My brain touched back to the news broadcast on the radio played on our trip from the airport to the resort. It’s part of the human condition to never think of political tensions or otherwise risk in general will touch your generally sheltered life, and generally, it doesn’t. We were simply, in this moment, the unlucky ones.
Everyone in the lounge area froze, as though a god had hit the pause button on life. The silence was deafening. All I could hear was my own heartbeat, a Tell-Tale sound, just like in the Edgar Allen Poe short story. My lungs couldn’t fill themselves with air. Was there even air left in the room?
“Stay calm, honey, stay calm.” Mike’s arms returned to my waist as he whispered into my ear, placating me. But I felt so removed from the situation, I didn’t feel that falling apart was an option. I was someone else, watching this unfold in an episode of The Walking Dead, only there were two men with guns instead of zombies. Possibly the same thing, metaphorically at least. Mike was a beacon of strength and comfort. Only a moment ago he had kept an ocean of sharks at bay, just by speaking. I heard rasping breathing and realised it was my own. “Don’t move, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Thomas slumped back into the elevator as one of the gunmen jammed the doors open.
“Some of you are going to die, there is no doubt ’bout it,” the man who was the leader said in broken English. “You have all come to a country that, after sixty years of civil war, is now persecuting Muslims. You have come to a country the world forgot about. We are here to make the world remember.”
“My friend and I, we are Muslims, and we all had people die. People we loved. We want to make other people die. We want the world to take notice. Burma has been ignored for too long.”
“You all think Buddhists are peaceful. But there are different sides to every religion. Do not think that Buddhism is the passive religion. It is not. None of them are. And today, we show you that as Muslims, we are not peaceful.
“All women must go to this side of the room,” he said, pointing to the bar with his gun. The other gunmen moved around the room, separating couples.
“We want your fucking mobile phones too,” he said as he divided people from their loved ones.
I couldn’t move. My body had abandoned me, redesigning its core make-up into cement; a far cry from the jelly legs of bliss after my sexual encounter with Mike in the Bay of Bengal. An elderly lady at the bar was having trouble breathing, her frail body too shaky to work properly. A small child was crying, screaming as her father was ripped away from her. The child’s mother leant down and pulled her tight, having little effect on the now hysterical sobs of her daughter. She looked at the father and nodded that they were going to be all right.
The second gunmen punched the elderly lady on her nose. Blood spewed over her pearl necklace and she slumped over her lounge chair, unconscious. “If you take too long to move, you get hurt,” he said. All the female guests started to move frantically to the bar, some of them were screaming, others were quiet in their resolve to survive this situation and get out of it as quickly as possible.
There were only two of them, but there may as well have been ten. Both were wearing balaclavas and carrying guns of some sort. I’d never seen a real gun before, and I had no idea what type they were; smallish but terrifying despite their size.
The one separating couples approached Mike and me. He wore a backpack with a Quicksilver logo on it. I looked at his eyes, visible through his hooded mask. They were angry eyes, the eyes of a teenager. Young and angry at the world. With a gun. Great.
“Well, look what we have over here,” he said. “Check out this piece of arse. In these tiny, tiny shorts, she ain’t no Muslim woman. We should take her.” He turned to the leader.
Mike’s arms tightened around my shoulders. “I need you to stay calm. Nothing is going to happen to you,” he told me, never taking his eyes off the teenager with the gun.
“You a tough guy?” Angry Eyes asked Mike.
“No. But you’re not touching her. You’re not touching anyone. We are guests in your country, we have no political agenda.” Big mistake. Both men moved towards Mike as though they were one entity. Their guns were raised, uncontrolled and angry fingers on the triggers.
Mike widened his stance. “Join the other men now, while you have the chance. Today is not your day to be a hero,” the leader said. Angry Eyes sneered.
In a sudden whirl of movement, Mike shoved me away from the guns. I fell to the ground, near Thomas, who hadn’t moved from the ball he had contracted himself into in the back corner of the elevator. Thomas uncurled a hand and grabbed me, pulling me close to him. Before I could digest the situation and exactly how I came to be a ball next to the Thomas ball, Mike elbowed Angry Eyes in the throat. He dropped the gun as he held his throat with both hands, desperate to take a breath. Mike ducked to grab the gun, a bullet whizzing over his head into the wall near a potted plant.
Picking up the gun, he held it steady, aiming at the leader. People screamed, running down the stairs or towards the hallway, desperate to get to the safety of their rooms. Others were just running. I couldn’t take my eyes off Mike, he had moved so fast, methodically, and now was perfectly still.
The leader was stunned, hesitating as he took in the devastation of his planned attack. Angry Eyes was still gasping for breath. The leader took his eyes off Mike, looking to the gasping man, asking him a question we couldn’t understand. The moment he took his eyes off Mike, he was tackled to the ground. Pinning the leader under him, Mike’s sturdy body holding him in place, he held the gun close to the enemy’s face. I could see the fear emitting in his eyes. So powerful was this fear it came through the mask, almost tangible.
Mike remained focused on the leader. As he did, Angry Eyes got up and punched me in the temple with all his strength. I tasted blood as it melted along the side of my face, leaking down over my new kaftan. I felt sick as I morphed into a jelly substance. It was getting harder to remain upright. The last thing I heard was the ringing of a gunshot.
As I slumped into the conclusive blackness, I could hear Nick Cave’s “Red Right Hand.”
***
“Rosie! Rosie, wake up honey!” I opened my eyes to see Mike, and what I assumed was a paramedic leaning over me. He had a kind face, highlighted by closely cropped hair. I wanted to touch the stubble that framed his rounded face but my arms were too heavy to lift up. Mike’s eyes were wild with fear, round as saucers. I could see all the whites of his eyes. They were clear eyes. Kind eyes.
“There you are, you’re going to be okay,” the kind faced paramedic said in smooth English. He had a faint British accent.
“She’s fine, no stitches needed, but she’s in shock, and she’ll have a very bad headache for a few days,” he said, turning to Mike. “I can take her back to the hospital to get her checked further, if you would prefer.”
Mike was even more sexy than he was before, but how this was even possible was beyond me and my new head wound. I noticed his profound sexiness even through the blinding pain in my head.
There was a weird thumping noise. What was that? The thumping noise was breaking through my chest, in time with the shaking of my hands.
“Do you want to go to the hospital, honey?”
I groaned, the pain in my head splitting my skull. As I sat up slowly, swallowing bile, the room slowly came back into focus. I touched the side of my head and felt a cheesecloth type fabric tapped to my temple. I thought I could smell coriander and metal. It was blood.
“No. I’ll be okay.” My kaftan, on the other hand, would never be okay again. It was dead, too much of my blood had spilt on it.
Spending time in a foreign bed, in a foreign hospital, away from Mike was not going to aide my recovery. I just wanted a cocktail, some chocolate mud cake, and a lot of well earnt attention from Mike. Maybe a new dress would help too. Feeling Mike’s arms around me would take away any sort of pain. Even the pain from being punched in the temple.
“How long was I out for? Have they gone? Is the lady okay?” My voice was groggy. Suddenly I realised I had asked after the lady who got hit. I was concerned for her, despite my own potentially life threatening situation. I grinned and it hurt. “Dad would be so proud of me.”
“Of course he would be,” Mike said, but he was unaware of the monumental personality shift that the blow to my head had caused. I grinned again. I was cured.
“They’re gone. They took the lady to the hospital, but I think she will be okay too. She had a broken nose, but she’s lucky she didn’t have a stroke or a heart attack. Must be a tough old duck.” Mike buried his face into my neck. “I killed them for touching you. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me.” His voice was breaking.
“Well, technically, I didn’t see that side of you. I passed out before you went all commando.
“I’m sorry, Rosie, I’m sorry this happened.” I thought of the mother of Angry Eyes. Did she know what her son was involved with, what sort of a man he was? Did she make him that way? Would anyone mourn for him? I knew I would not.
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “You saved my life, you’re a freaking hero!” I tried to stand up slowly, ignoring the fact that my head might literally break in two. “This didn’t happen because of you, it happened and we were just here, that’s all.” I leant on my hands, pushing myself the last little bit so I was standing upright. My hands were shaking, my whole body was shaking. That would be the shock the paramedic spoke of.
“I’m okay, I’m starting to feel better.” I felt as though I could run a marathon, naked, through Russia in winter. I felt more alive than I had ever felt before, more so than the time I ate twelve banana cupcakes with the cream cheese icing. “I think you are the coolest man I have ever seen. What you did was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Can I take her now?” Mike asked the paramedic, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. I wanted to kiss them so badly.
“Yes, of course. Just make sure she gets plenty of rest. No excitement. She’s had enough for one night.”
Mike’s powerful arms scooped me up and he carried me to our room. I nestled into his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of the safety he offered me. I didn’t have to worry about anything for the rest of the night, Mike could take care of everything. It was a wonderful feeling.
I raised my head to his, my lips finding the softness of his, and I kissed him, still folded safely in his arms. “Mmmmm, you smell good. Like heroics and cookie dough.”
“You’re in shock,” Mike said after kissing me back. “I most certainly do not smell like cookies. I’m a man, for heaven’s sake, a tough man. No tough man smells like cookie dough.” He laughed as he unclicked the lock to our room.
“Well, the knock on my head has given me the courage to tell you that I see you as the incredible man you are. How did you do that? To those men, I mean. Were you a spy? Are you a spy?”
“I’m not a spy. I’m not a spy because this isn’t a Hollywood movie. I’m not going to suddenly become Jack Reacher. I just know how to fight. I did a bit of stealth, hand-to-hand combat for the army, but I’m not a spy, and I’m not Jack Reacher.”
“No, you’re like Rambo. You’re exactly like Rambo.” I decided more conclusively. “And I know you must have done a bit more than simple hand-to-hand combat in the army.” Mike looked surprised. “Yes, that’s right, I’m not ashamed to say I have spent many lonely nights Googling army drill sergeants.”
“Maybe,” I continued, getting back to the Rambo conversation “if it was 1982. At least Rambo is a desirable height. Reacher is too short, in the movies anyway.” Regardless of his attitude towards his power and skill, I heard the “Rambo” theme music wafting in through the possible cracks in my head.
“Ooooh, you should totally make the theme music for your show the tune from “Rambo!””
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Placing me on the bed in our suite, Mike leaned over me. “I think I may be affected by adrenaline too.” He groaned, kissing me and holding my hands, sitting in front of me.
“Whatever the cause, I need you. Make love to me again,” I said. His pale brown eyes looked deep into my almond-shaped eyes, a question formed on the iris, a question he didn’t ask. Wetness was pooling between my legs again as he slid the top of my swimmers off, lifting my arms above my head. Holding my hands in the air with one of his, he kissed me with an urgency that surprised me.
I leaned back on the bed and his body followed me as he removed his red t-shirt, exposing his barrel-chested body. God, he was a beautiful man, I wanted him so much. I was pressed into the white linen of the hotel bed and I could feel his hardness pressing between my legs, want and desire fuelling its movements.
With a natural ease, Mike hooked his fingers into my swimmer bottoms, still slightly wet from the sea, and I lifted my hips as he slid them down my legs. They crumpled to the floor as he undid the cord in his board shorts, tearing them off in a hurry. His cock was engorged and I took it in my hand, feeling its strength take up the space of my palm as he knelt on the bed. I started rubbing it, holding it firmly, squeezing pleasure into him.
His raised his face towards the teak ceiling. “Fuck, Rosie, that feels so good, it’s been so long.” His voice was barely audible, hidden in the erotic moment we were sharing. His fingers tangled in my hair, I could feel his palm print on the back of my head and it felt good. My muscles contracted, giving out more of the wetness.
Even though only a couple of hours ago he had been inside me, I knew what he meant. These were moments to be treasured, exploring each other. Before, the sex had been an almost introduction to each other’s bodies, an innocent need to release everything we had pent up from our sometimes tragic lives. But now, in this moment, it was about holding Mike’s cock in my hand and about him melding into me so I could become a part of him.
I lay back on the bed and opened my legs for him, waiting and wanting to receive him, all of him. He didn’t make me wait long, his thick cock gliding into me, filling me at once with his manliness, control, and strength. He was searing hot as he thrust in and out of me. At first, he was cautious, but the adrenalin and the wanting took over, and he was soon out of control with his passion for me. I wasn’t showing much more control. Looking into his eyes as he entered me again and again, I could feel the ecstasy building. I was close to coming.
He thrust again and I was swallowed into the crevasse of nowhere. Swirling into oblivion we were tossed together into the throes of desire. Leaning into him, I screamed my frenzy into his chest and he replied with his own climax, spraying his cum deep inside me. And in that moment, I ceased to exist.
“So, this is what our room looks like,” I said, sitting up a few moments later. With the jet lag and then rushing to the balloon, the conference, the beach, and then being knocked out, I hadn’t had much time to take in the suite. Plus, the beautiful man that was always in my sight was pretty distracting. I smiled at Mike. He grinned back.
“Who knew, you and I, mortal enemies, would end up this way,” I said.
“Well, I was your mortal enemy, but you were never mine.” Mike said. “I think Lee would have liked you.” He was thoughtful, his fingers running through my long dark hair.
“I think we were always going to end up exactly here. Our attitudes just got in the way for a while,” I said. “All it took was a couple of men with guns pointed to our faces for me to truly reach a turning point.”
“Well, personally, I love your new attitude,” Mike said. “And may I remind you, that I have been asking you out for a beer for a very long time. There was something about your surliness that was so honest, so endearing. Sometimes.” His eyes were soft, and a shadow of concern floated through them, resting at the base. “I will never let anything happen to you again, Rosie. I want to spend the rest of my life protecting you. And Snip.”
“Do we know anything about those men?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn’t want to be looked after like a needy puppy, I was a strong woman, and I could look after myself. But I was loving the attention from Mike.
“I doubt it at this stage. I would guess they were Muslim radicals, raging against the Buddhist radicals, and we were targeted because we were, basically, unlucky.” He looked deep into my eyes. “I can’t believe I almost lost you. I lost Lee, I cannot lose you as well.” Mike was holding me so tightly, I could see his muscles straining. Oxygen was becoming an issue.
“Don’t be dramatic, Mike, it’s just a knock to the head.”
I felt the warmth of affection spread through my body, into my soul. I had misjudged this man, I had read him so wrong and never given him the chance to show me who he was before this moment. And he was right, it was my attitude that had gotten in the way, not his. But he had changed my attitude, he had undone the twisted knot that had formed inside of me a long time ago. A really long time ago. I thought of Dad and smiled. He would have liked Mike, almost as much as I did.
“Why did you persist with being kind to me for so long?” I asked. Looking back on the person I used to be, it didn’t make much sense.
“There were times when I asked myself the same question.” He paused, taking a sip of iced water from the bedside table. “You had a sadness in your eyes, I couldn’t bear it. I don’t know, maybe I recognised the sadness, maybe I knew it was the same as mine.” There was nothing I could say.
No words were needed, so I kissed him.
After the incident on our second night, armed guards were placed everywhere. The rest of the convention was cancelled and our hotel fee was refunded in full. Jan was going to be delighted. Nothing made her happier than money in the station’s account.
The huge guns attached to the guards made me uncomfortable. Mike was totally at ease with them, but he still watched each guard as we passed them. I held his hand as we strolled through the resort grounds the following day. I was totally aware that I was being more of a victim than I needed to be, but I was so entrenched in the man that was Mike, I couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t being a princess, it’s not like I left my glass slipper in his bedroom. I was just making the most of the situation.
It wasn’t just me who had been enraptured with Mike’s new heroic status. Being the Rambo of Myanmar, people wanted to buy him drinks. Men patted him on the back and women drank him in, batting their eyelids at the sexy, irresistible man holding my hand. He never left my side despite my encouraging him to go have some drinks with other patrons. I was more than capable at looking after myself for an entire twenty minutes. Deciding to return home in two days, we spent the rest of our conference-cum-vacation-cum-romantic experience lounging beside the pool and risking shark attacks by swimming in the sea.
“I feel a little guilty about not making an effort to get to Bagan,” I said to Mike on our final day.
“Say what now?” He was enjoying a full carb beer. Getting out of his deck chair may have been more effort than it was worth.
“It’s the place that has the famous archaeological site. I showed you pictures. Am I going to regret not making an effort to see any of this country?” I knew my guilt was warranted and I should have been annoyed with myself, but Mike was captivating to the point everything else kind of fell away and suddenly we were leaving tomorrow.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives to see these sites, assuming we don’t kill each other,” Mike said. “Let’s just focus on “us” this trip.” He was right. Until he had gone all Rambo, I didn’t know this man much at all. How could I have? Being rescued from religious radicals wasn’t something I needed help with before. Nothing like a man flexing muscles and throwing throat jabs to make a woman fall head over heels.
Our last night in Myanmar was spent wrapped in each other’s arms. Sex was always better in another country. Mike’s strong arms were entwined around my waist. I pressed my arse into his front, feeling his welcome bulge push onto me. Turning around, I placed my hands upon Mike’s perfect face and kissed him, how could I not be totally in love with this man? Quickly we both caught fire. Mike turned me around and led me closer to the bed, our lips still locked onto each other. I hoped he never stopped kissing me, but it seemed a little impractical. How would I drink coffee if Mike’s lips were always on mine?
Reaching down, I stroked the hardness between his legs. He groaned in pleasure as his cock swelled even more and he kissed me deeper. Mike slid his hand under my dress and then bra, reaching for my nipple, gently tugging on it until it became a hard crest. My chest was rising and falling between us. I was breathing hard, it was weird. Since when did my lungs need so much oxygen to operate? I was beginning to sound like a smoker who had just run a marathon.
With a natural ease, he slid his hand under my swimmer top, an easy tug and his swimmers crumpled to the floor. Trying to normalise my breathing and kneeling in front of him, I took his cock into my mouth. His groans increased and I hoped the teak walls were thicker than they looked. Taking all of him in my mouth, I moved up and down, cupping his balls in my free hand. Even they felt muscly. With his entire shaft in my mouth, I looked up and held his gaze.
“Rosie,” he moaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. “I want you. Now.” His voice had become serious as he raked his hands over my body. He was giving himself to me, I could feel the particles building, getting ready to explode. He stood me up and placed me against the wall. I was so wet, I could feel my juices running down my inner thighs. Leaning me forward, Mike lifted my kaftan up. He pulled my underpants down my legs, letting them fall at my ankles. They were soaking wet. My hands placed on the door, he rubbed his cock against my bare butt as he fondled my curves.
“Mike, I think I’ve loved you for a long time.” It was getting harder to breathe again. Was there steam in the room or was I imagining it? He stopped dead. I twisted to look at him. “You do love me, I know.” Not in the slightest bit shocked. Suddenly he entered me with such force I was thrown back towards the wall, my arms hanging onto his waist.
He lifted me up and held me there, gaining deeper access into me. I held my arms around his neck and nestled into him as he moved me up and down on top of him. His hands were on my arse and I could feel his fingers twisting into my skin with his need. I kissed him, hard, and he reciprocated with all the passion of a lust that had been denied for years.
“I love you too,” he said. And with that he spurted his seed deep inside. I could feel him quivering underneath me, hear his groans of ecstasy, and feel his love. Knowing that Mike loved me too pushed me over the edge and I joined him in the throes of pleasure. I kissed him as I came to muffle the scream of pleasure building inside me. I rested there afterwards, content, complete, never ever needing to move. I was in the arms of the man I love and he loved me. I wanted to stay held up by him for the rest of my life.
“Rosie?’
“Mmm?’
“My arms are starting to hurt, I need to put you down.”
“Okay.” I moved over begrudgingly. If only that moment could have lasted forever. He kissed me as he placed me on the bed. Another great thing about Mike, he never made me feel like a size 14.
If only that moment could have lasted forever. Hunting around the mess of crumpled clothes on the floor, I found my swimmer bottoms. They were too wet to put back on, but not wet from swimming.
My legs were sore, so I could only imagine how his arms felt. They were such strong arms, I figured they would be fine in a moment or two. God, I loved his arms. Probably my favourite thing about him. He was grinning. Never in all the time I had known Mike had I ever seen him grin like that. I grinned right back at him.
Later that night, listening to Mike’s soft snoring next to me, I searched my brain for Frank. I needed his help to go to sleep, so used to falling asleep to the velvety crooning of my oldest friend. But my brain was void of my long-time friend. Squeezing my eyes shut tighter, I found his stage was empty. Frank was gone. I guess he figured I wouldn’t need him in my new life, that the leaf I had turned was fresh and green, with space for reality rather than a crooner singing continuously in my mind. I didn’t like Frank making this choice without discussing it with me first, but I trusted him.