The Preacher's Wife, Chapter Seven

           Maggie's first thought on waking up in an unfamiliar room was "I've forgotten where I left my clothes." 

            She turned over in the bed to see the man sleeping beside her, his back turned to hers.  He had hair on his shoulders, curly black hair on his head, and a bulge around his waistline.  "I remember that he's a lawyer from Boston and this was his first day in Thailand, but I've forgotten his name."    

            She was contemplating her situation, when there was a tapping on the door. "Maggie, Andrew, are you awake?"  It was her friend April. "It's lunchtime."   

            "Andrew. So that's his name." she thought,  She got carefully to her feet and walked to the door and opened it a crack, peered out at April and said in a whisper. "I don't know where my clothes are." 

            "You left them on the beach. We can go down and look for them. Or I could go back to our hotel and get some for you. But lunch is ready and everybody else is up."  She closed the door.

            "I'll loan you clothes."  That was Andrew speaking  He had rolled over on his back.  He had a hairy chest and legs and a short, thick penis. "You can wear a t-shirt of mine and a pair of boxer shorts."      

            Maggie looked at his slightly rotund mid-section.  "The t-shirt will do, but your boxers will fall off me."  

            Andrew pushed himself out of bed and walked over on open suitcase, fished out a t-shirt and tossed it to her.  She put it on.  It didn't cover her buttocks and pubic area.  He looked her over critically, hands on his hips, his penis half-hardened.  "I have a dress shirt.  It's long sleeved, but it has long tails. He reached back into the suitcase and brought out a starched white shirt.  She took off the t-shirt and put on the shirt, buttoning it down the front.  The tails of the shirt reached nearly to her knees. 

            "It'll do for now," she said.  "It's like a mini-skirt."

            "You're going commando," he said.

            "What does that mean?"

            "No underwear."  He put on the t-shirt and found a pair of shorts in his suitcase and put them on.  Then he opened the bedroom door and motioned for her to go out. "I enjoyed last night," he said as he followed her.  

            "I hope you don't think that's a regular thing I do."

            "Even if it isn't, I hope we do it again."   


            Seven months earlier Maggie had gone back to Kansas after working in Kenya and Sudan.  She was soon bored. None of the people in the small town where she lived were interested in her experiences -- but instead wanted to probe whether or not her marriage was on the rocks.  It was, but she was not going to satisfy their curiosity.  She slipped back into church activities without a pause and appeared arm-in-arm with husband, the picture of a devoted, Christian couple. 

            Her daughter, now a senior in college and her son, a sophomore, were happy to see her again, but she realized that she was not a big part of their lives.  "I raised them to be independent," she thought, "I didn't want them to grow up to be religious prudes as I was.  I should be happy they are getting along without me.  They like me, but they don't need me."      

            Her accounting business was mundane.  She found a lover in Kansas City and another in Omaha, but the sex lacked excitement.  The men were pleasant, but not blessed with the imagination and sense of adventure she had enjoyed as a humanitarian relief worker.  "I've become a disaster junkie," she said to herself. "My adrenalin doesn't flow in Kansas."   

            She telephoned John Bright, the President of the Christians of Faith, in Washington.  He had been highly complimentary about her work in Kenya. 

            "John," she said. "Is there any chance I could go back to Loki to work with COF."

            "I'm sorry you didn't ask me earlier.  I've filled your job with someone who is almost as good as you were. If everything all right?" 

            "Yes, I'm fine, but I miss living and working abroad."  

            "I have a job in Thailand in an isolated refugee camp near the Burmese border."

            "I'm interested."   

            "When can you leave to go to Thailand?"

            "Tomorrow," she answered with a laugh.  "Well, in a couple of weeks.  I'll need to finish up a few things here."

            "You've got the job.  Would you like to know what your salary will be?"

            "I forgot to ask about that. What's the weather like there?"

            "Always hot, but you're used to that.  Six months of rain, six months of dry weather."

            "So, how much will you pay me?"

            "Six thousand dollars a month and free housing.  That's a good salary for us.  It recognizes how good you were in Kenya and Sudan."           

            And that was it.  She told her husband Clyde that night, telephoned her children, and wrapped up her business obligations.  Her husband didn't seem very disturbed about her leaving -- especially when she said she would send him two thousand dollars every month.  She had a suspicion that her husband was having an affair with the choir director of his church.  She hoped that was true.  It soothed her conscience.   


            The usual practice of the expatriate staff at the Mae La Refugee Camp was to work 20 days straight and then take a week's vacation. For her first break from work, Maggie traveled to Bangkok with April, an American she met in the camp.  April was from Wisconsin, about 35 years old, buxom and blond, with the usual carelessly-dressed and irreverent manner of refugee workers. 

            During the 7 hour bus ride to Bangkok, April commented on life in Thailand.  "Bangkok," April explained to Maggie, "is the sex capital of the world.  Look around you.  Thai women are smiling, available, and cheap.  They all look like they are 18 years old and they've got tight little bodies." 

            "It's not the greatest place to be a 'round eye' -- a Western woman," she continued.    "Bangkok has an infinite number of bars, massage parlors, night clubs, strip joints, no-hands restaurants, and other establishments where sex can be purchased quickly and easily.   It takes five minutes for a man to find a partner for sex. Men get accustomed to sex on demand."

             "As for me," she said with a shrug, "I'd like to get laid this vacation.  It didn't happen the last time I was in Bangkok."             

            Maggie took a close look at the Thai women on the bus.  They were small. Rounded features and smooth skin made it hard to judge their ages. "At least I don't feel under-endowed here because of my boobs," Maggie said with a laugh.

            "I plan to go to the beach at Pattaya for a couple of days," said April. "Do you want to go with me."

            "Sure, sounds fun."    

            "Maybe we can find some men."    


            The beach resort of Pattaya was a sex emporium.  Along a pedestrian mall called "walking street," lounged hundreds of young Thai women dressed in scanty clothing and calling out to the hundreds of farang  (Caucasian) men, plus a few Japanese and Chinese, along the wide walkway, examining the female merchandise on display.  Thai barkers stood among the women trying to lure men into bars and massage parlors.  

            "My God," said Maggie.  "Are all of these women prostitutes?"  It was about nine p.m. and the two women were strolling through the noisy chaos of massage parlors, bars, restaurants, motorcycles, noodle carts, street venders, and young women seated at tables, standing against walls, many chatting, laughing. and negotiating in sing-song and broken English with farang men. The men were of all ages, mostly dressed in shorts and Hawaiian shirts. Rock music blared from every doorway.      

           "Bar girls is the usual term for them, but, yeah, they are prostitutes,  although a lot of them are part-timers who have a regular job during the day and turn a trick or two at night to supplement their income."

            Several of the farang men exchanged pleasantries with April and Maggie, and a few more evaluated them like they were sides of beef hanging on a hook in a meat locker.  April wore shorts and a cropped tube top that left her midriff bare.  Her large breasts bulged out of the fabric and the dark shadow of nipples was visible through the fabric.

            Maggie wore her favorite going-out-to-party outfit -- the only one she had brought to Thailand with her: a flowery dress with spaghetti straps, the neckline low enough to suggest her modest cleavage, and reaching to just above her knees. She had fallen in love with this style in Greece three years earlier.  The thin cloth of the dress swished when she walked; her arms and shoulders were well-toned and tanned; her calves slender and long.  She was braless. 

            An older man with an uneven beard and the look of one who was familiar with the bottle or the needle, said to them, "You're a sight for sore eyes. I haven't seen a roundeye for months. I don't suppose--"

            "Sorry," said April quickly, smiling and waving as they walked away. "We have plans."  

            "How much does in cost for sex with one of these women?"

            "It's negotiable.  Thirty to forty dollars would be average for free-lance girls on the street.  Half that for a blow job.  The girls who work inside in bars are more expensive because you also have to pay a fee to the mama san." 

            "You know a lot about this."

            "Yeah, back home no man would ever confess to a woman that he had fucked a prostitute.  Here in Thailand, they all talk about it, compare girls, and make recommendations for the best ones to seek out.  There's a bar in Bangkok called the "69" where the women wear numbers and I know men who claim to have fucked them all, from number one to number sixty-nine."     

            April continued, "I don't think there's a man in Thailand, Thai or farang, who hasn't fucked bar girls. We round eyes just have to accept that.  But knowing that, you must require that your sex partners wear a condom. Do you need some?"

            Maggie answered with a smile, "I have several."  She patted the small purse hanging by a leather thong around her neck.    

            "You're ready.  So am I.  Let's eat dinner and see what happens."  They sat at a table on the sidewalk, with the crowd flowing around them, and ordered bottles of Singha beer, a mild green curry for April,  and a dish of fried noodles for Maggie.  She poured fish sauce on the noodles and added diced chili peppers.  She had learned to like spicy food while she was working in Kenya.    

            They were waiting for their food when a good-looking, well-dressed man in his mid-thirties came over to their table. "Would you like to join us as our table?"  They looked over at the table.  Two more men were there, of the same age and appearance.  "We would welcome your company." 

            The two women, looked at each other, an eager smile forming on April's face, and Maggie nodded and they rose and walked over to the table carrying their food with them.   Their escort introduced them. "This is my brother Andrew.  He just arrived in Thailand today for a visit.  And this is Doug who lives in Bangok, as I do.  My name is Tim."

            Tim, they learned during the conversation, headed a consulting company in Bangkok.  Doug was the owner of an import-export company, also in Bangkok, and Andrew, Tim's slightly-pudgy brother, was a lawyer in Boston.  All of them were polite, funny, and intelligent. April was clearly aroused by the three men, her face flushed, her lips parted, he hands reaching out to touch the men on their shoulders, their hands. "Do I look the same?" Maggie asked herself.    

            The five of them ate, drank beer, and laughed together, ignoring the bustling street a few feet beyond their table.  The street showed no signs of quieting down when the time reached midnight. 

            "Would you girls like to take a walk on the beach?" asked Doug, perhaps the handsomest of the three.  "We have a beach house nearby and we can walk that direction."

            Before Maggie could respond, April said, "Yes, that sounds lovely.  I've had enough of the noise and the crowds."  The five of them finished their beers, got up unsteadily from the table, and made their war through the crowd to the beach a few blocks away. 

             It was a serene tropical night.  The moon hung in the sky like a lantern. casting dark shadows on the wet, yellow sand.  They took off their sandals and walked barefoot,  the ripples of the tide lapping around their feet; the coconut palms swayed in a gentle breeze.

            "That's our house," said Tim, pointing to a two-story wood-frame house hidden in the coconut palms at the edge of the beach.  He was of medium height and unremarkable in appearance, except for a pleasant smile that never left his face.  Doug has quiet, tall, and handsome with delicate features. Andrew was excitable and funny, a few pounds overweight.  "Do you want to come in for a drink?"

            "Three men, two women, how is that going to work?" Maggie asked herself.              

            April said, "I want to go swimming."  With that she turned away from the others, pulled the tube top over her head, eased off her shorts and panties, and ran into the surf, laughing and shouting with glee.  She turned to face the others.  "I am so happy, free from work, from worries.  I want to play."  The black triangle of hair between her legs was visible in the moonlight and her breasts bounced as she leaped up and down and splashed in the water. 

            "I'm with her," said Andrew, stripping off his pants and shirt and running toward the water to join April in the surf.

            "Me too," said Doug and Tim simultaneously, taking off their clothes while  looking expectantly at Maggie.

            Maggie shrugged, pulled the dress over her head, then took her panties off and dropped them on the sand, adding the neck purse on top of her clothes.  "Well, what are you waiting for?" she said to Doug and Tim and ran into the water.  They followed her, flopping penises visible in the moonlight.

            The five of them cavorted in the surf, splashing water on each other, giggling like children.  Tiring of this, Maggie walked deeper into the sea into water up to her neck and Tim followed her.  April, Doug, and Andrew were still in the shallow water, standing close to each other, talking.

            Tim took her by the hand and pulled her to him and they embraced, his hands running up and down her back to her buttocks and pulling her to him, the wavelets of the sea lapping over her shoulder.  His hand moved to her crotch and probed inside her. 

            "Help!" it was a cry from April, but she was laughing.  "I need help." Maggie and Tim turned to look at her.  Andrew was holding her from behind and Doug was kissing her breasts.  As they watched Andrew lowered her to the sand, still holding her in his arms, and she pulled Doug close to her, her mouth closing on his penis. 

            "I can't help you. I'm a bit occupied," answered Maggie.  "You look like you're doing fine."  She turned back to Tim.  "We'll need a condom."    

            "Yes, of course, but let's just play out her for a while.  I like the feel of the water."  His finger was inside her and she took his penis in her hand, stroking it against her thigh.  Tim lifted her up and while she was floating on the surface his mouth went to her crotch.  She wrapped her legs around his neck while he held her head above the water and sucked on her clitoris, She felt the warm water of the sea flowing in and out of her vagina. 

            "I'm going to come," she announced.

            "Do it."  And she did, her body shivering as Tim held her head above the water, and she lurched back and forth with the emotion of her muscles contracting, momentarily out of her control. 

            Tim lowered her to her feet and she stood with her body plastered against his, her arms around him for support.  "Oh, damn," she said.  "That was good. What can I do for you?" 

            "I like a woman who asks," he said, kissing her.  "Use your hand and your mouth."

            "My mouth?  Underwater?" 

            "Why not?  We don't want to pollute the ocean with my sperm."

            "You're an environmentalist.  I like that."  She dipped her head under the water and found his penis and put it in her mouth and sucked it hard, then pulled away and rose to the surface.

            "I like it," he said. 

            "Let me catch my breath and I'll do it again.  Meanwhile--" she began stroking his penis with her hand.

            "Okay, do it again.  I'm almost ready."  He was hunching back and forth in the water. 

            She took a deep breath and submerged her head and took his penis in her mouth and felt the palpitations as he climaxed.  Her breath expired and she rose to the surface, spitting out water and sperm and coughing.  "I'm sorry.  I got a mouthful of sea water and I couldn't swallow it. I need practice at underwater blow jobs."   

            They laughed together as they embraced.  Their heads turned to the beach. April was on her elbows and knees and Andrew was standing behind her, his hands on her hips, his penis driving into her backside.  Her head was in Doug's lap.      

            "More, more, more, harder, harder, harder!" they heard April.

            "She's a screamer, for sure," said Tim.

            "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!" shouted April.

            "She's repeating herself," said Maggie, "and waking up all the neighbors.."  Both of them were looking clinically at the scene on the beach a few dozen feet away. 

            "You're a cynic and funny." 

            "I'm coming too!" That was Andrew.  He and April were moaning with pleasure. April's head was in Doug's lap and she collapsed on the sand, breathing hard.  

            Andrew got to his feet, and stripped the condom off his penis and looked around. "Who's next? I'm ready for another go at it."    

            They all laughed.  "Hey, it's my turn, " Doug said as he stroked April's hair, his penis in her mouth.  "That feels good, April.  But I would like to fuck one of you ladies. Or, should I just pleasure myself?"   He looked up at Maggie.

            Maggie turned to took at Tim.  He nodded to her.

            She looked back at Doug. "Let's go swimming. I like the water." 

            Doug rose and the two of them joined hands and walked into the gentle surf. Tim said to April, "I'll take Doug's place with your head on my lap, April.  I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

            "What about me?" said Andrew, still standing knee deep in the water, a used condom in his hand.

            "Wait your turn," Tim and Doug said in unison.

            Doug and Maggie barely got waist-deep in the water when they locked their bodies together in a kiss, his tongue exploring inside her mouth, his hand running up and down the crack in her buttocks.  Two minutes later and they were on the beach, she laying on her back on the wet sand. "There are condoms," she said, "in my neck purse."     

            He opened up her purse, found a condom, but off a corner of the package, and slipped it on his long, thin penis -- clearly visible in the moonlight -- and he laid down on top of her, finding her vagina with his fingers and guiding his penis inside her.  She gasped with pleasure. 

            As Doug stroked methodically, she glanced down the beach.  Tim was atop April, their bodies moving in unison, while Andrew was sitting nearby watching them. 

            "Enjoying yourself?" asked Doug as he dug deep inside her and she breathed hard.

            "Oh, yes, I am.  Tim didn't fuck me, and it's been a while. And you?"

            "You are the first roundeye I have fucked in more than a year.  It's kind of nice, having sex with somebody who is intelligent and you can talk to in your own language."  

            "I'm pleased to be of service," she answered archly.

            "More than service.  I think I'm falling in love with you."

            "Yeah, sure.  I learned a long time ago never to pay attention to the things a man says before he comes."

            "And unlike bar girls, maybe you won't fake an orgasm."

            "I come like Old Faithful." 

           "Promises, promises."

            "If you last just a little bit longer, I'll keep my promise."

            "Let's do it together -- and make a lot of noise."  

            "I'll scream, and you scream."

            "I'm ready."  He pumped harder and faster and she wrapped his legs around him.

            "Screaminnng!  Oh, shiiiiit!  Oh, fuck! God!  I'm cominnng!"   

            Fifty feet away, Andrew got up from the sand and stood and looked at Doug and Maggie entwined in passion.  "Oh, shit.  I want some of that." 

            "Was that exciting enough for you?" asked Maggie of Doug.

            "If it was a fake orgasm, it was the best I've ever seen."

            "You're crushing me.  Please get up."

            "I just fucked you better than you have been fucked in your whole life and you're complaining?"  Doug got to his feet and unrolled the condom from his penis. 

            Maggie got to her feet, a little unsteadily.  She kissed Doug's cheek. "I have never been better fucked." She paused. "Well, maybe...." She laughed and they embraced.

            Andrew had walked over to them.  "What about me?  I'm feeling neglected."                               

            "You girls want to spend the night at our house?  It will save you a long walk back to your hotel.  And brunch will be served."  That was Tim, who was climbing to his feet.  April was lying motionless on her back, her legs parted, the waves lapping around her feet and calves. 

            "Are you alive over there, April?"  Maggie asked.

            "I am totally exhausted.  But, yes, let's spend the night with these guys."  

            "You can share my bed," Andrew said to Maggie.

            "What a treat," answered Maggie. sarcastically, but with a smile.  They wrapped arms around each other and walked toward the house and the others followed.