Bangkok Noir

by Lisabet Sarai

  I hurried out of the viharn, grabbing my shoes as I left. The number was not familiar.

  "Sawatdi kha."

  "Nok." One word was enough for me to know who it was. My heart beat so fast it hurt my chest.

  Hang up on him. That was what Ajarn would tell me to do. My fingers wouldn't move.

  "Are you there, Nok? It's Sam."

  "Yes. I know."

  "I'm flattered you recognized my voice. How are you?"

  "Okay." I was not okay. My nipples ached and my underwear was soaked. And here I was sitting in the temple, with monks all around me. I hoped they couldn't smell my pussy. It was a sin for them to even touch a woman.

  "Last time I saw you, you seemed to be ignoring me."

  "I had customers." I remembered how hard it was that night to focus on those men who wanted me. Some part of me was glad that Sam didn't realize.

  "That's fine. But I'd like some of your attention, too."

  I didn't say anything. What could I say? My clit throbbed inside my jeans.

  "Nok? You still there?"

  Just be quiet. Maybe he'll think the connection dropped.

  "Nok. Answer me, or I'll be angry with you." He sounded angry already. I remembered his knife. My pussy got wetter. "I want to see you. Soon."

  "I can't. I have to work."

  "But The Academy is closed." How did he know? So fast? Did he pay off the police? "You've found another job already?"

  "Yes," I lied. "In restaurant. Not in Patpong, in Chatuchak, near my room."

  "Tell me the address. I'll meet you there."

  I made something up. He didn't seem to know. Perhaps he only could see through me in person.

  "What time do you finish?"

  "Around midnight."

  "Great! I'll see you at midnight, Nok. I can hardly wait." The hunger in his voice was even scarier than his anger.

  "Me too." I hung up before I broke down and told him the truth. That's what I really wanted to do. But I managed to be strong.

  After the call, I went back into the sanctuary to put fifty baht in the donation box.

  Maybe the Buddha was already answering my prayers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I woke to an empty bed and the murmur of a conversation coming from the living room. My back was stiff and my thighs ached as though I'd run a marathon. But the pain was worth it.

  Swinging out of bed, I reached for my robe and headed for the bathroom, tuning in to Apichat's voice. He was on the phone, and sounded worried. I detoured to check out the situation.

  The colonel's naked back faced me as I entered. His tough brown hide showed no signs of the beating he'd received only a few hours earlier. When he turned to me, flipping his phone shut, his eyes were haunted.

  "Another murder?" Despite the tropical morning sun pouring in the windows, the day grew dark.

  He just nodded.

  "Same pattern?" He looked so lost. I wanted to gather him into my arms and comfort him like a child, but despite his awe of me, I knew he'd never permit that.

  "This time they found the body in a room at the Bua Thani." The hotel he named was an older, five star venue not far from the business district. "She registered on her own and paid in cash. The clerk said he wasn't suspicious because she wore expensive clothes." He shuddered. "Clothes found sliced to shreds – just like the rest of her."

  "Was she bound, like the others?"

  "Duct tape fastening each wrist to the corresponding ankle. Her own belt tightened around her neck. Some kind of clamps screwed onto her labia. Cigarette burns on her breasts and abdomen, in between the knife wounds..."

  "Cigarette burns..." I recalled Oy's battered body. For a moment I couldn't breathe. "Did she – do you – any idea who she was?"

  "She registered as 'Pattamachart Thanaporn'. The name doesn't show up in any database. Tall for a Thai, and blonde like the last two..."

  Blonde. I relaxed slightly. At least it wasn't Oy. I slumped down onto the couch. Apichat was already pulling on his pants. "After four victims - there must be some clue to the murderer's identity, some commonality..."

  "Two different murderers, remember." The colonel buttoned his wrinkled, stained shirt, then checked his pockets for phone, gun and cuffs. I remembered Kwai's hulking presence. He had the strength to kill, but what had been his motivation?

  "Security cameras?"

  "Out of order in every damn case!" A frown knotted his brow. "You'd think a posh place like the Bua Thani would maintain things better than a backpacker guest house!"

  "Fingerprints?"

  "Wiped, as far as we can tell. No weapons. In this case, there were a few cigarette butts in the ashtray beside the bed, so maybe we'll get some DNA traces. On the other hand, maybe they were never in his mouth at all. He might have lit them just to torture her." He shook his head in disgust and ran his fingers through his short hair. "Oh – there was one strange thing. On the inside of her thigh, my men found a different kind of burn – almost like a brand. It seemed to be shaped like the letter 'P'."

  "A brand! That should help!"

  "Maybe, but it might be nothing at all. The mark of a hot knife. A dropped match. It wasn't all that clear."

  Could P stand for Prendergast? Sam had a ring – I'd noticed it when he first came to the bar. I didn't recall the exact design, but it might have been in the form of his initial. Should I mention it to the colonel?

  I followed him to the door, where he slipped on his shoes.

  "I'm sorry, Ajarn, to be bringing this trouble to you." His hand felt strong and warm on my bare forearm. "I hope you'll forgive me – for last night, I mean."

  "I understand." I laid my hand atop his. "And you took your punishment like a man."

  A smile twitched at his lips. "Thank you, Ajarn." He bowed. "If I could have helped you, you know I would. But there was nothing I could do."

  "I know, I know. Be careful, Khun Apichat."

  He slipped out, closing the door behind him. I headed for the shower, thinking about Sam Prendergast and Club Lacoste. Apichat's hands were tied, so to speak, by his professional status. Perhaps I could do something, though – to get my bar back, advance the investigation, or both.

  I told myself a trip to the club was the only way to find out what was going on. There might be some danger involved, but I was smarter and stronger than most people. I’d be okay.

  And after all, what was wrong with mixing business and pleasure?

  Chapter Nineteen

  The night after I talked to Sam, I didn't sleep much. I was afraid he would discover where I lived and come for me. I shouldn't have lied to him. No, that wasn't right – I shouldn't have told him as much truth as I did. My room was in Chatuchak, like the restaurant I made up. But there was no way he could he know exactly where.

  He was just a man. Despite his X-ray eyes, he could not read my mind.

  How did he know my phone number?

  When I was tied up – I remembered that my mobile rang. Maybe he checked it. I was so scared and turned on, I hardly noticed what he was doing. So probably he got the number then and saved it for later.

  If he planned on hurting me, he wouldn't have done that. Would he?

  My mind whirled like this all night. I kept expecting a knock on my door. Then I thought about the feel of his hands and his mouth and I wanted that knock. I tossed in my bed, wet with sweat and sex juice. I dreamed of his knife and his cock. I woke with a scream stuck in my throat.

  The next morning, I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to go out. By ten AM, though, I was really hungry. I pulled on a tee shirt and shorts, grabbed my sunglasses, and went down to the mouth of the soi for a bowl of noodles.

  My phone rang while I was eating. I thought my heart would stop. It wasn't him, though. No, it was Ajarn.

  "Sawatdi kha, Nok. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

  "No, never mind. I'm just having some gueetiaow. How can I help you, Ajarn?"

  Maybe she'd convinced the police to open the bar ag
ain. I wouldn't be too surprised. Ajarn usually gets what she wants.

  "Are you free this evening? Or have you already found another job?"

  "Another job? No, not yet."

  "Then I'd like to invite you to join me in visiting a club not too different from The Academy. A place where people go to act out their fantasies."

  "You mean a BDSM club?" I used the English initials. Thai doesn't seem to have a word for that sort of thing. I knew a bit about it though. I'd searched on the Internet. I couldn't look at the pictures for long. They made me feel too guilty. I wanted to do those things to people – to tie them up and whip them and more – and I knew that was wrong. Working at The Academy excited me in the same way, but that was just an act. This was the real thing.

  "Yes, exactly. It's a gorgeous place, very hi-so. I think you'll like it."

  That was what I was afraid of. I might like it too much. "I don't know..."

  "Sam Prendergast is the owner."

  Oh no. "I – I think..."

  "He specifically asked me to bring you, Nok. I guess you made quite an impression on him."

  "Ajarn – you said I should be careful of him..."

  "Don't worry, little one. You'll be with me. I'll take care of you."

  Oh, dear! I was burning to say yes, even though I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Did I really dare...?

  Ajarn took my silence for agreement. "I'll pick you up at eight. Give me your address."

  I obeyed. I didn't know what else to do.

  "Good. I'll see you tonight then. Wear something sexy but not cheap. I plan to show you off, my little bird."

  She hung up before I could refuse.

  Chapter Twenty

  The taxi let us off in front of the office tower that housed Club Lacoste around nine. I sent a text message to Sam, letting him know we'd arrived. We waited for an escort by the elevator on the ground floor.

  I found it hard not to stare at Nok. She wore a sleeveless crimson top with a low, draped neckline and a slinky black skirt that reached to mid-calf. A wide black belt with a real silver buckle cinched her waist and silver dangles hung from her earlobes. I recognized her high-heeled boots from the bar. Her raven hair cascaded down her back. Although she had applied the bare minimum amount of make-up, her lips were painted the same shade as her blouse. She was a vision of sexual power.

  Someone who knew her less well than I did would never have guessed she was nervous. At the same time, her dark eyes glittered with silent excitement.

  I leaned close, pitching my voice low so that the occasional late-leaving office worker wouldn't hear me. "You mustn't tell anyone about what you see tonight. But keep your eyes open. It may be that the person who's been murdering all these girls is a member of the club." Or even its owner, I added mentally. I hadn't shared my suspicions with Nok – she seemed a bit too attached to Prendergast to be trusted with that information. "If anything strikes you as odd, find a way to let me know."

  "I will, Ajarn." She smelled faintly of jasmine. Underneath her perfume, I thought I caught a hint of her sex. It made me wetter than ever.

  As for me, I was wearing leather, despite its impracticality in Bangkok's climate. After all, how often did I get the opportunity? I'd chosen a more feminine style than I usually adopt, a miniskirt and a tight-fitting bodice that rather surprisingly hid the fact that I had a single breast. Leather cuffs studded with steel wrapped my biceps. I wore simple black pumps with low heels. I didn't need more height.

  A Thai man I hadn't seen before emerged from the lift on the far left, gave us a wai, and gestured for us to enter. We shot up to the thirtieth floor so fast my ears popped. Our guide led us from the elevator to the cylindrical hallway.

  "Do you want to change your clothes?" he asked in Thai.

  "No, that won't be necessary. Just let us in there." He activated the door to the public dungeon and Nok and I stepped into Wonderland.

  The place was transformed. The shades had been drawn aside to reveal a brilliant panorama of the city at night. Checkerboard skyscrapers sparkled in the foreground. Highways unrolled into the distance like rivers of light.

  No one but us, though, was admiring the view.

  The mesh dividers made it difficult to estimate the size of the crowd, but it looked like several dozen individuals inhabited the vast room. Most were involved in some sort of kinky scene. To my left, a red-haired woman whose face looked a lot older than her toned body had a Thai man suspended from the ceiling. He tottered on tip toe, groaning as she hung weights from the clamps on his nipples and scrotum. A bit further away, a portly, gray-haired, British-looking fellow gripped the hips of a tiny woman bound double over a horse, rogering her with far more energy than one would have expected from someone his age. A flare of light from near the right wall caught my eye. A muscular black man dripped liquid fire on the prone, restrained body of his fair-skinned companion.

  Nok sucked in her breath. I followed her gaze to the middle of the room, where Sam Prendergast was busy flogging a naked woman roped to a St. Andrew's cross. Sam himself wore only a pair of form-fitting leather trousers. The outfit highlighted his slender but muscular physique.

  I'd figured Sam was a Dom, but since he was owner of the club I hadn't expected him to get involved in the evening's activities. Then again, perhaps the clientele were reassured by the fact that he was one of them. They held his reputation in their hands as surely as he held theirs.

  Despite his occupation, Sam noticed our entrance. He paused, giving his victim some much needed respite. "Ah, my guests of honor! Come over here, Nok – Diana. You remember Malee?"

  It was difficult to reconcile the bedraggled, sweat-streaked female on the cross with the elegant hostess I'd met previously. Her tangled hair stuck to her forehead. Rosy streaks criss-crossed the creamy skin of her back and buttocks. She was breathing hard. The dampness I saw on her spread thighs might have been perspiration, but more likely betrayed her arousal. Certainly the smile she gave me suggested she was quite satisfied with her present position.

  "Yes, you'd never guess that sweet and proper Malee was such a punishment slut. I've been whipping her for at least fifteen minutes, but I'll bet she hasn't had enough. Do you want more, Malee?"

  The woman's face turned pink with embarrassment. She didn't respond.

  "Answer me, woman. Should I stop, or do you want more?"

  "More, sir," she murmured at last. "Please."

  Sam turned to Nok. "Would you like to try your hand, my tricky little bird?" He held out the short, multi-stranded flogger. "I've watched you on stage, with your props. Think you can handle the real thing?"

  A parade of emotions chased across Nok's face. Envy – she wanted to be the woman on the cross. Fear. Desire. Uncertainty. Rebellion. Her eyes locked with Sam's. I could only guess what messages were passing back and forth.

  "Why not?" she finally replied. Snatching the device from Sam's hand, she swung it as though testing it weight. "Nice." She stalked back and forth behind Malee's naked form, assessing her target. She reminded me of a leopard, ready to pounce.

  The flogger swished through the air again. Malee flinched, though the leather came nowhere near her flesh. Nok paused where the bound woman could see her. "Ready?" she asked, so quiet I could barely hear. Malee nodded. Nok stepped back, raised her arm, and brought the leather strands down on Malee's shoulder.

  It wasn't a particularly hard stroke, but well-aimed. She followed it with a more forceful horizontal swipe across Malee's ass.

  "Oh..."

  Snap!

  "Ah..."

  With each stroke, Nok grew more confident – and more cruel. Focusing her attention on Malee's luscious buttocks, she slashed the flogger back and forth in a classic figure-eight pattern, hitting first one cheek and then the other. The victim jerked in her bonds each time the leather made contact with her skin. The individual stripes decorating her flesh gradually merged into a sea of mottled red.

  I was proud of Nok – her natu
ral talent as a top was obvious – but thinking that perhaps I should step in to save poor Malee from serious bruises, when my former employee stopped of her own accord. She strutted back to Sam and thrust the whip at him.

  "See?" She glared at him, hands on her hips. "I'm not some weak, soft girl you can push around."

  "Oh, I know you're strong, Nok." Sam's chuckle made my skin crawl. "You can take a lot more than Malee." Before I realized what was happening, he seized a fistful of her hair and forced her to her knees. With his left hand he unzipped and fished out his erection. He stabbed his cock at her lips.

  "Hey!" I stepped forward, ready to defend my girl. Meanwhile, Nok opened her mouth and engulfed Prendergast's considerable length. Her willingness – no, eagerness – was apparent. Her head slid back and forth as she tried to take him deeper. Her fingers cradled his balls like they were precious jewels. The almost instantaneous transformation from confident top to solicitous bottom was astonishing.

  "That's right. Suck me, you slut. If you do a good enough job, I might not punish you for lying to me..."

  "Wait a minute." I still wasn't convinced this was completely voluntary. "Nok. Look at me, Nok!"

  Sam's member slipped from her mouth but still prodded her lips. Scarlet lipstick smeared the shaft. "What is it, Ajarn?" Her voice had a dreamy, far-away quality, as though she were already deep into sub-space.

  "You don't have to do this, you know." One look at her kneeling, disheveled form and I wanted her as much as Sam obviously did. But I couldn't let him force her.

  "I know. I want to. I want to please Sam –" She bent to swallow him again but he used his hold on her hair to jerk her head back up.

  "Take your blouse off, slut. Let everyone see how excited you are."

  She neither argued nor delayed. With simple grace she unbuckled her belt and set it on the floor beside her. When Sam let go of her hair, she pulled the red garment over her head and tossed it aside.