he says voice icy, "this is not that sort of establishment."

Your heart feels like it just stopped. You ... hadn't realized you were being so obvious. "I-I'm sorry," you stammer, "I ... didn't realize. I couldn't ... help it ..."

"Perhaps you should go. I think we are done here, don't you?"

You nod silently, red-faced, humiliated beyond belief. This situation is unsalvageable; you just hope it doesn't get you thrown out of the hotel.

Face burning, you nod, don your robe, slip your feet into your flip-flops, and flee back to your room, the flap-flap-flap sound of the rubber sandals mocking you all the way to the elevator.