Before going to work, I decided to have a rest, took a shower and fell into bed naked.
I was almost dozing off when I heard a knock at the door. I had to get up.
Irene was standing in the doorway. I quickly grabbed a towel, covered myself and opened the door wide.
The guest smile slightly and took a small step forward:
“What, a siesta?”
“Why did you come?” I grumpily blocked the entrance.
“I missed you. Aren’t you happy to see me?”
She took my hand and stared into my eyes for a few seconds:
“Are you offended? Well, I’m sorry.”
“Absolutely not, what makes you think that?”
“I didn’t want you to come because I don’t come to the salon very often,” she said in her defense. “I thought if you came and I wasn’t there, then... I saw our masseuses staring at you. I didn’t like it, so please don’t be angry.”
“Irene, are you jealous?” I couldn’t believe my ears! “Are you?”
“I know, I know everything about me,” she put her finger to my lips. “You don’t have to say anything. But I really don’t want those cheeky girls to use you.”
“I’m not a child!” I took her hand away. “What do you want? Did someone send you here?”
“No one,” she blinked, confused. “I just wanted to see you. Did I come at a bad time?”
She tried to get in again. I guess she thought I wasn’t alone. I stepped aside. Irene took a quick look at the made-up bed and visibly relaxed:
“Since I woke you up, why don’t we go to the cafe?”
“No money,” I lied. I didn’t want to go anywhere with her, she’d think it was serious.
“But I’ve got some, my treat.”
“I already owe you.”
“Really?” She was surprised.
“Did you forget the massage?”
“Oh, you mean that,” she blushed slightly. “Well, I thought this was what we both wanted.”
I pretended not to hear her, and asked with some sarcasm:
“May I know how much your mm... services cost?”
She looked at me with a long, studying stare and, of course, gave tit for tat:
“Don’t you think you should have asked in advance to avoid any misunderstandings later on? After all, I can now tell you any price...”
“How much?”
“I’m afraid you can’t afford it, my boy.”
“Can you be serious?”
“What about you? Can you stop being rude to me?”
“Then tell me how much. I have to pay you.”
“All right, two hours of your precious time. Do you agree?”
“That depends on what you’re going to do to me.”
“Do not even think about it!” She turned to the door. “How about a little hike? There’s a waterfall in the jungle not far from here.”
I can’t say I was thrilled with the idea of trudging around in the heat at the whim of a feisty girl, but debts must be repaid.
As I pulled on my jeans, Irene stood in the doorway with her head tilted to the side, shamelessly watching me. I pretended not to be bothered by her presence, but it was embarrassing, I couldn’t get my leg into my pants.
“You’re so cute,” she smiled.
Cute? After everything I’d said to her? What the hell is happening to us? When Irene isn’t around, I want to see her, touch her, smell her and kiss her. But as soon as she appears, I get cold as ice, deliberately rude, pretending to be busy. Her behavior is no better – sometimes she avoids meetings with me, sometimes she comes as if nothing had happened. She also teases me, when she sees that I can hardly stop myself from tearing off her dress, under which I know the little wretch has no panties.
The sign at the bend said it was 5 kilometers to the waterfall. I hurried forward, glad that the sun had stopped burning – a light breeze blew in from the sea and covered the sky with clouds.
But before we were halfway there, it started to rain.
So we ran into a roadside cafe. It was empty. Round plastic tables had been moved to the center of the room, cases of Coke and Sprite were stacked in the corner, and bundles of green coconuts lay on the concrete floor.
On the sea side, the cafe was protected from the wind by transparent cellophane; heavy raindrops rushed down it and disappeared in the wet sand. A sleepy waiter came out. When he saw us, he silently took a machete, tore a nut from the bundle, and deftly sliced off the top. After quenching his thirst, he wrapped himself in a raincoat, picked up a broom and began to sweep the already perfectly clean path. When he left, we were alone.
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Beyond the “weeping” film, the waves roared and frothed. On a promontory jutting into the sea, a Buddhist temple was barely visible in the gray gloom. It was getting chilly. Irene shivered and childishly buried her face in my shoulder. Her wet hair smelled of the sea. I wanted to stroke it, but I didn’t dare, standing there like an idol, unable to move. Then, boldly, she cuddled up to me herself, pulled my shirt out from under my belt and slipped her fingers under it, lightly running a fingernail along my spine. I jerked convulsively, as if an electric current ran down my back; my heart sinking into a pit of air I felt a sweet pain in my lower abdomen...
I tried not to show that I was losing control, even though there was nothing I could do about the growing sexual arousal. And she could feel it.
Music was playing somewhere nearby – not the ubiquitous “Jingle Bells” favored by the Thais, no, someone was listening to Leonard Cohen’s “If it be your will”. I knew the song from the movie “Pump up the Volume”, which I was crazy in my youth.
“Shall we dance?” Irene looked up at me.
Instead of answering, I held her tighter in my arms and kissed her frantically.
She didn’t resist, just stood on her tiptoes and responded in a way that made me feel like I was flying, lifting us both into the air.
The melody had long since stopped, but we didn’t even notice.
“Vik, did you have a girlfriend?” she asked suddenly.
“A girlfriend?” I was confused. “I don’t know. I guess I did – a long time ago, back in high school.”
“Don’t you even remember?” Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Of course I remember,” I leaned over and kissed her dimpled cheek. “I’m just not sure if she was my girlfriend.”
“Does that happen?”
“Sure. You know, like in melodramas – he loves her, she loves another guy, but that guy doesn’t love anyone but himself. We had the same thing.”
“It sucks,” Irene sighed. “Was she beautiful?”
“Very,” I kissed her again, this time behind her ear. “Is it okay that I’m telling you this?”
“Nothing, go ahead,” she said. “How old was she?”
“Sixteen like me. We were in parallel classes. The girls, my classmates, didn’t understand what I liked about her – short, cheekbones, a little moustache on her upper lip, dark-skin, like a gypsy. I didn’t pay attention to her at first either, but then I didn’t need anyone but her. There was something wild, witchy and even beastly about her that attracted boys. She looked at you with her emerald cat eyes, and they burned you like fire. I fell madly in love.”
“And she?” Irene held her breath.
“She didn’t love me... She went out with me to make the other one jealous. She went on secret dates with him, sent him notes through her friends. When I found out, I almost lost my mind.
“Poor boy! Why get upset about a girl? There are plenty more fish in the sea. You probably went out with someone else after that, right?”
“I did,” I sighed. “But it wasn’t the same. I told you, I was madly in love with her. I couldn’t live without her. I almost slit my wrists. I even started writing poems.”
“About love?” She got excited. “Read them to me, will you?”
“Oh, I’ve already forgotten all the words,” I tried to refuse. “It’s been so many years. But wait, I do remember one. But it’s not about love, it’s about the love of life.”
“Read it!” she nodded determinedly.
I cleared my throat and began, a little worried:
It’s so sad now to look
Into the crater of the black moon.
No water, just thick filth,
And beaten souls drowning in it.
I was here and someone’s hands
Dragged me mercilessly to Hades.
I remember my death rattle,
And my fear and pain in battle.
No one wants to die young
In the mildew-smelling mud.
If you want to be with your love,
You must fight and not give up.
But I’m so lonely and so tired,
I don’t feel alive and inspired.
I want to cry and get it over with.
But I can feel the wings behind me.
So I leave the moon in the past
I make my way to the sun at last.
Who believes that love can save,
Will save the world and survive himself.
When I finished, I forced myself to smile:
“Too naive, huh?”
“No, it’s sweet,” she praised me. “I didn’t know you were a poet. How could such a romantic boy turn into such a gloomy man? Is it because of unhappy love, Vik? Is that why you don’t trust women anymore? You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”
“No, not anymore,” I shook my head. “But you’re right, there’s still a part of my heart that feels like it’s covered in ice.”
“Do you like it?”
“I wouldn’t say I do. But I have no idea how to melt it.”
“Maybe you’re just afraid?”
“Maybe,” I replied quietly. “You women are so treacherous.”
“Not all of us are like that,” she wrapped her arms around me, resting her cheek against my chest. “I’m so glad you didn’t kill yourself.”
“Yeah! I waited until I was shot like a dog so I wouldn’t suffer,” I joked.
To be continued