Greg was feeling sluggish, and slow-witted, as he struggled back towards consciousness. But, a smile still cracked his face, as he recalled the events of the previous night.
A spear of pain lashing through his temple, as the variety of drinks surged back into his recollection. Blurred faces of the various bar girls, throwing themselves at him. Patting his wallet, eyes still screwed shut, it felt lighter but (to be honest) he was surprised it was still there.
The smile faltered, as he remembered puking his guts a few times during the night, too. Beneath his back, the stiff wooden sun-lounger was starting to make his back ache worse. The soft warmth of the Sun, gentle enough to wake him, and keep him on the verge of dozing.
Squinting against the Sun, Greg looked around. The bar was empty, hell, the beach only having a few early visitors, hoiday makers catching the sunrise, some locals walking their dogs, and a few harried men in light suits heading to work.
It was a complete change of scenery, a break from Greg's past, the local script entirely beyond his comprehension.
ทางนี้ไปยังชายหาด{/ b}
It was a beautiful script, and with a struggle he could communicate. The bar was part of a new resort, in a new locale. The workers not up to the English proficiency he'd found in the capital. But the women... the women were every inch as gorgeous, and 'getting by' was easy enough with their simple goals.
'Laid Off', the reality landed with a crash, as the disastrous reason for his break made him groan on the lounger. Muscles aching, Greg sat forward, pain and how he strained those muscles coming back.
Had he had a threesome? a foursome? The memories were there, but tantalisingly jumbled.
It wasn't a long walk back to the hotel, and he walked with a jaunty sway, whistling tunelessly to himself. A comfy bed, to rest properly, and some proper rehydration was what he needed.
"Good Morning, Mister Wallace."
The receptionist greeted him as he passed. Her English, accented, stilted and slow. The polite smile on her face, and the formal slight bow, just part of her welcome. Perhaps it was guilt, but had he read some disapproval on her features. Last night was hardly a quiet affair, discrete not a word that'd apply.
The slight, firm bounce of her bust as she straightened drew Greg's eye to the part of the scenery that he most enjoyed.
https://66.media.tumblr.com/df6e276bfdf6...
Surassa's front faltering, her insecurity visible, she composes herself trying to pretend she's not been obvious ogled by a half-drunk guest. She picked up a stray flower, and tucked it in her hair.
https://66.media.tumblr.com/a147a929bc70...
Her smile definitely in a lower gear, he offered a vague muttered apology. Surassa's incomprehension was still clear, either his weak voice, sore throat, or meant they parted with a formality.
Going up the stairs, Greg found an itch that needed scratching as he walked.
"Hope I didn't catch anything..." he grumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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