Succubus Terminal

The Vietnamese couldn’t make it, but Siri certainly wasn’t left alone. Before going to sleep, he lay back on his thin mattress and took the white amulet from its pouch. He looked at the worn characters that had been rubbed for luck so many times, he wondered if there could be any left in it.

He wondered how the monk here at his local temple could know who he was. He wondered whether the Phibob had forgiven him, or given him a thought since Khamuan. And with all that wonder in his mind, he fell asleep.

It could have been minutes later, possibly hours, when he opened his eyes to see the oil lamp still burning beside him. He was annoyed that he hadn’t put it out. Lamp oil was still available on coupons at the hospital co-op, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Soon he’d have to use cooking oil and stink the place up.

He pulled back the mosquito net and lifted the glass bowl. But before he blew out the light, he had an odd feeling that his room was different. He looked slowly from wall to wall. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He puffed at the little flame and the room fell into moonless blackness.

He looked around at the darkness one more time, then retreated under the mesh tent. He lay his head on the small pillow. Still the feeling lingered. Then suddenly it came to him. It wasn’t a difference you could see; it was a smell. The scent of cheap perfume pervaded his room, and was becoming more potent.

The moon fought free of its cloud for a second and sent a glow through the window. At the very same moment, a tiny sigh like the breath of some small animal puffed past his left ear. He turned his head in surprise and, to his amazement, there was the sleeping face of Mai beside his own.

He retreated as far as the mesh allowed and held his breath. She lay breathing almost silently as she slept, a smile on her young face. Her perfect naked body stretched downward on the mattress beside him. Before the moonlight left them again, he noticed the deep slits at her wrists, the blood congealed and glinting red.

Then it was black again. He focussed on her breathing. Not seeing her, but knowing she lay there, was even more erotic. He knew how inappropriate his feelings were, and wondered if this were penance for his immoral thoughts earlier in the day.

He had no idea what to do. Should he wake her? What was she doing sleeping here? If she’d come to him, presumably she had something to say. So why didn’t she say it? Perhaps the journey had tired her out. So he lay, shuddering with agitation, while she slept in peace.

Perhaps this was the message. Was she telling him she could be at peace now? Did she want to thank him for…?

There was a knock at the door, a tap as if someone were trying not to wake the neighbors. Siri jumped, like an unfaithful husband caught in the embrace of his naked lover, his naked, dead lover. He cursed whoever it was. All the ridiculous thoughts of half-sleep ran through his head as he prepared to answer the door: how could he hide her? what excuses could he give?

Then a man’s voice, a whispered shout, called out: “Mai, Mai, it’s me.”

Damn. This was part of it. It was all part of the show. Psychics, he decided, would never have need of other entertainment. She stirred beside him. Her perfume floated over him when she moved. Then he heard her drowsy voice.

“I’m sleeping. What time is it?”

“Three. I just got back.”

She sighed again, this time with pleasure. “Go away.”

Siri lay back spellbound, like an audience listening to a radio melodrama.

“Nah, don’t be like that. I’ve got something for you.”

Siri heard her pull back the net and pad barefoot across the floor toward the door. “Does it have four wheels?” she giggled.

“Better than that. Don’t be cruel. Let me in. I’m dying for you.”

“What could be better than a car?”

“Didn’t you ask me to bring you something from Viengsai?”

She squealed. “Rubies? You didn’t! Did you bring me rubies?”

There was the sound of a latch hurriedly shifting. As the door opened, a dim light bathed her. She stood naked in the doorway, magnificently unashamed. The suitor remained hidden in the hall. She giggled again and reached out to him. But the strong left hand of a man grasped her wrist and yanked her outside. The door closed behind her, and darkness returned.

Siri, still breathing heavily, still shaking, scrambled from his bed and hurried to the door. He could hear the muffled sound of a woman choking beyond it. He found the handle and pulled it, but the door wouldn’t open. It was held fast by a large steel padlock.

At six, Siri woke confused. He lay still for some time before a crustiness at his groin brought all the memories of the night back to him. Slightly ashamed, he went down to the bathroom and sluiced himself with cool water. It was fifty-six years since such a thing had last happened to him, and he didn’t feel any less guilty this time.

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