And then there was the night I spent with a Thai waitress. It was platonic. She was a student and invited me and someone else to stay at her dorm room because it was late, we’d stayed up.

The third person was with us. Otherwise she wouldn’t have had me, of course. Still, I was hot for her, couldn’t help it. Tried to control myself, didn’t want to spoil a good night. Reach out for her and I’d just be another guy trying to get what he wanted from her. Western exploiter. She had to know about the type, being from Thailand and all, attractive, not wildly so but enough, enough. And the thing was, she was small, compared to me, any Western guy. How would it fit? How did it when those guys did it, as they did, the throngs of Westerners who went to Thailand for sex tourism?

She was smooth, had smooth brown skin, sort of roly-poly but fit, dynamic. Nice body that is. Taut. Small yeah, but tits. Ass. Great face. No beauty queen but pretty. By virtue of her character. Something avid about her I liked, anyone would, generosity that had led to the overnight, open dorm-room door. “We’ll fit!” Excitement about the future, belief things would work out. That was contagious. Her spirit, innocence, adult belief in herself, the world.

Hard to keep my hands away, eyes on her next to me in the dark on the bed we shared. And a great smile, open friendly manner. I didn’t want to blow up the moment.

Managed to get to sleep all right (I was drunk; we all were). But her friend had to leave very early, crack of dawn even though it was a Sunday, to do something she’d promised someone, and then we were alone. And then it got tough. Sexual tension filling the room so you felt you could barely breathe without letting it loose. Tight as a bow string or whatever. The two of us still in bed, she yawning, rolling over. The grey light. Past dawn. Surely she had to be aware. I had an erection, morning hard-on and then some. She must have known. It was big, booming, brushed her as we moved, getting newly comfortable now that the third party had left extra room on the bed.

Awake. We got to discussing breakfast. The place where she did her waitressing was on campus and she talked about the food there, said the owner wanted it as good as what he ate at home, insisted the students deserved that, was a man of principle, she said and laughed, smiling, genuinely fond of her boss, added she just wondered how the finances would work out. Ordering fresh ingredients exclusively, matching his wife’s home cooking, would get expensive. How long could he sustain it, she asked.

Sunday. There were hours left before the dining commons opened and we could navigate breakfast. I felt like running out of there before I jumped on her, ha ha.