Chapter 4: The Villa's Welcome
The road coiled up into the hills like a black ribbon, the city lights of Chiang Mai shrinking into a smouldering grid far below. Prae drove her little scooter with reckless confidence, Aidan clinging behind her, the warm night air whipping at his shirt. Noi and Lin followed on another bike, their laughter sometimes carrying over the engine’s whine.
“Nervous?” Prae called back over her shoulder.
“Terrified,” he shouted back, honestly.
Her body shook with a laugh.“Good. Means you’re alive.”
The villa appeared suddenly around a bend, a vision of modern luxury carved into the jungle. Walls of glass and sleek, oiled teak blazed with light, reflecting off the still surface of an infinity pool that seemed to pour into the abyss of the night valley. The scent hit him first—frangipani, heavy and sweet, layered over grilled meat and expensive perfume.
As they dismounted, a sleekly dressed valet appeared to take the bikes. Prae smoothed her hair, her little black dress clinging to every curve. She looked at Aidan, in his simple linen shirt and trousers, and gave an approving nod. “You look academic. They’ll like that.”
They were met at the entrance not by the host, but by a smiling woman in a traditional silk phasin so sheer it was almost a suggestion. “Khun Prae,” she said, wai-ing gracefully. Her eyes slid to Aidan, took a leisurely journey down his body, and back up. “And the professor. Welcome. Khun Vit is expecting you.”
The inside was cooler, the air conditioning a silent hum. The main room was a cavern of low furniture, glowing lanterns, and artful shadows. About fifteen people lounged on cushions and low sofas, a mix of well-dressed older Thai men and stunningly beautiful younger women. The conversation was a murmur until they entered. Then it dipped, and all eyes turned to him.
Aidan felt the scrutiny like a physical touch. The women’s glances were bold, assessing, curious. The men’s were more opaque, tinged with amusement and something like appraisal.
“Ah! The main attraction!” A silver-haired man in a tailored cream silk shirt detached himself from a group and strode over. He was probably sixty, fit, with a watch that cost more than Aidan’s annual salary. His handshake was firm, dry. “Vit. A pleasure. We’ve heard so much. A Cambridge man, no less, among our humble hills.”
“Aidan. Thank you for having me.”
“The thanks are all mine,” Vit said, his eyes crinkling. He kept a hand on Aidan’s shoulder, steering him gently into the room as if presenting a prized animal. “Everyone, this is Aidan. He has come to bless our university with his brilliance. And, I am told, to bless our city with other… gifts.”
Polite laughter rippled through the room. A woman in a gold cocktail dress giggled behind her hand, her eyes locked on Aidan’s fly.
Prae gave him a tiny, encouraging smile from where she had already been drawn into conversation with a group of girls by the bar. She was in her element. He was adrift.
Vit led him to a sunken lounge area near the pool. “Sit, sit. Drink? Whiskey? Something local?” He snapped his fingers, and a girl appeared with a tumbler of amber liquid before Aidan could answer. “So. Mathematics. The poetry of logic. It must be exhausting, holding all those patterns in your head. You must need very thorough… relaxation.” Vit’s smile was benign, but his meaning was clear. This was the transaction. Aidan’s presence, his body, was the evening’s novelty. His intellect was merely a charming footnote.
Aidan sipped the whiskey. It was smooth, smoky, and did little to steady him. As he and Vit talked—superficially about Thai culture, the university—the women gradually closed in. They didn’t swarm, but they orbit tightened. One brought him a skewer of succulent pork. Another, on the pretext of asking about England, let her fingers brush his knee. A third simply sat nearby, saying nothing, watching him with a frank, hungry stare.
Their names blurred together. Nok. Fah. Belle. They were students, boutique clerks, makeup artists. They were all, without exception, breathtaking. And they all, without exception, knew exactly why he was here.
“Prae says you are very strong,” said a petite girl with a rose tattoo on her shoulder. She spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, though everyone could hear.
“Does she,” Aidan murmured.
“She says you make her see stars.” This from Fah, the one in gold, who had now settled on the cushion beside him, her thigh pressing his.
Vit watched the scene with a satisfied smile, then stood. “I must attend to other guests. Please, Professor, enjoy my home. Everything here is for enjoyment.” With a final, paternal pat on Aidan’s shoulder, he melted into the shadows.
The moment he was gone, the atmosphere shifted. The politeness evaporated, replaced by a charged, playful aggression.
“It’s hot by the pool,” said Nok, taking his hand. “Come swim.”
He was pulled to his feet, a gentle, inexorable tug from three directions. They led him to the pool’s edge, where lanterns floated on the water like giant fireflies. Without ceremony, hands began unbuttoning his shirt. Another pair worked his belt buckle.
“Hey, I can—” he started.
“Shhh,” Fah breathed, popping the button on his trousers. “Let us.”
He stood there, passively, as they undressed him completely under the canopy of stars. Their fingers traced the lines of his abdomen, his hips. A collective, appreciative murmur went up as they finally saw him fully aroused, the gossip made flesh.
“Oh, waa,” the girl with the rose tattoo sighed.
Prae appeared at the edge of the light, holding a drink. She leaned against a pillar, watching. She gave him a slow, deliberate wink, then turned to talk to another girl, as if directing traffic.
He was led down the steps into the water. It was bath-warm. Then they were in with him, their sheer sarongs and dresses dissolving into wet cloth that was quickly discarded and tossed onto the deck. Naked, slick bodies surrounded him. Hands were everywhere. Mouths. He was kissed by one woman while another cupped him from behind, guiding him. He was backed against the pool wall, and Fah, with a triumphant little gasp, impaled herself on him, her legs wrapping around his waist. The water buoyed them, made every movement fluid and effortless.
It was less an act of passion than one of consumption. One after another, they took their turn. Riding him with focused intensity, whispering filth and praise in Thai and broken English against his ear. So big. So hard. Make me come, professor. He lost count. The world narrowed to the splash of water, the grip of tight heat, the sight of a head thrown back in ecstasy against a backdrop of jungle and stars. He came inside one, was cleaned by another’s mouth, and was hard again frighteningly fast, urged on by eager hands and the sheer, undeniable physics of the situation.
At some point, he saw Vit and the other men watching from the deep shadows of the veranda, sipping their drinks. Observers of their own private, living theatre.
He felt a disconnect settle in his mind, a cool, academic part of him splitting off to observe the mechanics of the event. Note the efficient use of space. The pooling of resources. The predictable escalation of stimuli. He was both the experiment and the scientist recording it.
Dawn began as a pale grey smudge behind the eastern hills. The party’s energy had faded into a sated, sleepy quiet. Most guests had retired to rooms inside or drifted away. Aidan found himself on a large, floating mattress in the middle of the pool. The air was chill now. He was on his back. A girl named Belle slept with her head on his chest, her dark hair fanning wetly across his skin. Another, whose name he never caught, was curled against his side, her arm draped over his stomach.
He stared up at the lightening sky. His body was a hollowed-out shell of pleasure, utterly spent. He should feel corrupted. Elated. Something.
He felt nothing. A deep, resonant emptiness.
From the villa, he heard the soft chime of a Buddhist bell—perhaps a servant beginning the day. The sound was clean, distant, pure. It hung in the humid air, a stark contrast to the smell of sex and chlorine that clung to him.
He looked at the sleeping women. He thought of the equations waiting on his office whiteboard. The two worlds were galaxies apart, and he was untethered, floating in the void between.
One of the girls, Belle, stirred. She blinked sleepily up at him, smiled a soft, unguarded smile, and traced a finger down his sternum. “You stay with me today?” she murmured.
Aidan watched a lone bird cut across the pinkening sky. He had no answer. The momentum of the night had carried him here, to this quiet, floating aftermath. Now it was gone, and all that was left was the quiet, and the waiting day, and the unsettling question of what, exactly, he was supposed to do next.