Acknowledgements: Sexyvibe, editor
***
I hop on the motorbike behind my Vietnamese host, Jericho. The sun has started to set behind the waterfall we'd just conquered. If we were in Canada right now, I wouldn't feel comfortable driving. I feel intoxicated, not just from the beer we'd drunk, but also from the events of the day.
I'm holding onto my slender Vietnamese host's hips as we peel away on the dirt road. As we drive in silence, I start to worry that he may harbor some resentment for being humiliated in front of me, but he seems in good spirits as we pull up to the house.
As the motorbike comes to a stop, I immediately notice the heat. Without the breeze from the motorbike, the air feels hot, humid, and oppressive.
"Holy shit, man, it's hot," I say to my counterpart.
"Ya, man. Fuck," he laughs as he shakes his head.
As he opens up the door to his house, I'm hit with a blast of muggy air. I can't believe how much hotter it is now than it was just yesterday.
"You sit down, man, we cool down a bit before bed," Jericho says as he grabs a fan and sets it up in front of his living room sofa. It appears as though the rest of Jericho's family has already gone to bed.
I grab a seat on the red, fabric couch as Jericho runs to the kitchen. He returns with a tray of glasses, ice, and beer. He pours beer into a glass with ice, something I would have found sacrilege in Canada, but which I'm thankful for today.
After serving me a beer, he pulls off his shirt. He starts to unbutton his pants but stops to turn to me.
"Do you mind, man?" He asks.
I let out a laugh, "Jericho, buddy, after the waterfall, I don't think we have any shame. Here, I'll join you."
We both strip down to our boxers. After losing my clothes and starting on my iced beer, I'm already feeling miles better.
We sit and shoot the shit for a while. We've gone through quite a bit of beer when Jericho finally addresses the elephant in the room.
"You have fun at the waterfall, man?" He asks.
"That was crazy wasn't it?" I respond.
There's a bit of a pause before I interject, "Hey, Jericho, I hope it doesn't feel like I was trying to embarrass you out there."
"You worry about that, hey?" Jericho lets out a knowing laugh. "No way, man, Layla make fun of my cock every day, nothing new."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
Jericho laughs again, harder this time, "No, man, I like it."
I look at him quizzically, trying to decide whether or not he's serious.
"Anyway, man, I get to see her naked. I don't mind she tease me, if she get naked."
He raises his glass to mine. We clink glasses and put back some more beer.
Once again, Jericho breaks the silence, "You know I get married when I'm 16?"
I didn't know that.
Jericho continues, "Lynn, she from a poor family. My parents know her parents. They want us to get married. That why she so beautiful and I'm so average."
Once again, Jericho has put me in a situation I don't know how to respond to. Fortunately, he continues speaking.
"But I'm not good to her. She too boring." Jericho looks right at me, "When we at the waterfall, and Layla naked, I wish that my wife. I wish my wife crazy like that."
I start to imagine innocent Lynn swimming naked in front of four guys. Having her homemaker hands on my cock, her pretty lips around my cock. While Layla was sexy, Lynn is the forbidden fruit. I start to feel aroused and cross my legs to avoid embarrassing myself in front of my host.
"Anyways, man, time for scotch," Jericho stands up and grabs a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label and a pair of whisky glasses.
I've already got quite a buzz on; I'm thinking this guy is crazy.
We spend the next hour blabbing on about the differences between Canada and Vietnam, particularly the differences between their women. We've put away more than half the bottle when we decide it's time to crash.
We walk towards my bedroom, forgetting our clothes in the living room. As we open the door to my room, I'm reminded of the heat.
My room doesn't have any windows or fans. It feels like a furnace in there.
"Oh shit, man," Jericho slurs. "No way you sleep there. Too fucking hot. Come with me."
Jericho leads me to his room and opens the door. This room feels much better, with windows on two walls and a ceiling fan running.
It's not the temperature I'm paying attention to though. Jericho's wife is splayed out on the bed, with the sheets only going to her waist. With the ambient light coming in from the window, I can make out the contours of her body. Through the shadows, I can make out the outline of her dark nipples against her well rounded chest. Her tummy is flat and firm. The peaks of her hips support the light sheet which covers the rest of her body.
Jericho breaks my trance when he unrolls what resembles a bamboo yoga mat.
"What the hell is that?" I whisper to him.
"That a bed," He responds.
The thought of sleeping on bamboo reeds half a centimetre thick sounds worse than sleeping through the heat.
"Jericho, it's ok. I'll sleep in my room," I say back to him. I'm trying to keep a hushed tone but the alcohol was making it hard.
"No, man, this bed for me. You sleep up there," Jericho points to his bed.
I just stare at him, perplexed, unresponsive.