Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

"Fuck," you moan, "so fucking tight ... your cunt ... it's so tight ... so tight." You're driving into me, no longer gentle, no longer slow. Hard and fast now, your cockshaft stroking in deeply, pulling back, stroking in again and it's never been like this. Never so good. Never with love like this and I want it. I want everything. Your love. Your cock. Your culmination. I'm yours. I'm all yours.

"I love you," I moan, surrendering myself completely. Drawing my knees back, so far back, until they brush your ribs, until my heels dance against the small of your back as your cock ravages my sheath. "I love you ... I love you." That love, that feeling of love, of being loved, I give myself up to it. Give myself over to the rapture, the sheer bliss of knowing you love me, of knowing that I'm yours.

You're taking me as if I'm yours, your cock sliding so wetly inside me, such slippery ease, such bliss without that condom between your hardness and the inner walls of my channel. I revel in that sensation, in the silky heat piercing me, sliding up inside me again and again. Stroking harder now. You're grunting with every thrust as I know your close. I know all too well how close you are and I cross my ankles behind your back, clasp you within, pull myself onto you as you thrust and thrust and thrust again.

"I love you ... I love you," I moan rapturously, with no thought other than to satisfy your desire. No thought other than to give my love what you want from me.

"Uggggghhhhhh," you grunt, humping hard into me and I know what's coming.

"Ohhhhh." My eyes widen as your cock spurts inside me. Throbs, pulses, your cum jets outwards deep inside me. This time there's no condom, nothing to contain your cum, nothing to restrict your pleasure and your cum floods me inside, floods me, fills me, spurt after spurt as my love judders on me, as you ride me to your culmination.

"Ohhhhh." I sigh as you sag down on me, breathing hard. Again as you withdraw from me, rolling onto your back. This time you come with me to the bathroom, shower with me, standing silent as I wash you down, drying yourself off as I wash myself quickly, glowing with happiness. Glowing with love.

"You love me?" I whisper, curled against you, my head resting on your shoulder as you sprawl on your back across my bed. Your sweat has soaked the sheets, they're damp beneath me but they'll soon dry, even in this humid heat. "Do you really love me?" My love a flower blooming in the sun. The sun of your love.

"I'll love you forever, Karnchana," Your hand strokes my back. "I want to take you home with me. I want to save you, I want to take you away from this ... you're so beautiful ... I love you ... I love you."

"You love me? You really do?" I whisper, curled in on you, my hand on your chest, my fingers brushing that curly hair. Almost, I'm smiling. Have I won the lottery? Do you truly mean those words you've uttered?

"I love you," you say and I'm sure you mean it.

My heart threatens to explode with happiness. You snore besides me and I close my eyes, radiantly happy. Happier than I've been in years.

Morning sun shines through the window now, lighting up my room and now you as you sleep beside me, on your back. I slip out of bed, leaving you there and I'm smiling as I shower. Through the open door I can see you, naked, asleep in my bed. In the sunlight, my little one room concrete box no longer looks romantic as it had last night when you came home with me. It looks like what it is, a small concrete shell, grey and shabby, bare of almost everything except my bed, a rack for my clothes, a table with a basin and a small gas cooker and a tiny fridge. It's not cluttered. It's clean though, because I clean every morning.

Washing myself, washing my hair, I can't stop smiling. You love me. You said you loved me so many times. You said you were taking me with you today, taking me away from here. I know you meant it, the look on your face, the times you told me, your arms around me, holding me, cherishing me. I dry myself, radiant with happiness. I brush my hair out, almost dry in the morning heat.

Naked, I leave my bathroom; I look down at you on my bed, naked, relaxed, smiling in your sleep. Yes, I can see myself waking up and looking at you every morning, enjoying looking at your face, at your body, knowing I am yours, knowing you love me. Knowing you will love me forever. Silently, my feet whisper on the floor as I dance a dance of sheer joy, of love for you, a dance of ecstasy. A dance of happiness.

You're still fast asleep and now, smiling, I throw a dress on and leave the apartment, run down the steps to the street, buy a bunch of flowers from the stall in the street market, buy some fresh fruit, some bread, run back upstairs. The flowers glow, bright colors in the shade of my room as I make breakfast for you, thinking that this is what I will be doing from now on. You love me. You're taking me with you, taking me away from here.

I'm so happy, smiling as I peel mangos, slice a banana, add some pineapple and melon. Boil water and make a pot of jasmine tea. I have an old toaster that I never use but it works. Somchai found it somewhere and gave it to me. I make two pieces of toast. I know farang like toast and I'll make toast for you every morning. I'll dedicate myself to everything you like, everything that satisfies you because you love me.

No more than that is needed. Love is everything. You and I together, and if you love me, I know I can love you. I can love you forever and everything will be perfect. Love, that's all I need. All I want and I hug myself in sheer joy.

Hands encircles me. Large pale hands, a body pressing up behind me, a rigid erection pressed up against my butt, hot breath against the top of my head and it's you. It's you my love and I know instantly that you want me. Without a word you walk me the half a dozen steps to my bed, lift me easily, lift me onto my hands and knees on my bed, flip my dress up to my waist, pull my panties down, take them off me.

"Kneel like that," you say, the first words you've said and your cock is brushing my entrance.

"Fuck that's a pretty little cunt" you add, just before you push into me.

"Hhhuunnhhhhh," I groan, collapsing onto my forearms as your cock abruptly fills me. My hands clutch at the sheets. You've entered me fast. Hard. You're so big and your cock stretches me inside. There's no time for me to get used to it, you give me no time to adapt to your size. You take me hard and fast and you ram yourself into me, not stopping until all of you is inside me.

"Huhughhh ... ughhh ... ughhhh ... ughhh." Your hands grasp my hips, you hold me in the position you want, kneeling for you as your cock drives into me. You're not being gentle, you're not being tender. You're fucking me. You're using me.

"Oh yeah, that's so fucking good." Your voice, you're pleased, you're enjoying me and I try so hard to be good for you. It hurts, the way you're taking me now, so hard and fast, your thrusts too deep, but I know I can take this. I know I can satisfy you like this. I want so much to satisfy you. I'd do anything for you. Anything, because you love me.

"Yes," I moan. "Yes," and I clench my fists and I do my best to push myself back onto you, to give you what you want from me and you take it, you take everything and you thrust hard and there's that moment when I know you're about to cum inside me and I realize you're not wearing a condom this time either but it's okay because you love me and I'm yours, I'm all yours and you cum.

Your cock spurts inside me. Your cum floods me. You grunt and lean into me, pushing, panting, shuddering and I'm content that I've satisfied you. So happy that I'm smiling even as you release your grip on me and slide yourself out of me, wipe your cock on my dress that you've pushed up around my waist.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," you say and you're gone, leaving me kneeling on my bed, your cum trickling down my inner thighs.

I listen to you in my bathroom, wait until I hear the shower and then I join you, sliding in beside you, naked, soaping you down as you stand there, washing you everywhere, smiling as I wash you. Smiling as your eyes run over my body. I'm overjoyed as I wash you, the cool water flowing over our bodies. For you, I'll do this. For you, only for you. Because you love me. Because you'll take me away from here. Take me away from this life and give me a new one. Give me hope where hope had almost died.

"I've got my passport. Do I need a visa? What else should I bring with me?" I say, smiling, as I dry you with my towel. "I don't have much." Will you take me shopping for clothes? For luggage? I wonder what Texas is like? What will it be like to live there with you? I can't wait to find out. I'm so excited. A little scared, but excited.

"Passport? Visa? Bring with you?" you say, blankly.

I don't understand for a moment. "You said you'd take me home with you. You said you love me." My heart doesn't want to beat. I'm shuddering now. It's as if he hit me.

You look at me. "Huh?" you say. "Shit, I must've been drunker than I thought I was. Did I say I loved you?" You shake your head. "Fuck, my head hurts." You look at me. "Guess I told you I'd love your forever or some shit like that, huh?"

No. Noooo. Noooooo.

You laugh, and your laughter cuts like a knife. Lashes like a whip. Excoriates my soul. "Fuck, you're a Thai whore and you believed me? Fucking hell, I must've been fucking drunk out of my skull. Sorry 'bout that whatever your name is." You shrug and that shrug tells me my dream was just that, just a dream. "You were fucking good though, best fuck I've had all week."

I look at your face and hope dies. It dies slowly, painfully, struggling to stay alive as you no longer meet my eyes. No longer look at me as you dry yourself.

"You said you love me," I say, and my voice is thin and high. Strained. "You said you'd take me home with you. You asked me to come with you." I try to remember where you said home was. Texas, I know. Somewhere in Texas? It doesn't matter though because as I look at your face, I know. I know it's not happening. My heart breaks. Splinters. Hope shatters as you say nothing. You hand me my towel.

"I drank too much," you say, not meeting my eyes. "Besides, I'm already married. Ain't happening. You're a better fuck than my wife though, fucking fat-assed bitch that she is." Nothing else. You walk out. You kill my soul and stamp it into the ground, crushing the life from me with your words and then you walk out, not looking back.

My eyes follow you as you leave my small bathroom. I follow you. I stand there, mute, naked. Forlorn. Better by far if you'd never said a word in the darkness of the night, when I'm so susceptible to hope, to the hopes of my dreams. Better by far if you had never raised my hopes so high, only to dash them to the ground, shattered, splintered, broken, destroyed.

I should hate you.

I should, but all that's left is emptiness. Emptiness and then, at the last, despair.

* * *

You dress slowly, silently, without words, no longer meeting my eyes. You button your shirt, you step into your jeans. Your socks. I stand there, watching you, silent. Waiting. Praying. Hoping against hope. You take out your wallet and my heart sinks.

You count money out without looking at me and my heart breaks. Shatters. Hope dies. You give me more than I asked for, at least you've given me that. Heartbroken or not, I watch closely. When I was new, some farang cheated me. Now I know to watch. To count.

Even when my heart is broken and hope has withered and died.

You pay me twice what we agreed and I read your guilt now. Guilt at what you've done with me? Guilt at what you may or may not remember saying? Who knows? I have no idea. It doesn't matter anyhow. You lied to me. I know you don't love me. They were just words. Words. I tell myself that, again and again. Just words. Words have no meaning. A farang's words in the middle of the night, they have no meaning at all and I was a fool even to listen. A fool for letting myself hope, even for a moment.

Your pale hands place those notes one by one on the old table in the corner next to the flowers and the bowl of fruit and the toast. The breakfast I prepared with such love just a little while ago. Just an eternity ago. You don't even notice, just a pathetic Thai whore's breakfast that you don't even see.

You half smile at me at last, an embarrassed smile, a grimace. A farang's smile. A smile that means nothing. A smile like every other farang's who has ever been in my room overnight, here, with me. You turn. You walk across my room towards the door. You walk out of my shabby little one room apartment in a greying concrete apartment block that's brand new and already crumbling. A last glance, a last meeting of our eyes.

The door closes.

You're gone.

I'm alone.

Lies.

But still, it hurts. I believed you for a little while. I wanted so much to believe you last night and now, alone, betrayed by my own heart, by my own hopes, I sink back onto my bed and I soak my pillow with silent tears. Will all my life be like this? Every night, now and forever until I'm too old for this? Until I'm no longer young and beautiful? Until farang like you no longer want me? A different farang every night? On and on and on, without end? I don't want to think that this is my life but the reality strikes me like a blow.

I'm still crying when Somchai walks in. He says nothing, he takes me in his arms. He holds me. That's all he does. He holds me and at the last, that's enough to bring me back from that black despair, that dark quagmire of the soul that threatens to drag me down forever. The tears dry. Somchai cradles me. I'm safe again. Safe in his arms, the safety I once felt as a child in my parents arms. Safe for a few minutes and that's all I need now. The fruit salad and the toast and the jasmine tea I made with such hope, made with such love, the small vase with those flowers I rushed downstairs to buy, they still sit on the table, untouched. Unloved.

"Let's have breakfast," I say at last, sadly.

He'll stay and eat with me, I know.

He does most mornings now.

I hold his hand as we eat.

* * *

Nobody has traffic jams like us. On Sukhumvit at the junction the traffic is packed solid in all four directions. It's hot and it's humid and the honking of car horns is deafening. Somchai is like all the other motorcycle taxi drivers, revving his engine, slipping and weaving through the traffic in jolts and starts as I perch behind him. He gets me to Nana Plaza with plenty of time.

I slide off the motorcycle taxi, smile my thanks, casual in my jeans and tee-shirt. My working clothes are in my little backpack. I'll get changed at work. We all do.

Somchai grins. "Tomorrow, Karnchana," he says.

"Tomorrow," I say, leaning toward him, brushing his lips lightly with mine. Somchai, he's almost my boyfriend, he stays over when I'm not with an all-night farang. He holds me when I cry. He takes me to work when he's around and I need a ride. He's not much, just a motorcycle taxi driver who eats yaa-baa like candy and hardly ever sleeps, but he's my favorite guy all the same.

Someone else wants him and he's pulling away already. I cross the sidewalk, walk into the Plaza, that welcome wave of chilled air. Nodding to the girls I know. All the bars open at more or less the same time, we all straggle in together. I stop for a chat with Boonsri, she works in another Club now but when I first started we worked in the same bar and she was kind to me, showed me the ropes. Taught me how to make farang happy.

I haven't seen her for a couple of weeks. A farang took her with him when he went to Chiang Mai. Her family is from there so she was happy to go. That farang, he paid her bar fine for two weeks, he really must've liked her a lot. She's smiling though, happy to be back.

"Time to start work, Karnchana," she says at last. "Tomorrow? Breakfast?"

"Tomorrow," I say, smiling, the sadness of the morning burned away and forgotten in the shining light of her happiness. She's a good friend. She lives close by my apartment. One block over. We can share a ride in to work. Somchai can take us both on his motorcycle. He's done it before.

I walk in the door to the Club, wai to the shrine just inside, slip out the back to change. Talking to Boonsri, I'm a little late but it doesn't matter, the Club is quiet. It'll pick up soon enough though. I've just made it out to the back of the Club when my cell rings. It's my Dad, back home in Dusit and he wants to talk about how much money I can invest in water buffalo this year, there's some land for sale that he wants me to buy and he wants to know whether I think we can afford to send my little sister to University as well as my brother or should she come and join me.

"I'm just starting work, Dad," I say as I peel my clothes off with one hand, shrug myself into the little silver dress I bought last week but I haven't worn it at work yet. It's lovely, just enough material to cover most of my breasts and my butt, very short, backless, guaranteed to drive any farang crazy and in this business, that's a plus. The other girls are all going want one like it once they see it. Almost, I feel better.

"Buy the water buffalo, okay, I'll call you about the land tomorrow morning and we can talk about Chanya then too." I already know the answer to that one. University. I don't want my little sister joining me here, she's more sensitive than I am, she's the romantic one with her head buried in books. She's as attractive as me, younger than me, she'd make a lot of money but she wouldn't last. This life, I know it would break her. Sometimes it almost breaks me.

Sometimes, like this morning. "Okay Dad, bye."

Time to start work. A deep breath. Relax. I clear my mind. Calm. Peace. A smile on my face. A smile as the other girls eye my new silver dress. It conceals only a little, conceals only the parts that farang want to see, nothing more.

I see you across the bar as I walk in, sitting there drinking with your buddies. Another girl next to you, tonight's girl. Your arm is around her. You left me earlier this morning and now you don't even recognize me when I walk in. Your eyes flicker across me. All you see is one more pretty bar girl like all the other pretty bargirls but you already have yours picked out for the night and you're not interested in another. I know her, Anong, she's a good friend. We come from the same village, we were at school together, we came down here together. I don't begrudge her you. She and I, we know what we are but always, always, there's that hope.

Hope for a miracle. Hope for another life. Something that's better than this. One day. It's happened to other girls. Not many. Enough though that I can still hope. The same hope with which I buy lottery tickets every week. Knowing there's a chance. Knowing I might win. Knowing the odds of winning are infinitesimal but without hope, what is there?

Only the black despair that grips me now and then, only the lure of the false happiness that yaa-baa would bring me. Other girls rely on yaa-baa but not me, not yet. Sometimes though, sometimes I almost ask. It'd be so easy to just take yaa-baa and be a party girl again, happy and carefree, the way I was when I first started working here, when this life was an adventure, when it was all new and exciting and the money meant everything. More money in a night than my Dad made in a month. More money than I'd ever imagined.

Now though, the money doesn't mean that much to me. I need it, but I need myself too. I need myself back and I can feel myself slipping away. Yaa-baa, some of the girls say it helps. But I've seen the girls who rely on yaa-baa. It works for a while, but then it doesn't, you find that you need more, the effects show, farang don't want you anymore, you become desperate because by then you need yaa-baa. No, this sadness and emptiness inside me is preferable to that. For now at least. Maybe one day I'll need yaa-baa. I hope not.