Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Mr. Crozier called me from the main house and told me he wanted me to come there and see him. I knew what that meant. I was only half way through feeding the dogs and mucking out their cages, so he told me to come when I was done. I could tell he wasn't pleased I couldn't come right away. Neither was I. I was trembling in anticipation. The dogs—six German Shepherds—were restless, though, and when they were like this, I had to be very careful.

They were usually good with me. I handled the guard dogs well, the dogs that guarded the tapioca warehouses at the company plantation near Khon Kaen, upcountry from Bangkok. But sometimes the dogs could sense when I was keyed up, in a hurry to be finished with them. They rarely got human affection and craved it—so they didn't like when I didn't spend as much time with them as usual.

It was nearly dark when I approached the main house. Mr. Crozier lived here alone. He managed the plantation and the warehouses for the company, the only Farang—foreigner—here. The other workers were scattered around in huts across the plantation. Only the housekeeper and the cook were allowed in the main house—and me.

Mr. Crozier was like a god in our enclosed little world here. Whatever he told one of the workers to do, they did. The wages were very good for upcountry Thailand, and the local government supported this foreign enterprise in whatever it wanted to do. But like anywhere else in Thailand, there were those who owned and those who were owned. I was one who was owned. Mr. Crozier had told me what my duties were in addition to taking care of the kennels for the guard dogs—and I did what he wanted without question. It was strange and painful at first, but now I wanted it as much as he did.

I moved silently up the ladder to the house. The house was much the same as any Thai house upcountry. Just larger. They were all lifted up on stilts, both because the area flooded and to keep most of the jungle wildlife out of the house. The housekeeper, Lek, lived under the house. She, of course, knew that I visited Mr. Crozier. But neither of us ever mentioned it. I knew what Mr. Crozier sometimes did with Lek too. But neither of us ever mentioned that either.

Mr. Crozier could do whatever he pleased. Over time, it came to please me too.

He was sitting on the side of his bed in the dimming light when I entered his bedroom. He was wearing just a sarong around his waist. His heavily muscled torso always made my breath catch and come in small ragged gasps. He had a dragon tattoo on one side of his chest, the tail of which went up to his shoulder and wound down around his arm. I liked tracing the tail of the dragon when I was lying under him. He was drinking bourbon straight from the bottle, and when he saw me at the door to his bedroom, he leaned over and put the bottle on his nightstand, turned back to me, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and motioned to me.

"Come in, Chumphon. Come here. You have made me wait."

He had a gruff tone, but I knew he wouldn't beat me as a Thai master displeased with me would do. He would do something else altogether. He was motioning me with his hand to come to him, and I moved across the teak boards on my small bare feet. I too was wearing just a sarong around my waist. But his was raw silk and mine was cheap cotton.

"Sorry, Mr. Crozier," I answered, meekly and with some trepidation. "The dogs were restless and difficult this evening."

"No matter, lad," he said. "You're here now. Waiting just made me harder."

He pulled me into him, between his spread thighs, and embraced me. His mouth was on my belly, kissing it, and the palms of his hands went to my buttocks. He was massaging them as his lips moved around on my belly. I felt the cotton of my sarong drift to the teak flooring as the bare flesh of his hands cupped my buttocks. Kneading them and spreading them. I moaned deeply as the index fingers of both hands found the rim of my anus. He laughed at my little gasp when they entered me.

Then his hands were lifted to my sides and he was pressing me down on my knees between his legs. I unknotted his silk sarong and let it fall to either side. He was hard. Our manager, Mr. Crozier, was aroused—for me. That always made me feel special—and privileged to be able to serve him in this way.

I took his member into my mouth and pleasured him until I felt him raise me with hands on my waist and turn me. As always, I panted, my mouth gaping open and my body shuddering, as he pulled me down into his lap and on his shaft. When he was buried deep inside me, he embraced me closely with his arms, one of his hands encasing and slowly stroking me, and kissed all over my back as he rocked me back and forth. This had brought me great pain at first, but he had taken me this way so often now that my passageway had stretched to fit him. He was big and I was small, but now we were a good fit.

In time, he began to raise and lower me on the shaft with his strong, calloused hand. Faster and faster, pulling me onto him hard, and deeper. He was panting hard and mumbling words I hardly was able to hear through my grunts and groans as he stretched and chafed the shimmering walls of my passageway with his hard, throbbing staff.

I gave him my seed before he released his. And then he continued holding me there as both of us went soft. I knew this was not the last of what he would want from me.

It was during this interlude in which he always told me how much he liked little brown bodies—mine especially. And this time was no exception. But this time he said more and what he said brought me to tears.

". . . and so you must leave the plantation, Chumphon."

"I don't understand, Mr. Crozier. I don't understand why."

"My wife is coming out to join me. I've told you this—that there must be changes."

"But only in where we meet, surely," I answered, trying to keep the sob out of my voice. "I am sorry if I have displeased you. I will—"

"You haven't displeased me, Chumphon. But you cannot be here when my wife arrives. The others will talk. Surely she will learn of you. You understand that, don't you?"

"If you say I must go, then I must go," I answered. But it was with great sadness. I had no idea how I would find a job as good as this one. I already was missing the dogs. And my mother's kitchen had burned down. She expected me to pay for a new one to be built.

"You needn't worry, though, Chumphon. I have arranged a new job for you. In New Zealand. You know where that is, don't you? I'm sure you've always wanted to travel abroad."

I didn't know where it was. It didn't sound like it was any of the nearby villages. Perhaps somewhere nearer to Bangkok, I thought. But I didn't tell Mr. Crozier I had never dreamed of going anywhere but Khon Kaen, and I dared not show any disappointment. It was more than I had a right to expect that he had arranged another job for me. But what kind of job? All I knew of was taking care of dogs.

And, as if he had read my mind, he answered that. "You will still be working with dogs. You will be helping to run a kennel of dogs. You will just be doing it in a whole new world."

I couldn't even fathom at the time what he meant about a whole new world. But he certainly was right about that.

And I no longer was giving this much thought. I felt him coming alive inside me again, and he turned me and pushed me up onto his bed on my back and was kneeling between my thighs. I arched my back and reached my arms out to grab fistfuls of his rough-texture bedspread and to sigh and moan as he began to rhythmically thrust himself inside me once more. One of my hands went to his chest and traced the dragon's tail down his arm—for the last time.

One last time, as he already had a plane ticket for me to leave the next day.