Pursuit to Paradise

(Partial) CHAPTER 1

Nataya stood naked in front of the wardrobe mirror, brushing her shiny black, waist-length hair, seemingly flattered that the man behind her watched every move. She glanced at Ben’s reflection as he sat on the end of the bed. “You look as though you have never seen a girl with no clothes on before,” she said in perfect English.

“I’ve never looked at one as stunning as you.”

“There are many beautiful ladies in Thailand. I think you are just saying that.”

Ben got up, finished buttoning his shirt, and stood beside her. “You’re so tiny.” The top of her head just about reached his chin. “You Thais are some of the most beautiful girls in the world.” He admired her curves and smooth slender legs.

Nataya continued grooming her hair.

Ben picked up his camera from the chair, found a position where the flash wouldn’t reflect in the glass, and snapped a sideways angle.

“How many more do you want? We must have taken at least a hundred by now.” She turned to face the camera. “Do you like this one?” She smiled into the lens, brilliant white teeth contrasting with the darkness of her skin.

“Great. Fantastic.” Ben checked the result on the LCD screen before scrolling back to some shots taken earlier. “Wow! I see Thai girls are double-jointed. Girls where I come from couldn’t possibly achieve some of these positions.”

“And most Thai men could not possibly achieve the same as you. It is all about body differences.” She giggled and moved to sit at the dressing table to apply her makeup.

Ben put the camera down and walked round the bed to stand behind her, stroking her narrow shoulders, gliding his hands down her delicate arms, easily encircling her tiny wrists with a thumb and finger. “Just like kiddies’ arms,” he told her, letting go as she shook him away good-naturedly.

“We will be here all day if you carry on like this.” She inspected the scarlet varnish on her fingernails, lifting her legs a little to make sure the toes weren’t in need of redoing.

Ben sat on the bed again, choosing a spot where he could still watch her in the smaller mirror.

The creams and powder lightened her skin – Ben noted how popular this trend had become. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes exuded sensuality as she applied eye shadow and pencilled her brows that arched away, tapering perfectly. Her cute nose with slightly flared nostrils added yet another touch of elegance. When she finished putting on glossy red lipstick, she resembled an exquisite porcelain doll.

Ben nodded his approval, wondering how she could afford the luxury of gold earrings, a magnificent gold necklace, and matching bracelet. He hadn’t had a Thai partner before. A few days ago, his English girlfriend had packed her bags and left in a rage after endless arguments.

“How many times have you been to Thailand, Ben?”

“Oh, goodness knows, many times. Why?”

“I was just wondering. That girlfriend of yours – she seemed very cool toward me. In fact, she seemed not to like Thai girls an awful lot at all.”

“She was fine on our first visits, but more recently she became envious – probably due to her paranoia about age.”

“How old is she?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“She still looks very attractive. In Thailand, when a woman has raised a family and reaches her thirties, she is considered past it.”

“I think that’s crazy. Just look at Duggie’s Jaidee. She’s, what? Forty-something? But still very beautiful.”

“Sure, but Jaidee doesn’t have babies.” She stood to slip on her tiny silk g-string and fastened the bra, pulling up each breast to create more cleavage. She tucked her floral print blouse into the black skirt and adjusted the name badge before stepping into black stiletto-heeled shoes. She dabbed on a little Gucci Envy, and packed all the items into her Dolce & Gabbana bag. “Ready?”

They went down the stairs.

“See you later, darling.” Nataya pecked him on the cheek before resuming her duties behind the reception desk.

* * *

Ben Lofthouse found his friend, Duggie Johnson, on his usual perch at the end of the bar in Dougle’s Hotel, a place where he could keep an eye on his restaurant and reception area. He was flicking through the list of advance reservations when Ben arrived at his side.

“You know, Ben, I’ve never seen so few bookings – right through to the middle of high season. It was bad enough before people started panicking over the recession. People just haven’t been coming to Thailand like before. Now, well, it’s not looking very good. I remember a time when fifteen bedrooms weren’t enough.”

“Tell me about it. It’s the same for me back home; worse now that Gail’s done a bunk.” He gave Duggie’s shoulder a reassuring pat. “But you’ve seen it all before. Things will get better. I’m just going outside for a breather. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Hang on, I’ll come with you.” He took the paperwork back to Nataya at the reception desk. “Take care of these, honey. They’re worth a fortune,” he joked bravely.

Nataya flashed a smile. “I hope you two are not going to drown your sorrows?”

“Probably drown ourselves,” he growled. “Won’t be long.”

The men walked through the small lounge area that doubled as the lobby and exited to the street. They were met by the gruelling, sauna-like humidity October nearly always brought to Koh Pimaan and other islands in the Gulf of Thailand; a stark contrast to the air-conditioned comfort of the hotel. They crossed the road to the paved walkway lined with coconut palms and dotted with potted shrubs and flowering plants. The aroma of street food filled the air as they strolled past carts and motorbike contraptions along the kerbside. Stepping down to the clean, soft, white sand that made Sang Tong beach one of Koh Pimaan’s most popular – and inspired the name, Pimaan, meaning heavenly residence – they ambled down to where small wavelets washed the shore.

Ben kicked off his sandals, enjoying the warm but refreshing water running over his feet. Even the light breeze blowing off the sea did nothing to relieve the heat. He turned and looked at the rows of coloured lights strung along the bay and noticed that Bar Monty seemed all but deserted.

“Looks like Chai’s struggling as well,” he observed. “Low season never used to be like this. Maybe I’ll go for a drink with him tomorrow; it’ll be my last chance before I go home.”

“Blimey–I clean forgot. You’ve only got a couple of days left.” Duggie struggled to light a cigarette with his back to the sea but gave up.

They walked in companionable silence along the surf for half a kilometre or so before heading back to the hotel.

“Anything exciting happening?” Duggie asked Nataya, glancing round at the unoccupied tables and vacant stools, at last getting his smoke going.

“Only Bhumipol. He is complaining he will have to throw all that fish away. He only had two orders for it tonight.”

The Thai chef sat with his feet up on a chair in the lounge, moodily smoking a strong cigarette, watching Manchester United lose a match played last weekend on the TV high on the wall. He shook his head. “Not same, no Beckham–why he no play?” Tossing a disgruntled glance over his shoulder, he realised his boss was in no mood to see his staff lounging about and hurriedly took his feet off the chair, stubbed out the cigarette, and continued his complaint about too much fish.

Ben hitched himself onto a barstool and Duggie fixed some drinks.

“Well, that Gail of yours turned out to be a nasty piece of work,” Duggie flicked ash into the tray. “How many years have you two been coming to Koh Pimaan?”

“This is–was–our fifth year together. I have to say, all this has been building up for quite a while now. I wasn’t expecting to hear about her having a new fella though; that came straight out of the blue. Seems it’s been going on for some time.”

“So, you reckon she flew to Spain?” He placed two bottles of Chang on the bar.

“Apparently the new lover boy is on holiday there.”

“What happens to the businesses in England? Are you going to carry on?” Duggie perched in his exclusive spot next to his friend.

“Problem is, Gail started pushing herself into both of them, and like a fool I let her have her own way. Now I’m left with a right financial mess to sort out. To be honest, I’ve had it all up to here.” He held a hand at his neck. “I’m seriously thinking about pulling the plug on the lot.”

Ben smiled at Nataya as she made for the kitchen with some paperwork requiring Bhumipol’s signature. She smiled back, a knowing look on her face, her expensive perfume lingering on the air.

Duggie looked at her cute backside wiggling inside the sheath skirt. “Anyway, she’ll take your mind off it for your last couple of nights, lucky bastard. She’s quite a girl, the best I’ve ever had around here. I can leave her to do anything. I’ve never known a Thai to have such good English. It’s perfect. And the way she dresses, wow!”

“Don’t know how she does it; certainly not on the sort of money I pay. She’s a bit of a mystery, actually, but she definitely isn’t a bar girl. Make sure you don’t offer her any money. She would be extremely offended–I know, okay?” He opened a new packet of cigarettes. “So, what will you do? I mean, if you get rid of the shops?”

Ben drank some of his beer. “I can always sell that painting. It’d fetch enough to be able to live out here fairly comfortably. In fact, I must get it put into storage as soon as I get home.”

“I’ve never regretted coming to live in Thailand, despite the changes.” Duggie tipped his bottle and drank. “Have to say, though, Jaidee’s the main reason.”

Ben looked at the former car assembly worker from Essex, noticing the thinning hair, podgy face, and developing beer gut. He put an arm round his shoulder. “I don’t need convincing. As soon as I’ve sorted things out back home, I’ll be back.”

“I still enjoy Koh Pimaan, though they’re ruining the place. Luxury resorts springing up everywhere. Can you work out the mentality? The world’s in a mess, yet they’re throwing up tourist accommodations as fast as they can. Where’s the sense? It’s no good for small businesses ‘cos most people staying in these posh joints don’t go out at night. They try and save money by stuffing themselves on buffet food and making one drink last all night while they watch free entertainment,” Duggie complained bitterly. “Now they’ve even granted a license for a go-go bar here in Sang Tong. A bloke I know runs a bar in Pattaya. He’s been picking my brains on the phone about the viability of a girlie club down here. He said he couldn’t make any money now in Pattaya. Seems scores of bars are up for sale there. I told him it wasn’t any different here, but he’s going ahead. If it gets off the ground, it’ll be like a mini Pattaya around here before long.”

Time sped by as they drank and reminisced.

Nataya came over. “Would you like me to stay a little longer?” she asked Duggie. “All the room accounts are up to date and I have filed the papers you left on the desk.”

“All the accounts? Okay.” He looked up at the clock. Nine-fifteen. “No, you two get yourselves off. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

“Thank you so much.” Turning to Ben, she said, “I must go to the room for clean clothes. I will go and shower, then perhaps you would like to walk with me. You can meet my best friend, Kanita. We share a room not far from here. She has a massage business on the beach.”

“Sounds good to me. Don’t be long.” He patted her bottom as she went off.

* * *

“This is Ben, from England,” Nataya explained to Kanita when they arrived at the small room.

The girl was every bit as pretty as Nataya, of similar build, with almost the same length hair. She flashed a huge smile and got up from the floor, where she’d been sitting cross-legged on a makeshift bed of blankets and quilted covers.

“Me Kanita. How you?” She gave a most graceful wai, pressing her palms together with fingertips touching her nose as she nodded, bending one knee while making the traditional greeting.

“Hello, Kanita. I’m very well, thank you.” Ben noticed her lack of makeup. A tin of baby powder, a cheap hand mirror, and some plastic cosmetic boxes were on a tray beside her makeshift bed.

Her clothes, hanging on a rail, looked well worn, consisting mainly of shorts, printed T-shirts, and faded denim jeans.

Nataya went to her own sleeping corner and opened her bag, replacing some of its contents with a fresh choice of toiletries and cosmetics extending along two wooden shelves. She chose clean underwear from stacked plastic storage boxes with drawers and selected something to wear tomorrow from the rows of dresses, skirts, and pretty tops that augmented what appeared to be the all-time Thai favourites—shorts, T-shirts and jeans. She packed the required clothing inside a stylish Mango House Bangkok carrier bag.

The three sat together on a mat in the middle of the floor.

“You like Nataya?” Kanita asked, scooping water into a tin mug from the ice bucket. “She best friend me.” She looked at Ben’s face. “She very lucky, have falang; good heart.” She lowered her eyes, seeming somewhat dejected and sipped from the mug.

Ben noticed the white strings and coloured bands around her wrists; important, he knew, to Buddhists, because they represented blessings and tokens for good luck. Around her neck was a simple metal chain with a pendant depicting a revered Buddhist monk.

Nataya opened her purse and, talking in Thai, gave Kanita a number of bank notes.

Kanita thanked her with a wai and stuffed it in the hip pocket of her shorts.

“Rent money,” Nataya explained. “I am never here when the lady comes to collect it.”

The girls chatted in Thai for a while and Ben noticed a concerned look on Nataya’s face when Kanita shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Nataya took more money from her purse, insisting her protesting friend accept it.

Nataya picked up the bag. “Are you ready, darling? Shall we go?”

Ben nodded and stood up, surprised at the lingering kiss Nataya planted on Kanita’s lips.

* * *

The last night of his vacation arrived all too quickly, and Ben tried to blot out his imminent departure in the morning as he towelled himself dry.

“I want your last night to be one you will remember, darling,” Nataya said with a mischievous grin as she emerged naked from the shower in Ben’s room. “Are you telling me your English girlfriend never did things like this for you?” Nataya seemed determined that he go home with some amazing memories. She led him to the bed and pushed him back.

Ages later, satisfied, they stretched out side by side, still breathing heavily.

“I wish this wasn’t the last day,” Ben told her. “I don’t want to go home. You… you have become very… special to me. Don’t say it. I know I’m stupid, having only just met you, but I’m going to miss you very much.”

Nataya smiled sweetly but declined to comment on his sentimental expression. “When will you come back?”

“Just as soon as I can, that’s a promise. I’ll telephone and at least we’ll be able to stay in touch. I can’t wait, darling.”

* * *

Sitting disconsolate in the departure lounge, Ben reflected on recent events. The grocery shop he’d run for the last two years, since his father died at the age of sixty-nine after suffering a heart attack, had turned out to be a nightmare. The business had been in the family since his grandfather’s days and he had felt obliged to honour his father’s wishes by taking it on, trying to retain a little bit of history in the locality.

So, he and Gail Patterson had split their time between Ben’s home and the Buckinghamshire shop he’d opened six years ago. When he and Gail took off on holidays, a long-standing family friend, Mrs. Trammell, took charge, living at the back of the shop. She’d been very close to Mother before her premature death in a road accident eleven years ago.

Ben smiled ruefully to himself, recalling how the rent had more than doubled when he took over. If he had been in a position to purchase the entire property at that time, things would have been different. The discovery of the Van Gogh could have changed things, but now it would provide more than enough money to enjoy his new life in Thailand.

It seemed the entire village resented his decision to close the shop.

* * *

Ben listened with interest to the art specialist as he sat in the company’s London office.

“I have to tell you, Mr. Lofthouse, this Van Gogh is a remarkable treasure. I find it amazing that it spent all those years in Devon, collecting dust in your family loft.” The expert stepped back and admired the painting, shaking his head in amazement. “And you have no idea how long it has been in the family?”

“I would hazard a guess since my grandfather’s time. He travelled extensively and collected quite a few knickknacks,” Ben informed him.

“Hardly a knickknack, sir. Our valuation of three million pounds may well prove to be a trifle conservative, even if it went to auction. I advise you to be patient. A collector seeking such rare art may well offer considerably more by way of private agreement.”

“When I first had it valued it was worth two million.”

“You must ensure you have adequate insurance, Mr. Lofthouse.”

“I’m placing it in safe storage. Would you recommend this firm?” Ben showed him the business card.

“Oh perfect. We always recommend them.”

* * *

Nataya was becoming concerned about the persistence of the guest who’d recognised her from the cover of the erotic DVD. The pictures were somewhat graphic; no wonder the guy wanted to know more.

“What’s it like doing it in front of the camera? Do you really enjoy it, or is it just acting?” The man looked round to make sure no one was listening. In his sixties and balding, he was not overly attractive, with a broken nose and a deep scar running down his cheek.

“Look, Mr. Dutworth, if you carry on like this I will have to do something about it. You are making my life a misery,” Nataya told him firmly from behind the reception desk.

Regardless, he carried on. “Look.” He took a copy of the front and back cover pictures used in the DVD packaging out of a plastic bag and waved it in her face. “I take it with me everywhere,” he whispered ominously. “I tell everybody I know the girl doing this.”

“Enough! Just go away!” Nataya hissed angrily.

“Oh, but you forget I’m here for a month, my dear. Tell you what, you give me a good time and I’ll leave you alone. How about that?” He winked and stuck his tongue out, pulling a disgusting face. “I’d like to do what you do in them films; lovely it is. I bet your dad doesn’t know. He’d kill you.”

“That is it! You can stay; I am leaving. Now!” She grabbed her handbag, swept out from behind the desk, and ran outside to the pavement, heading toward her room, hoping Kanita was home. She didn’t want to let Duggie and Jaidee down, but she couldn’t continue working at Dougle’s. She wouldn’t be welcome to work there anyway if they found out about the movie.

* * *

Ben drove his faithful old Volvo Estate toward leafy Ainsham, hardly noticing the vivid autumn colours of gold, red, russet, and brown on the plentiful trees in this corner of England’s Buckinghamshire. Even with such good news about his painting, his head was still in Thailand, thinking constantly about Nataya. He was besotted and didn’t care, neither did he care that she seemed not to have been too bothered when he left. After all, they hardly knew each other and she was probably sceptical about his intentions. She seemed such a level headed, intelligent girl–with sexual prowess he’d only dreamed of before.

It would take more time to convince her, that’s all. He had made up his mind, despite knowing he was on what his mother used to call the rebound.

His mobile rang and, convinced it’d be Nataya, he pulled over before answering. It was a call from Spain.

“So you’re back, then?”

“What do you want, Gail?”

“Oh, just to tell you I won’t be walking away from that money you owe me.” She hung up.

Breathing deeply, Ben vowed Gail wouldn’t get a penny from him. After all, she had wasted so much with her ideas to upgrade his family grocery business in Devon, and her extravagant spending on stock for his shop in Ainsham had all but ruined him.

Arriving in the pretty village, he parked outside Smart Reflections, unlocked the door of his boutique and gallery, and disarmed the security alarm. He carried the reproduction Van Gogh from the car and installed it. It looked convincing behind the security glass in the electronically protected cabinet. The original had attracted extra customers to the lock-up shop at the end of the high street, improved turnover, offsetting the huge increase in the insurance premiums.

He stepped back to scrutinise it and was satisfied with the result. Earlier he’d placed the original in safe storage, adequately insured. He was taking no chances since Gail still had keys to the shop and could open the cabinet. She wouldn’t be aware it only contained a fake. Even if she cleared out the entire stock, it mattered little because he’d already transferred the money Gail had pumped into his struggling business in Devon. Convinced the cash must have come from her new lover, he used it to pay the huge bill for the grossly overstocked rows of expensive designer clothing she had ordered. He regretted giving in to her extravagant idea, having been perfectly happy with the gallery side of the business. He went through and looked at the inexpensive touristy gifts that day-trippers snapped up.

Before leaving, he stooped to pick up the broken extractor fan unit, glancing up at the plastic grill in the wall, hoping rain wouldn’t get in. He reset the alarms and went outside, dumping the useless fan in the garbage bin. Locking the door, he wondered if he would ever reopen for business. He drove the short distance to the rented flat, reflecting on how stupid he’d been to allow Gail to move in and start interfering with his businesses.

For days he busied himself catching up with accounts and tax affairs, deciding to leave everything up-to-date. Every day he tried to telephone Nataya but received no answer. His texts brought no response either. He grew frustrated and depressed, eventually deciding to ring Duggie on Koh Pimaan.

“Sorry, pal, but she quit just after you left; didn’t even tell us she was going. We’ve no idea where she is, but her friend brought a load of her clothes here for us to look after. Very strange.”

“That’s worrying, Duggie. I mean, such an intelligent girl. I’m really concerned.”

* * *

The week before Christmas, the English winter set in with a vengeance. Ben drove down to his home village in North Devon, already having decided to close down the ailing old-established family grocery store that Gail thought could be made profitable.

As he walked along Bramblegate’s quaint cobbled street, the locals all but ignored him, some choosing to cross to the other side, expressing disapproval of their convenience store closing down. He pulled up the collar of his topcoat as a biting wind blew off the sea. Even the seagulls seemed to mock, squawking and circling overhead. Reaching the post office, he decided to buy a lottery ticket and joined the queue.

“How are you, Ronnie?” Ben asked Ronnie Brimlow, ahead of him in the queue.

The simple-minded village scrounger turned. “Oh, it’s you. Fine thing you’ve gone and done to this village, I must say.” He turned his back.

“Just the one,” Ben confirmed to the clerk as he bought his ticket and placed it in his wallet.

Bramblegate Stores, locked and deserted with the ancient blind pulled down in the window, saddened Ben as he let himself in. The near-empty shelves of provisions and the open, defrosted freezer spoke volumes about the problems Ben had struggled to overcome. He went through to the comfortable back parlour, put the kettle on, then went out the back to collect fuel for the old open fire.

For the next few days he seldom went out, sleeping at night in the back bedroom that had been his all his life. He put photos of Nataya on the table beside his bed, but his dreams of her became clouded as he wrestled with his conscience on waking from fitful sleep. He drove to a restaurant in a neighbouring village for Christmas day lunch and spent the evening in front of his television.

A few days later, he idly watched the National Lottery draw on television, thinking how lucky he’d have to be to win anything with the solitary ticket he’d bought in the post office. Smoothing the crumpled paper to read the numbers, he confirmed the jackpot wasn’t his, then froze with excitement when some of his numbers came up. It didn’t sink in at first. He whooped, “Yes! Yes! Oh boy – forty-five-thousand pounds!”Next morning, he collected his winnings in the main post office in town and booked a flight to Bangkok at the travel agency.

* * *

Nataya stroked the back of Hugh Swainton’s hair as he made her gasp with delight and satisfaction. Despite being in his fifties, his amazing drive and technique always left her breathless.

“I can’t get enough of you, you beautiful creature. Mmm!” He sighed, his American drawl muffled as he buried his face.

After they showered and dressed, they moved to the comfortable lounge in Hugh’s Bangkok apartment.

“It gets better every time. Do you know that?” he declared, crossing to the drinks cabinet and fixing himself a Jim Beam and a Malibu for Nataya.

“That is what is so good about not making it a regular thing–keeps it fresh and enjoyable,” Nataya agreed, sinking into an armchair.

“Hardly the viewpoint held by my former wife, honey. She still expected me home every night, even though her interest in sex went out the window years ago when the kids started to grow up.”

“Did they carry on your advertising agency in New York?”

“The eldest boy’s the chief executive officer now. He’s got a keen business brain.”

“Like his father,” Nataya offered, admiring his tall, elegant frame as he poured the drinks.

“If any of them had so much as an inkling what their father was up to out here, they’d disown me.” He brought the glasses over, handing one to Nataya before sitting in a nearby chair.

“I hardly dare think what my papa would do.”

Hugh smiled and his bluish-grey eyes sparkled, bright and alert in a deeply tanned face that showed signs of wear after many years in Southeast Asia.

“So, what are your plans?” He smoothed the wide sideburns of his coiffured silver hair.

“I am going back to the village for a while. Papa is all right now, but I need some space to chill out, what with the commotion over the movie here in the city, to say nothing of having it thrown in my face again on Koh Pimaan.” She struggled to fasten new twenty-four carat gold earrings.

“I have to go to Hong Kong again. One of our film distributors wants to discuss marketing strategy. It seems there’s a lot of interest in 3D erotica these days, but that’s out of our league. Then when I get back, I have a lot of stuff going on all over this region regarding the language school. I’m looking for more English teachers to work in the provinces; it’s amazing how many Thais from the countryside want to learn English.”

“And yet you still find time for… private lessons,” Nataya said provocatively, raising her eyebrows and smiling innocently.

“Only exceptionally talented students qualify for private lessons,” he purred. “Incidentally, those earrings look great. Do you like them?”

“They are perfect, darling, thank you so much.” She went over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You spend far too much on me.”

© Mark Damaroyd. All rights reserved by the author.

ISBN: 978-1-936394-10-4

Publisher: Decadent Publishing. http://www.decadentpublishing.com

Direct link to book: http://tinyurl.com/26e7qx3