Love of Silom

Chapter 3 - Decent Work.

 

Under the relentless twists of fate, I had no choice but to put my studies on hold and embark on the road to job hunting. My dad's company was struggling more and more, forced to lay off employees, while those who remained had to increase their personal sales performance just to earn meagre commissions. The company could no longer afford to pay all its employees.

 

My dad used to be the sole breadwinner, and while we managed to scrape by from month to month, there were times when we struggled financially. Still, we found ways to get through. As for me, I took on part-time jobs and freelance report writing whenever I could to help ease the family's burden. But now, things have changed. 

 

My dad has to push harder to increase sales, even though the economy is pulling everything downward. I've seen news about many factories shutting down lately, so the fact that he still has a job is already a blessing, even if it's not enough to support the family.

 

I fought hard to stay in school, but as my coursework became more demanding and time-consuming, and my financial struggles at home grew, I ultimately reached a breaking point.

 

"If you don't start working to help out, the family won't make it. You can go back to school once the economy improves."

 

That was what my dad said when I told him I was dropping out to work. His words seemed comforting on the surface, but they only filled me with despair. It was like hearing, "The law of cause and effect is always fair"—a phrase that only deepened my hopelessness. The underlying message was clear: aside from praying, we had nothing else to rely on.

 

I found a job as a waiter at a steakhouse on Asok Street. Finding employment with only a high school diploma was difficult, but I quickly passed the interview thanks to my English skills. The restaurant especially valued employees who were fluent in English or Chinese. The customers were a mix of locals and foreigners. The work was exhausting, and my shifts ended late at night. Every day, I would come home and collapse into bed, having no other choice. Though the pay was low, I could look forward to earning some tips from customers.

 

Everyone knows that poverty is painful. My first paycheck was almost entirely swallowed up by two months of overdue rent. It was then that I truly understood the phrase, "money slips through your fingers." The feeling was indescribable—watching my hard-earned wages vanish in an instant, as if they had never existed.

After three months of working, we barely managed to pay the rent on time, but only for that month. As for the future, I didn't dare to have any expectations because my dad's income remained unpredictable. We still lived as frugally as possible.

 

"I don't think Singto should keep drinking formulas anymore. It's too expensive. He can grow up just fine eating regular food."

 

One day, as I was about to leave for work, my mom sat with Singto on her lap, feeding him. Though he was small, he was developing normally. I walked over and stroked his head. He let out a joyful giggle and tried to grab my hand.

 

"Let me hold him for a bit," I said, spreading my arms. Singto wriggled out of my mom's embrace and threw himself at me. I quickly caught him and planted a big kiss on his cheek, making him laugh even louder.

 

Becoming an uncle at twenty still felt surreal to me. I hadn't fully adjusted to this role, so I chose to use my name rather than "uncle." Looking at Singto, a wave of sorrow washed over me. He was born into a family that had almost nothing, not even baby formula was within reach.

 

"I'll work hard and earn money to buy formula for you," I told him before handing him back to my mom.

 

I headed out to work with a heavy heart. I can't let things go on like this. I have to find more work because, right now, my mom and Singto have almost no one else to rely on but me. My dad's company had just gone through a second round of layoffs—who knew when his turn would come? Since the steakhouse operated from 1 p.m. to 11 p.m., I decided to go to the market tomorrow to see if there are any morning jobs.

 

Fortunately, the restaurant was exceptionally busy that day, leaving me with no time to dwell on my worries. I was constantly moving between the kitchen and customers' tables without a moment's rest. On top of that, there was a live band performing, which meant I had to be extra careful not to bump into customers who suddenly got up to dance. Despite my best efforts, accidents were sometimes unavoidable.

 

As I cleared the plates and glasses from a recently vacated table and placed them on my tray, a male customer at the adjacent table suddenly stood up and stepped backwards without looking. 

 

“Oh!”

He bumped into me, causing the stacked glasses to crash onto the floor, shattering into pieces.

 

"I'm sorry," I apologised immediately, even though it wasn't my fault. The other waiters rushed over to help.

 

"Sir, did any of the glass cut you?" I asked with concern. He shook his head before cursing under his breath when he saw that the sleeve of his jacket was stained with orange juice.

 

Anxiety gnawed at me—I was afraid he would blame me for the accident. However, the man simply smiled and said,

 

"Sorry, I didn't notice just now."

 

His words felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest. I couldn't afford to take on any more misfortune. My life was already battered enough as it was.

 

"You should wash it off quickly. If you leave it for too long, it might not come out," I suggested.

 

He hurried off to the restroom, and I rushed to the kitchen to grab a clean cloth and some soap before following him. When I arrived, I saw him rinsing his sleeve under the tap. I handed him a bottle of hand soap, but then changed my mind. 

 

"How about I help you wash it?" I offered. It was my way of thanking him for not blaming me for the accident. He took off his juice-stained jacket and handed it to me. I took it and passed him a clean towel to dry his soaked arm.

 

I quickly rubbed the stain, and in no time, the customer's jacket was as good as new. He seemed satisfied and asked,

 

"Do you pool tips here, or do you keep them individually?"

"We pool them," I replied.

 

"In that case, I'd rather just tip you directly. I made a lot of money yesterday, so I'm in a good mood today."

 

He handed me two thousand baht. Seeing my hesitation, he simply placed the money into my hand. I froze. Without warning, tears welled up and spilt down my cheeks.

 

"Whoa!" He exclaimed, surprised, as if he couldn't believe someone would cry over a tip.

 

"Thank you," I hurriedly wiped my tears away—it must have been awkward for him, too, having someone suddenly break down in front of him like that.

 

"I'm sorry... It's just... Do you know how much this amount means to me right now? It could change my life." As I spoke, I felt the tears threatening to fall again.

 

"Two thousand baht is a lot, but I don't think it's enough to change someone's life completely." He chuckled. If I had that much money to tip someone casually, I would have laughed, too.

 

"This money is enough to buy several months' worth of baby formula for my nephew. I was just worrying about it, and then you came along at the perfect time."

 

He studied me for a moment.

 

"If it's that tough, why don't you find a job that pays more? With your looks, you have plenty of options."

 

"I need money urgently. If any place hires me quickly, I have to take it. I don't have the luxury to choose."

 

He scanned me from head to toe before speaking. "My workplace is hiring right now. Interested? The pay is definitely better than being a waiter."

 

"What kind of job?"

 

At this point, I finally noticed that he was well-dressed and handsome, too. Seeing my wary expression, he laughed. "It's an honest job—unless you choose to make it otherwise."

 

He took out a business card and handed it to me. I reached for it and widened my eyes when I saw the name of the place printed on it.

 

"It's a bar host." He said. "What's your name?"

 

"Wayu. And you?"

"Henry."

 

I glanced at him and joked, "Wow... even your name is handsome."

"Actually, my real name is Hong. Henry is just my work name."

 

"Hong sounds handsome, too."

 

"Taking two thousand baht and suddenly you're all sweet-talking me, huh? So, are you interested or not?"

 

"Very interested," I replied. Though I didn't fully understand the job, when you're cornered in life, you either take a leap of faith or give up.

 

"Then don't waste time. The sooner you go for the interview, the better your chances."

 

"Thank you, bro.

 

════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

With Hong's recommendation, I stepped into the neon-lit nightlife of Bangkok's Silom Road, a world of flashing lights, indulgence, and extravagance, vastly different from my own reality. That day, I nervously attended my interview. I happened to meet another applicant, a tall, muscular man with a sun-kissed complexion that made me feel inferior in comparison. 

 

The person interviewing us was Mr Fei, the manager. My heart pounded. I had never imagined myself taking this path. The interview wasn't just a conversation; it also assessed appearance, physique, charm, and the ability to attract customers.

 

When Mr Fei finally announced that I was hired, I was overjoyed—I could've jumped for joy. He explained the rules in detail: the job operated on a fifteen-day payment cycle, with wages paid a week after each cycle ended. I gathered my courage and asked the question that had been on my mind.

 

"I don't have to... be with customers, right?"

 

"You mean sexually?"

"Yes."

 

"We strictly prohibit any form of sex work inside the establishment. But if someone makes arrangements outside, that's their own business."

 

I walked out of there feeling hopeful. My income would come from customers ordering drinks for me. Here, each drink was priced at three hundred baht, and after commission deductions, I'd get around two hundred per drink. That was a high rate compared to the wages I had been earning before.

 

Thinking about it made my throat dry, so I stopped by a convenience store to grab a drink. That's when I ran into the guy who had applied for the job at the same time as me. He had finished his interview before me and had already left. When he saw me, he nodded and asked, "Did you get the job?"

 

"I did," I replied. "But I want to wrap up things with my current job first, so I'll start in a week. What about you?"

 

"I'm starting the day after tomorrow," he said, raising an eyebrow.

 

Later, I found out his name was Thai, from Khon Kaen. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but he exuded a rugged masculinity. He had only been in Bangkok for a week, solely for this job.

 

"I'm going to be the top host here," Thai declared with confidence. "Just wait and see."

 

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On my first day at work, everything felt new and exciting. I had been to bars with friends before, but it's not like this, especially now that my role has shifted from customer to server.

 

Luckily, there was Hong, who taught me some work tips during his free time. And then there was Thai, who acted like my mentor. Yes, Thai, a guy from Khon Kaen, started working five days before me. We hit it off. Maybe it was because we were both trying to break free from our current struggles and longed to change our circumstances.

 

My advantage was my appearance, so I paid extra attention to maintaining a good look and hairstyle, spritzing on a light fragrance, and wearing a clean white shirt and trousers to present a fresh and handsome image. Thai, on the other hand, had a great physique and preferred to show off his abs, adopting a runway model style.

 

The top PR guys here were Sky and Mr Richy. Not only were they handsome and charismatic, but they also had a refined demeanour, dressed impeccably, and used high-end items that turned heads wherever they went. In comparison, Hong was mid-tier but still quite popular. What I didn't expect was that my first customer would be a man. 

 

Hong had mentioned that dealing with male and female customers would be different, and I encountered this situation. The man caught me off guard when he suddenly grabbed my crotch. I was so startled that I let out a sound, but luckily it turned out funny because the customer knew it was my first day, and their table was a group out for fun and laughter. When Hong found out about this, he laughed and taught me how to avoid such situations and how to handle customers who wanted to take things further.

 

"If you don't want customers taking advantage of you, you need to reject them clearly but politely. If you're unsure, ask the sales team for help, or you'll get into trouble."

 

On my first day, I earned the equivalent of four drinks. But my biggest problem was that I couldn't bring myself to look customers in the eye—I always felt shy. I wanted to come across as approachable, but my body was stiff, my speech felt off, and even the words I said sounded strange to me.

 

After a week, I began to understand that being a male host at a bar was far from as easy and carefree as it seemed on the surface. It required attention to every tiny detail and extremely disciplined self-management. Especially under the influence of alcohol, even though not every drink offered by customers had to be consumed. 

 

Reaching the top and becoming an industry leader was even more challenging. It wasn't just about social skills; it was an art of understanding human nature: reading minds and responding precisely to every unspoken desire. These skills could only be truly grasped and mastered after countless encounters with reality's sharp edges.

 

At first, I had held some prejudice against this job, thinking it must be filled with sex, drugs, and wild indulgence. However, when I truly stepped into this bizarre world, I found that reality was far more complex than I had imagined. It was undeniable that those shadows existed, especially drugs-they were like dust in the air, seemingly within reach, even casually handed out in the corners of the bar like pieces of gum. Yet, I chose to keep my distance, doing my best to hold onto the last boundaries of my heart in this hazy nightscape.

 

What shocked me the most was that many customers didn't come solely for physical gratification. Yes, some did, but more people came here seeking a place to breathe, to discuss business, or to temporarily escape the pressures of reality. They wanted someone to listen, someone to care, and just that kind of companionship could make them briefly forget their loneliness. Our duty was to capture their needs with keen insight and delicate emotions, fulfilling those deep-seated desires. If you couldn't understand this, it would be hard to go far on this path.

 

When I look at Sky, Mr Richy, Hong, or others who could effortlessly win countless drink orders every night, I feel that they are good. They have something special that can conquer customers' hearts with clever words and warm smiles. Not everyone can do that.

 

Just as I was trying to adapt to this job, some unsettling ripples emerged at home. I found out that Mom liked to go to our aunt's house, two streets away, to play cards. I know that Mom doesn't have the money to play cards with them. What bothered me more was that she took little Singto with her.

 

"I just bring some cigarettes to sell and earn a little money to support my grandson," mom explained, leaving me feeling helpless.

 

"But Singto is so young. Is it really okay to take him to such a smoke-filled place?" I tried to persuade her.

 

"What else am I supposed to do? Stay home all day with just Singto? Do you think I'm not lonely? Why don't you try taking care of a child all day?" Mom raised her voice. Whenever she started using rough language, it meant she was ready to escalate things into a full-blown argument.

 

Her retort made me think deeply. I realised that, as a participant in nightlife, my schedule was opposite to my mom's. When she was awake, I was asleep; when I left for work, she and Singto were getting ready for bed. In this fragmented time, her loneliness seemed inevitable. My dad's indifference, my busy schedule, and her narrow social circle all forced her to seek another way to dispel her solitude. Thinking of this, my tone softened unconsciously.

 

"Mom, how about this? If you really want to stop by and sell cigarettes at the card game, can you do it only on my days off? Leave Singto at home with me first. But on the days I have to work outside, please don't take him there." Seeing my softened attitude, Mom also seemed to soften up.

 

"Oh, I know," Mom snorted.

 

I can only rely on my nephew for encouragement to keep fighting for a better quality of life.

 

════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

Working in a host bar has both bright and dark sides. I stay on the bright side or at least somewhere in between, leaning toward the light as much as possible. I avoid getting involved with drugs or gambling in any form. I don't undermine anyone, step on anyone's toes, or cause conflicts at work. My focus is on improving myself and doing the best I can in this job.

 

Tonight, I was assigned to accompany three male guests at a table, one of whom was none other than the bar's frequent patron, the renowned producer, Mr Oat. He would always call the top PR guys, like Sky or Richy, to take care of him. Today, he brought along two colleagues, both men who are co-workers in his new project: Mr Chain and Mr Tai.

 

"Isn't Mr Oat a regular customer of Sky?' I whispered to another host who was chosen along with me.

 

"Yeah, but Sky has been booked for drinks all night."

 

I nodded in understanding. This happened to Sky often— customers would book him for drinks, keeping him at their table until the bar closed. As a result, he wouldn't be making rounds like the others. At most, he would briefly greet a few customers before returning to his designated table.

 

Since Sky had already been booked and Richy was on leave, it fell to me and another bar host to serve Mr Oat. After sitting for a while, Sky came to greet Mr Oat at the table.

 

Let me tell you, Sky's skills are on another level. His tone of voice and the way he speaks are truly masterful. He knows how to be affectionate without seeming overly clingy, making it feel like he genuinely cares about the customer. Before leaving the table, Sky discreetly told me,

 

"Mr Oat is an important customer of mine. Take care of him for me tonight, okay?"

So, I tried to relax and do my best to take care of him. I wanted Mr Oat to be satisfied and not feel like I was too far below Sky's level—so much so that he'd regret calling me to sit with him tonight. Luckily, Mr Oat was generous and not the type of customer to make things uncomfortable. That made my work tonight smooth and even enjoyable. 

 

Mr Shane was reserved, while Mr Tai had hands so quick that even an octopus would be impressed. Fortunately, the host sitting next to him was an experienced pro, sometimes dodging, playing along, turning it all into lighthearted fun.

 

That night, I went home feeling more encouraged than when I had left. I wanted to give myself a little praise—I did great. And I hoped that everything in my life would keep moving toward better days.

 

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Two days later, when I went to work as usual, I heard that Hong had been hospitalised. Thai was the one who told me.

 

"What happened to Hong?" I asked, both worried and shocked.

"His appendix burst. He was taken to the hospital in the evening."

 

"Is it serious?"

 

"I don't know, but I don't think it'll be too bad. He's in the hands of doctors now-they should be able to help."

 

I had no idea how dangerous an appendectomy was or how long it would take to recover. But Thai and I talked about visiting Hong together once he was well enough to receive visitors.

 

That night, however, when I finished work and got home at 4 a.m., I saw that the house lights were still on. When I opened the door and stepped inside, I found my mom sitting on the living room floor. The place was a mess—things were scattered everywhere, chairs overturned. One side of her forehead was swollen, with a small cut that was bleeding slightly.

 

"Mom! What happened? Who did this to you?"

 

"Wayu!" Mom was frantic, her hair dishevelled, her voice trembling. "Take your nephew and get out of here now! Those people... they threatened to sell Singto as a beggar!"

 

"What?! Who are these people?"

My hands went ice-cold as I listened to the truth from mom's own mouth. She cried as she spoke, confessing that she had taken out a loan from an underground lender—part of it to cover expenses, but the rest... she had gambled away in a card game.

 

"How much do you owe them?"

 

"I borrowed twenty-five thousand... but with interest, it's now... seventy thousand baht."

 

"Seventy thousand?!" My knees nearly gave out.

 

"They said they'll be back in three days. They told me to have the money ready... or else something will happen to my grandson."

 

I sank to the floor, still in shock over what I had just heard. Mom was crying as she tried to pack Singto's clothes into a bag, insisting I take him away to safety. But where the hell was I supposed to find seventy thousand baht in just three days? Even if I had a whole month, I wouldn't be able to come up with that kind of money. I had only been working for less than two weeks. I hadn't even received my first paycheck yet. 

 

Why does my life keep throwing this kind of shit at me? Just when I think things are about to get better, they crash and burn all over again. It's like one fucked-up thing after another keeps coming at me without end. Did I kill someone in my past life? Is that why I'm paying for it this badly now?

 

But you know what? Even in a situation like this, I was still trying to find a way out—no matter how narrow or hopeless it seemed. I told my mom, "Mom, I'm not taking Singto and running while leaving you here to face them alone."

 

"Why, Wayu? If I run away too, they'll kill us for sure! They even know where your dad works. Our whole family will be in danger!"

 

"We're already in danger," I said, looking directly at her.

 

My tears spilt down my cheeks, anger, sorrow, disappointment all mixed. "Tomorrow, I'll go to work and figure out a way to get the money."

 

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The next day, as soon as I arrived at the bar, I went straight to Mr Fei, the manager. But my hopes were immediately crushed when he told me that the bar had a strict policy against salary advances or employee loans under any circumstances. It was the same thing he had said to me on the very first day I applied for the job.

 

"Wayu, you know the rules. No salary advances, and no lending money." His tone left no room for negotiation.

 

In the end, I had no idea who to turn to. I had only been working here for a few days, and the people at the bar didn't know me well enough to trust me with a loan, except for Thai.

 

"My wife has a gold ring weighing one salung. I'll borrow it and sell it for you first," he said. I looked at Thai, so moved that I couldn't speak. He wanted to help me even though he had nothing himself. But a single salung of gold wouldn't make much of a difference.

 

"Let me think about it first. You get ready to work the tables. I'll join you later," I told him.

 

After Thai left, I went to sit alone in a corner, trying to figure out what to do next. So this is what it feels like to be completely trapped. I buried my face in my hands, feeling like I was about to cry. But then, I heard someone speak.

 

"Wayu, what's wrong? Why are you sitting here alone?" I looked up. The "high and mighty" Sky was frowning at me in confusion.

 

To my surprise, this "star" of the bar-someone I thought a newcomer like me could never reach a helping hand when I was at my lowest.

 

"Would you take an outside gig?" Sky asked after hearing about my predicament.

His question stunned me, but I didn't dare refuse this only chance. Sky continued, "Remember, Mr Shane? The guy who came with Mr Oat the other day?"

 

"I remember."

 

"Well, he was interested in you that night. But the sales staff told him, "You don't take private bookings," so he didn't push further. Mr Shane likes fresh-faced, college-boy types, the natural, innocent, and inexperienced look."

 

I swallowed hard. "I've never taken an outside gig like that. You know, I've only been a bar host for less than two weeks, as you can see-I..."

 

"Why overthink it? Everyone else does it. Some hosts even enjoy deals like this, especially when it's with attractive customers. Or is it that you're uncomfortable because Mr Shane is a man?"

 

"No, that's not the reason." In truth, I wasn't comfortable doing this with customers of any gender.

 

"Sky, can you talk to him for me first?"

 

"Wait here." Sky raised his hand and stepped away to talk in a quieter spot. After a while, he returned to me.

 

"I told him that you're really new to this and have never taken a job like this before. So, Mr Shane is offering thirty thousand baht for a party at a hotel and, well... you know. It starts at 7 p.m. and ends no later than 2 a.m."

 

"Thirty thousand?" My eyes widened at the number, my heartbeat quickening. 

 

"What do I have to do? But I won't touch drugs—no meth, no substances like that. I won't go near any of it."

 

"He won't force you into that. But he did say there will be props involved."

 

"What kind of props?"

"Like leather outfits, cat ears, skirts, high heels... role-playing stuff."

 

"Role-playing? You mean... I have to wear those, or he does?"

"Does it matter?"

 

"Uh... actually... actually, it doesn't."

"Deal or not? I need to give him an answer."

 

I pressed my lips tightly together, my mind in turmoil, unsure how to handle this. The wave of problems hitting me was overwhelming, making me feel more foolish and impulsive than usual. In the end, I made up my mind and answered.

 

"Alright. But... can you negotiate it up to thirty-five thousand baht? Please try."

 

I clenched my fists. Desperation had stripped away my clarity and rationality. If everything went as planned, I could at least pay off half the debt collectors' demands. That might buy my mom some time. As for the remaining amount, I would work hard to earn it. Sky spoke to Mr Shane for just a moment before turning back to me.

 

"Mr Shane agreed. I gave him your contact information, but don't let anyone else know about this. Make sure to keep it confidential for the customer. If you weren't truly desperate, I wouldn't have helped you."

 

I nodded. I didn't want anyone to know either. I didn't even want to do this. After Sky left, I went to the restroom, splashed water on my face, and prepared for my shift that night.

 

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes were dull and lifeless, as if I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I was about to go from a mere host to someone selling his body. I had never imagined I would end up like this, that I would sell myself... for money.

 

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Eventually, this moment arrived. My heart pounded violently as I walked down the hallway on the fourth floor of the hotel, heading toward the location Mr Shane had designated. I glanced at the time on my phone, silently wishing it could freeze in this instant, but I knew that was impossible. It's okay, Wayu. Just this once. You'll never do it again.

 

From yesterday until now, I have repeated this phrase to myself. As I reached the door of Room 1414, I took a deep breath, trying to suppress all the fear, moral conflict, and emotions that might make me turn and flee. Then, I raised my hand and knocked on the door. Mr Shane was the one who opened it.

 

"Hello, Mr Shane," I greeted him.

 

"Wayu, you're right on time." He smiled and greeted me with a calm tone, but his gaze was filled with an expectant desire, like someone who knew happiness was just within reach.

 

Suppressing my nervousness, I stepped inside. The room had a large sofa in the centre, next to a glass wall overlooking the city's night skyline and the starry sky. My gaze shifted to a side door-one that led to the bedroom. My heart beat even faster, knowing that soon, I would step through that door and be with him. Mr Shane embraced me from behind, his face pressing against my neck as he kissed me.

 

"You smell nice. Did you just shower?"

"Yes," I replied.

 

"Then have a seat and wait for me. I'll take a quick shower. You can have some beer to relax."

 

I walked over and sat on the sofa. He turned on the TV with the remote, gave me another kiss on the cheek, and then headed toward the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

 

Soon, I heard the sound of running water from the shower. Trying to ease my nerves, I opened a bottle of beer and took a sip, staring at the screen without actually processing what was playing. After a while, I heard what sounded like a phone ringing. Mr Shane's phone was sitting in the corner of the sofa.

 

I didn't touch it, letting it ring until it stopped on its own. But then it rang again. By the fourth time, I finally decided to get up and check if he had finished showering. That was when my eyes landed on an open suitcase at the foot of the bed.

 

What I saw inside was not black leather outfits or high heels as I had expected.

There were many items—sex toys, handcuffs, ropes, a gag with a strap, oversized dildos, that kind of thing, that, if inserted, would tear a person apart with pain. And there wasn't just one.

 

Goosebumps covered my entire body. Then I saw a small knife, along with even more things I couldn't begin to comprehend. No way... Were these things meant to be used on me? Before I could think further, Mr Shane stepped out of the bathroom. I immediately confronted him. "What's with all this stuff? Why did you bring these?"

 

He walked toward me slowly, lazily wrapping his arms around me before whispering in my ear, "These are specially prepared for you, Wayu. Just tell me which one you want to try first. Sky said that Wayu doesn't usually use these things, but you are willing to try." I shoved him away.

 

"No! That's not what I agreed to! Sky told me you would only use things like leather outfits, cat ears, and blindfolds!"

 

"Who would pay thirty-five thousand baht just to play with cat ears?!" Mr Shane's voice rose, clearly unhappy with my reaction. At that moment, there was a knock at the door. I turned quickly. "Who is that? Did you order room service?"

 

I was startled when Mr Shane grabbed my arm and said, "The other guy, like we agreed on, three people. You can use any toys, just make sure there are no marks outside of the covered areas. I've already laid out the conditions. Sky said you agreed."

 

His gaze sent chills down my spine. My eyes darted back to the items in the suitcase, and a suffocating fear enveloped me. No. I couldn't do this. Being with two men, mixed with all these bizarre props—I absolutely couldn't accept it!

 

The knocking continued, followed by someone calling Mr Shane's name. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest. If that person outside came in, I would be plunged into a living nightmare tonight!

 

In an instant, I made up my mind. I wrenched my arm free and sprinted toward the door, determined to escape before the person outside could grab me.

 

"Hey! Are you really gonna cheat me this easily?" He chased after me and caught hold of me. I struggled with all my strength, crashing against the wall in the process. A framed picture fell from the wall, shattering on the ground. He tried to pin me down, but I fought back desperately. We both tumbled to the floor. Panicked beyond reason, I gathered every ounce of strength and kicked him hard. He fell backwards, his head slamming into the glass coffee table beside the sofa.

 

"You little!" He roared in anger. I turned to look and saw him clutching his face. His forehead and brow bone had split open. Blood streamed down one side of his face, covering half of it.

 

Right now, Mr Shane looks terrifying. He stands up and glares at me with a furious expression. I scramble to my feet as fast as I can. That bastard is bigger than me. If he grabs me again, I'll be the one who gets hurt more!

 

"Help!" I run toward the door, shouting at the top of my lungs so that the people in the neighbouring rooms and anyone outside can hear me. "Somebody help me!"

 

I'm almost at the door when my collar is yanked back, throwing me off balance. That pulls us into another struggle. He's stronger, but I fight back, aiming my punches at the spot where he's already injured. I don't think about whether it'll make him even angrier—until the moment that vase comes smashing down onto my head.