Yukiko

"Oh, My God!" I gasp.

I have seen enough, more than enough! My head is suddenly spinning. Through the tinted glass window, I notice that patrons from quite a few tables are looking out here and waiting for my return. The hot and humid night air is suddenly making me nauseous. I swipe my palms over my face to find that I am sweating all over. I try to arrange the mesh top to provide a bit more cover to my naked torso underneath but it was futile. I pull a straight face and step back into the lounge bar, thinking of making a hasty excuse to the couple but the lady beats me.

"There were long queues out there..."

She doesn't get to finish her sentence as she is again seized by an uncontrollable shrill of laughter. My face is now burning scarlet, my temples throbbing from the effect of the champagne and the sea of mockery in front of me. It is just too much. I quicken my steps through the tables, my breasts swaying lewdly under the see-through garment. Well what should I care anyway, knowing full well what they have all seen? Suddenly, someone begins clapping his hands as I walk pass. Then everyone seems to join in. I leave hurriedly, tripping over at the doorway but I keep going. I just want to find somewhere to dig a hole to bury myself.

I wake up feeling woozy in the head. My body is aching all over and my pussy is feeling so sore! After a quick wash, I begin to pack my things to get ready for the airport. After a long deliberation, I reluctantly stuff John's tank top in a paper bag and leave it in the rubbish bin before stepping out of my hotel room and clicking the door shut. I am determined to put it all behind me.

I keep my sunglasses on during the flight home and am immensely relieved to see no familiar faces onboard the plane. The Garuda flight lands safely at Chek Lap Kok Airport and a taxi sees me home swiftly.

"Hey Yukiko, haven't seen you for a few days." The caretaker greets me at the lift lobby.

"Oh hi, Uncle Wong. I've been away on vacation."

"You're looking radiant with that suntan. Let me guess, Phuket, right?"

Before I can correct him, his phone rings and he begins yakking away. I wave a quick goodbye and sneak into the lift.

Alone in my flat, I suddenly realise how empty it is that I have thrown all that bastard's stuff away. I am dead tired and decide to leave everything until tomorrow. As I lay flat on the hard mattress of my bed, I feel a whinging pain on my back. I strip and discover a small bruise patch at the base of my spine. With fond memories, I recall the poundings I took on the tiled floor the night before. A mischievous grin breaks over my lips as I fall into a dreamless sleep, naked in bed.

Comes Sunday, I do the unpacking and washing. After a bit of tidying at home, I go out for a quick dinner at a cafe nearby. On my return, I meet the guy living in the flat above me in the lift lobby. We have never talked before, merely greeted each other with a nod or may be a strained smile. So it comes as a surprise when he suddenly asks me.

"Had a nice holiday in Bali?"

"Oh yes, thanks!"

Then we take the lift journey in an awkward silence. What a dirty bugger who keeps eyeing me all over and making me queasy. I wonder if Uncle Wong told him about my trip, but did I tell Uncle Wong about Bali? I probably did then.

I shall be going back to work tomorrow and I loath at the prospect of seeing Fanny that two-faced cow again!

Having nothing else to do, I begin to check through my e-mail before going to bed. There are just a handful of messages in my in-box but one in particular catches my attention.

"WHAT A SLUT" it's titled and it is from that bastard!

I click it open which starts, "I hope you enjoy your Bali trip as I enjoy these attachments. You pretentious bitch!"

Instantly, I am flushed with anger. He never dared to call me a bitch. I am going to close and delete the message but am intrigued about the attachments, so I click open the first one. Suddenly, I am feeling dizzy.

The Jpeg file shows me running topless on the beach, one breast bouncing upward on the side of a raised arm and the other one, defying gravity, pointing proudly ahead on the side of a pulled back elbow, my pink nipples were puckered; my long suntan right leg was making a big stride forward while a strained but smoothly muscle-toned calf was about to leap off on the ball of my slim and high-arched left foot. Colourful beads were flying at the end of my hair tassels and I wore a radiant smile. I looked vibrant and stunningly beautiful in the sharply focused picture but...

First, I am stunned and then I am thrown into a maddening rage. That bastard had been spying on me. You Bloody Bastard! Then I notice a smudge at a corner of the picture. My heart sinks when I check it carefully. It's the stamp of one of those free websites showing voyeur photos. I remember that bastard once made me surf the site with him. Oh, My God! If my photo appears on the web then...

Quickly, I click open the rest of the Jpeg files and I find myself shaking with shame and anger as tears suddenly roll down my cheeks. The dozen or so attachments are from no less than three different websites. With the exception of the first picture, all the others are hardcore, showing me skewered in every conceivable posture, some I don't even remember performing two nights before. There is no mistaking that I was being had by a big gang and was apparently enjoying it. In one, I was taken from behind while another hard cock was jammed into my mouth. Although the angle of the picture doesn't show it very clearly, but I recall all too well where that cock from behind was buried and it brings back painful and humiliating memories.

Oh, Yukiko you stupid twit! What have you done this time?

At the end of the attachment, there is a brief note: "I enjoy them so much that I take the liberty to forwarding them to a few friends. Hope you don't mind, Bitch!"

With trembling hands, I scroll to the screen top and check through the list. When I see the e-addy at the front desk of my travel agency, my eyes roll in their sockets and a sudden blackness washes over me!