The smell of fabric softener and jasmine fill my senses. I like how nothing in here reminds me of home. I let my eyes stay closed for a moment. No alarms, no calendar reminders.
I don't move for a while. Eventually, I push myself up, legs draped over the edge of the bed. I reach for the telephone, dialing room service.
"Sawadee krub, Thank you for calling room service department. This is Thongchai speaking how may I help you?" The receiver says with a thick Thai accent.
Yawning, I stretch my back, my other hand reaching for my phone. "Morning, can I have an American breakfast along with chilled fresh juice in room P101?" Scrolling through my phone, I notice a text from Elena.
"They refused and caused some commotion here. Don't worry, just stay there till whenever you're ready."
"Thank you for calling room service. Your breakfast will be delivered as soon as possible." The line beeps but I'm still holding on to the telephone, distracted by the text.
Placing the phones back in place, I turn to look out the window. The sunlight filters in through the long, white curtains, soft and slow. It feels like the city is still stretching its arms too, yawning into the day.
I walk into the bathroom, taking a long shower. Coming out, I throw on a loose shirt and shorts and just in time I hear the door ring. I walk out of my bedroom heading to the door.
"Room service," a voice calls gently from the other side. I walk over and open the door, moving aside to let them in. The two attendants step inside, wheeling a cart laden with silver domes and steam. Closing the door, I follow them into the room. Both of them wear the classic hotel uniform, crisp, tailored, spotless but it's not the clothes that catch my attention. It's them.
They look like they've stepped out of a desert display. One is tall, smooth faced, with sleepy eyes, the other shorter, maybe a head shorter than her partner with rounder cheeks, and wide brown eyes, is all fluff and nerves.
Cotton candy and honeycomb. That's what pops into my head, uninvited, and for the first time this morning, my mood stirs, just slightly.
"Good morning, miss," the tall one says, giving a polite bow and parking the cart with practiced grace. The smaller one follows a step behind, eyes flickering up to me, then down, then up again. Her eyes linger on my arm. I follow her gaze on my skin.
I almost forget its showing. Funny how I forget it exists when I'm here. Back home, I wear corporate outfits long enough to cover the mandala tattoo on my left shoulder that flow down to my upper arm.
I nod politely. "Morning." Moving to the other side to catch a better view, they start setting up, arranging cutlery with skilled fingers. "Umm… we placed the fork, spoon," the smaller one says cutely, then blurts something else in Thai "miit... miit.. knife! Knife, ka"
"I think I'll survive," I say with a small smile. "Unless you're planning to fight me with the butter knife." Her eyes shoot up. For a second she freezes, spins around to drop the knife and God, she's already turning red. "S-sorry ka!" turning back around, she says quickly, bowing again. "I speak little English. Very little..."
"I speak even less Thai," I reply, crossing my arms, letting my smile turn just a little crooked. "But you're doing fine."
The tall one steps back, already done with her part, and gives her a quiet look like she's telling her to hurry up. She mumbles something in Thai that sounds like panic, finishes with the juice, and spins to bow again.
The taller one gives a small nod. "Enjoy your breakfast, miss."
"Thanks," I say, eyes still on the blushing one. There's something endearingly bully-able about her, like the kind of person you'd tease just to see them squirm and smile at the same time. And I can tell, from the way she won't hold eye contact for more than half a second, that she finds me attractive. It's written all over her face. Bright, clumsy, and painfully honest. The tall one notices the direction of my gaze so she nudges her partner.
"Hope you…like food,ka," she says quickly, fumbling her words like they're hot in her mouth. I take a step forward, just enough to lean in slightly. "I think I'll like it better now" Her eyes widen. She blinks fast. The tall one clears her throat softly, she mumbles something that might be you're welcome before they back toward the door. The door closes behind them, and the room is quiet again, but not heavy anymore.
I take a seat and my eyes stare at the neatly arranged cart for a while. I smile, just a little, as I lift the first silver dome, and the scent hits me immediately, rich, and buttery, so familiar. Scrambled eggs, soft and golden, like little clouds curled against crispy bacon and perfectly round hash browns. The sausages glisten beside grilled tomatoes that sizzle faintly. Another lid reveals a small fruit plate, slices of watermelon, pineapple, and a triangle of dragon fruit like a piece of candy. Next to it, a delicate croissant sits folded in on itself, like it knows it's too pretty to be eaten right away. The juice is fresh, orange, chilled, with tiny beads of condensation on the glass. I take a sip. Sweet, with just the right amount of tang.
I move to sit by the window, tray on my lap, and glance out over the city. Bangkok stretches out in the morning haze, still buzzing, but up here, with fluffy eggs and the memory of a tomato-red blush still playing in my head, it all feels, manageable. Kind of beautiful, even.
I pop a piece of sausage into my mouth and smile to myself. Not a bad way to start the day.
I didn't get to look around the penthouse suite before. Feeling satisfied, I stand up to move the cart to a corner before walking around the living area with low, modern couches, and a glass coffee table that reflects the ceiling like water. I walk back into the bedroom, over to the window. Floor to ceiling glass stretches across the far wall, it's bustling out there. It's time to go explore. I've done enough sitting.
Downstairs, the lobby hums with quiet activity. As I pass through the lobby, I catch the same receptionist from last night, the one with the practiced smile and long hair. She spots me, smiles politely, and nods.
"Good morning, going out, miss?"
"Morning, yeah," I say, tucking my phone into my pocket. "Just seeing what's around. Also do send in room service" I trail off with a shrug. I don't see her nod as I had already walked away.
I should get a car. I walk past the concierge and the curved hallway filled with perfume shops and jewelers, toward the edge of the hotel's lounge area where the scent of fresh flowers and brewed espresso melt into the air.
"You new here?" I hear a voice sweet and smooth call out behind me. I turn around to see a lady draped over one of the velvet chairs like she owns the damn place. Shiny black curls pulled into a perfect ponytail with her oversized sunglasses pushed to the top of her head, designer purse casually tucked at her side like it nothing.
"First day out" I shrug. She looks down at her phone scrolling through it while sipping something iced. Her nails like candy, long, glossy, and expensive. She looks back up and smiles, like she was expecting me. "Well, you're lucky. I'm bored and in the mood to spend some money. Do you maybe wanna come with me?"
I blink, crossing my arms. "You don't even know my name." She laughs, standing and looping her arm through mine. "Even better, I get to guess."
Before I know it, we've wandered through boutiques stores, street stalls, and a tucked away spa where she convinces me to let strangers massage my shoulders while she shops for perfumes.
Here I am, lying down on the padded table, a towel folded neatly under me and my robe hanging off the chair by the corner in the massage room. I hear the attendant enter quietly. "You enjoy your stay so far, kha?" Her voice is gentle when she speaks. I hum, cheek pressed to the towel. "Barely started."
She pours oil into her palms, warm and slick, then starts on my shoulders with slow, practiced circles. "The lady you come with…she your girlfriend?" she asks, softly curiosity in her voice. I chuckle. "Her? No. We just met. We still don't know each other's names." A pause. I can feel her glance over me. "Oh," she says.
"She acts like that with everyone, I think." I close my eyes, enjoying the silence, just warm.
I feel her fingertips tracing lightly over my left shoulder. "You have tattoo," she says. My eyes flick open, breath still, I don't answer. "Mandala?" Her hand lingers. I feel her gaze on my skin, on the curves on the ink trailing down my upper arm. Then, without a word, I turn.
She gasps, startled, as her eyes land on my open tits. She freezes mid movement, hands awkwardly suspended in the air. Her gaze doesn't shift, doesn't know where to land. I stretch, folding my arms lazily behind my head, eyes meeting hers. "Well?" I ask, lips curling. "Aren't you going to finish?"
Her cheeks bloom scarlet. "I-I…I get someone else for you" I reach out, catching her wrist lightly before she can flee. "I'm kidding," I say, still smiling. She stares down at where our hands touch. Her skin is warm, soft, she's still flushed. I let go.
She nods quickly, flustered, and I roll back over, eyes closed, breathing out a laugh. She returns to my shoulders, this time quieter, her touch lighter, nervous maybe, but still skilled.
"Look at you," a familiar voice drawls. "Already having fun?" I crack an eye open. The crazy rich Asian from earlier stands near the entrance in a silk robe that slides right off her shoulder like it was never meant to stay on. She struts in, behind her, another attendant pushes a tray of oils and towels, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. She tosses her purse onto a chair and sighs dramatically. "And I missed the good part."
She doesn't wait for permission, just lets her robe fall and climbs onto the table beside mine, lying chest down, looking far too comfortable.
She turns her head, smiling in my direction. "So tell me," she says, smirking. "How far did you go?" I turn away, closing my eyes again. "Nothing happened, don't think too much"
"Don't say if you don't want to. Keeping the good stuff." She scoffs. She stretches, sighs, and starts talking again like we're lifelong best friends.
"So," she begins, "while you were in here corrupting innocent hands, I was out living. I met these two insanely hot guys, I swear to god, they don't know the good stuff they missed out on. We could still have had fun even if they were a couple, so boring." Her attendant begins massaging her back, and she groans softly in delight.
"But I still got their numbers," she giggles, "Well, because I'm me." She pauses, then adds, "They told me about a party tonight at some cool bar, said it's queer, freaky, and has strobe lights that give you vertigo" I let out a soft laugh. She turns her head toward me. "We're going. Don't argue."
I don't. "Okay," I murmur, letting my muscles melt under the gentle kneading of oil and pressure. "Take me." She grins into the pillow. "That's more like it."