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My Gap Year - Part Three free porn video
Chapter Ten - Cal visits Anabella
He quickly phoned Ridge’s “Bold and the Beautiful”.
“Is Anabella working this afternoon?” He asked the receptionist.
“How does 4 pm sound?” Came her reply
“That’s fine,” said Cal. “An hour booking would be ideal,” he confirmed.
“An hour it is then,” replied the receptionist before promptly hanging up. Cal buzzed at the door, within minutes he was upstairs, he showered, and then wrapping a crisp white towel around his waist he awaited Anabella’s arrival. His cock began to stretch out through the hole within the massage table’s center as he thought about what awaited him. Anabella was all class, her hands were like lightning bolts igniting every inch of his demeanor, as she slid and caressed them throughout the outside and inner sanctum of his being.
“Oil or powder?” She joked. Entering the room with a wry smile knowing full well he was an oil man. She quickly slid from her blue work dress to reveal her stunning blue lingerie underneath. It was actually almost aqua in color, he thought. As she slid behind him to touch his feet, lathering his ankles with oil as she slowly found her way north toward his inner thighs. Her right hand massaged his butt now as she reached underneath the table to stroke and massage his warm cock for the first time in over a month. He licked in the taste of the warm oil, only to be released and now met head on by Anabella removing her stunning blue lingerie to reveal that once again sensational landing strip pussy that he had grown accustomed to in times of late. Having worked up through his back, shoulders and neck, Anabella now tapped Cal’s butt, her signal for him to turn over to enjoy the final fruits of her offering. Placing his hand now on her upright breast. Anabella worked on his hamstrings and quadriceps.
College football was long behind him yet he could still feel the pain from injuries of days gone by having moved further north to massage his neck, shoulder blades, breasts and his chest. Anabella commenced slowly stroking Cal’s cock. Another dollop of the warm oil pushed his buttons even further causing him to reach further afield in search of Annabella’s sweet slit. She guided his wandering hand now back upon her breast as she jumped on table before him to stroke him with her best. Up and down his shaft she rubbed, then stroked and stroked some more, grasping beneath his ridge before opening the door, on a powerful gush of cum, a creamy warm hot load. Aiming it toward her breasts, to engage her now erect tits, before gathering in the remnants, to massage her private bits.
“Mom said is dinner tonight okay with you Cal?” Anabella questioned.
“Sure is,” replied Cal.
“Okay then, I’ll text you the address, and remember” she said, as Cal continued to dry himself from the shower, “don’t be late, she’s Italian.”
Chapter Eleven – Cal meets Monica
Anabella’s Mom Monica lived at Mission Canyon. Mission Canyon is an area in Santa Barbara containing the wooded hilly area beginning at the Old Mission and extending along Foothill Road, east into Mission Canyon Road and Las Canoas Road. A popular spot as an entry-point for weekend foothill hiking, it is one of the most rustically beautiful, yet fire-prone areas of Santa Barbara due to heavy natural vegetation. Anabella was in the kitchen making some Arrabiata pasta with Monica when Cal knocked at the door.
“Buonasera,” yelled Monica, greeting him with a hug and kisses on both cheeks having been introduced by Anabella. Cal had not met Anabella’s young Italian Mom but quickly fell into the groove joking and laughing with his attractive Italian American hostesses. Monica was truly appreciative of the referral for work at “La Colluna” and could not thank Cal enough.
Following dinner they sat and talked on the back porch eating some of Monica’s homemade vanilla gelato. Anabella then stood up and announced she was off into town to watch some blues with her friends from school. Cal stood to kiss her briefly before watching her head out front to where she was parked.
“I’ll call you in the morning at about 10-10.30 to see if you want a coffee,” she yelled back inside, before lifting her long gorgeous legs into her white Honda CRV to again wave goodbye.
Back on the porch Monica quizzed Cal.
“So you enjoy my daughters company?” She inquired.
“Very much so,” replied Cal, “and why not? Your daughter is a spirited vivacious young woman who knows how to carry herself,” he said.
Monica moved closer toward Cal on the porch. Turning her blue and yellow sandals inward to face his black “Boss” shoes, before placing her hand on the leg of his cream colored suit pants.
“Just like her Mom,” she whispered in his ear, before resting her hand on the sleeve of his crisp white shirt.
“Things were not always easy for her, growing up without a father figure. But she’s been a good kid. I miss her now she has moved out to the east side,” Monica explained, playing with Cal’s silver cuff links as she spoke.
“Would you like an Italian coffee?” She asked. Cal could not refuse, as he watched her bend down to remove the cups from her kitchen drawer.
“So tell me Cal,” she went on, “where are your family from? You look a bit Italian yourself. Dark and handsome, with your olive complexion, where does that hail from?”
Cal laughed at her candidness.
“My Mom was from Portugese stock,” he replied.
“That is where the European complexion comes from. Whilst Dad was pretty much your typical American male. The closest he came to Italy was watching Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro films set in Sicily,” he replied.
“Have you been back to Italy?” he asked.
“Once,” Monica said.
“When Anabella finished school five years ago we went to visit Mom back in Sorrento after Dad passed. Despite the loss we enjoyed some quality time together. We took Mom over to Capri for the day on a boat. And then spent our days sunning on the Sorrento beaches. It was July. And whilst there were many tourists around we still found time to unwind and soak up some of the memories from my own childhood. Actually, that reminds me,” Monica said.
“I did have to spend a large amount of time keeping Anabella away from the young Italian men,” she laughed.
“Just like her Mom,” Cal retorted, before picking up a tea towel to flick the back of Monica’s blue summer dress.
Monica turned to grab the tea towel and pulled it and Cal’s arm toward her. Before planting a kiss on his cheek. He then raised an arm to brush the hair from her neck, and jawline. Now pulling her in close to kiss her lips. Her lips tasted sweet. A mixture of white Italian wine and gelato. Her scent of “Issay Mayake” perfume now working through his body. Climbing inside her mouth with his tongue Cal squeezed her from behind, before riding his groin into the folds of her short summer dress. Monica led him to her room, then folded open his suit jacket before leaning down on top of him to kiss him on the neck.
“Where did you come from gorgeous man?” Monica asked, unbuttoning his white shirt to slowly kiss his broad dark chest, as Cal undid the cuff links and slowly untied his belt.
He then wrapped his hands behind her to massage her butt and pull her up toward his face. Lifting her dress to expose her bright blue thong. Moving the thong to the side Cal began licking within her beautiful slit. Parting her open with his long fingers he licked then sucked at her now swollen button. Sliding his tongue inside before returning to suck on her growing clit. Monica arched back. Her legs now wide open, straddling his face. Enjoying immensely the lashing from his tongue, the liquid from his lips, the massaging of her butt.
As Cal continued to enter her slippery channel. Monica began to moan. Reaching behind herself she undid his zipper, opened his suit pants then lowered his black boxers to expose his now erect cock. Within seconds she straddled back and lowered her warm snatch down over the ridge of his long erect cock. Cal now moaned too. With pleasure. He looked up momentarily to see her hairy cunt opening in the pink, wet distance, before resting his head back flat on her soft white pillows.
Monica writhed and slithered from side to side. Practically engulfing his throbbing head. Then reaching lower she began to rub furiously at her swollen clit. Only pausing to place his hands onto her now exposed breasts. Monica then clawed deeply into Cal’s beautiful broad chest with her wanton fingernails, as she moaned and bucked her hips on into a pulsating climax. Cal then pushed even higher, higher into her gorgeous, wet, warm Italian cunt, before he too released a powerful burst of cum, deep inside the pink. Monica then dropped down. Returning to taste the love juice from his lips. To slide her lips around his tongue. To swallow the wetness. Her wetness.
Chapter Twelve – Saying goodbye to Anabella
The phone rang, it was Anabella. Cal stepped out on the balcony of his apartment on “the Riviera” to take the call. Since the past century, it has been known as "the Riviera" due to its resemblance to the Mediterranean coastal towns of France and Italy. His neighborhood has winding streets with intricate stone work terracing built by early 20th-century Italian immigrants. Most of the topography of the Riviera is relatively steep, making it particularly noteworthy for homes with outstanding views of the City of Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean. His balcony was no exception, commanding 180 degree views of this outstanding part of the US West Coast.
“Hi,” said Cal, thanks for last night. “It was great to meet your Mom,” he said.
“She’s not a bad old stick is she,” Anabella laughed.
“Do you feel like that coffee I suggested,” she asked.
“Sure,” replied Cal. “Let’s meet down at the Waterfront at 11.30 and maybe take in a light lunch as well,” he said. “I do need to be home by at least two to make it into LAX by 9.30 tonight,” he said, before walking back inside to undo his shoe laces and undress for his shower.
“Cool,” Anabella said. “See you there.”
The waterfront comprises roughly commercial and tourist-oriented business structures along Cabrillo Blvd including Stearn's Wharf the Santa Barbara Harbor and the breakwater, and extending East toward the Bird Refuge and West along Shoreline Drive above the SBCC campus west . They met at Bill’s, one of Cal’s favorite haunts when he was in town.
The coffee was good and it felt good to be out in the middle of the day in what was now early winter sunshine. Anabella approached. Cal watched her as she moved. Elegantly and with a sense of grace. Her long legs clinging to black tights, and long black boots. Her breasts standing to attention beneath a pretty crimson shirt, unbuttoned ever so slightly to expose the strap-line of her matching crimson bra. Cal felt a slight twinge beneath his jeans. Almost a rush. She was really an attractive young woman. And though he had never been intimate with her, clearly it was just a matter of time before they held each other, outside of her work that is.
“Hi,” said Anabella. “Have you repacked, Mr Jetsetter?” she said, without requesting a reply.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said. “How long is this time, two weeks?”
Cal hesitated before replying.
“It is two weeks,” he said. “But you’ll be fine, with a client base like yours you don’t need me anyway.”
“I didn’t mean miss you at work,” she replied, in a somewhat solemn tone.
Cal wished he could retract his last statement. He knew he would miss her too. And to reflect upon her job as an erotic masseuse was poor timing and actually pretty poor form.
“I shall miss you too gorgeous girl,” he smiled.
Reaching over to touch the back of her hand, before lowering his head down to look up into her now sad eyes. Anabella’s eyes began to well up and the tears began to slowly meet her cheekbones, before landing upon the collar of her crimson shirt.
“You’ve been so good to me Cal,” she said.
“Taking me out all the time. Never asking anything of me. Looking after Mom by finding a job for her.” She reached inside her black bag, only to produce a white tissue with which to wipe her now flowing tears.
“It’s just I feel close to you Cal, and I enjoy having you around,” she said smiling beneath a wave of smudged mascara.
“I’ll be back,” he said, in a poor imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Chapter Thirteen – A weekend in Bangkok!
I had sent my luggage through to Brisbane in Australia and had a carry-on bag and a luggage bag at LAX when Cal walked toward me. He was about half an hour late and continued to apologize profusely as I kissed him on the cheek and told him not to be so ridiculous. I then dropped the carry-on bag and hugged him practically leaping from the ground into him.
“Thanks Cal,” I exclaimed.
“I’m so excited!” I practically screamed. Looking up into his handsome smile and tanned face. I then held onto his broad chest for a few moments longer, not wanting our embrace to end anytime soon.
I waved goodbye to LAX from a few thousand feet and crossed my legs as my small yellow dress rode up my legs toward the seat belts center. I wanted to flick off my tall yellow wedges yet they did afford me the extra height I needed to face off Cal, who softly touched the back of my hand as the plane continued to gather altitude. I noticed Cal’s white teeth shining beneath the upper reading light as he looked across toward me before beginning to read his latest Michael Connolly crime novel. I was halfway through D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers and was about to escape the world of LA with its crime ridden underworld, and enter a world of romance in the hills of the English Countryside.
Sunday morning as I looked down from my hotel room in Bangkok the city sprawled. I could see cars, even dogs, and an old cemetery below. There were buses, people, dirt, masses of concrete, and a railway line, covered in grass.
I noticed to the East some markets, and motorbikes, racing now. Girls and boys, iron rusting atop of buildings with unpainted faces, against a backdrop of high rise concrete, constructing itself toward the West. People waited in their masses, at intersections, within the heat, it must have been 100 degrees. The traffic, now stopped. “Tuk Tuk’s,” clouds, freeways, flags, fish, silk, all present below, on the streets of Thailand. Where bare footed women walked freely, forever moving, in jeans, below the concrete which towered above.
I watched the cemetery below our hotel, asleep, oblivious to the race against time. As the wind picked up slightly, into a breeze, blowing north along the freeway, with its bikes, dogs, people carrying goldfish, and silk, in taxi’s, today, on my second day in Thailand.
Cal had been tired after the flight last night and we agreed to meet for breakfast downstairs on level two, before a walk to the markets, through the city, and then a boat ride to explore the city sights from the river. The city was blowing me away as we walked.
Thailand, with her back lanes, markets, and people littering the skirting boards. With their food, and hot pans, frying their smoke toward the cloud filled sky, in front of our hotel, above the cemetery, behind the concrete walls, against the heat, of dirt then tar. Then traffic, racing again, toward Central Square, and Robinson's Department Store. Where beneath the overhead bridge people gathered.
It was a public holiday in Bangkok, Sunday, where locals went to Mass, amidst the smell of food, the dirt, the dirty canal and the city beyond. Two beggars sat below the bridge, backs against the concrete wall, one was without an arm. We walked toward our Hotel now. It was late afternoon. Our Robinson's Department Store bags filled with shirts, hats, and sun screen and beach towels. The Hotel staff greeted us, tall and beautiful, smiling, as old women watched on from the street, staring into their past, unearthing the crevices in their faces. As their young raced, continued to catch buses, and stare at us, as we now sat, eating beef and black bean stew, toward the end of day two.
Chapter Fourteen – The Dusit Polo Resort
On the morning of day three we traveled by bus to Hua Hin and Chaam south of Bangkok along Thailand’s southern coastline. Whilst I was sad to be leaving Bangkok Cal had arranged for us to stay at the beautiful Metropolitan Hotel upon our return next Saturday, whereupon he said we would dine at a rooftop bar and restaurant above the Banyan Tree Hotel nearby, with 360 degree views of Bangkok. As much as I looked forward to it I knew it would be our last night together before I returned to Mom’s in Australia, and that was something I was dreading.
Yet the good thing about the Dusit Polo Resort, to which we now checked in, was the presence of adjoining, as opposed to separate rooms. We even had a shared bathroom between both bedrooms. In Bangkok the separate rooms in our hotel had meant I really had little or no opportunity to approach Cal. At least not in the way I wanted to. I was beginning to think positively. Five days and nights by the pool, soaking up the sun, the food and indeed some alcohol, before returning to an adjoining room was sure to open more than its fair share of opportunities for me.
Day three was perfect. The hotel staff at The Dusit Polo Resort were ever present in numerous quantities to satisfy our every whim, should theTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
He quickly phoned Ridge’s “Bold and the Beautiful”.
“Is Anabella working this afternoon?” He asked the receptionist.
“How does 4 pm sound?” Came her reply
“That’s fine,” said Cal. “An hour booking would be ideal,” he confirmed.
“An hour it is then,” replied the receptionist before promptly hanging up. Cal buzzed at the door, within minutes he was upstairs, he showered, and then wrapping a crisp white towel around his waist he awaited Anabella’s arrival. His cock began to stretch out through the hole within the massage table’s center as he thought about what awaited him. Anabella was all class, her hands were like lightning bolts igniting every inch of his demeanor, as she slid and caressed them throughout the outside and inner sanctum of his being.
“Oil or powder?” She joked. Entering the room with a wry smile knowing full well he was an oil man. She quickly slid from her blue work dress to reveal her stunning blue lingerie underneath. It was actually almost aqua in color, he thought. As she slid behind him to touch his feet, lathering his ankles with oil as she slowly found her way north toward his inner thighs. Her right hand massaged his butt now as she reached underneath the table to stroke and massage his warm cock for the first time in over a month. He licked in the taste of the warm oil, only to be released and now met head on by Anabella removing her stunning blue lingerie to reveal that once again sensational landing strip pussy that he had grown accustomed to in times of late. Having worked up through his back, shoulders and neck, Anabella now tapped Cal’s butt, her signal for him to turn over to enjoy the final fruits of her offering. Placing his hand now on her upright breast. Anabella worked on his hamstrings and quadriceps.
College football was long behind him yet he could still feel the pain from injuries of days gone by having moved further north to massage his neck, shoulder blades, breasts and his chest. Anabella commenced slowly stroking Cal’s cock. Another dollop of the warm oil pushed his buttons even further causing him to reach further afield in search of Annabella’s sweet slit. She guided his wandering hand now back upon her breast as she jumped on table before him to stroke him with her best. Up and down his shaft she rubbed, then stroked and stroked some more, grasping beneath his ridge before opening the door, on a powerful gush of cum, a creamy warm hot load. Aiming it toward her breasts, to engage her now erect tits, before gathering in the remnants, to massage her private bits.
“Mom said is dinner tonight okay with you Cal?” Anabella questioned.
“Sure is,” replied Cal.
“Okay then, I’ll text you the address, and remember” she said, as Cal continued to dry himself from the shower, “don’t be late, she’s Italian.”
Chapter Eleven – Cal meets Monica
Anabella’s Mom Monica lived at Mission Canyon. Mission Canyon is an area in Santa Barbara containing the wooded hilly area beginning at the Old Mission and extending along Foothill Road, east into Mission Canyon Road and Las Canoas Road. A popular spot as an entry-point for weekend foothill hiking, it is one of the most rustically beautiful, yet fire-prone areas of Santa Barbara due to heavy natural vegetation. Anabella was in the kitchen making some Arrabiata pasta with Monica when Cal knocked at the door.
“Buonasera,” yelled Monica, greeting him with a hug and kisses on both cheeks having been introduced by Anabella. Cal had not met Anabella’s young Italian Mom but quickly fell into the groove joking and laughing with his attractive Italian American hostesses. Monica was truly appreciative of the referral for work at “La Colluna” and could not thank Cal enough.
Following dinner they sat and talked on the back porch eating some of Monica’s homemade vanilla gelato. Anabella then stood up and announced she was off into town to watch some blues with her friends from school. Cal stood to kiss her briefly before watching her head out front to where she was parked.
“I’ll call you in the morning at about 10-10.30 to see if you want a coffee,” she yelled back inside, before lifting her long gorgeous legs into her white Honda CRV to again wave goodbye.
Back on the porch Monica quizzed Cal.
“So you enjoy my daughters company?” She inquired.
“Very much so,” replied Cal, “and why not? Your daughter is a spirited vivacious young woman who knows how to carry herself,” he said.
Monica moved closer toward Cal on the porch. Turning her blue and yellow sandals inward to face his black “Boss” shoes, before placing her hand on the leg of his cream colored suit pants.
“Just like her Mom,” she whispered in his ear, before resting her hand on the sleeve of his crisp white shirt.
“Things were not always easy for her, growing up without a father figure. But she’s been a good kid. I miss her now she has moved out to the east side,” Monica explained, playing with Cal’s silver cuff links as she spoke.
“Would you like an Italian coffee?” She asked. Cal could not refuse, as he watched her bend down to remove the cups from her kitchen drawer.
“So tell me Cal,” she went on, “where are your family from? You look a bit Italian yourself. Dark and handsome, with your olive complexion, where does that hail from?”
Cal laughed at her candidness.
“My Mom was from Portugese stock,” he replied.
“That is where the European complexion comes from. Whilst Dad was pretty much your typical American male. The closest he came to Italy was watching Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro films set in Sicily,” he replied.
“Have you been back to Italy?” he asked.
“Once,” Monica said.
“When Anabella finished school five years ago we went to visit Mom back in Sorrento after Dad passed. Despite the loss we enjoyed some quality time together. We took Mom over to Capri for the day on a boat. And then spent our days sunning on the Sorrento beaches. It was July. And whilst there were many tourists around we still found time to unwind and soak up some of the memories from my own childhood. Actually, that reminds me,” Monica said.
“I did have to spend a large amount of time keeping Anabella away from the young Italian men,” she laughed.
“Just like her Mom,” Cal retorted, before picking up a tea towel to flick the back of Monica’s blue summer dress.
Monica turned to grab the tea towel and pulled it and Cal’s arm toward her. Before planting a kiss on his cheek. He then raised an arm to brush the hair from her neck, and jawline. Now pulling her in close to kiss her lips. Her lips tasted sweet. A mixture of white Italian wine and gelato. Her scent of “Issay Mayake” perfume now working through his body. Climbing inside her mouth with his tongue Cal squeezed her from behind, before riding his groin into the folds of her short summer dress. Monica led him to her room, then folded open his suit jacket before leaning down on top of him to kiss him on the neck.
“Where did you come from gorgeous man?” Monica asked, unbuttoning his white shirt to slowly kiss his broad dark chest, as Cal undid the cuff links and slowly untied his belt.
He then wrapped his hands behind her to massage her butt and pull her up toward his face. Lifting her dress to expose her bright blue thong. Moving the thong to the side Cal began licking within her beautiful slit. Parting her open with his long fingers he licked then sucked at her now swollen button. Sliding his tongue inside before returning to suck on her growing clit. Monica arched back. Her legs now wide open, straddling his face. Enjoying immensely the lashing from his tongue, the liquid from his lips, the massaging of her butt.
As Cal continued to enter her slippery channel. Monica began to moan. Reaching behind herself she undid his zipper, opened his suit pants then lowered his black boxers to expose his now erect cock. Within seconds she straddled back and lowered her warm snatch down over the ridge of his long erect cock. Cal now moaned too. With pleasure. He looked up momentarily to see her hairy cunt opening in the pink, wet distance, before resting his head back flat on her soft white pillows.
Monica writhed and slithered from side to side. Practically engulfing his throbbing head. Then reaching lower she began to rub furiously at her swollen clit. Only pausing to place his hands onto her now exposed breasts. Monica then clawed deeply into Cal’s beautiful broad chest with her wanton fingernails, as she moaned and bucked her hips on into a pulsating climax. Cal then pushed even higher, higher into her gorgeous, wet, warm Italian cunt, before he too released a powerful burst of cum, deep inside the pink. Monica then dropped down. Returning to taste the love juice from his lips. To slide her lips around his tongue. To swallow the wetness. Her wetness.
Chapter Twelve – Saying goodbye to Anabella
The phone rang, it was Anabella. Cal stepped out on the balcony of his apartment on “the Riviera” to take the call. Since the past century, it has been known as "the Riviera" due to its resemblance to the Mediterranean coastal towns of France and Italy. His neighborhood has winding streets with intricate stone work terracing built by early 20th-century Italian immigrants. Most of the topography of the Riviera is relatively steep, making it particularly noteworthy for homes with outstanding views of the City of Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean. His balcony was no exception, commanding 180 degree views of this outstanding part of the US West Coast.
“Hi,” said Cal, thanks for last night. “It was great to meet your Mom,” he said.
“She’s not a bad old stick is she,” Anabella laughed.
“Do you feel like that coffee I suggested,” she asked.
“Sure,” replied Cal. “Let’s meet down at the Waterfront at 11.30 and maybe take in a light lunch as well,” he said. “I do need to be home by at least two to make it into LAX by 9.30 tonight,” he said, before walking back inside to undo his shoe laces and undress for his shower.
“Cool,” Anabella said. “See you there.”
The waterfront comprises roughly commercial and tourist-oriented business structures along Cabrillo Blvd including Stearn's Wharf the Santa Barbara Harbor and the breakwater, and extending East toward the Bird Refuge and West along Shoreline Drive above the SBCC campus west . They met at Bill’s, one of Cal’s favorite haunts when he was in town.
The coffee was good and it felt good to be out in the middle of the day in what was now early winter sunshine. Anabella approached. Cal watched her as she moved. Elegantly and with a sense of grace. Her long legs clinging to black tights, and long black boots. Her breasts standing to attention beneath a pretty crimson shirt, unbuttoned ever so slightly to expose the strap-line of her matching crimson bra. Cal felt a slight twinge beneath his jeans. Almost a rush. She was really an attractive young woman. And though he had never been intimate with her, clearly it was just a matter of time before they held each other, outside of her work that is.
“Hi,” said Anabella. “Have you repacked, Mr Jetsetter?” she said, without requesting a reply.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said. “How long is this time, two weeks?”
Cal hesitated before replying.
“It is two weeks,” he said. “But you’ll be fine, with a client base like yours you don’t need me anyway.”
“I didn’t mean miss you at work,” she replied, in a somewhat solemn tone.
Cal wished he could retract his last statement. He knew he would miss her too. And to reflect upon her job as an erotic masseuse was poor timing and actually pretty poor form.
“I shall miss you too gorgeous girl,” he smiled.
Reaching over to touch the back of her hand, before lowering his head down to look up into her now sad eyes. Anabella’s eyes began to well up and the tears began to slowly meet her cheekbones, before landing upon the collar of her crimson shirt.
“You’ve been so good to me Cal,” she said.
“Taking me out all the time. Never asking anything of me. Looking after Mom by finding a job for her.” She reached inside her black bag, only to produce a white tissue with which to wipe her now flowing tears.
“It’s just I feel close to you Cal, and I enjoy having you around,” she said smiling beneath a wave of smudged mascara.
“I’ll be back,” he said, in a poor imitation of Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Chapter Thirteen – A weekend in Bangkok!
I had sent my luggage through to Brisbane in Australia and had a carry-on bag and a luggage bag at LAX when Cal walked toward me. He was about half an hour late and continued to apologize profusely as I kissed him on the cheek and told him not to be so ridiculous. I then dropped the carry-on bag and hugged him practically leaping from the ground into him.
“Thanks Cal,” I exclaimed.
“I’m so excited!” I practically screamed. Looking up into his handsome smile and tanned face. I then held onto his broad chest for a few moments longer, not wanting our embrace to end anytime soon.
I waved goodbye to LAX from a few thousand feet and crossed my legs as my small yellow dress rode up my legs toward the seat belts center. I wanted to flick off my tall yellow wedges yet they did afford me the extra height I needed to face off Cal, who softly touched the back of my hand as the plane continued to gather altitude. I noticed Cal’s white teeth shining beneath the upper reading light as he looked across toward me before beginning to read his latest Michael Connolly crime novel. I was halfway through D.H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers and was about to escape the world of LA with its crime ridden underworld, and enter a world of romance in the hills of the English Countryside.
Sunday morning as I looked down from my hotel room in Bangkok the city sprawled. I could see cars, even dogs, and an old cemetery below. There were buses, people, dirt, masses of concrete, and a railway line, covered in grass.
I noticed to the East some markets, and motorbikes, racing now. Girls and boys, iron rusting atop of buildings with unpainted faces, against a backdrop of high rise concrete, constructing itself toward the West. People waited in their masses, at intersections, within the heat, it must have been 100 degrees. The traffic, now stopped. “Tuk Tuk’s,” clouds, freeways, flags, fish, silk, all present below, on the streets of Thailand. Where bare footed women walked freely, forever moving, in jeans, below the concrete which towered above.
I watched the cemetery below our hotel, asleep, oblivious to the race against time. As the wind picked up slightly, into a breeze, blowing north along the freeway, with its bikes, dogs, people carrying goldfish, and silk, in taxi’s, today, on my second day in Thailand.
Cal had been tired after the flight last night and we agreed to meet for breakfast downstairs on level two, before a walk to the markets, through the city, and then a boat ride to explore the city sights from the river. The city was blowing me away as we walked.
Thailand, with her back lanes, markets, and people littering the skirting boards. With their food, and hot pans, frying their smoke toward the cloud filled sky, in front of our hotel, above the cemetery, behind the concrete walls, against the heat, of dirt then tar. Then traffic, racing again, toward Central Square, and Robinson's Department Store. Where beneath the overhead bridge people gathered.
It was a public holiday in Bangkok, Sunday, where locals went to Mass, amidst the smell of food, the dirt, the dirty canal and the city beyond. Two beggars sat below the bridge, backs against the concrete wall, one was without an arm. We walked toward our Hotel now. It was late afternoon. Our Robinson's Department Store bags filled with shirts, hats, and sun screen and beach towels. The Hotel staff greeted us, tall and beautiful, smiling, as old women watched on from the street, staring into their past, unearthing the crevices in their faces. As their young raced, continued to catch buses, and stare at us, as we now sat, eating beef and black bean stew, toward the end of day two.
Chapter Fourteen – The Dusit Polo Resort
On the morning of day three we traveled by bus to Hua Hin and Chaam south of Bangkok along Thailand’s southern coastline. Whilst I was sad to be leaving Bangkok Cal had arranged for us to stay at the beautiful Metropolitan Hotel upon our return next Saturday, whereupon he said we would dine at a rooftop bar and restaurant above the Banyan Tree Hotel nearby, with 360 degree views of Bangkok. As much as I looked forward to it I knew it would be our last night together before I returned to Mom’s in Australia, and that was something I was dreading.
Yet the good thing about the Dusit Polo Resort, to which we now checked in, was the presence of adjoining, as opposed to separate rooms. We even had a shared bathroom between both bedrooms. In Bangkok the separate rooms in our hotel had meant I really had little or no opportunity to approach Cal. At least not in the way I wanted to. I was beginning to think positively. Five days and nights by the pool, soaking up the sun, the food and indeed some alcohol, before returning to an adjoining room was sure to open more than its fair share of opportunities for me.
Day three was perfect. The hotel staff at The Dusit Polo Resort were ever present in numerous quantities to satisfy our every whim, should theTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
Lynne
- 30.10.2021
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- Taboo
