I met her my final night in Bangkok. I had been there for a week on business with two male colleagues. The time had been productive but intense. As we walked through the hotel lobby after dinner, I overheard them talking to each other about ordering massages to help them loosen up before the long flight home. Back in my hotel room, after I’d finished packing, I realized my muscles were tight. Why couldn’t I order a massage, too?
I called the front desk.
The concierge sounded surprised. He kept asking me, “A massage, Miss, like your gentlemen friends?”
“Yes,” I replied, feeling the knot in my shoulder. “If you can find someone with a firm hand, that would be lovely.”
He made a noise that sounded almost like a chuckle. “It might take a while, Miss. Most of the girls are servicing other clients.”
“No hurry,” I assured him. “Just add the charge to my bill. I’ll take a bath while I wait.”
I’d just stepped out of the water when she entered the room. She was beautiful, her skin golden brown, her jet black hair hanging to her waist. She wore a short dark green robe that highlighted surprising green flecks in her hazel eyes. She carried a basket filled with small bottles of shimmering oil.
“I’m sorry,” I stuttered, watching her place the basket on my bedside table “I wasn’t expecting you to walk right in.”
I reached for a towel. “Give me a second.”
“No.” The word was said gently but firmly. I froze as she crossed the room. She took the towel from my fingers. “Please allow me.”
We both watched as she blotted the water beading my skin, concentrating on my breasts. Her hands seemed so light against my dark brown skin. My nipples tightened at all the attention.
“They’re so lovely and full.” She dropped the towel to the floor. She cupped one, weighing it in her hand. “The nipple looks so sweet, like dark chocolate candy. May I kiss it?”
I opened my mouth but nothing emerged. She just smiled and lowered her head. Her mouth was warm and wet against the curve of my breast. Her tongue traced a wet circle around the nipple. I leaned forward.
“Massage,” I muttered. “That’s what I ordered. Really.”
The young woman laughed against my chest.
“Yes, massage.” Then she took me into her mouth. I fell against her. She held me up just fine, her mouth sucking hard, her teeth grazing.
I don’t remember how she led me to the bed or when she removed her green robe. I just remember her long lithe body draping itself over me. She pressed herself against me, letting me feel all of her. The nipples of her little breasts felt so much firmer than mine. I liked their pebble hardness. I closed my eyes and pushed up against her.
She laughed. “Your breasts are sensitive?”
“Yes,” I said in a low voice.
She rose up, straddling my waist. “Shall I massage them?”
I bit my lip and nodded.
She had strong hands. As she kneaded my breasts, she pushed her pussy down against mine. She was clean shaven and I wondered if my wiry thatch itched.
“Your mind wanders,” she noted. “Not good,” she added just before she began tugging on my nipples. The press of her fingers centered all of my attention.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
I dug my fingers into the bed, afraid of grasping her. She seemed so fragile even as she pummeled my flesh.
She released my nipples. “I’m sorry.” Then she kissed each one.
I whimpered as I felt a familiar tightening in my stomach and throb between my legs. I closed my eyes, trying to ride the feeling.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Not close enough.”
I felt her shift her body. I thought she was preparing to rise. To go away.
Eyes still closed, I groaned, and started to sit up. She silenced my protest with a kiss, her mouth covering mine.
“I’ll get you closer,” she whispered.
Then she smacked the fullest part of my breast.
I gasped against her mouth once, then again as she smacked the same spot. And kept smacking. Warmth gushed between my legs. My flesh felt on fire.
“Please,” I begged. “Enough.”
Her mouth never leaving mine, she attended the other breast. Smack. Smack. Smack.
I wept, moaning against her mouth. My hips bucking against hers.
When my senses returned I realized that she simply sat and watched me, a half-smile on her lips.
“Better?” she asked. “More relaxed?”
I nodded and let my eyes flutter shut. “More relaxed,” I agreed.
I thought she wondered if I felt more relaxed. What she really wanted to know was whether I needed her to help me get more relaxed. I realized the miscommunication when I felt her sliding down my body, her hair teasing my tender breasts.
“Hold them,” she said. At my frown, she added, “Pleasure your breasts, while I pleasure your pussy. Squeeze them tight,” she demanded at my faltering touch. “Squeeze them as tight as I will when I finish eating your pussy. Imagine how I will suckle the nipples once I have suckled your clit. How I will bite down.”
Her words had me moaning before I felt the first caress of her tongue.
The walls in Bangkok hotels are thin. I’d spoken quietly the whole week and shushed my colleagues on more than one occasion. But when she started inserting her tongue inside me, I didn’t care who heard what.
As the last note left my lips, she pulled me into the curve of her arms, my back to her chest.
“Relaxed?” she asked again as she smoothed the hair from my eyes.
Instead of answering, I turned in her grasp until we faced each other. I kissed her. She blinked in surprise, then smiled. She let me rest my head on her chest.
“The oils,” I murmured.
She stroked my back until I fell asleep.
In the morning she was gone.
I didn’t ask about her at check out. I certainly didn’t mention the experience to my colleagues as we rode to the airport. As we eased into our seats on the airplane, they made veiled comments about their final night at the hotel. I said nothing. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and thought about the half-moon impressions of her nails in my skin and the gentle ache she’d left in my breasts.
It was a pleasant and relaxing ride home.