Raw Silk

by Lisabet Sarai

  Eventually, the corridor ended in another set of French doors. The maid threw these open, and Katherine nearly swooned at the rich floral scents that flowed from the garden beyond. She stepped from the mysterious corridor into the sweet, humid night.

  Katherine found herself on winding path paved with smooth pebbles that tickled her bare feet. Occasional torches provided enough light to see the tangled vines, towering ferns, and vivid blossoms that surrounded her as she walked. From ahead, she heard the sound of flowing water, and faintly, the haunting notes of a solo flute. The path twisted around the trunk of a massive tree, and she saw before her a pavilion of unpainted wood, with a steep pitched roof like one of the temples.

  The sala was perched on stilts in the middle of a pool. A rough set of stairs led up to the platform, arching over the water. Her heart echoing in her ears, she slowly mounted the steps and entered the enchanting building.

  Dozens of flickering candles in earthenware jars lit the porch-like platform. Bright pillows were strewn over the wooden floor, around a low table. Khun Somtow sat cross-legged on one of the cushions, a bamboo flute poised at his lips.

  For a moment he did not notice her, and she could admire him. He wore a high-necked shirt and loose pants of white satin. His dark hair shone like jet in contrast. His eyes were half-closed, and a look of peaceful concentration graced his handsome features.

  Some slight sound, or movement of the air, made him look up. His expression of repose was replaced with animation.

  “Miss Katherine! Welcome. I did not hear you arrive. Please, come in, sit down.” He rose in one fluid motion, took her hand, led her to a bank of cushions piled up against the wooden rail that surrounded the pavilion. “I ask your pardon for my amateurish playing.”

  “Oh no, it was lovely! Though it was very different from anything I have heard before.”

  “No, I do not have the time to give my music the devotion it deserves. Classical music requires discipline. I am no more than a dilettante, as I am in so many other things.” He sighed a little, then smiled. “But, it gives me pleasure to play, and that is perhaps enough.”

  He gazed at her for a moment, with the same frankness that she had noted in the elevator. “I am so glad that you have come. May I offer you some wine?”

  “Yes, please,” said Kate, already relaxing a bit in response to his easy charm. He filled a crystal glass from a bottle that even she recognised as expensive, then picked up his own half-full goblet from the floor next to his cushion.

  “To new friendship,” he said, touching glasses and looking into her eyes.

  Katherine held his glance for a few moments. She felt herself beginning to blush again, and was irritated at her own weakness. “To new experiences, in a new land,” she countered evenly.

  The wine was delicious, with a slightly chill even though the night was warm.

  “So,” said Somtow, reclining a little against the cushions, “after a week, what are your impressions of my country?”

  “Beautiful, but confusing.” Katherine took another sip, felt the wine coursing through her and loosening her tongue. “Full of contrasts. In some ways, the Thais are so modern, with their skyscrapers, their computers, and their mobile phones. Then, only yesterday, I was walking through the market near my house. Piles of vegetables, fruit, flowers, balanced on those circular woven baskets. Raw meat laid out in the open on beds of ice. The vendors squatting behind their wares, in sarongs and straw hats. I thought, this probably looked the same fifty years ago.”

  “Oh, yes,” smiled Somtow. “We are a people of ancient traditions, but we have always been open to outside influences.” Almost languidly, he leaned forward to refill her glass. “Do you know about Ayuthaya?”

  “The old capital, upriver, that was destroyed by the Burmese?” Katherine was glad she had done some research in the month before her departure.

  “Ayuthaya was a marvel—a city of glittering temples and palaces, the purest expression of the Thai spirit. At the same time, the court at Ayuthaya welcomed ambassadors from all over Europe, eager to learn about their culture, trade in their riches, enjoy their pleasures.”

  Somtow drank the last of his wine. “I would be honoured if you would allow me to show you Ayuthaya as it is today. The tumbled heaps of brick and overgrown pagodas still have a certain majesty.”

  Katherine looked into his dark eyes. “That would be wonderful. I can’t think of anyone whom I would rather have as my guide.”

  A slight sound drew their attention to the stairs, where they saw the purple-garbed woman, carrying a tray filled with a bewildering assortment of food. She knelt by the table and placed the various dishes before then.

  “Thank you, Orapin.” The woman rose, bowed without speaking, and left as quietly as she had come.

  “Did you signal her, somehow?” asked Katherine.

  “Orapin knows me very well, and can often anticipate my wishes. We have been together since childhood; her mother served my father.”

  “Come, try some of these. I ordered my favourite delicacies for you.” Somtow gestured toward the food; rich, tart aromas rose, making Katherine’s mouth water. She reached for one of the appetizers Somtow was indicating, whole prawns in some red sauce. The shrimp was succulent, sweet and spicy. Somtow smiled as she licked her fingers, then stretched out his elegant hand to pick up one of the crustaceans for himself.

  A flicker of candlelight caught on the gold band around his middle finger. Kate suddenly felt a chill.

  “You’re married?” she asked.

  “Of course.” he said.

  “And do you have children?”

  He smiled proudly. “Oh yes. My daughter is twelve, and wants to be an engineer. My son is seven.” All at once, he grasped that she was concerned. “My wife is on holiday in Hua Hin, playing golf. One of the few passions we do not share. The children are visiting their grandmother for the weekend.”

  Kate shifted uncomfortably on the soft cushions. “Still…”

  “You are wondering whether it is appropriate for me to be entertaining you, alone, in this secluded garden, when I am a married man?”

  She nodded, mute in her discomfort.

  “Ah, Katherine!” He leaned close to her, and she could smell a hint of sandalwood on his skin. “We Thais see things differently, perhaps, than you in the West.” He reached toward her with one long, graceful finger, and brushed her earlobe. Her pearl earring shivered as a tingle ran down her spine.

  “In Thailand, we have a long tradition of polygamy.” The finger traced a line down the side of her neck, barely touching her skin. “The position of the mea noi—the mistress or “little wife”—is understood, and respected. By everyone.” Now he was just grazing her collarbone with his touch.

  “Nongseurat, my wife, knows that I invited you here this evening. She knows that I have been most eager for your arrival.”

  Somtow held her eyes for a moment. His pale face was slightly flushed. Katherine felt weak, unable to speak or argue. He bent over her, and took her left nipple into his mouth, through the thin silk of her dress. His lips were dry, but his hot breath made the fabric slightly damp. The nipple swelled and blossomed under his attention.

  Katherine sank back into the pillows. Somtow moved his mouth to the other nipple now, leaving the first one throbbing, aching to be touched. Katherine closed her eyes, abandoning herself and her notions of morality.

  Without losing contact with her for a moment, Somtow began a trail of kisses down the length of her body, between her breasts, across her belly. He lingered just below her navel, kissing softly, breathing deeply. The silky layer that separated him from her bare flesh seemed to heighten the sensation, as if each touch had a faint, sweet echo.

  Finally, he reached her sex. Now he probed with his tongue, through the silk of her dress and her light underwear, pushing the slithery fabric up between the folds, into the crevices. Katherine moaned softly, and took his head in her hands, her fingers entangled in his thick, sof
t hair. Forgetting any sense of propriety, she urged his tongue deeper into her, arched her pelvis toward his eager mouth.

  As his tongue continued his explorations, Katherine felt his cool hand upon her bare thigh. He reached up through the side slit of her dress, teasing her skin with just the slightest touch of a single finger as his hand travelled upward. He hooked the finger into the waistband of her bikini panties. His mouth left contact with her pubis only for the briefest moment, as he pulled her undergarment down her thighs and out of his way.

  Katherine moaned with pleasure, moving her own hands to her nipples, which hummed and tingled. Somtow looked up at her for a moment; his dark eyes sparkled when he saw the look of abandon on her face.

  He paused in his ministrations. With incredible swiftness and grace he drew her shift up over her head. Almost before she realised it, Katherine was lying naked before him on the cushions, wearing only her pearls, as he gazed at her intently.

  “So beautiful!,” the Asian man murmured. A fingertip touched her nipple, almost reverently, sending a delicious chill through her. His other hand brushed lightly over the auburn curls between her legs. “Katherine, you are magnificent.” She felt his finger parting her lips, entering her hungry vagina. A second finger gently and rhythmically massaged her clitoris. She lay back, closed her eyes, swam in the rich flow of sensations as he continued to pleasure her. Behind the dark of her eyelids, she imagined his glowing eyes, his half-parted lips, the fluid movements of his muscles under his silken trousers.

  Somtow did not hurry. Katherine felt no pressure; she allowed the tension to build gradually, as she became more and more sensitive, more and more aroused. Her sex was wet, open, waiting. She was very close to climax.

  Then, she felt new sensations: warmth, hardness, satin-smooth skin. She opened her eyes to find Somtow over her, his cock already half inside her. Somehow he had managed to remove his garments, without interrupting his attentions or distracting her from her own pleasure.

  He saw that her eyes were open, and suddenly looked concerned. “May I?” he asked, quite seriously. Though she smiled at the obviousness of the answer, she also realised that if she said no, he would immediately withdraw. “Yes,” she said huskily, “yes, please.” She reached toward his shoulders and pulled him down onto her, into her.

  They fit together perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle, lock and key; yet there was also the shock of unfamiliarity. Katherine ran her hands over his back, across his buttocks, savouring the strangeness of his nearly hairless body. He was so unlike David, who had lovely curls on his chest and back, and a wiry tangle of pubic hair. This man’s skin was silky, smooth, sensuous, like the petals of a flower.

  Katherine had a sudden desire to taste him. She ran her tongue delicately over the skin on his chest, then took his nipple between her lips. He moaned and twisted his pelvis against her. He tasted of salt, musk, something floral, and again, there was that faint hint of sandalwood, unfamiliar, and exciting.

  As he moved in her, faster, harder, something blossomed fiercely in her heart—wild, exotic, foreign, free. A scream of pleasure burst from her throat as she felt her flesh blooming in answer. Beyond her own voice and the pounding of her heart, she heard Somtow crying out in Thai, strange, liquid, musical. And somehow, beyond that, she thought she could discern the quiet voice of the fountain, speaking the gentle secrets of the night.

  She was floating, tingling all over, little electric sparks still flaring between her legs. Somtow kissed her lingeringly on the lips, murmuring endearments. “Ah, Katherine, sweet Katherine. Forgive me for being forward, but you are so lovely, and so delightfully sensual.” He supported himself on his elbows, so that his weight did not oppress her. “Too often, it seems, you Americans get trapped by your notions that sex is something shameful. You cannot seem to let go and just yourselves enjoy this gift.”

  Katherine wondered, briefly, how many American women he had charmed and tried to seduce, to have formed this opinion. He nuzzled again at her nipples, tickling a little. She squirmed and laughed softly. “I hope that I have somewhat redeemed my countrywomen in your eyes, Khun Somtow.”

  “Indeed!”. He smiled. “But I am such a poor host. Here I have invited you to dinner, and hardly a bite has passed your lovely lips.”

  He had reached behind one of the cushions, and retrieved two sarongs, one of which he offered her to cover herself. He showed her how a Thai woman would secure it above her breasts, taking the opportunity to caress her as he did so.

  “It suits you well,” he said. “But I suspect that would be true of any costume.”

  She noted that he had the sarongs ready and waiting. “Did you plan this?” she had asked, not sure whether she liked the implications.

  “I did not plan,” he said, giving her one of his winning smiles. “But I will admit, I did hope this would come to pass.”

  “Come, have something to eat. I hope that you enjoy spicy food.”

  “Definitely,” Katherine replied with a smile. “At home they say that it is because of my red hair.”

  Somtow ran his fingers affectionately through her curls. “I see. So perhaps red hair is associated also with hot blood?”

  “Try this, then.” He offered her a plate of raw papaya salad. She recognised this as one of the spiciest dishes available from Thai restaurants at home, but was not prepared for the stunning effects this version had on her tongue.

  “Goodness!” she said, taking a spoonful of the coconut rice that normally accompanied this dish, to dampen the fires in her mouth. “I thought that I could handle hot food!” They both laughed.

  Somtow opened another bottle of wine and refilled their glasses. They continued to nibble on the exotic delicacies he had provided, sitting half-naked on the cushions in the balmy night.

  Katherine found her gaze drawn again and again to his smooth, muscular chest. The folds of the sarong around his waist hid his penis from her eyes. She wondered what he would do if she reached down to touch him, as she longed to do.

  Somtow was talking about Thai cuisine, the two thousand royal dishes and the hundreds of other, ‘country-style’ recipes. Suddenly, it seemed, he noticed her looking at his body. She blushed a little. He said nothing, but reached across the table to pick up a bowl of raw chillis.

  “Did you know, Katherine, that Thai chillis are considered to be among the hottest in the world?” He picked up a bright green pod between his thumb and forefinger, and raised it to his mouth. Instead of eating it, however, he ran the pepper across his lips, almost as if applying lipstick. Then he leaned forward, and kissed Katherine lightly.

  The chilli oil made her own lips tingle and burn. “Mmm,” she murmured, as she returned the kiss with enthusiasm. She felt him untying her sarong, and then, his lips were on her nipples again, first the left, then the right.

  She was not prepared for the sensations that assaulted her as the pungent oil touched her skin. Her nipples were still hard, sensitised from her recent arousal. They burned and throbbed, almost painful, as Somtow deliberately anointed them with the remnants of the pepper. The near-pain was overwhelmed by the pleasure, though, as a delicious warmth radiated out across her breasts.

  “Oh…” she sighed, closing her eyes and savouring the heat. “That is incredible.”

  A light touch between her legs caused her to open her eyes. Somtow had another chilli in his fingers, brilliant red this time. With one hand, he parted her lower lips gently. Then, holding her open, he began to stroke the rigid little pepper against her equally rigid clitoris.

  The effects were explosive. Sensitive though her nipples might be, the delicate tissues of her sex were much more so. Her labia swelled and ached; she rubbed herself against the fingers that held her open. The little knob of flesh directly in contact with the pepper pulsed and flamed. Part of her thought she could not bear it—and she knew he would stop immediately if she asked. Still, another part of her craved even more of this pleasure/pain, hotter, fiercer, consuming her flesh. She g
roaned.

  Somtow made some soft sound in answer. Looking at him, she saw that he had crushed the pepper between his fingertips. Now he was rubbing the red pulp over his penis, up and down its stiff length, over the bulbous top. Katherine understood, suddenly, that his cock must be burning with the same almost unbearable intensity as her labia and clit. He looked into her eyes, without a word, and she knew he understood her wordless consent, as he plunged his fire-laden member into her vagina.

  Katherine gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders. Intense sensation nearly overwhelmed her. She was still wet from their previous coupling. He moved easily within her secret cavities, spreading the incendiary chilli oil inside and out.

  Her labia, clitoris, and vagina all blazed with the odd, delicious pain. His cock was a flaming candle, searing her flesh. She felt raw, saw crimson, spread her legs wider so that he could ignite her deeper still.

  Then, she felt him withdraw, momentarily. Deliberately, he touched the head of his penis to the tight knot of her anus. He did not push or try to enter, merely let the fiery unguent work upon delicate flesh around that most private of places.

  This, finally, loosed the conflagration within her. Katherine cried aloud, writhed and moaned. Then, in the midst of her climax, she felt cooling liquid filling her, streaming down her thighs. She opened her eyes. Somtow held the wine bottle and was deliberately pouring the remaining contents into her vagina, an almost childish delight on his face.

  “Ah, my Katherine!” He leaned over and began to drink the wine from her flesh, lapping the ruby drops from her thighs. “Excellent wine, but the taste can only be improved by mixing in your delicious liqueur.”

  Katherine lay back and allowed him to clean her with his eager tongue. She marvelled at his sensitivity, his inventiveness, and his generosity. She noted that his cock was still fiercely erect, though she felt wonderfully satisfied.