Honor looked around, charmed by the scene around them. She smiled appreciatively at him as he pulled out a chair for her, his hand resting on the small of her back as she sat down. He sat on the other side of the table, his manner relaxed and as revealing of his familiarity with their location just as much as his driving them the roughly eighty kilometres out of Bangkok to reach it.

The navigation screen in the car had said that they were just inside the outskirts of the ancient Thai city of Ayutthaya, once the capital of Siam.

The restaurant fully occupied the jetty it was built on, the heavy wooden platform jutting out from the river bank into the Chao Phraya's brownish waters. It was still soon after sunrise, so it was playing host to only a handful of people, everyone being greeted by the grinning elderly man seated at the till near the entrance. He had welcomed Marq like an old friend and shaken her hand with significant enthusiasm before pointing them to a table.

The smell of different types of freshwater fish being stewed, fried and roasted in a plethora of vegetables and spices mixed with the wafting scents of freshly brewed coffee and tea, and almost incongruously, of baking bread, as servers carried trays from table to table, piled high with crabs, prawns and fillets of fish together with baskets of rotis, buns and baguettes.

"It smells so amazing here," Honor said, taking a deep breath.

Marq grinned lightly, enjoying her reaction, "I come here every time I'm in Bangkok."

"So what do you recommend?"

Marq gestured minutely with his head toward the entrance and the old man. "It's already coming."

She should have been annoyed ... she 'wanted' to be annoyed, but she simply wasn't. "You ordered without asking me?"

He gave her an amused look, as if considering whether or not to answer her. "I told Udom we were coming yesterday."

She frowned disbelievingly, "You ordered our food since yesterday?"

"No. I told Udom." He gestured at the man again, "and he insisted on choosing for us." He shrugged. "I trust his judgement."

Honor stared at him, genuinely surprised. "Just like that?"

"Yes, Miss Banet," he said easily, "Just like that. And I want you to trust mine."

She did trust 'his' judgment, she realized; she trusted him far more than she should for someone she had known for so little time, so much so that it still shocked her when she thought of it. The evidence was all too clear. As if, she chided herself after some more thought, the constant sex was not evidence enough.

What she was wearing - the fact that she had consented to wear it, even though it had been entirely his decision, was another big piece of evidence.

She had liked the dark fractal patterns of purple and red on a background of black when she had seen it at first, until she had realized that the one piece length of material was all there was to the garment.

Under normal circumstances, a sarong would be beachwear, accompanied by a bikini or, at least, underwear, but Marq had provided neither option that morning.

How and when he had got it and laid it out for her remained a mystery, but she could hazard a guess at what had inspired it; 'Ramya' and the other slave girls of the harem had worn similar one piece items of clothing, except theirs was significantly more sheer and of shorter length, any careless or too-free movement teasingly revealing what wasn't already bared for the Emperor to see and enjoy.

Sensible, disciplined Honor Banet would certainly have protested, even refused ... but this other Honor Banet, nude in a stranger's suite in Bangkok, had instead been intrigued at the thought of going out with nothing between her nakedness and one easily undone layer of clothing. Even more titilating had been imagining Marq knowing how 'accessible', she would be ...

'Would he ...?' she had wondered, a frisson of excitement running through her despite herself as her mind replayed her adventure with public nudity and copulation on the balcony just an evening before.

And then there was the simple uncomplicated desire to please him, to follow through on her commitment to meeting his every sexual need and fantasy - to being his odalisque. It was disquieting, but she surrendered to it, determinedly pushing away any residual concerns for modesty, deciding to explore the possibility that neither swimsuit nor underwear was absolutely needed.

Much to her relief, Marq had made some concessions to modesty; it was large enough that it fell to her knees when she wrapped the sarong around herself, with long ribbon straps at either end so she could easily knot it into a halterneck, and it was opaque despite its silken lightness, even as the material easily followed the contours and rondure of her body.

Marq had come in, already showered and dressed, as she was looking at herself in the mirror, unable to stop imagining an errant gust of wind exposing her nudity under the 'dress' and immediately getting arrested for indecent exposure.

"You look gorgeous, Miss Banet," he said, his eyes traveling all over her form as he came up behind her, his hands settling on her waist, pulling her close.

She had nestled back against him in response, feeling the all-too-familiar warmth spread through her as she saw his approval in the mirror, feeling that strange mix of bashfulness and pride in his open enjoyment of her body as he touched and caressed her. He kissed along her neck, his lips reaching the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear as his hands traveled up from her belly and hips to cup her breasts, his fingers easily finding her rapidly hardening nipples through the thin silkiness of her makeshift-dress as she moaned and turned her head, their lips meeting.

She broke the kiss after a moment, and turned around to face him, holding his gaze as she wordlessly reached behind her and undid the knot behind her neck.

The sarong fell off her body ... and she fell on top of him, growling like a predator as she proceeded to take what she wanted.

Afterward, she had taken the time to clean him up herself with her mouth, and then worn the sarong back on her body with his semen, and the remains of her own gush of liquid, still spattering and trailing down the insides of her thighs as she followed him out of the suite, purse in hand, their leaving for Ayutthaya close to an hour later than planned.

'That' had excited him, the knowledge that she was deliberately choosing to spend the day with his cum on her body ... as she had known it would.

"I think I already do," she confessed, finally.

He smiled. "Good."

Honor looked at him. "Even though it's absolutely crazy."

"Perhaps," he conceded.

"It's really my judgment I'm worried about," she confessed after a moment.

Certainly, her decisions of the past few days had been extremely questionable ... to say the least. But still, her nipples tightened, the ever present warmth in her abdomen making itself felt as she looked at him.

He was still smiling, but he understood her, and he met her gaze with equal seriousness. "Don't be."

"But ..." she sought to explain, but at the moment all she could come up with was something she had said before. "... this is not me."

"No, Miss Banet," he said. "I believe this is you."

"I don't do this." She gestured at herself. "I'm not like this ..."

"Like this?"

"I don't ..." She leaned forward and whispered, "... sell myself to strange men on the other side of the world."

"The question is," he said, after a moment, still smiling, "do you regret ... 'this?'"

She stared at him, images of David and Jillian Blake dancing flashing through her mind. "I ..." She paused, as another series of images came, her return to the suite, her accepting his offer, his stripping her naked and taking her over the coffee table that first time. "I should."

"But you don't."

"No", she said, honestly, "I don't."

"You can walk away at any time," he said, "Before you start to regret it."

She shook her head, feeling the mix of their fluids between her legs and comprehending the symbolism of it - the evidence of how far she was ready to go to please him - as she firmly placed her hand on top of his. "That's not what I want," she said.

"Good," he said again, turning his hand up to hold hers.

"Hello Mr. Marq!" said a bright cheery voice.

Marq turned a broad smile to the young woman standing at their table with a large tray effortlessly balanced on hand and shoulder. "Hello Pradtana. How are you?"

Pradtana was still in her teens, her body well on its way to full womanhood, and from her pose, hips out and jutted forward, growing breasts tightly confined in a tank top that was fashionably one size too small, very well aware of it. "I'm very fine, thank you, Mr. Marq," she replied, smiling widely.

"Excellent." Marq nodded toward Honor. "This is my friend, Honor Banet. Honor, this beautiful young lady is Pradtana Kurusarttra. Udom is her Dad."

Honor smiled at the younger woman. "Hello Pradtana. I'm glad to meet you."

The smile Honor got back was decidedly less warm.

"Good morning," Pradtana said politely. Then she turned to Marq. "You have never brought a 'friend' here before."

"I've come here with my friends Deji and Walter," Marq pointed out.

Pradtana gave him an affronted look.

Marq laughed. "Honor is a new friend. I met her in Bangkok."

Pradtana turned to look at Honor, eyes narrowed and lips pushed into a clear pout of displeasure. "Are you his girlfriend?"

"Uh ..." Honor was spared the ordeal of trying to come up with an answer by Udom suddenly noticing his daughter's tarrying. He immediately shouted a short and sharp stream of Thai from his perch by the door, which led to Pradtana quickly lowering the tray and set about swiftly unloading its contents unto the table. Marq helped, and received a bright smile in return.

"Oh my goodness!" Honor exclaimed, looking at the food being spread out on the table, quickly moving to help to arrange everything. Pradtana smiled her thanks at her as well, but with much less warmth.

First was a long porcelain tray piled with at least half a dozen immense prawns, followed by another of stuffed soft shell crabs, and yet another with lengthy fried fillets of giant catfish. Omelettes of eggs, peppers, basil, finger-root and lotus stems followed before Pradtana finally put down the small basket of roti bread and mini baguettes, and a small flask of sweet coffee.

"Enjoy your meal," Pradtana said mechanically when every dish had been set down.

"Thank you, Pradtana," Honor said, eyeing Pradtana and her tray with new respect, genuinely impressed at the girl's strength.

"Thank you, Pradtana," Marq echoed, grinning fondly at the young girl, who responded with yet another wide smile.

Then she looked to where her father was talking to another employee, not looking in her direction, and bent to plant a kiss on Marq's cheek. Giggling, Pradtana quickly went off with her tray.

"Well," Honor said, watching the exaggerated sway of their departing server's young hips. "That was interesting."

Marq looked at her. "What was interesting?"

Honor rolled her eyes. "That girl has a crush on you, and you know it!"

"She always does that," Marq said, giving her an amused look. "Besides, she just turned eighteen years old."

Honor rolled her eyes again. "That means she's legal."

Marq shrugged.

"Just confess," she pressed, teasing, "your ego got a boost from that."

Marq turned to look at Pradtana as she went behind the counter, turned back to her, and shrugged again. "It'll pass."

"Are you referring to the aforementioned boost to your ego," Honor pushed, "or the crush?"

"Both," he said, grinning, "I've known her since she was sixteen."

Honor gave him a meaningful look. "Which means she's had a crush on you since then."

Marq laughed. "I doubt it."

"Sixteen year old girls specialize in crushes," Honor snorted. "Trust me, I used to be one."

Marq grinned. "You'll have to tell me about some of those crushes."

"Don't try to change the subject, Mr. Haydn," Honor sniffed, a mock frown on her face.

Marq shrugged, conceding. "Either way, eighteen is too young for me."

"What about twenty?"

Marq took a drink, before he answered. "Twenty is better."

She pressed her lips together, eyes narrowing, and not entirely in mock disgust. "You pervert."

He laughed. "You asked."

"What if she continues to pine for you?" Honor pressed. "What if she decides she's old enough in two years and she throws herself at you?" Honor could easily picture it - a slightly older Pradtana with a fuller adult woman's body, beautiful, naked and willing in Marq's Grand Imperial suite.

Marq arched an eyebrow at her, and Honor felt a surge of heat rising up on her cheeks, as if he could see the images running through her mind, as if he could tell that the image of him inside another woman was making her insides clench. He probably could, she thought, seeing the knowing cast of his smile, feeling herself grow hotter.

"Why don't we just have breakfast now, and continue this conversation later, Miss Banet?"

"That sounds like a good idea, Mr. Haydn," Honor said, trying not to sound too relieved, and deliberately pushing away any further thought about her jealousy toward an eighteen year old girl and what it meant, how dangerous it was.

She promptly forgot about her potential embarrassment, or any images of Marq ravishing a twenty year old Pradtana in his hotel suite, as soon as she took a bite of the massive prawn, a small amount of the bright orange head oil accompanying the piece of white flesh.

"Oh my @#&% ..." she moaned, eyes closing.

"Good, isn't it?" Marq asked.

"Oh my @#&% ..." she answered, enjoying his responding laughter.

"Try some of the head oil with the roti bread and a little of the crab," Marq recommended when she was almost through devouring her second prawn.

"It can't taste as good as this," she protested.

"A little variety never hurts."

"Some things should just be left pure."

He grinned. "What's life without a little mixing and matching?"

She sniffed, playfully pouting her lips at him. "You are a philistine, Mr. Haydn." But she tried his suggestion, and was forced to admit it wasn't entirely without its merits.

In the end, she managed to take a bite of everything, mixing and matching at Marq's suggestion and making a few of her own, feeding him a few bites herself, needing every ounce of discipline she had left to keep from going beyond a healthy fullness. She sadly looked down at the still substantial amount of food left on the table, the culinary professional in her unhappy at the waste.

"Don't worry," Marq said, accurately reading her look, "Udom will pack it up."

"Good," Honor said, genuinely relieved. "Um ... where's the ladies' room?"

"Over there." Marq gestured, toward the virtually empty far end of the restaurant, the part hanging over the water.

"Is it clean?" she asked, by instinct.

"Judging by the men's room, it should be very clean."

"Okay." Honor stood. "See you in a minute."

She smiled and teasingly puckered her lips in a kiss as she went past him, unable to stop herself from emulating Pradtana and making her hips sway just that bit more as she felt his eyes following her, even more intensely aware of her nudity under the ebb and flow of the sarong.

She found the two doors featuring the familiar imprints of male and female silhouettes behind the strategically placed raffia screen and entered the appropriate one, relieved at finding a well appointed toilet with towels in holders and hanging flower pots from the ceiling, the small room scented and smoky from the burning stick of sandalwood incense by the sink.

The toilet looked immaculately clean, but Honor still carefully wiped the seat with a sheet from the box of disinfectant wipes before she sat down. She sat quietly afterward when she was done, after she had cleaned herself, staring down between her legs, feeling the remnants of his cum still inside her, her mind replaying the rough cry he had made as he released it into her body and breathing harder at the abrupt spread of warmth in her abdomen.

She touched herself, exploring, lips parting and gasping quietly as her finger lightly played over the still swollen hooded nub of flesh over her entrance ... just for a moment.

Afterward, she stood up from the toilet, wiping the seat again before closing the lid and flushing before going to wash her hands, finding some comfort in the fact that the Honor Banet she saw in the mirror above the sink, the one who could sell herself to a stranger in Bangkok and follow him around in nothing but a thin wrap, was still fastidious and neat.

She was startled, but not really surprised, when she opened the toilet door to find him standing there. Her mind registered the fact that she would be spending some more time in the small washroom than she had initially anticipated even before he stepped in and closed the door, his hand reaching out behind him and sliding the bolt in to lock it, his eyes never leaving her.

"Here?" she asked needlessly, eyes wide and staring at him, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, Miss Banet," Marq said, reaching for her with no subtlety. "Here."

The sarong came off just as easily as before, going over her head and ending up as a pile of slinky material in the sink.

She made some attempt to protest, some part of her resisting the prospect of being stripped of all clothing and fucked in a public toilet in nothing but her shoes. But she only kissed him back as he pressed her back against the tiled wall, and when he hungrily took her nipples in his mouth as he kissed and bit his way down her neck to her breasts, all residual thoughts of resistance vanished. Her nipples were swollen and pointing from their ordeal when he straightened and roughly turned her around to face the tiled wall, bending her over, exposing her. She was already wet, already thoroughly and mindlessly aroused by his forcefulness, so his member's full entry into her vagina met with little resistance beyond a desperately stifled shriek of pleasure as she arched back against him, hands pressed against the wall as her eyes rolled back in her head.

She turned her head and their lips met, grinding back against him as he pressed her harder into the wall, her breasts flattening against the tiles, his arms around her body as she braced her hands in front of her.

She broke the kiss after a moment, biting her lip to keep from crying out as one hand abandoned her belly to go between her legs, gasping when his fingers found her opening.

"Show me how to touch you." he said in her ear, breathing hard, his fingers tantalizingly poised over the hooded swell of flesh she had been touching herself just minutes earlier.

"... what?" Honor whimpered, confused.

"Use your hand, Miss Banet," Marq said, each word sharp, commanding, stressed. "Show me how to touch you."

Comprehension came then, and shaking, barely lucid, she moved to obey, placing a shaking hand on top of his, finding and guiding his fingers, quivering as his digits made contact. He was a fast learner; and it was a subject he was already intimately familiar with, so it took him only a moment to find the rhythm he was looking for. She gasped as she felt her knees buckle at the sudden onslaught of sensation, and she hurriedly braced herself with both hands against the wall again, even then knowing that she still would have fallen if not for the solid band of his other arm tightening around her body to keep her upright.

"Oh my @#&% ...!" she sobbed out, voice pitched high, feeling the clamping in her abdomen, her body stiffening, reacting to the fingers masturbating her and the simple uncomplicated pleasure of a full and erect penis inside her vagina. "Yessss ....!"

She squirted when she came, her cry of release cut short by Marq's hand leaving her pussy and going over her mouth as liquid gushed out of her. He held her jerking body, forced to exit out of her as she experienced her orgasm, his arms holding her upright as he lavished kisses on her neck, soothing her, talking to her, until she began to calm.

Then clarity came; the full cognizance of the fact that they were in a toilet in a restaurant with people eating only yards away, that she was completely naked, in nothing but her shoes, and she was hyperventilating as Marq's hands roved all over her body, cupping her breasts and running over her belly and thighs in a deliberate delirium inducing circuit.

Her eyes found the wet streaks she had made on the wall, the small pool of liquid on the floor.

"Are you still jealous of Pradtana?" he asked, in her ear.

It was a struggle to think, but Honor didn't bother denying it. "... she's going to be a very beautiful woman ..."

"But she wouldn't be you." he responded.

"But ..."

"She wouldn't be you, Miss Banet," Marq repeated, finality in his tone.

He caught her lips again when she turned her head toward him, lips parted and seeking as he held her breasts in his hands, making her squirm against his erection. She broke the kiss, pulling away from him after only a moment. But it was only so she could turn around and wrap her arms around his neck, so she could meld her body against him, smiling as she brought his mouth down on hers again.

"You are so amazingly beautiful, Honor Banet," Marq murmured, "I can't go an hour without thinking about fucking you. Making you come."

"I want you inside me, Mr. Haydn," she whispered, in between kisses. "I want you inside me now."

He was only too happy to oblige. He lifted her up, off the floor, her legs spread over his arms and her bare back against the tiled wall, her hands around his neck and her mouth opening to let out a loud sob of delight as he lowered her unto his cock, feeling him shudder as she tightened around him, drawing him deeper into her body.

"Fuck me, Mr. Haydn," she breathed, holding his face, kissing him.

He began to move, making her gasp and clutch at him, moving with him until the predominant sound in the small washroom was the repeated slapping of their bodies coming together, the smacking of her lower back in counterpoint against the wall. Both were breathing hard, and she held his face in her hands as she kissed him, whimpering her encouragement as she felt him taking her to the edge again.

Another sound - discordant and sudden - intruded.

The door handle turned again with the same loud squeak of metal, accompanied by a woman's voice with a pronounced German accent. "Entschuldigung? Ist ... is any one in there?"

"Answer her," Marq mouthed, grinning evilly in the ensuing moment of silence.

"Just ... " Honor swallowed, voice unnaturally high pitched. "... just a minute, please."

"Okay." The woman answered. "Sorry."

"Just a ... minute?!" Marq growled, his face contorted in a mask of mock outrage.

"No, no, no ...!" Honor said, voice low, laughing and shaking her head, then holding his face in her hands and covering it with assuaging kisses, "I didn't mean it that way ...!"

He laughed, but he lifted her off him still. She shook, making an involuntary noise of protest, but his response to her confused look was to kiss her, hard, before carrying her over to the sink and setting her down on her feet. He kissed her again, and she again kissed him back despite her bewilderment at his exit, even as she unconsciously arched into the pleasure of his hands marauding their way all over her body.

"What if she's still outside?" she gasped, when he broke the kiss. "She will hear us ..."

His reply was to turn her around and press up close behind her, his penis pressing against her backside, his hands cupping her breasts, grasping her belly, exploring her as he feverishly lavished kisses on her neck, taking her earlobe into his mouth. She threw her head back, forgetting her question, shuddering as one set of fingers entered her pussy while the other played with her nipples.

"I don't care," he said.

She was well beyond thought, the woman waiting outside thoroughly forgotten, when he was finally done with molesting her. He growled as he bent her over, making her grasp the sink rim as he set himself at her entrance. She instinctively spread herself open for him, stiffening and moaning in anticipation as her eyes fell on the puddle of her sarong in the porcelain bowl, her breath coming out in a hiss as she felt him touch her wetness.

He sheathed himself inside her in one easy movement, her wetness aiding his entry as he let out a growl of pleasure, gripping her waist as she arched back against him. She had to bite her lip again to keep her answering shriek from sounding out when he began to move inside her, sliding in and out of her body. Their eyes met in the mirror, his hands hungrily roaming all over her back and waist, reaching down to cup and squeeze her dangling, jiggling full breasts.

Honor watched Marq Haydn fuck her, watched the shaking of her breasts at each thrust into her body, watched herself hyperventilating as he rode her and she desperately held on to the sink. And she smiled at him, despite her breathlessness, despite the whipcracks of pleasure spreading through her body, despite the possible presence of someone just outside the toilet hearing them ...

Nothing else mattered at that moment, nothing but him, his presence inside her, and the release her body could give him.

She came again with another gush of liquid, eyes rolling in her head. Marq followed only seconds later, withdrawing from her and layering the remaining of his erupting semen on her bum as he stifled his own shout with a Herculean effort of will.

He held her for a while afterward, his hands still roaming her body as she struggled to bring her breathing under control.

"Oh my @#&% ...!" she gasped, looking at him, eyes wide.

He turned her around kissed her; her lips, and, to her amusement - making her smile even as she continued to pant - each still pointing nipple.

"You're ... weird," she said.

He grinned, already breathing normally, much to her annoyance. Then he pulled up his pants, and without a word, he left her in the toilet, carefully closing the door behind him.

Honor stared after him, at the closed door, before turning her gaze at herself in the mirror, taking in her swollen lips and nipples, the still exaggerated rise and fall of her breasts on her chest. For the first time, she noticed the bright red bite marks around her neck and shoulder, and she inwardly swore at him. She cursed him again as it abruptly dawned on her that she was still completely naked, and she hurriedly moved to clean off his cum from her skin and her vagina with water and tissues. She rescued the sarong from the sink and wrapped it around her again; gratefully noting that there were only a few damp spots.

Then she swiftly went to tackle the spray of liquid on the wall and the small pools of it that had gathered on the floor, dropping another wad of tissues into the toilet and flushing before washing her hands in the sink again.

She was just in time; a woman was standing outside, hand poised to knock, when she opened the door to leave the toilet at last.

"Hello," she said apologetically, feeling a surge of heat blaze up to her cheeks, wondering if she suspected, if she had seen Marq leaving. "I'm sorry I took so long."

The woman smiled politely, and said in her German accented voice. "Kein ... er ... no problem." If the woman had noticed Honor's still painfully erect nipples poking through her makeshift dress, or the hickies on her neck, she gave no indication, and Honor was happy to leave it at that.

The table was empty, Marq's seat vacant.

She looked around for him, confused for a moment, before deciding that getting farther away from the scene of her most recent indiscretion should be a higher priority.

Her walk back to the table was still the most extended fifteen seconds Honor had ever known. She knew she was being paranoid; imagining everyone knew what Marq had gone to the back of the restaurant to do, what she had allowed him to do. That every head turn to look meant they knew she had been stripped naked and fucked in the washroom like a bought-and-paid-for slut, that every glance hid condemnation and judgement.

Especially since she had enjoyed every moment of it.

But she held her head up and made it back to her seat, her gait calculated to reduce the tell-tale jiggling of her unconfined breasts and their erect nipples to a minimum, resisting the urge to look around guiltily or rub at the treacherously itchy bite marks on her neck and shoulders. Her skin was tingling and pimpled with goosebumps as she sat at the empty table, but she couldn't tell if it was due to her own overwrought imagination, or the aftershocks of two ludicrously intense liquid spewing orgasms.

She steeled herself to look around again. Where was he?

"Excuse me, Miss ... Honor?"

Honor turned to find Pradtana standing beside the table, holding what looked like a brightly colored striped bucket, which on closer inspection, turned out to be a stacked set of interlocking food containers. She placed it on the table. "Your takeaway."

"Uh ... thank you." Honor smiled at her, inwardly flustered and hoping it wasn't showing on her face.

Pradtana didn't smile back. "Mr. Marq is outside. He is coming back."

"Thank you," Honor said again.

The young Thai girl abruptly leaned forward, eyes narrowed, voice low. "Are you together with him? Do you ... love him?"

Honor didn't know how to answer the first question, so she answered the second, honestly. "I ... like him."

"I 'love' him," Pradtana said, her tone making it clear she had the superior claim.

Honor couldn't help but smile with empathy. "I know. I can tell."

Pradtana did not smile back. Instead, hostile eyes locked on Honor's as her voice came out in a low hiss. "I know he fuck you in the toilet."

Honor went still even as her heartbeat went up several notches, a torrent of heat rising to her face as realization dawned. Of course, if anyone would notice Marq following her, and guess what he had followed her to do, it would be the very jealous eighteen year old with her eye on the man who had just had his way with her.

Pradtana's lip curled into a sneer, eyes alight in spiteful triumph as Honor's reaction confirmed what she already knew.

And in that moment, Honor's embarrassment became something quite different, suddenly finding it absurd at feeling the need, however fleeting, to justify herself to an eighteen-year-old girl. Her lips slowly turned up into a smile, her empathy for the younger crush-stricken woman considerably lessened. "And so what if he did fuck me in the toilet?" Honor asked.

Young, certainly, but still an adult, no matter Marq had said about her age ... still a competitor.

Pradtana frowned at the sudden turn, and tried another tack. "Are you a prostitute?"

Honor reflected on that for a moment before answering. "Yes, Pradtana. I am a prostitute." She leaned forward, eyes meeting Pradtana's in challenge, seeing the anger and jealousy there, and noticing just how beautiful the younger Thai girl was. The image of a naked and very willing Pradtana in Marq's arms appeared in her mind again, and this time she allowed her own jealousy to rise to the fore. "And you can't have him ... he's mine."

It was actually more correct to say she was his, since he had paid for her and he was clearly determined to get his money's worth ... and more, if she could help it.

"I love him." Pradtana said it again.

"I don't care," Honor responded. "He's mine."

They stared at each other, Honor finding herself amused despite the tension and not bothering to hide it. She met the younger woman's outraged glare, a small smile on her lips, until Udom's voice intruded, loudly calling his daughter's attention.

Pradtana spat a low curse in Thai and hurried off to answer her clearly irritated father's summons.

Marq re-entered the restaurant a minute later. She watched him as he made a beeline to the table. "Good. They've brought the food," he said, noting the container set on the table and reaching out to place his hand on the handle. He looked at her. "Ready to go?"

"Where were you?" she asked, frowning.

"Taking a delivery," he answered cryptically. He reached out to her with his other hand. "Let's go."

Honor still felt a slight twinge of guilt - knowing a pained Pradtana was watching - but she placed her hand in his and stood. And she willingly stepped forward when he pulled her toward him, leaning into him and returning the light kiss he planted on her lips before he turned to leave the restaurant, her hand in his grasp.

He stopped at the counter to take his leave of Udom, and Honor realized something as she took full notice of the pictures on the wall above Udom's head as she also said her good byes and received another enthusiastic handshake, vigorous enough to remind her that she was bra-less under her makeshift dress.

Pradtana managed a pained smile for Marq, and an utterly false one for Honor, who returned it. She was never returning there anyway, she told herself, thinking regretfully of never again tasting Udom's food.

"Udom and Somsak are ... father and son?" Honor asked as they stepped outside into the sunshine. Even apart from the numerous pictures of the two men together, where the family resemblance became obvious, she now remembered Marq introducing Pradtana with her full name.

"No," Marq said. "They're brothers." He saw her curious look. "Somsak started cooking here. Udom saw his talent and sent him to culinary school."

The car stood where he had parked it, but Marq ignored it. Instead, he led her to another vehicle standing by the shoulder of the road.

It was a three wheeled scooter, narrow and sleek with two smaller wheels in front balanced by the larger one behind. Honor did not need to be an afficianado of scooters to appreciate the clean futuristic minimalism in its design, noting the 'Electric Vehicle' emblazoned on the side.

"What do you think?" Marq asked. "Thought this would be better than bicycles or a tuk-tuk. Much quieter too."

"I think it's beautiful," Honor said. It was getting hot and she certainly wasn't looking forward to biking along Ayutthaya's ancient streets, especially without panties. She smiled at him. "I'm impressed, Mr. Haydn."

"That's good. I'm glad you like it," Marq said, pleased.

She looked back to the vehicle they had come with. "What about the car?"

He gave the car an unconcerned glance, "It's been taken care of."

He let go of her hand, lifting up the scooter's dual seat, revealing a compartment underneath and placing the food inside before handing her a pair of sunglasses to wear against the brightening sun and one of the helmets hanging off the handlebars. He grinned at her as he wore his own pair and climbed unto the scooter, flicking on a switch and pressing a button on the center console. The scooter came to life with a low electric whine, and he turned to her, gesturing for her to join him.

She smiled as she wore the helmet and climbed on behind him, more gingerly given her lack of underwear and the intrinsically non-secure nature of her clothing. The footrests were long panels along the scooter's sides for both the driver and passenger and she easily found where to place her feet just behind his own as he set his own helmet on his head.

"Comfortable, Miss Banet?" he asked, over his shoulder.

Honor responded by putting her arms around his chest, scooting forward to lean her body against him. She felt him shudder slightly as her unconfined breasts pressed into his back, her nipples starting to firm up at his closeness. "Yes, I am, Mr. Haydn."

He smiled and set his fingers on the scooter's throttle and brake levers, his hands firmly grasping the handlebars as he moved the scooter off the shoulder and onto the road.