17.
“Back to the grind, huh?” Thalia says before taking a bite of bagel.
“These guys have gotta get them some goblin girls, and I gotta give ‘em,” I say. “Gobs and gobs of ‘em.”
“I’m on volume five already,” she announces proudly.
“Five, really? Wow. It was such a small, tight-knit harem then. The whole group felt much more manageable. By volume sixteen the goblin girls are sleeping in barracks and have had to introduce parliamentary procedures just to adjudicate disputes over Jason’s breeding time.
Poor guy’s dick is raw and stained the color of lawnmower clippings morning and night. ”
“Does it work?”
“His dick? Sure, it wouldn’t be much of a fantasy otherwise.”
“No, I mean the parliamentary procedures.”
“Oh, well, you know democratic norms are a fragile thing in the hands of goblin girls,” I say. “They’re still semi-feral so some disputes are still resolved in the old way—with naked wrestling and some occasional biting.”
“Yeesh. Can you ever have too many goblin girls?”
“That’s a question that wise men have been asking for ages,” I say. “How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?”
“How many goblin girls can dance on the head of Jason’s cock?” Thalia answers.
“Exactly,” I say, deadpan. “It’s unknowable. It’s not about getting a definitive answer. The pursuit of truth is the point.”
She laughs, exposing the half-chewed bagel still on her tongue. She laughs so hard she starts to cough.
“Easy there,” I say. “Wouldn’t want you to choke.”
She swallows.
“You sure about that?” she asks.
“Come again?”
“If there was something of yours that was so big that it caused me to choke on it, would you like that?”
“Oh, now I get it,” I say.
“Well? Want to?”
“Sure,” I say.
When I don’t do anything right away, she tilts her head slightly, like she’s waiting for me to take it out.
“Here? Now? At the breakfast table?”
“You’re going to make me wait? That’s not very nice. I want your cock when I want it. And I don’t see any other green-skinned girls I have to wrestle to get my turn with you.”
Well, I don’t have to tell you how hard that gets me.
It’s not just how good her tongue feels as it licks the underside of my shaft, although that’s excellent.
What really gets me is that eager, hungry look in her eyes as she bends to her knees on the floor in front of me—the fact that she just can’t wait and needs me in her mouth the second she wants it.
This is someone I never want to be without, not ever again.
I finish fast, she wipes her mouth with the same napkin I used to wipe away the cream cheese, we resume breakfast as if nothing happened. Well, not as if nothing had happened. I can’t stop smiling. That’s different.
When we’re done, I collect the plates—because what kind of a man makes a woman take care of the dishes right after she just blew him without even being asked?
—then I head back to work and get the rest of my words in.
It’s always easier to write haremlit with a little real-world inspiration. Good, I love my life.
It’s just after three when I reach a stopping point for the day.
My pool has turned green while we were gone.
This happens fast in the tropics. There’s algae, airborne spores, whatever is floating around out there just waiting for you to leave your pool alone for a few days.
I drag out the testing kit and the chemicals from the utility cupboard under the stairs and spend an hour doing what I should have done before we left.
Test the pH, add the chlorine, brush the walls down with the pole brush, skim the surface.
It’s meditative in its way. Thalia reads on her Kindle in the deck chair the whole time, occasionally looking up to check on my progress.
Then once I’m done, we take a ride down to Patong to the school that Meena told us about.
Thalia steps off the back of the bike and unhooks her helmet, craning her neck to read the sign above the entrance.
“Im Smart Language School?” she reads. “Shouldn’t there be an apostrophe?”
“They’re here to teach you Thai, not English,” I say. “You have to be a little forgiving.”
We take off our shoes and some lovely young ladies at the front desk attend to us.
“Sawadee ka,” Thalia says, showing off the Thai she learned from Meena on our trip.
The ladies at the reception desk are charmed.
They lay out the whole process and what it involves.
The $1,600 is all-inclusive. They’ll take care of the visa paperwork and smooth things over with the immigration authorities. Approval guaranteed 100%.
I get the sense that it’s kind of a grey business since the one-year visa is definitely the point and there are no questions asked about Thalia’s educational background or what she plans to do with her Thai language skills.
Also, and this is something they make clear to me after I press them about it, she can still keep the visa even if she doesn’t go to class at all.
But they really do offer online classes twice a week.
In the lobby there’s a family with a little girl playing with blocks on the floor, sorting them by color with the focused seriousness of a toddler who has decided this is important work.
It gives me a good feeling. It signals to me that the school may be a sham but it’s not a scam, and that hominess makes all the difference.
We’re told that Thalia will still have to leave the country and come back in on a fresh tourist visa.
“That’s great,” she says. “I’ve already got my return ticket lined up, so I only need to pay for a one-way ticket to come back.”
I’m a little disappointed, but I’m a grown-up who understands that he can’t always have things his way.
I’ll survive a few days or a week without her, especially knowing I’m going to have her to myself for a whole year very soon.
Still. I think about what happened in the kitchen this morning and don’t know how I’m going to last. First I lose girlfriend #2, now I’m going to lose #1?
Thalia has a serious expression as she hands over her debit card. It’s a big purchase, a serious commitment.
“Hold on,” I say, reaching for my wallet. “Let me pay for that.”
“No, I’m getting it myself,” she says firmly.
“Come on,” I say. “You’re fresh out of school. You don’t have a job yet. And you wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t met me.”
“It’s my savings, a year of my life,” she says. “I’m making the choice to stay here, and I want to pay for it myself.”
“Let me help you,” I tell her.
“You are helping me,” she says. “You’re giving me a place to stay for free and all the lovin’ I could ask for. That’s enough. Let me do this on my own.”
I guess we’re past the point of pretending that Thalia isn’t living with me and that it isn’t a permanent situation. I see her point. I need to respect the fact that she’s asserting herself as an adult. Reluctantly, I put my wallet back in my pocket.
“Alright, but let me book your plane ticket for you,” I say. “That’s a fair compromise.”
“Fine,” she says, as if I’ve had to twist her arm.
The ladies run the card and Thalia signs the slip.
Just like that, we’ve bought a whole year together.
The staff make a photocopy of her passport and give her the textbooks she’ll need for class.
Two slim volumes with illustrated Thai characters on the covers, the kind of thing you might find in a children’s section. She can start as soon as she returns.
Before we leave, Thalia points out the error in the school’s name. The women nod and smile, like they’ve heard it before and have no intention of doing anything about it. That’s Thailand.