‘I’ve already been sounded out by Sundown on Soi Bangla to be a mamasan in the New Year.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A manager.’ She smiled. ‘It’s a promotion.’
‘Really?’
‘As mamasan I’ll get a cut of everything my dancers make. It’s good pay; it’s dirt cheap to live out here. I reckon to make a hundred grand before I’m thirty.’
Miles whistled. ‘Shit, you have it all worked out.’
Chrissy potted the black with a decisive thunk.
‘Then again,’ said Miles slowly, ‘a hundred grand? That’s not particularly ambitious.’
‘Sorry if it doesn’t sound much to you,’ she snapped. ‘But I’ll have earned it, not just pulled it out of my trust fund.’
‘I didn’t mean to sound patronising. And it doesn’t matter where you come from, Chrissy; if you want it enough, you can be as big, as rich as they come.’
She eyed him up slowly. ‘I thought you’d be a snob.’
He laughed. ‘Not me. At school, my best mate was the scholarship boy.’
‘How fucking generous of you.’ She laughed, taking a long drag of cigarette. She wasn’t as beautiful as Sasha, thought Miles, but she had something more raw, more animal. Even so, put her in jeans and cowboy boots and behind the wheel of a BMW on the King’s Road, she’d fit right in.
‘Want to come back for a smoke?’
Chrissy’s flat consisted of one large room with a bathroom, but it was tidy and surprisingly feminine: purple velvet cushions and rose petals by the bath. Miles sat on a small sofa pouring vodka into two old china cups, while Chrissy sat cross-legged on the floor, expertly rolling a double-size joint.
‘I thought the Thais were zero tolerance on drugs,’ said Miles as she passed it over. ‘The papers are full of stories about the Bangkok Hilton.’
Chrissy let the fragrant smoke out with a sigh. ‘You don’t want to get caught dealing,’ she said. ‘They still enforce the death penalty for trafficking. But the police are always open to a bribe for anything recreational.’
Miles moved to sit next to her on the floor
.
‘I’m a bit drunk,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I think you’re a bad influence.’
‘It’s not the first time that’s been said,’ drawled Miles.
He felt his cock stiffen. Carefully he pushed back the scoop neck of her T-shirt and kissed her shoulder, tasting her skin, soft and moist like chocolate butter.
‘You know I don’t usually do this,’ she murmured.
‘Neither do I,’ he replied truthfully.
The ceiling fan revolved lazily above them as his hand slid up to her breasts, and as he rubbed his palm over her nipples, she tipped her head back and groaned. Turning, she kissed him hard on the mouth, pulling urgently at his belt, pushing down his jeans. Her fingers found his cock, and as her hand moved up and down the shaft he grew, to his enormous relief, harder and harder in her grip. Her mouth sank down over his cock, taking him whole.
He moaned, pulling out with a soft ‘pop’. He scrambled to shed the rest of his clothes, then tore at hers, falling on to the rug, his greedy mouth on hers.
She slipped a condom on him, and they fucked on the floor, urgent, hungry, her back arching as he kissed her ear lobes, her throat, his hands sweeping over her slicked skin, pulling her hips to him, and she came quickly, shuddering as he gave one last feral thrust into her, collapsing on to her breasts, their bodies pressed together. And Miles grinned to himself as he turned his head away, listening to the hard beating of her heart.
Harsh white sunlight breaking through the thin curtains woke him. Blinking, for one moment he wondered where he was, then he smiled as he saw Chrissy making breakfast in the small kitchen area, naked except for a blue lace thong and a white shirt she had left undone. He lit a cigarette and scratched his balls with satisfaction.
‘What’s on room service?’ he asked.
‘Lipton’s tea,’ she said, padding back through and thrusting the mug into his hand. ‘The best I can do, I’m afraid.’