Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 1

“Do you know what I’ve been doing? Teaching you everything that I have learnt through my mistakes, bad experiences and weird encounters?

It’s not about the money. It’s about strengthening your guts and mind.” Shun looked straight into my face, saying these words with a controlled demeanour, his eyes intensely lucid. “When I first saw you in the toilet, all I saw was a pitiable creature, crawling around on his fours, looking so helpless and lost, and I was so angry. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’ I wanted to ask,

‘Being at the mercy of the next person who comes into the toilet and gives you a sympathetic fuck.’ And I wanted so much to grab you there and then and give you a sound beating.”

I bit my lower lip so hard, it began to bleed slightly. Was this true? Was I so helpless? But I did not want his sympathy, and I hated his pity.

“But why me? I’m sure you can take your pity to someone else. Why me then? Am I your personal charity case?” I shot out vehemently, tripping over my own words, and as I heard them coming out of my mouth, I could feel the helplessness of it. I stared at him as coldly as I could, in silent defiance.

“I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’ve chosen you. I just did,” Shun replied, as he stirred his cup of mocha latte continuously, absent-mindedly, as if to blend his words into the murky mix. And he remained silent, his thoughts far away from mine, a world apart though we were sitting face to face in the Starbucks outlet in the university. The white noise of chatter and laughter from nearby tables drifted over in wisps. A young female student laughed heartily at the next table. A fly landed on Shun’s hand and he waved it away.

“I have an important client tonight who is organising a small orgy and wants the company of young men like us.” Shun looked into my face for any changes, and seeing no expression, continued with his proposal.

“He’s paying four thousand dollars for just one night. I want you to come along with me, we can split the money equally. Anyway, it’s good money.” He stirred up the dregs of his drink with his straw, took a sip and pushed the cup away rudely, as if it was an abhorrent object he’d just discovered. I’d already taken part in several orgies by this time, so I was not squeamish about his request. But I wanted to refuse him, for the very sake of saying no to him, to deny him my dumb submission for once. But something in me, a pure rush of impulses, wanted to give in without hesitation. There was no reason to refuse him but there was no reason to acquiesce either.

“Come on, tell me, are you interested or not? If not, forget about it.

Forget what I just said.” With that, he pulled back his seat and stood up. My heart leapt to follow him.

“Okay, okay, I’m in. Just tell me where and when. I will be there,” I said.

“I will call you later,” Shun replied casually, before grabbing his bag hanging from the seat, smiled at me and left the table. A heavy feeling overcame me and, like a ship’s anchor dropped into the depths, I was submerged and sunken.

The man answered the door almost immediately, as if he had been standing behind it, waiting anxiously for our arrival. He extended his hand solicitously and welcomed us.

“Hi, you’re finally here! We’ve been waiting! My name is Ben.” With that, he gestured us into the spacious living room of his bungalow. “For a while, we thought you guys were lost,” Ben said as he led us into the room. Which was almost impossible, I mused inwardly, since the bungalow stood apart from the rest of the houses along this stretch of road in the obsequiousness of its lavish facade. No one with eyes could miss it. In any case, Shun and I took a taxi from our hostel. Along the journey, we hardly talked to each other, except to ask the perfunctory questions. Shun looked out his window at passing streetlights, at people waiting at bus stops, at the traffic, hardly acknowledging my presence, while I stole long glances at him from time to time.

But upon entering the house, Shun quickly reverted to his amiable, almost businesslike self, a stark contrast to his other self, five minutes ago.

He took the initiative to answer all the questions posed by Ben with an old-school-friend candour.

The house was sparsely decorated and furnished, with Postmodern paintings hanging on several walls and a large faux-fur carpet covering the living room floor. A few men sitting on the couch looked up as we approached. There were three of them, smartly dressed in polo shirts and pants, drinking red wine, their faces slightly flushed. Like Ben, they were in their late thirties, professional looking, cultured and very loaded. The last bit of information was supplied by Shun when he called me that afternoon to inform me of the details of this orgy. All of them stood and began to introduce themselves. After which, one of the men, Chris, offered Shun and me each a glass of Pinot Noir.

We sat and began to chat. Shun turned to talk to the guy closest to him, a music company vice president named Tim, while I made chit-chat with Chris, an art gallery owner. While we talked, Ben and his live-in boyfriend Stan pulled away from us and began to whisper to one another animatedly, after which Ben turned to address the rest of the group.

“Guys, since we are all here, I don’t think we should waste any more time,” Ben remarked with a wink before adding, “Let’s go up to the room, shall we?”

With that, he grabbed hold of Stan’s hand and began to lead the way.

Chris, Tim and Shun stood up promptly and followed the two men. I held back momentarily, as the effects of the wine hit me. Shun looked back at me cursorily with a baleful frown. I got to my feet unsteadily and joined the group, my head pounding with spikes of brightness.

The bedroom was on the second floor of the house, at the further end. It was dimly lit with the warm orangish hues given off by two aluminum-cast table lamps. Stepping into the tepid room, I felt a rush of claustrophobia, as if the space had suddenly shrunk and was pressing in on all sides, pushing all of us together into this confining place. I drew in several inaudible breaths and oriented myself, trying to get a stable bearing. Ben and Stan had already stripped off their tops and were sandwiching Shun in their embrace, nudging him to take off his T- shirt, assisting him gently. Shun allowed them to strip him without any resistance. Meanwhile, Tim and Chris had surrounded me and were doing likewise, tugging at my shirt, undressing me as they moved their hungry hands over my body, as if appraising something they had just bought.

While they were undressing me, I looked over at the menage a trois of Shun, Ben and Stan. By now, all of them were naked. With Shun between them, Ben and Stan were pressing their erections against his slender, muscular body, as they kissed his face and shoulders voraciously, like hunters savouring their prey. Shun seemed to luxuriate in their passion, perhaps even enjoying himself; I couldn’t tell. As Shun kissed Ben full on his lips, he looked over at me piercingly. And with that look, I knew instinctively what he had been trying to convey for so long. He belonged to no one, not even me with my attraction and attachment. He refused to be claimed by anyone; no one should own him in any way. He chose to be free and his freedom created a wide chasm, uncrossable and unbridgeable.

A new wave of pain inundated me, numbing all my faculties and rendering them temporarily inoperative. I was devastated and dazed. But I had no time to think right then, with the hands of Chris and Tim all over me, caressing eagerly. I shut down my mind and gave myself over to them.

I sought out Chris’s mouth from the tangle of our bodies and kissed him hungrily. I did not hold back this time.

LESS THAN A DAY John Burdett, Thailand

1.

Just because I’m going to Bangkok, doesn’t mean I’ll…

Since he was talking to himself Fred didn’t need to complete the sentence. His internal dialogue consisted mostly of such snippets: loath the exploitation of women… anyway have a relationship… whatever that