Dying to Live

Chapter 22 - Decisions, Decisions

I felt rather self-conscious, walking round this seedy part of town on my lonely ownsome with a lollapalooza of a shiner. Billy No-Mates on the prowl. People were giving my eye funny looks and I knew it wasn't doing much for my pulling power. After a couple of beers, I decided the best thing to do was walk back to the hotel and wait for Hazel. A grown-up decision, or what, and forty or fifty winks would do me the world of good.

The sound of the door opening woke me from a more realistic than usual erotic dream. Was my 'maid in heaven' back? I threw a glance at the door and realised it was Hazel. Her face looked heavy, her shoulders drooped and she'd lost the bounce in her step. I guess she'd had a long old day. My watch told me it was nearly eleven o'clock; she had had a long old day. I jumped off the bed and enveloped her in the longest hug I'd ever given anyone. My dream-inspired erection pressed hard against her. I moved it around a little, just to make sure she noticed. This reunion could work out well if I played my cards right.

"You're safe," I said and hugged her again. "How was your day?" I added once I'd let her go.

"Great. And how was Pattaya Beach?" Her tone was odd, I guess she'd been worried about me getting into trouble, or was she wondering about the erection, or maybe she was just worn out after a hard day's work?

"Pattaya Beach was okay. All in all, I've had a pretty boring day."

"You're such a liar," she said. "I can tell every time you lie to me."

I silently thanked the Lord that she couldn't.

"How can you tell? Does my dick get longer?"

"What?" she said.

"Well, I remember the story of the boy whose dick got longer every time he told a lie."

"Pinocchio," she snorted. "I think you'll find it was his nose which got bigger, not his dick, you dick."

"Oh," I said.

"If your dick actually did get longer every time you lied," she added, "you'd be a decent size by now."

"Thanks a lot," I said, satisfied that my distraction tactic had been completely successful. And, as a bonus, I'd made her laugh so the job's a good 'un.

"Seriously," she said, "why do you tell me so many lies?"

Bugger. I wondered if I had a 'tell' or something, like a bad poker player. When I lied, did my cheek twitch, did I do something odd with my hands or could she see it in my eyes? Oh, hold on a minute, it'd be my eye, I'd forgotten about my damned black eye.

"Oh, do you mean how did I get this?" My hand went to my bashed face.

"Well, that for starters."

"I know you're not going believe me..."

"Don't tell me then, you've already told me plenty of things I don't believe."

"Come on, Hazel, I just meant it'll be hard for you to believe me when I tell you that I walked into a door."

"Bollocks," she said.

The old 'walked into a door' story wasn't going to fly. I decided to tell the truth. Yeah right.

"Okay," I said, "I didn't want to worry you but I actually got knocked down by a tuk-tuk. It could have been worse, if I'd hit by a proper taxi it'd probably have killed me. Those wee tuk-tuks are..."

"Dave, I'm too tired for this," she said, not buying that story either. "I'm going to have a shower."

Now that didn't sound like an invitation to join her, if ever I heard one. The bathroom door closed behind her and I heard the lock being turned. I knew it, it wasn't an invitation, maybe I really was beginning to understand women.