The Sin You Take by Ryan Davison

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EXTRACT FOR
The Sin You Take

(Ryan Davison)


The Sin You Take -- Extract

 

Richard Stooker

 

Copyright © 2013 by Richard Stooker, Love Conquers All Press, and Gold Egg Investing LLC.

Cover graphic design by Drew at idrewdesign on Fiverr.com.

Cover, book, and graphic design Copyright © 2013 by Richard Stooker, Love Conquers All Press, and Gold Egg Investing, LLC.

The right of Richard Stooker to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

 


The Sin You Take

 

Hoping to advance her spiritual development, Cressie paid the massage parlor for Prani's company. Seven thousand Thai baht a day, charged to Cressie's Visa card, and the woman must accompany she and Dan for the next seven nights.

"Have you lost your mind?" Dan asked as the three of them rode in taxi back to the Nana Hotel.

Cressie fingered the sacred amulet she bought on her graduation trip to the Middle East and India, but didn't answer.

"We talked this massage experiment over first," Dan said. "We made an agreement. I just waited half an hour in the lobby of a massage parlor, feeling like a fool because my girlfriend was taking longer to finish than me."

"Like that's anything new."

"Now I find out you still can't tear yourself away from the woman."

"Did you keep our agreement? No sex, just a massage?"

"Of course, but you -- "

“You know I did. I didn't go upstairs with a man, just Prani."

"Cressie, this is our vacation. I want to be with you -- with only you."

"And I love you too. But, Dan, we've been in Bangkok a week already. I've seen temples up to here but I haven't connected. Everything is so strange, I feel so distant and apart. I don't understand what's going on right in front of my eyes. I don't like that. These people are dedicated Buddhists, but they tolerate these bars and massage parlors. I need to comprehend their faith."

"You just don't speak the language. So what do you expect?"

"I never felt this much culture shock in Israel, or Jordan, or even in India. But Prani speaks pretty good English. She can translate for us, and be our guide, and bargain for us when we go shopping, and explain her culture to us. She'll probably pay for herself. I like her, Dan. We're friends."

"You just met her."

"Dan, she made me feel so good. I don't mean the physical massage, although that was heavenly. I was totally relaxed with her."

Holding her head high, her back straight with quiet dignity, Prani sat on Cressie's other side, not reacting to their private discussion. Cressie wondered how much she understood.

In her immaculately pressed yellow slacks and modest white blouse, Prani looked like a sorority girl on a blind date. Cressie could now barely remembered how Prani appeared only a few hours before. She wore a flimsy, pink nightie outfit, and with over a hundred other beautiful young women sat on a carpeted riser under rows of bright track lights behind a Plexiglas partition, waiting for someone to choose her.

Prani long black hair gleamed. She told Cressie she was twenty, but she looked younger than Cressie's nineteen year old sister.

Sitting beside Prani made Cressie conscious of her large frame, meaty body and wide ass. She resolved to start drinking diet soda again as soon as she returned to America. Never before had she felt so acutely blonde, white skinned, tall, fat and clumsy, like a tank on a ballet stage. A moment of panic gripped her. Why was she doing this? She calmed herself down as usual by grabbing her medallion. Its power soothed her nerves.

"What is that?" Cressie asked, pointing to the small golden amulet dangling from a chain around Prani's neck.

Prani held it out for Cressie's inspection. "Buddha." Her pronunciation strongly accented the second syllable. It had a picture of an old monk in glasses, along with writing Cressie could not read.

"Make good luck," Prani said. "Many Thai people like."

Cressie showed Prani her amulet. "I bought it four years ago in India from an old Parsi. It's a picture of Aeshma, the Demon of Wrath. He is second in evil only to Ahriman, or Shaitan, their evil god. The old Jews knew about Aeshma too, but they called him Asmodeus. He's a famous old demon."

The metal was worn and tarnished, perhaps copper. The size of a quarter, but cut in lopsided, uneven angles. It showed a stick figure with a large angry face and clutching hands.

Prani looked, but refused to touch it. She smiled with obvious overpoliteness. "No good. Prani no like."