The Odalisque

Mongkhut drove them to the gleaming skyscraper Honor had seen on the television, smoothly guiding the car into an underground garage, away from the small crowd of business reporters at the building's front entrance. Marq had kissed her lips, and then casually unbuttoned her shirt to kiss her breasts, his lips meeting each eagerly puckering nipple. Then he opened the door, grabbed his briefcase and left while she quickly tried to cover herself.

She found herself smiling as she buttoned up the shirt, amused despite herself... and very grateful for the tinted windows and thankfully raised divider between the rear and front cabin.

Ten minutes later, they were outside Blue Dragon Guides' main office building, and a widely smiling Chailai in a crop top and jeans was slipping into the car.

"You stayed!" she squealed, reaching out to hug her.

Honor hugged her back. "I realized I hadn't seen enough of Bangkok."

Chailai gave her a naughty grin. "Or Marq?"

Honor slapped her on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Chailai laughed. "Okay, I'll keep my mouth shut."

Honor sniffed in response. Inwardly, she chastised herself, her 'playful' slap had just that tiny bit more force than the other woman deserved, no matter how close to the truth she had come. Thankfully, Chailai didn't seem to think anything was awry, and if she noticed that Honor was once again braless, she made no sign of it. It also helped that Marq's cum had dried on her belly so her top was no longer sticking awkwardly to her skin.

"So where are we going?" Honor asked.

"Wat Traimit, the Loha Prasat and the Wat Saket," Chailai answered, "... and a few other places."

Honor smiled. "Sounds great."

________________________

Located in Chinatown, the five story Wat Traimit was also known as the Temple of the Golden Buddha - the Golden Buddha in question being an eight hundred year old five and half ton behemoth, nearly five meters tall, the world's largest solid gold statue. Chailai recounted how ancient Buddhist artisans covered up their creations in pieces of colored glass, plaster and clay to prevent them being carted away by marauding invaders, and the fateful day in 1955 when a large and mysteriously heavy clay statue of the Buddha was accidentally dropped while it was being moved. The workers were stunned to find, instead of more dull clay under the cracked plaster, the bright gleam of gold.

The rest of the plaster was quickly removed to reveal a massive statue in the Sukhothai style, along with a key that allowed it to be disassembled into nine separate pieces and transported for reassembly. To great fanfare, it was cleaned, polished and installed in its home at the Wat Traimit. After being covered up for two hundred years, hidden in plain sight for decades, the Golden Buddha - Phra Phuttha Maha Suwan Patimakon - was finally on display for all to see.

Honor had been all too conscious of her shamelessly pointing nipples and the telltale movement of her unhindered breasts under her top as they made their way through the temple grounds, but that had fallen by the wayside as soon her eyes fell on the Golden Buddha, and she had taken pictures from multiple angles - including some with the original pieces of plaster that had so faithfully protected the statue for its two centuries in hiding. She was nearly as awed by the painstakingly handpainted Wat Traimit itself, made with so much gold detailing that it was difficult to look at in the sunshine.

From the temple, Chailai next led her on a stroll through the Thai capital's infamous bustling Chinatown. The riot of color made by the hundreds of signs of all sizes hanging over the streets was unlike any Honor had ever seen. Commerce was brisk and loud, the streets lined with market stalls selling everything from electronics to antiques, countless streetside restaurants and an impressive array of gold shops.

"You need to come here at night," Chailai told her as they left a stall with large skewers of satay covered chicken and roasted crisp vegetables. "That's when the food sellers 'really' come out."

"They're not out now?" Honor asked incredulously, looking around.

Chailai laughed. "Come here at night and see for yourself."

It was only a few minutes from Chinatown to the Wat Ratchanaddaram - the Temple of the Royal Niece - home of the Loha Prasat, also known as the Metal Castle. Again, Honor found herself transfixed as Chailai explained the significance of the temple's thirty seven spires - representing the thirty-seven virtues that lead toward enlightenment, its unique concentric square architecture, and its status as the last of its kind as quarters for Buddhist monks. Honor found the surrounding Wat Ratchanaddaram itself - built on the orders of King Nangklao for the princess granddaughter - just as impressive, and she took numerous pictures of the temple's murals, including it's breathtaking ordination hall - the 'ubosoth' - and the majestic seated statue of King Nangklao - also known as Rama III - himself. The temple also hosted another statue - Phra Buddha Setthatamamunee - its own golden seated Buddha, and Honor had let out an involuntary squeal of excitement when she saw it, much to Chailai's amusement.

They left the Wat Ratchanaddram and a quick walk around the fort brought them to the Wat Saket - also known as the Golden Mount - so named for the temple's massive and iconic fifty-eight meter tall golden 'chedi', said to hold a relic of Buddha himself, brought from Sri Lanka in the Nineteenth Century. The massive golden reliquary tower was actually built on the ruins of the first attempt to build one by Rama III, Chailai informed Honor, and was completed by his son and grandson decades later. Both women mutually decided not to climb the three hundred steps to get to the top of the Golden Mount, but Honor was more than happy to see and take pictures of the temple's Viharn, Mondop and Ubosoth.

Mongkhut was there to pick them up at the gate of the temple and Honor was more than glad to be off her feet as she sat back in her seat beside Chailai.

"Where next?" she asked though, rubbing her heel.

"Siam Square."

"What are we doing there?" Honor asked, knowing it was the main shopping and entertainment center of the Thai capital.

"Marq made the arrangements," Chailai said mysteriously. "And he said it should be a surprise."

Honor frowned as her mind ran through the possibilities of what Marq Haydn would consider a surprise. Once again aware that she was without a bra and panties, she was convinced it would involve her getting naked at some point. She felt her nipples tighten, warmth invading her abdomen even as she gave Chailai her most commanding look, voice firm; "Chailai, where are we going?"

But the other woman only laughed. "I promised Marq I wouldn't say. Besides, I think you're going to love it."

Which certainly did not mean that she would not find herself naked in short order. But sensible, disciplined Honor Banet was not used to being so out of control of her own immediate destiny, so she continued to glare.

And Chailai quite happily pretended not to notice as Mongkhut drove them to their destination.

________________________

Honor wiped a tendril of sweat off her forehead as she went to her knees on the tiled floor, peering through the thick plate of heat-resistant glass.

Mongkhut had gotten them to Siam Square from the Wat Saket with his characteristic efficiency, and Chailai had led her into the glass fronted building at a fast walk, heading directly for the elevator bank. The smell had been the first thing Honor had noticed, and it only got much stronger after the elevator doors chimed open on the second floor. The hall they entered afterward was the second tell-tale clue... a very obvious one.

The large room was lined with rows of marble topped cooking stations, each marble counter boasting a sink, cutting surfaces and a quartet of round burners and control knobs. Just as familiar was the loud whirring of running extractors and the hum from the long silver line of refrigerators on one side on the hall.

"Ah!" said a French-accented voice. "Our last students!"

Honor's mouth dropped open for an awkward moment before she recovered herself.

The tall and somewhat portly Frenchman was standing together with a shorter Thai man, facing a dozen aproned people at their cooking stations.

The Thai man, his face strangely familiar, beamed at her. "Hello, Miss...?"

"Banet," Honor said. "Honor Banet."

He nodded and looked expectantly at Chailai.

"Chailai Kunakorn."

"Well, Miss Banet and Miss Kunakorn," the Frenchman, six time Michelin Star awardee Phillippe Dufour gestured at two unoccupied counters in the first row, "there are your stations with your aprons. Hurry up so we can begin."

Honor was excited enough to run, but her lack of a bra forced her to reduce her speed to a careful, albeit quick, walk to the indicated counter, Chalai at her heels.

"Hello again, everyone." The Thai man had a British accent. "For the benefit of our new arrivals, I will introduce myself again. My name is Somsak Kurusarttra."

The name made her look up in surprise as she tied on her apron, suddenly realizing why his face was so familiar. His picture, absent the mustache and twenty years was among the few dozen pictures of honored alumni, along with that of Phillippe Dufour, hanging on the walls she had seen every day on her way to her classes in Bordeaux. Every student for the last twenty years at L'Ecole Des Arts Culinaires had heard his name, usually spoken in tones of hushed awe.

Somsak Kurusarttra had been the best student in his class from the moment he set foot on campus, and easily the best in the entire school by his second year. He had then worked in three successive restaurants in three different European cities, and earned a Michelin star for two of them before suddenly packing up and returning to his native Thailand.

"I am the Director of the Culinary Institute of Siam," Somsak continued, gesturing at the stylized logo incorporating what appeared to be a coconut, lemongrass stalks and chilli peppers etched on the walls around them. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to this special one-day master class."

Everyone clapped, including Honor.

Somsak nodded, smiling widely. "The man to my right needs no introduction in our line of work. He has just won his sixth Michelin star, and it is our honor to have him here once again. I am sure you all know my very good friend, Monsieur Phillippe Dufour."

Everyone clapped again as Phillippe Dufour stepped forward and nodded his head.

Somsak opened his mouth to continue but Phillippe spoke up. "What Somsak is not telling you is that we, the two of us, were in the same class in Bordeaux so many years ago. And he is so much better than me. In fact, he was the best in the entire school!"

More clapping ensued, the students suitably impressed. Somsak smiled and bobbed his head, pleased but clearly bashful at the attention.

"Anyway," he continued, "before I was rudely interrupted..."

"Am I not French?" Phillippe interrupted again.

Somsak indulgently waited for the laughter to die down before he continued. "This is a baker's master class, and it is about creating a fusion of Thai and French techniques, flavors and textures. Both sweet and savoury." He looked around the class. "To achieve true excellence in our career, in my experience, means that one must always be learning. I can honestly say that I personally have learned something new in every class we have had here."

Phillippe nodded enthusiastically in agreement. "Oui! Likewise."

"So," Somsak had continued, "please share any special tips and tricks you've learned over the years with all of us here as we go on." He grinned and brought his hands together. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, let us begin!"

Three hours and forty three minutes later, she was kneeling in front of an oven and excitedly watching something bake, hands in a pair of oven mitts.

"How is it looking?" Chailai asked from her station. Honor had been surprised and gratified to discover that Chailai was a fairly accomplished home baker.

"Another minute," Honor answered, calculating as she watched the browning edges of her creation swell and puff up against the edge of the baking dish. But it was closer to a minute and a half before she opened the oven door to extract the dish, running a critical eye over it before placing it on the counter. Then she took off the oven mitts and went to work with a square of kitchen towel to clean it up.

When she looked up, Phillippe Dufour was standing in front of her. "Ahh..." He leaned forward to examine it visually and then took a careful sniff. "C'est bon, Mademoiselle Banet - it looks and smells very good."

"Merci, Monsieur Dufour," Honor responded, smiling back at him.

"Much like its maker." He leaned forward and took another sniff, his nose pointed as much at the swells of her breasts as on her creation, his eyes very clearly on her lips. "I wonder if it tastes as good as it looks?"

The French chef had wasted no time in proving that his philandering reputation was well earned. Quite apart from being thankful that the apron hid her lack of a bra, Honor had found herself amused by his rather blatant expressions of interest, and she had already fended off two invitations to meet with him after class. She would have been more flattered if she hadn't seen him proposition Chailai and another woman in the class soon afterward and in quick succession. At the same time, he had been unhesitating in offering advice and sharing his knowledge with every student as he circled through the class to see what they were doing, teaching them together with the much more introverted Somsak.

She decided to play along with his entendre. "Would you like to find out?"

His eyes glinted as he straightened up. "Very much."

She handed him a fork, "Here you go."

He chuckled, returning to English as he accepted the fork. "Ah... as the Americans say, yet again, I have been shot down!"

She laughed as Kurusarttra ambled over to stand beside Dufour.

The Thai chef leaned forward, examining with both eyes and nose. "That is a beautiful looking flaugnarde, Miss Banet."

Honor beamed at him, "Thank you."

"Mango, peach and..." Somsak sniffed again.

"... Peanuts?" Phillippe deduced.

"Satay." Honor confirmed.

Somsak's eyebrows went up. "With chilli?"

Honor nodded, nervous suddenly. "I put it in the satay."

Phillippe laughed delightedly. "Now that has got me curious, Miss Banet. I believe I will now have a taste of your flaugnarde."

"I am likewise very curious to taste it, Miss Banet," Somsak said.

Dufour cut into the flaugnarde with his fork as Honor gave another to Somsak, who cut a piece out with the same casual precision. Both chefs placed the slices of pastry into their mouths and chewed with comically similar considering expressions. As if on cue, both swallowed and turned to look at each other for a moment before turning back to her.

Somsak Kurusarttra favored her with a wide smile. "Very, very good, Ms. Banet."

Phillippe Dufour's appreciative smile was even more meaningful for its lack of any flirtation. "Magnifique. You are remarkably talented, Mademoiselle."

Honor was forced to concede that Chailai had been right - she did love Marq's 'surprise'.

________________________

The sun had just begun its descent when they exited the fragrant premises of the Culinary Institute of Siam.

Immediately, Chailai brought out her cellphone and made a call. She spoke to Mongkhut in rapid Thai for a few seconds before she turned to Honor, keeping him on the line. "Mongkhut says the fastest way to get to the car is for us to walk through and meet him on the other side. Or we could wait back inside for him to drive around and pick us up..."

Siam Square was bustling with shoppers, tourists and students from the nearby Chulalongkorn University. Honor shook her head, wanting to see more. "Let's walk."

Chailai nodded in agreement, and informed Mongkhut of their decision before hanging up.

Despite the name, Siam Square was not a 'square' in any meaningful sense but a network of short streets hosting hundreds of restaurants, cafes, clothing boutiques, record stores, art galleries, cinemas and a number of large shopping centres. Chulalongkorn University actually owned the land, Chailai revealed, and was affiliated with many of the institutions and developments, including the Culinary Institute of Siam. Honor counted more than half a dozen 'TemPTat' studios on as many streets as they walked and looked through shop windows, Chailai setting a leisurely pace.

"'Pécheressa,'" Chailai suddenly said, reading out loud. "That's new."

Honor saw it ahead of them. It was a corner piece establishment beside yet another 'TemPTat' parlor. The sign above the shop was a simple black, the cursive lettering, one letter overlapping the other, in white. Two devilish horns arose from the 'e' after the 'P' at the beginning and the 'a' at the end ended in a very long twisted devil's tail.

It didn't look like a typical boutique. For one thing, violating every rule of high street retail, its storefront windows were dimly lit and obscurred with swirling patterns, so the mannequins and the items of clothing they were advertising were not fully visible until they came much closer. It was then that they saw that the patterning on the windows were words in tiny cursive lettering on the tinted glass - words that they could be read now that they were up close; 'Wicked', 'Nasty', 'Slutty', 'Naughty'...

There were six of them in the window, all in burlesque masks, and all dressed in what ran the gamut from the merely risque to borderline pornographic. A teddy modeled by one mannequin was nothing but strings of lace and mesh, leaving the butt entirely bare, meant to frame and outline rather than conceal. The mannequin beside it showed off a sheer black teardrop g-string that left the bare minimum to the imagination and a matching patterned shelf bra. The gown modeled on the mannequin at the end was essentially a long toga with a plunging neckline at the front that stopped just a handspan above the belly button, and another handspan above the small of her back - sideless, it appeared to rely solely on the large jeweled belt at the waist to keep it on the mannequin's body. The swimsuit was a one-piece contraption of strings and mesh triangles, designed to cover barely more than the nipple and nothing of the bum. The next mannequin advertised clearly where the idea to cut leggings into low-riding hotpants came from, and the sheer mid-riff top with the string tie in front had clearly inspired a lot of the working girls walking by. The last mannequin wore panties alone and jewelry around ankle, thigh and wrist, the centerpiece being the body chain that connected the necklace to the three-stranded belly chain slung around the mannequin's waist.

Given what the mannequins were wearing and that the same words were patterned all over their ivory white bodies, which, Honor noticed were markedly more voluptuous than the svelte model in most women's clothing stores, the 'Adults Only' sign above the heavily tinted glass doors made a lot of sense.

Chailai face was thoughtful as she searched her memory. "This used to be a record store."

Honor read another sign over the door. "'Bad Girls Only.'"

"I'll tell Mongkhut to wait," Chailai said, straight-faced.

The two women smiled wickedly at each other, and went in.

________________________

'Pécheressa' - a play on the French word for 'sinful' - was the stage name chosen by the Thai founder when she left the go-go bars of Soi Cowboy for the clubs of Las Vegas, dancing on stage at nights, and taking classes to improve her English in the daytime.