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"Coffee, Rose?" he suggested with the most sincere grin he could muster.
"Thank you. I would love one." She gave him that radiant smile once again. She could certainly turn on that charm when she wanted to, he mused. He held up his hand to attract the attention of the girl serving behind the booth. "Two coffees," he said pleasantly, "and maybe a couple of cream cakes if you have any." She smiled and did a little curtsy to indicate that his request had been received and understood.
He turned back to Suavarose. "I see you're travelling alone," he said in a pleasant conversational tone.
"Yes. I'm studying in Hong Kong. Today I return to my home in this country for the holidays." As she spoke she looked into his eyes all the time. He knew it was a ploy but he still felt his defenses weakening. This girl was good!
"What do you study?" he asked, controlling his tone of voice very carefully.
"English... and Politics. My father is a political leader in this country."
Smith didn't know whether to believe her or not. "You mean. like the Prime Minister?"
"He has been Prime Minister. Now his party is in opposition. There are three main parties here, every few years they tend to switch around. Perhaps our turn will come again soon."
If it wasn't true, it was damned convincing! She was very good, Smith thought to himself. "A great honor to meet you then," he tried to say it soberly and seriously. But there was that smile again! He was in trouble!
"What about you, Mr. Smith. What do you do?"
"Oh, just call me Smith," he said awkwardly, "everybody does. It's like a first name. What do I do? Well, actually I work for Orion Air, the airline you flew in on."
"Really. How exciting! What do you do for them?"
Smith decided to be a bit naughty. "I'm a sort of in-flight security guard. I travel along to report back on the security arrangements, or anything unusual that I spot. Anything that might cause the airline... shall we say, potential embarrassment." It was only a fraction away from the truth. He had a more general brief than flight security, and he was really just there to get a feel for how things worked, but security was part of it. Keeping it close to the truth made it easier for him to sound convincing. He watched her reaction. The smile only vanished for an instant, like a little cloud passing in front of the sun.
"That's a... great job. You must get to travel a great deal."
"That's the best part of it," he agreed, "today Hong Kong, tomorrow Manila, the day after Cairo...."
She looked shocked. "You're not moving on that quickly, I hope!"
He smiled his most winning smile as their coffee and cakes arrived. "Why do you hope that?"
"Well.... just because... we haven't really had time to get to know one another yet, have we?"
"Don't worry," he smiled, passing her the sugar, "I was speaking metaphorically. I'm here for a few days. Otherwise, how could you show me around this beautiful country of yours?"
She seemed relieved. "Exactly. That was what I meant." She sipped her coffee demurely and took a tiny bite from her cream bun. She looked like a little schoolgirl on her best behavior, trying not to get cream on her chin. In spite of himself, Smith was becoming won-over. He decided the time had come for full frontal attack. "Do you have a boyfriend, Rose?" he asked casually, sampling his own coffee.
She hesitated, but only for an instant. "Nobody in particular," she said sweetly.
What a perfect answer, Smith thought. If she had said yes, that would have meant "hands off". If she had said no, that might have meant "I'm not that kind of girl - boyfriends aren't on the agenda", But nobody in particular! That means "I'm up for it. If I like the look of you, you're in with a chance." Smith was finding the whole conversation increasingly exciting. Just how far was this girl willing to go to get back her little sweetie-box? After his boldness Smith now felt somewhat at a loss as to how to continue the conversation. The girl solved the problem. "Where are you staying, Mr. Smith?" she asked with her customary sweetness.
Smith couldn't help thinking that he was being played at his own game. And successfully. "Well," he began, still keeping his answer close to the truth, "the Company gives us a list of suitable places to stay, near the airport, but they're places where you really only meet other airline employees. I prefer to find somewhere a little further in, where you can meet local people. A little guest house, or a very small family hotel. That's what I like best."
She nodded, and Smith couldn't help feeling that she was somehow getting the upper hand. "Oh, good. I'm glad you haven't booked-in anywhere yet. I know a beautiful little place. It's about half way between here and the city center. Plenty of life if you want it, easy to get in to town, but quiet as well. Quiet and..." she deliberately crept-up on the word, "discreet." Before he could say anything he felt the girl's leg very gently and unobtrusively parting his knees. He spilled a little of his coffee trying to return the cup to the saucer.
"Oh," she said with affected surprise, "I hope I didn't bump into you, Mr. Smith."
O
Soavarose had offered to take Smith's bags on her trolley, but he had gallantly insisted that they were no trouble at all and he was happy to carry them himself. They arrived at the main exit point to the car-park and the road with Suavarose pushing her little trolley ahead and Smith carrying his leather case, the bulky hold-all tucked firmly beneath his right arm. This left his other arm free so that he could affectionately link arms with his newly-acquired companion. She occasionally looked into his eyes and smiled radiantly as they walked along.
"Do I shock you, Mr. Smith?" she whispered, squeezing his arm a little harder as they passed beyond the automatic doors and felt the full blast of the still intense evening sun and drew in their first lungfull of the warm tropical air, no longer processed through the terminal block's air-conditioning.
"No," he replied, having considered the question, "but you're going to un-nerve me a bit if you go on calling me Mr. Smith. How about 'Leonard' if you don't like Smith?"
"Yes. Leonard is a nice name. I like that."
"Nobody ever calls me that. But you can."
Still feeling both excited and apprehensive, and a few other things besides, Smith strolled, arm-in-arm with the young girl whose affections he knew he hadn't really earned, across the car-park in the direction of the main road, ignoring the shouts of: "You want taxi, Sir?", "You want Rolex watch, Sir?", "You want chicken-wing on stick, Sir?" and all the rest of it until he got to the road. He knew that if Suavarose hadn't been with him a girl for the night would have been another of the commodities on offer. There was a bus-stop in front of a line of food-stalls, and after that a line of parked motor rickshaws plying for hire, shouting for him to "Sit down please!", "Get in, please!", "Where you want to go?!", "Very cheap rickshaw!" and other things in this vein. Smith would have ignored their cheerful shouts and probably selected a more conventional four-wheeled conveyance (bearing in mind that his companion was an alleged former Prime Minister's daughter) but Suavarose pulled him towards one of the rickshaws.
"Let's take one of these," she entreated, "they're more fun!" They bundled their luggage into the little cage at the rear and Suavarose asked the driver for somewhere called the "Lana Condo", which he seemed to know well. She added something in the local language which Smith rightfully took to be a statement of how much she was willing to pay for the journey. The rickshaw driver seemed content. He kick-started the noisy little two-stroke engine and they were on their way.
Almost as soon as they had moved off he felt the girl's hand seek out his and move it to rest on the lower part of her belly, with hers cupped over it. She rubbed the back of his hand very softly, with an action that was tender but also more than a little suggestive.
"Do you like me, Leonard?" she asked very quietly.
To his annoyance Smith found that his voice came out a trifle hoarsely when he replied. "Of course I do. If you really want to know, I think you're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen," And I don't deserve you, he almost added, but that would have been just a little bit too close to the truth.
"Then why don't you kiss me?" she asked gently, her face tipped up towards his, her lovely brown almond eyes melting his soul like butter on a hot pan.
"That's a very good question," he agreed in a breathless whisper, and covered her lips with his.
As the little rickshaw snarled and bounced its way along the uneven road towards their destination, Smith saw little of the countryside they passed through. His lips were pressed to hers and his hands wandered freely over the lovely warm young flesh beneath her light cottony clothing, but all the time his psyche was wracked with many conflicting feelings: feelings of guilt, of unworthiness, of self-loathing, and of pure sexual delight. It could have been such a wonderful time, to have a beautiful young girl so seemingly passionate about him, so seemingly responsive to his kisses, and yet it was impossible for him to forget that everything that was happening was underpinned by that other, darker agenda. Accepting the advances of a prostitute would have been a far simpler situation, because both participants would have been willing parties to the transaction and to the unreality of the fantasy, but this was something else. It was dishonest. It was deception. It was exploitation. Yet he knew perfectly well that there was deception and dishonesty going on on both sides. Perhaps he shouldn't be so moralistic about it all, he told himself. Perhaps he should just try to enjoy the moment. He tried to relax, and to ease his lips away from hers long enough to whisper something in her ear.
"Thank you," he said simply, "for all this. I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I'm never going to forget being here with you today." She laughed. "What a lovely thing to say, Leonard. You are sweet. I knew you were from the first minute I saw you."
O
The hotel that Soavarose favored was a bit more conventional than Smith would have chosen if he had been on his own. Essentially it was a concrete structure about four or five stories high, positioned down a narrow but quite busy side-street. It had a foyer with a small bar area where you could sit and socialize, a restaurant opening off that, and the rooms themselves were accessed by means of an elevator, or a stairwell if you wanted the exercise, feeding-in to the same concourse. It was the kind of place where nobody asked any questions: quiet, unpretentious, unobjectionable. By the time they got to it Smith wouldn't really have cared what it was like. A clearing in the woods would have been perfectly adequate for what was uppermost in his mind.
They carried their own cases to the room they had been allocated, which was pleasant but rather bland, two floors up from the main concourse. Smith carefully put both of his into the closet, where it wouldn't be easy for Soavarose to get to them without being seen, and then he held her tight. It felt different standing up, their bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly.
Yes, he told himself, it felt wonderful, holding her in his arms like this, kissing her, feeling the excited ripple that ran through her body when she responded to his touch. But at the back of his mind was still that nagging little voice that spoke of betrayal, of unreality, of cruel self-delusion. |