Love's Sacrifice (6 page)

‘
Don’t go see the tigers without me,’ I wail.

‘
That’s decided that, then. It will be Kidzania for us.’

‘
Thank you,’ I say and plant a very noisy kiss on Sorab’s nose, which he immediately wipes.

We leave the breakfast lounge together and separate in the lift. Sorab blows flying kisses as the lift doors close on us. I walk along the corridor and knock on Billie’s door. She opens it with half-closed eyes, and walking away from me tumbles back into her bed.

‘
Good morning,’ I say brightly.

‘
What time is it?’ she croaks from under the pillow.

‘
After ten.’

She rolls off the bed and drags herself into the bathroom. I open the curtains to let the sunlight through the ceiling to floor windows. I am standing at the window looking out at Bangkok when she comes out in the hotel-provided robe, her face washed, and her wet hair wrapped in a towel.

‘
Have you had breakfast?’ she asks.

‘
Yup. They have a beautiful spread downstairs. Want to go?’

‘
Are you kidding? I’m not eating that shite.’

She picks up the phone and orders breakfast: a bowl of jam and a glass of pineapple juice. I shake my head, and she raises one weary, don’t-say-it eyebrow. She puts down the phone and goes to sit on the bed.

‘
So tell me about last night, then,’ I urge impatiently.

Billie lights a fag, takes a huge lungful, and exhales slowly. ‘Brian took me to Bangla Street. I was doing cartwheels with the excitement of seeing a live pussy show, and boy was that street crammed with touts selling ping-pong shows. They were so aggressive as well. One would grab your arm, you’d shake him off, and literally two feet later your arm would be grabbed again. They all carried like a large laminated menu of things the girls in their clubs could do with their pussies. Most of them acted too vague and shady when Brian asked about prices, saying that would be decided at the club. Anyway, one guy was willing to give Brian definite prices so we followed him.’

There is a knock on the door and Billie goes to open it. A hotel staff comes in with a tray of Billie’s bowl of jam, a teaspoon and a glass of juice. She signs his receipt, tips him, and he goes out, closing the door after himself. Billie has a sip of her juice and lifts the dome to expose her bowl of jam.

‘
God, I’m starving,’ she says. She grinds out her cigarette and, yanking the towel over her head, drops it on a chair. Lifting the spoon she starts spooning jam into her mouth as she walks to the bed. It never ceases to amaze me, no matter how many times I see it—Billie polishing off a bowl of jam for breakfast. I never thought a human being could exist on jam, chocolates, and pizza.

‘
There were about twenty-five different things the girls at his club could do. They could shoot ping-pong balls out of their fannies, sew with them, work their muscles so violently that they turned water into soda, open the tops of beer bottles.'

‘
Open a beer bottle?’ I interject, shocked, despite myself.

She nods sagely. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. The guy took us to this place—small and smoky, and lit up like a comedy club, but somehow very seedy. There were tables around a stage. We were given one that was so close I could rest my feet at the wooden edge of the stage. The only other people were an elderly European couple, a lone man with a huge beer belly—German probably—and a Chinese or Japanese couple huddled together looking bewildered.

‘
Anyway, we ordered our drinks. Apparently, what was unfolding on the stage was the last segment of another show. This girl was filling her vagina with ping-pong balls. She then shot them out with mind-zapping force at the audience. The funny thing was the elderly couple took a few in the chest and head and did not even flinch or duck as the balls hit them. No one clapped when it was over. It was all very odd.’

Billie scrapes her spoon on the bowl, licks the spoon and waves it around.  

‘
She had straight, long hair, a cute little arse and a tattoo around her belly button which I really liked, but believe me, the only thing she communicated was boredom. I actually can’t remember when I have seen someone look more bored. At this point a group of noisy Aussie surfer boy types walked in. As they took their places a man brought a birthday cake and deposited it on the stage. The girl sat behind it, inserted a straw into her fanny, and blew out the six candles on it while the Aussie boys cheered her on with wolf whistles.’

Billie pulls a cigarette out of a box, lights it, and takes a full drag.

‘
Then she walked off and another girl walked on. This one, who looked pretty similar to the last one, danced and gyrated a few seconds around a metal pole and then came to the front of the stage, suddenly opened her legs, and fuck me, out plopped a live gerbil. The Aussies were loving it—they screamed and howled—but I was totally horrified.’

She shudders with the memory. ‘You know how much I love gerbils. That’s mental cruelty right there. The poor thing looked drenched and confused. It tried to run off, but the man who had brought the birthday cake came out from behind the curtains, picked it off by its tail, and walked off with it. That put me right off.’

From the time she told me about the gerbil my hand had flown to my mouth in shock. An uncomfortable giggle escapes me. ‘What happened then?’

‘
Then she played a recorder with her pussy, which I have to admit was pretty damn impressive. And after that the way she then opened the beer bottle was fucking freaky. She simply squatted down over it, and popped its top off in seconds. By the time she turned water into soda water, the Aussies were starting to get downright rowdy, the single man was leaning forward eagerly, and I had started to feel icky about my moronic decision to go there. I felt really sorry for those women.’

She taps the ash off the end of her cigarette and scratches her leg where a mosquito had bitten her the night before.

‘
It’s worse than being a prostitute. At least prostitutes suffer their degradations in private. But these poor women… All of them had the same blank expression. I guess mentally each one had switched off, and taken her mind to a different place.

‘
At that point I shot a look at Brian and he had an expression of pity on his face. So we left. But not before we had a massive row about the bill with a big woman on ugly pills and her walrus-faced helper. They had added all these extras on and inflated the bill by about ten times. Brian refused to pay and told them to call the police. That stopped them cold.’

I stare at Billie, not knowing what to say.

‘
I thought it was going to be fun and cool, but no one I saw was doing it for fun. Now I’m just sorry I ever went. I can’t un-see it, and I feel like I’ve stolen a part of their pitiful souls. In the taxi later, Brian told me most of them are trafficked women who don’t get paid hardly anything, and some have been seriously hurt while performing.’

‘
I guess we never realize how privileged and lucky we are until we see what some people’s lives are like.’

‘
I just imagined it to be like some sort of circus, but it wasn’t.’

I go up to her and take her hand. ‘I’m sorry you feel bad, Billie, but I’m glad you didn’t enjoy it. Every day we learn something about the world and about ourselves.’

‘
Oh, now might be the perfect time to tell you that I’m giving up the baby clothes business,’ she announces.

‘
Why?’ I ask, surprised.

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

‘
I thought you loved designing. And you are so awesome at it.’

She sighs. ‘Well, I spoke to that accountant Blake sent me to, and it all boils down to two strategies. A: I make the clothes in England and sell them as exclusive designer gear in rich people’s shops, or B: I reduce the quality so they can be mass produced by slaves in some third world country and flog them to ordinary people. Both options are almost equally repulsive to me.’

‘
So what do you want to do, then?’

‘
I want to work with your charity. Does it pay?’

‘
Yes, it pays,’ I shriek happily. ‘And I’d love to have you working with me.’

‘
Great. When do I start?’

I can’t stop grinning. ‘As soon as we get back. I’m still waiting for all the legal leg work and jargon to be over and done with, but the first thing we are doing is supplying clean, free water in poor countries.’

‘
Clean, free water. Do
we
get that?’

I hesitate. ‘Well, no.’

‘
So…’

‘
Billie, are you going to start? Or are we going to help these kids who have to walk for hours to fetch a pail of diseased water from the river?’

‘
Now that you put it like that.’

I shake my head at her. ‘Sometimes…’

‘
Now might also be a good time to tell you that I’m having my boobs done.’

‘
What?’ I exclaim, surprised by the sudden change in topic, and the topic itself. ‘The shocks are coming in thick and fast today.’

She smiles wickedly. ‘I’ve always wanted big, beautiful breasts. And yesterday I realized that if I can’t be small and delicate like these Thai girls, then I want horribly perfect, overtly sexual melons on my chest. I think I’d like the idea of socking a man for looking at my cleavage, and not my eyes, while he is talking to me.’

‘
You’re one strange girl, Billie.’

She puts the empty bowl and spoon on the tray, lights another cigarette, and inhales languidly. ‘I know,’ she sighs dreamily.

We spend what’s left of the morning shopping at Siam Paragon. I manage to find a short white Lycra dress as per Blake’s instructions.

‘
Very racy,’ is Billie’s comment.

Billie buys herself a pair of gold hotpants she saw one of the hookers wearing the night before and a sequined Sandringham blue tank top.

‘
Don’t worry. They’re not to be worn together,’ she assures me.

After lunch we return to the hotel and we agree to meet by the pool in half an hour, but after a few laps in the afternoon heat I am already exhausted. Billie takes the nanny and Sorab back with her, and Blake and I go back to our suite. Blake gets on with some work while I go up the flight of black wooden stairs and get into the shower.

It is nearly three when I come out. I can hear Blake downstairs on the telephone. I switch on the hairdryer. The water or the heat has made it a little flyaway so I end up clipping the sides with two brown slides. I apply some lip gloss and some mascara and then I stand in front of the six dresses I have brought with me indecisively.

I try them all on, discard all six, and then go back to the first one, which is a short-sleeved, rather bold affair with large, bright flowers. It slips over my head like liquid. I smooth it down my hips and look at myself critically. Perhaps the plain blue dress will be a better choice. I look at the blue dress. Maybe it is a tad too short. I flash a smile at my reflection. And then a scowl. Oh, what the hell! I’ll just wear this.

I take the slides off and tie my hair back with a red ribbon and add a shimmer of fragrance. When I come down the stairs, Blake is sitting at the dining table working. He looks up from his work and whistles, which is a good thing, because if he approves then Helena probably will, too.

He puts his elbows on the table, next to his green coconut drink, and smiles an angelic smile. The sun is coming in through the large glass wall behind him and he looks positively edible. ‘Come here,’ he mouths.

Oh man, this man could charm birds out of a tree. ‘No way,’ I mouth back.

‘
Are you seriously disobeying me, Mrs. Barrington?’

I nod.

A dark chuckle rips through him. He raises his eyebrows. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asks.

I glance at the door. It is no more than ten feet away, and he is at least thirty away. And he is seated. I can definitely make it. Grinning cheekily at him I make a dash for the door.

I run like every horned devil in hell is after me. I am breathing hard and laughing as I grasp the doorknob. An iron-strong embrace crushes me, still laughing and breathless, into a big male chest. My eyes travel upwards and collide with his. His are magnificent, dancing with laughter and mischief. Nice mischief. And a wicked, wicked sliver of desire. His scent is like a sweet mist around me. Hot fingers tease my nape. Other fingers are at my skirt, dragging it upwards.

‘
Don’t you dare,’ I warn breathlessly, but my voice is fluttery, lacks any real conviction.

‘
No woman should go and see her mother-in-law without a little lick.’

I groan, ‘No,’ and try to wriggle out of his hold.

‘
Or yes, that feels good.’

I stop wriggling. ‘This is a bad idea. You’re going to muss up my clothes,’ I scold, even though, like a starved little thing, my sex is already yearning for his tongue.

He laughs, the sound deep and coconut-scented. ‘It’s the best idea I’ve had all year. No one will ever know,’ he purrs silkily.

My skirt climbs steadily. Fuck it. He is going to have his way. I know it. I can taste it. I can sense it searing in his blood… And mine.

‘
I can’t let poor pussy go to a chilly hotel suite with the air conditioning turned up too high. Poor thing, all alone, and barely covered.’

I crack a smile and lean back against the door. ‘Good job, Barrington, dragging me kicking and screaming to exactly where I want to go.’

The wandering hand arrives at my inner thigh. His palm is warm on my bare skin. Suddenly he is no longer over and above me, but underneath my skirt. I throw my head back and laugh. I’m not going to be laughing for long. Fingers creep under the gusset of my knickers and pull it to one side. Other fingers part me open. A warm mouth latches onto my cleft, and sucks me out as if I am an oyster, raw and about to lose its insides.