I got with a fellow Brit in Thailand

I gotgot with a fellow Brit inin Thailand

There’s nothing quite like the sun in Thailand. I came on a month’s long excursion, quit my job before flying out – they gave me some technical, corporate excuse as to why I couldn’t come back. The plan was to fly back to England after the month’s excursion, see if my old position was still available for the taking. It turns out I quite like the small life though as cliche as it sounds. I work at the beach bar serving cocktails at night. During the day I relax on the beach and work on my travel blog. There’s been an increase of subscriptions lately – South East Asia is trending online at the moment and apparently reading about the tropical Thai way of living is helping the British get through the endless winter they’re experiencing.

Glad I can’t relate. Right now I’m on a hammock tied between two palm trees, watching the long, feather-like leaves blow in the warm breeze. The air smells of sun lotion and sea salt and coconuts. I hear them knocking together somewhere.

Owen was a guy who was on the same excursion as me. He decided to extend his stay here too, works at the same bar as me and is renting out an airbnb for a couple of months because, like me, can’t bring himself to book that flight home yet. He’s a guy I’ve been thinking a lot about recently. British – from Northumberland. When he’s not working, he’s topless. Always wearing a jade pendant around his neck that’s the same, alluring green as his eyes. He has a perm and when we first met in Heathrow airport to fly out, the colour of his hair was brown. Now the sun has highlighted it blonde.

It suits him so much.

Currently he’s doing a workout on the beach facing the ocean. With his back to me, I take the opportunity to gawp at his shoulder muscles that contort as he does press ups. Impressive.

He stands, shakes out his body to cool off, and in doing so, sees me laid on my hammock.

I lower my sunglasses. Give him a wave.

He jogs over.

“Hey.”

I smile. “Hey.”

I’m in this strapless, orange bikini. He tries to keep his eyes focused on me but they slip down.

He swallows thick. “Why is it we talk more now that we’re not on the excursion?”

“Dunno,” I say. “Probably because we work together.”

He scratches his chin. “No. That’s not it.”

He’s right, it’s not, but I’m not about to embarrass myself by admitting the big fat crush I used to have on him. He always intimidated me. He didn’t even have to say anything. His existence alone was enough to turn my legs to jelly.

Don’t get me wrong, I still crush on him from time to time but after booking myself in with a Mor Baan (a traditional, Thai healer) I’ve learned to energetically take a step back. To attract instead of chase.

And here he is, staring down at me with these green, sparkling eyes that look like they know exactly what they want. The air between us is heavy with sexual tension and deep inside of me, I feel something stir.

We’re both on the same shift that evening at the beach bar. Waves crash to shore, lanterns swing in the breeze and fairy lights have been strung around the palm trees to stop the beach from falling into darkness. Glasses clink, upbeat, chillout music plays and women whirl around on the beach in flowing, paisley dresses. Men in unbuttoned patterned shirts and shorts.

Owen comes up behind me to whisper in my ear. “See someone you like?”

I turn around. “Why? You jealous?”

And from there it all sort of escalates. He works next to me at the bar, hip to hip. He makes sure to brush past me, and whenever I need to grab something from the lowest shelf, I’m sexy about it, leaning down so I can flaunt the arse he wants to slap but can’t because we’re in public.

I never had this sort of connection with anyone back home. I always knew that weather determines a person’s mood, but coming here, I never knew just how much. People in England are cold because the weather is. Here, the sun seems to touch everyone’s soul. I feel it touch my own. Coming here has given me this newfound zest for life and as crazy as it sounds, it makes me want to stay here forever.

Sex never used to take my fancy back then either. But now… ?

Totally different story.

The aircon in Owen’s airbnb is very much needed when we arrive at his place after a long and very hot shift at the beach bar. His tongue tastes of coconut and the Sabai Sabai cocktail that some girl bought for him mid shift – of which he rubbed in my face for the rest of the night – and when he moans, I feel the vibrations in my body.

He lays me down, kisses along my collarbone, and helps me take off my black mini dress. We fuck on a kingsize bed, one with curtains that blow in the breeze (he has a private pool so we don’t bother closing the doors).

He feels so good inside of me. Has me stick my legs up in the air so he can go deeper.

And deeper.

“Holy fuck, Owen.”

He moans, takes a quick break to kiss my open mouth, swirl his tongue with mine, and then he’s back to it, picking up the pace. It’s music to my ears hearing him sing my name like that on his lips and he comes moaning it.

The climax. Oh my god. It’s like a summer’s day. I feel high, like I could fly away. Of course I don’t want to. If I do that I can’t do Owen again, and that night, laid in Owen’s four post bed, curtains ruffling in the warm breeze, I realise I’ve found myself a new hobby.