Klempner
Perfect!
The man I could never have gotten close to, is now paying me for the privilege.
He’s even armed me. The M9 sitting in the holster under my jacket is satisfyingly standard fare and gives me a pleasant glow of Target Achieved…
On the other hand, it’s not too flattering, joining the ranks of Chuan’s ‘bodyguards’, but this isn’t about job satisfaction…
… not in that sense anyway…
And I don’t plan to be staying long.
“This is your station for now,” says Arak. “You’ll cover this end of the compound together with Decha and Atid there…” The two heavies gaze vacantly at me… “And if requested, accompany Mr Chuan when he is out on business.”
The pair of apes stare at me with eyes vacant of any trace of thought but a fair amount of passive aggression.
Newcomer…
Foreigner…
Sap…
The work is hardly taxing. Standing to look alert and dangerous about covers the job description.
Decha and Atid are all I could have hoped for, leaving the New Boy standing watch under the hot sun while they vanish to the cool of the canteen. My status as ‘Newbie’ means I’m automatically the volunteer for all the Gofer jobs – Go for cigarettes. Go pick up supplies for the kitchen. Go fetch me a crate of beer. All walking out in the heat of the day while the rest shelter under the waft of ceiling fans.
Of course, I accept this with a good-natured grin.
And while patrolling the outer walls is bottom-of-the-barrel duty, it gives me the opportunity to watch and think.
How to get to Chuan?
No… That’s cracked…
The real question…
How to get to him and walk away again?
The women are held in an enclosure right in the heart of the compound. The accommodation appears basic but adequate. A couple of times a day, some visitor comes by and leaves with one or more of them. It seems Chuan operates ‘try before you buy’ policy as the women are frequently paraded, then spend a few hours with the purchasers before being taken.
It also appears that Chuan enjoys the use of his own goods. Two of the girls are current favourites, being called out to enjoy the pleasures of his company on a regular basis. They don’t look happy at this privilege. Even across the yard, I can see the weals on the arm of one as they slump out to answer the call of their owner.
*****
Standing, legs braced, hands clasped behind my back, in the heat and humidity of the afternoon, I sweat and dream of cold beer.
Condensation running down the glass…
Arak appears, neatly dressed, his shirt crisp and with no trace of the perspiration staining my own. He nods in friendly fashion. “It’s hard for a Swede, I suppose? Our climate.”
I blow air. “We don’t get it like this at home. That’s for sure.”
“I can imagine. Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Change of duty. Mr Chuan is entertaining guests, Westerners. I thought having you on-station would give a good impression.” He glances around. Where are Atid and Decha?”
I stare straight ahead. “Couldn’t say, sir.”
He regards me for a long moment. “Okay. I get it. This way.” He looks me up and down. “You’d better change your shirt.”
*****
At least indoors it’s cooler. I can wear a jacket and my gun is conveniently holstered underneath.
It doesn’t require a lot of imagination to figure the nature of Chuan’s entertainment. Loud music blares out over a scene lit by the lurid-vivid multi-coloured lighting favoured in these places.
Half a dozen male Caucasian faces, their owners in assorted states of undress, are being serviced by a dozen or fifteen of Chuan’s slaves.
We pass one, pants around his ankles, being sucked off by a girl who doesn’t look old enough to be out of school. His hand around the back of her head, she’s struggling as he pulls her in, not giving her any chance to breathe or swallow. A companion sits close by, jerking himself off, apparently to the noises she’s making.
Noticeably, Arak’s lip curls, but then his eyes flick away.
“You’ll be stationed here.” He gestures to an alcove.
“What am I guarding them against?” I keep my voice low. “Attack of the nymphets?”
“Shut your mouth and do your job.” But he looks away as he snaps the words.
As I arrive, Chuan’s two ‘favourites’ sit to either side of him, as he watches a third in a gyrating dance in front of him. She seems willing enough, almost pushing her pussy at his face. But he growls a dismissal at her, then turns to ‘his’ women.
Chuan jabs a finger at one, then at another, barking something… “Khuṇ læa khuṇ!” and jerking a thumb to the passage out. Their faces fall and I don’t need to understand Thai to get the gist of what was said.
He snaps something more. “Yîm!” And they both paint on bright, brittle smiles.
So close as I am now, I can see the swollen cheek on one of the women, disguised under her make-up. The other simply looks scared, the fear darting behind her smile as she heads out.
Chuan stubs out his cigar then strolls after them.
There’s one time he’s not going to be disturbed…
*****
I give it ten minutes. The party’s in full swing and no-one even glances my way as I step out from my alcove, first heading for the sound system and turning up the volume a couple of notches.
Then checking that I’m still ignored…
… Who pays attention to the hired help…?
… I exit, following the path taken by Chuan and the women.
All I have to do is follow the sound… Along a corridor… Around a corner…
High arches rise over double doors that would do justice to a church. From the other side, the squeals and yells of two women…
… Two women faking it…
And every so often, the sound of a blow or a cry of pain…
My issued M9 raised in one hand, I turn the handle with the other. The handle turns easily, smoothly…
Quietly…
… easing the door open a crack to peer inside.
Chuan’s on his back, one of the girls riding him with the kind of yelling and screaming that tells you all you need to know about whether she’s really enjoying it or just putting up a good performance.
Both are side-on to me. I’m not in their line-of-sight without them turning. But I can see the weals on her flesh, angry stripes over her shoulders and the small of her back, swollen red.
The other woman’s on the edge of the bed, giving him a different kind of performance, his face turned her way as he watches while she finger-fucks herself.
She’s facing me head-on.
Her eyes widen as she sees me, then fall to settle on my raised weapon before rising back to mine
I freeze…
And she smiles.
It’s the smile of the mouse who, trapped in the hold of the cat, sees the eagle swooping.
She shows no sign of panicking or screaming for help. Instead, her gaze drops down to Chuan and as she shifts, once more I see the bruise on her face, now joined by a second over her mouth, the flesh puffed red and swelling; her lips cracked, seeping blood.
She moans loudly, plunging deep inside herself, rubbing gleaming fingers over her skin, her performance for Chuan more and more wild, holding his eyes and his attention.
Only a few feet away, the girl riding cowboy becomes aware of me, faltering. But I press a finger to my lips, rocking my head and gun hand to her rhythm, motioning her to keep moving…
She gets it.
…as, step by step, silently on the thick pile, I draw closer, the muzzle of my gun levelled at Chuan’s head.
The two women get louder and more enthusiastic.
As I’m almost upon him, with my free hand, I hold up three fingers, silently mouthing a counting down…
Three…
Two…
At the last moment, Chuan’s head swivels: perhaps he saw me in his peripheral vision.
Horror flooding his face, he tries to rise, to break free, but he’s pinned at the groin by Cowgirl.
And at the same moment, the other, raising her screaming to a triumphant howl, lunges at him, holding him with a hand at either shoulder as I squeeze the trigger into the apparent sound of a woman in climax
Chuan jolts, his body spasming and twitching. He’s already dead, but what’s left of him jerks again as I fire a second round straight through his forehead.
Blood spurts, and Cowgirl falls still and silent. But the other keeps yelling as if nothing had happened. She gesticulates madly at her companion…
Keep going…
… and after a few seconds, Cowgirl starts over with the noise, wailing like any woman does when she’s being given a good fucking.
As I back away for the door, I tap at my watch and hold up five fingers, asking the question with my eyes. Both grin and nod as I close the door behind me.
*****