Date: Sat, 15 Apr 2006 05:26:56 -0400
From: Jeff A <parrafan@ureach.com>
Subject: Desperate Measures

Desperate Measures

a story by parrafan

Disclaimer: The central idea of this story is not mine. I read
it in someone else's story about a decade ago, then lost track
of it. Having not been able to find that piece of writing since
(despite searching in many places), I decided to borrow that
idea and create my own story around it. If the original author
ever reads this, I hope s/he subscribes to the adage that
'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery' and forgives my
plagiarism. I dedicate this story to that unknown author.

This story, and all of its characters, is fiction and intended
for adult entertainment only.

* * *

Desperate Measures

"Pass the salt, faggot?", Peter's step-brother Kacey whispered,
just softly enough so that neither Peter's dad nor Kacey's
mother could hear over their own conversation.

Peter looked pleadingly towards his father, but received no
support. His dad only had eyes (and ears) for Jean: Kacey's
mother, and for the last eighteen months, Peter's stepmother.

As a stepmother, she wasn't too bad, in Peter's estimation.
Peter thought she was better than no mother at all, which is
what he had for the two years before his dad married her, after
his own mom passed away from breast cancer. But Jean was a weak
person, and in her eyes, her son Kacey (whose real names were
Kristian Charles, but you better be ready for a fight if you
called him that) could do no wrong. Whenever Kacey was caught
out blatantly offending the blended family's rules, his mother
always found some way to excuse him.

"Want some ketchup, Petey?" Kacey continued his regular nightly
tormenting of his older step-brother. "It'll put hairs on your
chest...and anywhere else it's lacking", he added wittily.

Kacey was an only child, and the one unpardonable crime his
mother committed (apart from testifying against his drug-dealing
father) was to remarry and give him a stepfather he didn't
respect and an older stepbrother who acted like a wimp. He
smirked as he kicked Peter in the shins under the table, hard
enough to make the older boy wince. At thirteen, Peter knew that
the twelve year old Kacey was just testing his boundaries, as he
himself had done not so long ago. But where Peter had a strong
relationship with his father (strengthened by their mutual
loss), Kacey bore an ill-concealed contempt for his mother (who
divorced her criminal husband the day after his sentencing).
Kacey's dislike for Jean spilled over onto every other person he
knew, whether deserving or not.

Before the wedding, Peter's dad begged him to try to make a go
of their new family, but his promise to his father was sorely
tested nearly every day. "Excuse me, Jean", Peter interrupted
politely, "but could you please ask Kacey not to kick me under
the table?"

"My fuckin' foot slipped", Kacey exploded violently.

"Now there, honey, there's no need to raise your voice at the
dinner table, remember we've talked about this. And I do wish
you would keep that sort of language for the gutter where it
belongs", she added mildly. Turning to Peter, she droned on.
"I'm sure Kacey meant no harm, Peter, after all he can't help it
if his foot slips. Maybe you should set an example and keep your
legs out of the way in future, dear". Jean gave Peter a
patronising little smile, then returned to the conversation she
had been enjoying with her husband. After eighteen months
Richard was still deeply in love with his second wife, an
emotion that never ceased to surprise him. He thought Peter's
late mother was to be his lifelong soulmate, irreplaceable, but
Jean met him when he was vulnerable, and their romance was
unstoppable.

Richard was totally smitten with Jean and her motherly ways. He
was blind to the shortcomings of his new stepson-to-be, and when
Kacey flatly refused be adopted by the Big Dick (as he referred
to Richard out of earshot) and insisted on keeping his father's
surname, the only solution appeared to be a policy of
appeasement. The two adults agreed that while living under the
one roof, Jean would be the only person who would discipline
Kacey. Peter was content to submit to Jean's involvement in his
life, but he turned to his father for all major decisions.
Sadly, Richard was getting into the habit of leaving the daily
running of the household to Jean, much as he did with his first
wife. He was blind to the increasing misery his own son's life
was becoming.

Kacey, of course, had engineered this whole arrangement to suit
himself. His mother he could twist around his little finger. His
real dad was his only role model, currently serving twenty-five
to life for killing a couple of drug mules who made the mistake
of ditching their cargo before getting on their plane from
Singapore. He ignored the Big Dick (who was more than willing to
return the favour) and spent most of his home time inflicting a
thousand barbs a day on his sensitive, intelligent step-brother.

Kacey's bedroom was a prime example of how much of a jerk he was
prepared to be. He insisted on  his privacy, even to the extent
of fitting a lock on the door. It was the only internal door of
the house that was lockable. Whenever he was not in his room, he
kept the door locked. If anyone knocked at the door, they were
greeted with Kacey's yell from within "Come in if ya got big
tits". After putting up with this for several months, Jean
finally told Kacey that it wasn't a very nice thing to be
saying. He passed it off by saying that he was only joking, and
that everyone in the house had lost their sense of humour. To
appease her, he changed his greeting to "Come in if yer a
faggot, I need a blowjob". The person this was obviously
directed towards was the only other person in the house who
would ever knock at the door, namely the long-suffering Peter.

School was not much better for Peter. He had enjoyed school
until Kacey arrived, the younger boy transferring from across
town after the wedding of their parents. Even though they were
not in the same grade (Peter was in eighth, Kacey a year below),
Kacey's arrival had been a disaster for Peter. Previously a
quiet, well-mannered and studious boy, Peter had to contend with
a more-or-less constant stream of  either fights or come-ons
with other boys who had been told by Kacey "Peter would like to
suck your cock but he's too shy to ask you himself. He told me
he thinks you're hot. He might even let ya fuck him".

When he wasn't spreading rumours, Kacey would steal from other
students, and plant the items in Peter's locker. When Peter
wised up and kept his locker key hidden at home, Kacey began
leaving little notes on the desks of various male teachers,
purportedly from Peter, offering sex in return for good grades.
Luckily for the school's reputation, none of the teachers
accepted the bogus offers, and when confronted by the Principal,
Kacey said it was just a joke, and anyway, nobody could prove it
was he who had left the notes.

Peter sought refuge in reading, in his studies, and for a while
in swimming, a sport in which his lean build was not a
disadvantage. It did not take Kacey long to poison that well
also, spreading rumours about sexual misconduct between the swim
coach and Peter. The rumours reached the ears of the convener of
the swim club, a pretty likely outcome since Kacey had told the
convener's son that Peter squealed like a girl when taking the
swimming coach's hard prick up his rear end every night after
training in the dressing rooms. The absence of any corroborating
witnesses or physical evidence did not deter the convener from
expelling both Peter and the coach from the club immediately,
without giving any reason. "Just get lost, and be thankful I
don't call the cops", was the only explanation he gave to the
devastated coach. Peter smelled a rat, but he decided to bide
his time.

Kacey's dinner-table sport of Peter-baiting was interrupted one
night when Richard announced that the whole family would be
taking a holiday to Phuket, a resort town in South-East Asia. A
kind of combined second honeymoon/adventure, he called it.

"I ain't stayin' at no fuckin' slopehead roach pit!" Kacey
bellowed, on hearing this news. "Five stars or nothin'! And we
better be flyin' business, 'cause I ain't going cattle class."

"Now come on, honey, no one expects you to go anywhere that
you'll be uncomfortable. The resort is quite well spoken of in
the advertisements, and I don't think it would be wise to use
that word when we get there. Some of these Asian people can be
quite sensitive about their looks", Jean pattered on.

"An' I want my own room! I ain't sharing with no queers!" Kacey
demanded, staring at Peter, daring him to retaliate. Peter bit
his tongue, hoping his father would, for once, stick up for him.
It was a vain hope.

Jean continued, undeterred. "Oh, honey, that's not a very nice
thing to say. People can't help how they are, and I'm sure
you'll be out enjoying yourself so much you'll barely spend any
time in the rooms at all". Peter's jaw dropped when he heard his
step-mother virtually concede the truth of Kacey's slanderous
accusation. He looked to his father, pleading with his eyes, but
Richard's face was hidden behind a holiday brochure. He emerged
briefly to announce that their departure date was this coming
Saturday.

* * *

Phuket was sweltering, hot and humid, a combination not usually
found in Peter's home town. The four travellers each coped with
South East Asia's meteorological assault in their own ways.
Shortly after their arrival at the resort, the foursome
scattered in all directions: the grown-ups to the poolside bar,
Kacey to the amusement arcade adjoining the resort, and Peter to
the local produce market to experience the colours, smells and
tastes of Thailand (or at least the parts in which tourists were
tolerated).

For a boy his age, Peter was trusted by his father to conduct
his own affairs in a manner more commonly found in an adult than
a teen, not surprising after what he had already been through in
his life. Peter repaid this trust by being careful in his
dealings. When he saw a foreign money exchange office he
converted some of his American dollars into Thai baht (notes)
and satang (coins). Peter reasoned that it would be simpler to
make one conversion at the Amex office, rather than try to do
numerous conversions in his head by making purchases with
dollars.

The boy strolled through the marketplace, glad to be away from
his step-brother, looking at everything and smiling cheerfully
at the local vendors and other shoppers. He decided to stop for
a cool drink at a small cafe with outdoor seating. Many
passers-by glanced at him, an American teen seated by himself in
the marketplace, before continuing on their way, but Peter just
put their curiosity down to his novelty value.

While sitting at his table sipping his Coke, Peter noticed a man
who was seated a few tables away, who was similarly enjoying a
break from the heat. The man piqued Peter's interest because he
was the first local Peter had seen wearing traditional dress.
All the stallholders and other shoppers Peter had seen were
wearing nondescript garments like tracksuits and T shirts. Peter
smiled inwardly as he checked the man out - he reminded Peter of
Tony Randall's character, Dr Lao, in Peter's favourite movie.

As he gazed at the man's profile (the fellow sat facing the
street) Peter noticed something drop out of his sleeve and roll
under the man's chair as he picked up his tea cup. The man
seemed oblivious to his loss, but Peter recognised the item
immediately. It was a roll of bills secured by a rubber band.
Peter could even make out Benjamin Franklin's face on the
outermost note, so he guessed that it was a considerable amount
of money.

Without a moment's hesitation, Peter left his seat and stepped
over to the gentleman, bending down in front of him to retrieve
the money from under the man's seat.

"I believe you dropped this, Sir", Peter suggested politely,
holding the rolled-up money out to the man. Peter wasn't sure
whether the man would be grateful to recover his cash, or angry
with Peter for touching it. Everyone always said Asians could be
unpredictable. Or was that inscrutable?

The man stood up and gazed at Peter's face. Peter felt like he
was being X-rayed for a moment, but then the awkwardness passed
and the man smiled and extended his hand to accept Peter's
offer.

"I am in your debt, young Westerner," the gentleman replied, in
surprisingly good English, Peter thought. "It is refreshing to
find honesty in today's youth. You are a credit to your
parents", he continued.

Peter thought this courteous speech somehow fitted perfectly
with the man in front of him. It was as if a whole culture had
been distilled and compressed into a couple of polite sentences.

"Thank you, Sir. I will pass on your kind words to my father. My
mother...uh", Peter began, but the enormity of having to explain
his mother's death to a stranger overwhelmed Peter for a second,
and his knees trembled. He felt as though he needed to explain
to the man about his mother, but the words wouldn't come. He
staggered momentarily.

The gentleman's hands quickly grabbed Peter's arms under the
elbows and steered the sagging boy to the vacant chair at his
table. He looked around to see Peter's Coke at an empty table
and quickly deduced that the boy had been sitting there quietly
drinking before seeing his money fall. He realised the boy could
have simply done nothing and waited for the man to depart, then
collected the money for himself.

"I apologise for being the cause of your distress, young
Westerner. I did not intend to raise the spectre of sad
memories. Please forgive my indiscretion", the man murmured as
Peter regained his composure. The man signalled to the
shopkeeper, who immediately brought Peter another Coke. The boy
sipped the cool drink slowly as his breathing returned to
normal.

"It's Peter. My name is Peter. And it wasn't your fault, I
should be over it by now, but someti- hey, how did you know I
had sad memories?" Peter looked in the man's eyes for any sign
that he was being ridiculed, but saw only compassion.

"I have spent a long time observing the faces of men", the
gentleman replied. "You might say it is my stock-in-trade. One
as young as yourself has yet to learn to conceal his feelings,
my young friend. Your face is an open book".

Peter digested this information for a few seconds. "What else
can you see in my face?" he asked.

The man paused before answering. "An eagerness for
self-knowledge, and a reckless willingness to talk to
strangers", he replied, smiling as he did so. Peter realised
that the man had told him no more than was obvious, but in a way
that was not mocking or insulting.

"You're the first person - I mean, local person - I've met here
in Phuket. I'm from America", Peter felt strongly drawn to the
man, not in any physical way, but as a student is to his mentor.

"Ah, the New World", the man mused. "You have come far, Master
Peter. And now Fate has allowed our paths to cross, in this
humble backwater. But having given me the privilege of knowing
your name, you must permit me to return that favour. You may
call me...Mister Chen." With that, the Asian gentleman stood up
and made a very slight bow from the waist. At first Peter
thought the guy was leaving, and his distress at so sudden a
departure flitted across his face. But he resumed his chair and
smiled at Peter, and continued their conversation.

"May I presume to enquire, whether your shopping trip has been
successful?", Chen ventured.

"Well, I haven't seen anything I like yet, but- hey! You did it
again, didn't you! You figured out what I was doing here without
me telling you. I guess I must be pretty easy to read".

"In one so young, that is not altogether a bad thing, Master
Peter. One only accumulates secrets with age, and with them, the
need to conceal. Secrets are a burden on the soul that must be
carried unto death, and sometimes beyond".

Peter fell silent. Every cell in his body was screaming out
"Tell him! Tell him! He'll understand! He'll know what to do!",
but the boy was unwilling to spill his guts at a sidewalk cafe
to a guy he'd only just met, even if he was friendly and seemed
wise.

"I've got a secret - kinda", Peter began, "but I'm not sure that
telling it will do any good. It's kind of a position I'm in
that's...well, it's all messed up, and I kinda know what I'd
like to do, but not how to do it. I can't really explain it any
better than that", he ended lamely.

The man looked as though he was weighing Peter's words
carefully. His lips tightened slightly, as though he had come to
a decision. He gestured to the hillside above the town, which
was dotted with the mansions of the rich merchants and
government officials.

"Do you see the pale yellow building on the hillside, Master
Peter? The one to the left of the prominent rock formation
shaped like an arrowhead? That is my home when I am in Phuket. I
shall be resident there a further two weeks, then my business
takes me elsewhere. It is situated on Provincial Road 5, and the
entrance has a black wrought iron gate bearing a design in the
shape of a dragon with red eyes. If you wish, you may visit me
tomorrow and tell me your secret. As I said when first we met, I
am in your debt, and would welcome the opportunity to give you
such humble assistance as I am able. But for now, I must attend
an appointment. Ten o'clock would be a most agreeable time in
the morning".

Chen rose from the table, gave a small nod of his head, and
strode off into the bustling crowd. Peter was a little
bewildered at the whole encounter, but strangely light-hearted
to know that he had a date tomorrow morning with this intriguing
man. He looked up at the yellow house on the hillside. Even from
this distance, it looked huge.

* * *

Dinner was a disaster. Peter's Dad and Jean spent the whole time
holding hands and looking into each other's eyes and smiling,
and Kacey tormented Peter with endless ribald tales about his
adventures that afternoon.

"Hey Petey, you shoulda seen this hot chick I met at the pool. I
got a feel of her tit, and she put her hand on my boner. Well, I
had to put it there, and she took it away the first coupla
times, but she finally left it there. Her hand couldn't even fit
round the whole thing! But don't worry Petey, I didn't forget
ya. This chick's got a little brother, he's ten, she's s'posta
be lookin' after him. I said you'd love to play with him while
I'm feeling her up tomorrow morning behind the cabana. Him and
you got a lot in common. She said he ain't got no dick hair
either, and tiny balls, just like you got!"

One of Kacey's favourite taunts was to make frequent reference
to Peter's paucity of pubic hair, and general gonadal
underdevelopment. One day not long after Kacey first moved in,
he barged in on Peter in the bathroom, and his eyes immediately
lit on Peter's bald groin. Peter, then twelve, had not started
puberty, and Kacey, who already had a few wisps at eleven never
failed to remind him of it on a regular basis. Some months
later, Peter confided in his father about his apparent delayed
development.

Richard's method of reassuring his son was somewhat eccentric.
He took the boy on a weekend trip to a nudist resort. Peter was
not advised of the destination beforehand, but when he arrived,
and saw his Dad strip off, and everyone else naked, he joined in
soon enough. The sight of so many boys, girls and adults with
and without pubic hair gave Peter a perspective on his problem
that made his step-brother's teasing at least bearable. It still
irked Peter that he seemed to be always trailling behind Kacey
in the size department as well as in the girl-catching arena.

Peter ignored Kacey's needling and stared at his food, thinking
only about his meeting with Mister Chen tomorrow. Would he tell
him everything? Would Mister Chen be able to do anything, apart
from listen?

* * *

Provincial Road 5 was a dirt track that zig-zagged its way up
the side of the mountain behind the town. Peter estimated the
distance to the yellow mansion at two miles, which would take
him about forty minutes in the uphill terrain. He arrived at
Mister Chen's ornate gate with five minutes to spare, and
wondered whether Asian people admired punctuality more than
eagerness before ringing the bell. As he was expected, the gate
swung open to admit Peter, who walked up the path, his emotions
a mixture of trepidation and nervous excitement.

The front door was ajar, but Peter could see no-one as he pushed
it further open and called out "Hello?"

Chen appeared from a side room, dressed in another colourfully
embroidered caftan. He smiled broadly and held his arms apart in
welcome, but Peter sensed he was not asking for a hug.

"Welcome my young friend, welcome. Your visit honours my house",
Mister Chen declared. "I have advised my small retinue of staff
to attend to duties in their own homes today, so we will not be
disturbed. I hope that does not cause you anxiety", he added,
lest Peter become afraid.

"No, it's okay, I trust you. I wouldn't have come here if I
didn't", he answered confidently.

"Ah, yes, the trust of the young, so readily given, so often
sadly abused. But not in this house, my young friend. Here, you
may, ah, let down your guard as you would say". Chen led Peter
through a hallway to a large sitting room, one wall of which
consisted entirely of glass. The view of Phuket it commanded was
nothing short of spectacular, encompassing the town, its strip
of beaches, and the offshore islands sitting in a blue jewelled
sea. Peter gasped a little as he took it all in, as Mister Chen
ushered him to a comfy seat.

Seating himself in another divan, Mister Chen made a steeple
with his fingers. ("Now he's doing a Mr Burns", Peter thought to
himself and suppressed a giggle. "He probably doesn't even know
who Mr Burns is", he reflected).

"Before you tell me about your...situation - for I believe you
would not have come here today had you not wished to unburden
yourself to me - let me tell you a little story which might
assist you to speak candidly", Chen began.

"Although I was born in this country, I do not follow Thai
culture - I am Chinese. My ancestors were merchants and warlords
in the days of the Old China. In many matters, I still adhere to
the old ways. I will attempt to explain these ways".

"Sometimes, a villager will find himself - or herself - in a
predicament to which they have no ready solution to hand. On
these occasions, they come to me. Together, we forge a happy
outcome. In doing so, my reputation as an arbiter and a procurer
of fortunate results is enhanced, and my modest savings are also
incremented, I must admit. Nothing is done for nothing, even by
a friend, but the currency is not always money".

Peter tried hard to follow what the gentleman was saying, and
hoped that Mister Chen would get to the point of the story soon.
When Chen did so, Peter was astounded.

"In a fishing village near to Phuket lives a man with a pretty
young wife. I shall call this man..."Lin". He fears his wife
is... dallying...with a local unemployed youth while Lin is out
earning the family's bread on the open sea. Lin comes to me and
tells me his sorry tale. He does not wish to lose his wife's
company, he only wishes that the young man would go away. Lin
cannot confront the youth, for fear of retribution from the
youth's father, an important Government official".

"I explain to Lin that I have another acquaintance, also a
fisherman. This other acquaintance, whom I shall call "Tam",
recently needed money to repair his fishing boat and thus
continue pursuing his livelihood. I gave Tam that money. He will
repay it somehow when his situation improves, as it now surely
will".

"I suggested to Lin that I might be able to help him if he is
able to help me. Poor Lin wonders how a humble fisherman can be
of help to Mister Chen. I tell Lin that a friend of mine is
visiting from America, and wishes to spend a few
hours...dallying...in the company of a young boy. Not to put too
fine a point on it, a boy about the same age as Lin's son.
Although he is but a simple fisherman, Lin understands
immediately. He brings his son to my home the next day and my
friend is delighted to...savour...the boy's charms".

"A week later, the young man who had been spending time with
Lin's wife was lost at sea in a tragic accident. It seems that
he joined Tam's crew for a day's fishing, but never returned".

"So you can see, young Master Peter, that some matters have a
way of working themselves out. The father of the young man was
distraught to lose his son, but he could not blame Lin, who does
not even know Tam. My own role was one of mediation between the
wishes and desires of several parties who came to me for help.
My American visitor paid me handsomely for the pleasures he
received through the agency of Lin's son. Some of that money
helped to repair Tam's boat". Concluding his story, Chen fell
silent. He waited.

Emboldened by Chen's story, Peter cleared his throat to speak.
"I have a step-brother who makes my life a misery. He is here at
Phuket now. He is not a good person, and shows signs of getting
worse with age. I have considered taking my own life to escape
from him. My father is a good man, but does not realise the
problem I am having. I cannot explain it to him because he is in
love with this boy's mother. My own mother passed away two years
back. I wish some... tragic accident...would befall my
step-brother. Only then will I find peace".

A sob escaped Peter's throat as he finally gave voice to what
had been only in his mind for many months. He looked at Chen to
see the man's face deep in thought. Suddenly, Chen spoke.

"When you returned my money yesterday, you did me a service. I
have repaid that debt to you by welcoming you to my home and
listening to your problem. Consequently we are now what you
Americans would call "all square". I believe I told you that
even among friends, money is the only currency that pays for
anything. If I were to help you solve your problem, how would
you pay me? What credit would you use?"

Peter cast his eyes about the room, hoping for some inspiration.
Then he remembered Mister Chen's American visitor. The one who
had spent a few hours with the son of the fisherman. Peter then
guessed why Chen had told him that particular story, and not a
hundred others he might have told. He addressed his host with
the thoughts that now crowded into his head.

"Mister Chen, if I was to...make myself available...er, I mean,
do you have any other friends that would like to spend a few
hours of, uh, quality time with an American boy such as me?
Would that give me any 'credit' in this situation?"

Chen smiled. "I suspected when I first saw you that you had an
agile mind, Master Peter. Indeed, a boy such as yourself could
earn quite a bit of 'credit', as you put it, by entertaining
some of my visitors. May I add that Phuket can be a dangerous
place - especially for the tourist. It has been known for boys
to wander off near the seashore and never return. Sharks can be
very unforgiving. And who would blame a boy if his younger
stepbrother took it upon himself to enjoy an evening dip in the
sea, only to be tragically taken by a shark?"

"Kacey is very headstrong. He will ignore any warnings of
danger. He will also be easy to lure with the promise of sex
with a girl", Peter added, hoping his blunt language did not
offend Mister Chen.

"It would appear that the planet would not be disadvantaged by
the loss of one so callous", Mr Chen mused. "To change the
subject briefly, may I enquire what your notion of 'quality
time' entails? So that I do not make any false representations
to those of my visitors who might be interested in taking up
your cordial offer".

Peter knew this question would eventually be asked. He had an
answer ready, which made his heart thump loudly in his chest
even as he spoke it. "I'll do anything. Whatever it takes", he
declared, with a boldness he did not feel.

"Anything? Anything indeed!" Mister Chen replied. "I am
constantly amazed by the wholehearted recklessness of Americans,
even those as young and innocent as yourself. Perhaps I should
aid you in refining, and perhaps limiting, your all-encompassing
offer. 'Anything' is far too much of yourself to give away,
especially when you can give less and achieve the same result".

Chastened by Mister Chen's remarks, Peter conceded. "Thank you,
I would value your advice. I know from school and my father
about the...basics of, er, relationships, but I guess I might be
a little naive when it comes to, um, adult men and boys. I've
read some stuff on the Internet but, and seen some pictures",
Peter added.

"Indeed!" Chen observed. "Perhaps if I were to mention a
few...possibilities, you might remark on whether you would
include them in your definition of 'quality time'. Such a
charming Americanism".

Mister Chen sat back in his chair and contemplated for a moment.
Turning to face Peter, he outlined a list of activities that
Peter might assent to participate in, or not.

"Would you be willing to undress in front of a stranger?", Chen
began.

"I guess so", Peter whispered, recalling his weekend at the
nudist resort. That wasn't so bad.

"Please, Peter, I need somewhat more certainty than 'I guess
so'. Either you will or you won't. I would lose much face before
my visitor if he were to ask you to do something that I had
assured him of, and you refused. Please be decisive".

"Sorry, Mister Chen. Yes. Yes, I would undress".

"Would you undress a man?", Chen asked softly.

Peter paused, then steeled himself. "Yes, I would".

"Would you permit a man to touch you intimately?", Chen
continued.

"I...yes, I would permit it", Peter replied.

"The rest of my questions can wait, except for one. Would you be
willing?"

Peter waited for Chen to continue his final question. When it
became obvious that the question was finished, Peter struggled
to understand it. "I...I'm not sure what you mean, Sir. Willing
to do what?"

"Please forgive my clumsy English. I do not mean 'willing to do
any particular action'. I mean, no matter what you do, would you
be a willing participant? Wholehearted? Enthusiastic? Joyful?
Eager? You see, my visitors could probably abduct any boy they
wished off the street of any city in the world. A boy taken in
this way is usually terrified, unresponsive, unhappy. They do
not make good partners. To use your expression, they would not
provide 'quality time'. Such a boy could be obtained in Phuket
for around twenty US dollars. My visitors do not wish this kind
of experience".

"On the other hand, a boy who participated in intimate
activities gladly, happily and with total abandonment of self,
that boy could easily command a payment of one thousand US
dollars from my visitors, so rare would the experience be for
them. By a fortunate coincidence, one thousand US dollars is the
going rate for arranging the disappearance and untimely death of
an unwanted step-brother". Chen favoured Peter with a disarming
smile.

"I...I don't want him hurt", Peter blurted out. "I mean...he's
awful and I hate him and everything, but...he hasn't had a very
good upbringing, and if there was some way he could
just...disappear, but not be made to suffer, I mean, he makes me
suffer, but I'm older and I should be able to take it, but..."

Chen smiled as he relaxed back in his chair. "Your
kindheartedness does you credit, Master Peter. The man who
wishes no harm to his enemy is a formidable opponent indeed. But
it does add a complicating factor. If your step-brother is not
to be fed to the sharks, then what shall become of him?"

"I...don't know. I guess I kinda hoped you might have an idea",
Peter conceded.

Chen thought silently for a moment. "It may be helpful", he
cautiously proposed, "if I were to make a series of...shall we
say, 'statements of intent'. Consider each one carefully, and
only agree with them if you are completely, one hundred percent
satisfied with each one".

"Okay", Peter replied. "Yes, I think that will work". He glanced
at Chen. "I know it will work", he amended.

"Very well", the Chinese gentleman began. "Number one. Your life
would improve if you never saw your step-brother again".

"Definitely", Peter assented firmly.

"Number two. You would be happy to participate in intimate
erotic activities with men in order to help you achieve your
stated aim".

"Yes", Peter declared. "Yes, I would".

"Number three. You wish no specific injury to befall your
step-brother".

"That is correct", responded Peter.

"Number four. You wish that I, Chen, make arrangements in order
to fulfill your desires in this matter".

"Yes", Peter replied confidently. "That is what I wish".

"Excellent", Mister Chen pronounced. "Our negotiation phase has
been completed. We now each know where the other stands. But
before you take the road back to your family, I have one request
to make of you". Peter raised his eyebrows, inviting Mister Chen
to continue.

""It is this. As I have previously explained, I am a man of my
word. People come to me because of the trust that I have spent
many years building. I always deliver what I promise. I do not
question your resolve, young Peter, but I feel the need for
some...tangible reassurance, that when the time comes to uphold
your side of our bargain, you will not leave me, as I believe
you Westerners so succinctly put it, 'in the lurch'."

Peter stood, opening his hands outward in a gesture of
supplication. "What can I do to prove I will not fail you?", he
asked plaintively.

"Perhaps you would be willing, as a sign of your intentions, to
follow a few simple directions, some of which I am sure may be
requested of you in the near future by my, ah, visitors", Chen
suggested.

Peter dropped his hands to his sides, making a soft slapping
sound. "Ask away", he stated simply.

"Very well", Chen agreed. "Please go to the window".

Peter walked across the room to the large picture window and
looked out at the panorama of Phuket.

"Now, remembering that we two are alone in the house, please
undress slowly", Master Chen asked in a level voice. Peter had
expected that this moment would come ever since he passed
through Chen's dragon gate and stepped across his threshold. Now
that it had arrived, he felt strangely calm. Still facing away
from Chen, and feeling as though every person in Phuket could
see him through the enormous windows, he pulled at the sleeve of
his T shirt and slipped his elbow inside. Doing the same on the
other side, he now appeared to be 'armless'. Raising his elbows,
he lifted the shirt slowly over his head. His pale collar-length
ginger hair was disheveled by the shirt as his head pulled clear
of the garment, so he gave his head a little shake to let it
settle back in place. He dropped the T shirt to the floor.

"You may continue", Chen's voice could be heard from behind
Peter.

Peter unclasped the stud at the top of his jeans. It made a
popping sound which echoed loudly in the large room. The noise
of his zipper descending also seemed magnified, somehow. He
pushed the sides of his jeans down to his knees, then realised
he was still wearing sneakers. The tight-legged jeans would
never go over these shoes, he thought. Still facing out to sea,
Peter sat down on the tiled floor and pulled both sneakers off
without unlacing them. His socks joined the shoes a few seconds
later. He wondered whether he was undressing too quickly, or not
quickly enough, but Mister Chen did not seem bothered. Peter
thought he might as well get rid of the jeans while sitting, so
he slid the garment down each leg and off.

Now wearing only a pair of briefs, Peter stood, still facing the
harbour. He decided not to wait for Mister Chen's instruction,
wanting to prove to him that he had courage. He pushed his
thumbs into the sides of his underwear and pushed the skimpy
item down his smooth thighs. When the briefs hit his ankles he
stepped out of them, now totally naked before the whole world
(or so it felt).

"You may turn around, Peter", Mister Chen's voice softly
ordered. Peter swivelled on the spot, standing with hands on
hips. "Come closer, Peter", Chen requested. Peter crossed the
room and stood in front of Mister Chen's chair, tense, but not
uncomfortable. After his nudist experience, he was less
concerned about his body than most American boys his age.

"You are thirteen, I believe, Peter?" Chen enquired. Peter
nodded.

"May I ask, have you shaved your pubic hair?", Chen asked,
eyebrows raised. As soon as he saw the blush rise in Peter's
cheeks it, he realised his mistake. "Forgive my clumsy inquiry.
It is seldom that I see a boy of your age with a smooth pubic
mound. Nature is sometimes cruel, is she not?"

Peter gave a wan smile as his embarrassment passed. He was
beginning to relax, even though it felt strange to be so naked,
so on display in front of this man.

Chen spoke again, as calmly as if he were asking the time of
day. "Please fondle yourself, Peter, until you are fully erect".

Peter flinched a little as he heard Chen's words, but his
determination did not waver. He rubbed both hands on his lower
belly, then on his upper thighs. He took his penis in his left
hand and gave it a squeeze, then began a slow stroke of the
hardening tool. The fingertips of his right hand drummed softly
on the underside of his scrotum, causing his balls to bounce
around slowly. Peter shut his eyes, knowing his face was turning
very red again. This was exactly how he pleasured himself in his
own bed at night. Peter licked his lips and sighed softly.

It took only a minute or two of squeezing and caressing himself
to make his dick stand up proud, tall and stiff, the head just
peeking out of Peter's clenched left fist. Chen moved a little
on his divan to achieve a more comfortable position, then
instructed Peter once more.

"Come and sit on my lap, and kiss my lips, Peter. Abandon
yourself to my caresses", Chen softly commanded. Peter lightly
stepped the couple of feet to where Chen sat, pirouetted, and
sat himself down in the proffered lap. He was unsure of what to
do at first, but as soon as Chen's lips touched his own, he
clasped his arms fiercely around the man's neck and clung to him
as he once did to his father shortly after his mother's death.

Chen's breath was sweet, ("like cinnamon", Peter thought). Peter
remembered that his father used to hold him like this once, back
when his mother was alive. Peter also fondly recalled that his
father often kissed his lips, just like Mister Chen was now
doing, in the months after his mother died. All that stopped
when his dad met Jean. The thought made Peter angry, so much so
that he tightened his arms' grasp around Chen's neck. He gave
himself over to the kisses that Chen applied to his lips,
opening his mouth to admit the older man's tongue. When he felt
Chen's hand slide down his naked chest and stomach, he did not
recoil, but pushed his hips upwards in a welcoming gesture,
almost demanding that Chen touch his stiff little penis and
stroke his scrotum.

Chen was pleased with the boy's enthusiasm, very pleased; so
much so that he continued kissing the boy and stroking his hard
penis until Peter's thin body stiffened with his orgasm, his
narrow hips jerking upwards to squirt a few drops of clear
seminal fluid from his hairless cock onto his pale stomach. Chen
spoke soothing words in Peter's ear as he wiped up the small
mess with a tissue, praising Peter's courage and his devotion,
and released him to put his clothes back on. Peter dressed
himself, then allowed Chen to lead him to the door of the
mansion. Just before he passed over the threshold, Peter turned
towards his new lover and began to speak. He wanted to tell
Mister Chen that he loved him, but he didn't get the chance.

"Shhh", Chen quietened the boy. "All will be well, young Peter.
Return to your family. You are a brave boy. Brave, handsome and,
yes, affectionate beyond your years. Any man's heart would be
gladdened by your company. Come and visit me again tomorrow at
the same time". Mister Chen planted a kiss on Peter's upturned
lips, which Peter returned with interest, allowing the man to
hold him around the waist like a swooning bride. Breaking
contact, Peter smiled, turned and skipped down Mister Chen's
driveway, his heart as light as it had felt for years.

* * *

Peter spent the rest of the day at the resort, still in
dreamland. Even the occasional presence of his stepbrother
caused him no grief, such was his happiness, both at finding
someone who would solve his problem, and at finding what he
thought of as love.

Kacey was unusually subdued, not wasting any barbs on his
stepbrother. In fact Kacey spent only enough time at the resort
to eat lunch before disappearing again. Jean and Peter's dad
drifted in and out of their rooms, oblivious (as usual) to the
two boys.

At dinner, Peter announced that he was going to spend the night
on the beach, so that he could watch the sun go down. Sunset in
his home town in America was a mundane affair, but he had been
assured by the resort staff here in Phuket that many tourists
gathered nightly on the beach to enjoy the colours of the sun as
it dipped into the sea. Richard gave his son a half-hearted wave
as a sign of approval. Kacey scowled, sensing that Peter was
getting some advantage by this liberty, but he could not
complain out loud without sounding spoiled (which he was).

Mister Chen had not been idle during the afternoon, calling in a
few favours, checking some leads, making discrete enquiries, and
generally pursuing his craft.

Peter took his sleeping bag with him to the beach in case he
fell asleep. The splendour of the sunset was breathtaking,
especially as the sun set into the watery horizon, something
Peter had never seen in his home town. The soft, relentless
pounding of the small waves on the sandy stretch of shore was
pleasantly soporific, putting Peter to sleep shortly after night
fell. He woke before dawn, rolled up his sleeping gear, and
returned to the resort, in plenty of time to get cleaned up and
visit Mister Chen.

* * *

Arriving at Mister Chen's mansion just before ten o'clock, Peter
noticed that this time the large wooden front door was shut. He
pulled on a small bell-chain, which gave out a light tinkly
sound in the morning air. A few seconds later, the door swung
open and Peter was greeted by an elderly Asian gentleman dressed
in what looked to Peter like an old-fashioned hairdresser's
white coat. The man smiled a toothy grin and waved his arm for
Peter to enter.

"Welcome, welcome, you must be Master Peter. Come in, come in.
Mister Chen has warned me of your visit. Come in, come in", the
old man urged. His smile was so engaging, Peter did not feel
afraid. In fact, the old man was smaller than Peter. He wore
shapeless black trousers below the white coat, and dainty little
slippers. ("Very Asian", Peter thought).

"I am Fong, just Fong, come in, Mister Chen expects you, come
in". Peter nearly giggled at the funny old man's speech and tiny
steps, but restrained himself lest he hurt the old one's
feelings.

"Thank you, Mister Fong, for your kind welcome", Peter managed
to say, hiding a small smirk behind his hand.

"No 'mister', just Fong, just Fong. Only 'mister' here Mister
Chen. Come in, Master Peter", the old gent nattered. Peter
followed Fong to the large entertaining area with the huge
picture window where he found Chen sitting in a divan. Chen
smiled at Peter's arrival, and rose to greet him.

Without waiting to be asked, Peter hugged Chen around the waist,
and turned his face upwards to receive a kiss from his new
friend, not caring whether Fong saw. Chen obliged, holding Peter
at the waist and bending him back slightly to emphasise who was
the stronger in the relationship. They kissed slowly, savouring
each other's sweetness. Chen released Peter's lips and pointed
to the divan next to his own, inviting Peter to sit.

"It is a happy day, Master Peter, when a boy such as yourself
gives freely what might otherwise be sold dearly. Welcome again
to my home. You have met my manservant, Fong. You may trust in
his discretion. Fong is completely loyal to me". Peter
understood this little speech to mean that Fong was not going to
blab about anything he might see or hear in Chen's house.

"You may be wondering the reason for this piece of technology",
Chen began, gesturing towards a television set on a mobile
stand. A video player sat beneath the TV. Peter had noticed it
as he walked in, but waited for Chen to refer to it, out of
courtesy.

Chen steepled his fingers before continuing. "I sometimes use
the services of people whose skill it is to observe without
being observed. What you would call 'private detectives'. One
such person, following my instruction, has provided me with
surveillance footage of two people whom you know very well,
taken yesterday. I have already viewed the images, and I must
caution you that what you are about to see may shock and dismay
you. Still, all knowledge is useful, if one knows how to harness
its power. Shall I begin the video tape-recording?"

Peter simply nodded, his eyes homing in on the TV screen as Chen
operated the remote control. The instant that the black screen
disappeared, Peter saw two familiar figures, but in a
combination he never would have imagined possible. On the screen
were his father and Kacey, and the two were frantically
undressing each other, their arms getting in each other's way as
buttons popped, belts unclasped, shirts flew off and trousers
dropped down to the floor. Peter could not recognise the room
they were in, but it was apparent the two were wasting no time
to admire their surroundings as they grappled each other onto
the bed, which took up half the space in the room. Peter's
father was covering Kacey's neck, face and shoulders with
slobbery kisses, while Kacey ran his fingers through Richard's
hair, urging him on.

Chen paused the tape and turned to Peter, whose jaw was hanging
slackly in disbelief. "My operative advised me that this room is
in a motel some half-mile from the resort at which your family
are lodging. He was also able to capture sound with these
images. Do you wish to listen? I caution you again, the first
few sounds are not words, but the noises of shared passion".
Peter nodded a second time, watching Chen touch the remote
control once more, as if in slow motion. Grunts and moans issued
 from the speakers, soon followed by discernable words.

"Ohh, Kacey, mmm, you taste so good, mmm, I've been going out of
my mind, it's been nearly a week since I touched you, mmm, give
me your tongue, ahh, yes, mmm". Peter heard his father's voice
clear as a bell, but the context seemed ludicrously out of
place. What the hell was going on?

Kacey's voice took over. "Yeah, old man, suck my tit, yeah, oh
yeah, Dickie-boy, grab my cock, yeah, suck it, swallow my knob,
yeah, do it old man".

Richard's voice: "Swing over me for a sixty-nine, Kacey honey.
Lemme at that sweet cock of yours, yeah".

Before applying his mouth to the hard penis of his de-facto
step-father, Kacey swivelled back to tease Richard: "You want me
to swallow your slimy sperms this time, Dickie-boy? You want me
to eat your baby juice all up?" Kacey licked the bulbous head of
Richard's swollen cock while waiting for an answer.

Richard groaned with passion. "Oh, yeah, Kacey, you know I love
it when you do that, you hot little cum-slut. Suck me all the
way and I'll give your ass a good hard pounding, just how you
like it".

Chen pressed the 'mute' button on the remote control. "I think
we have heard sufficient of this dialogue to draw a reasonable
conclusion. It would appear that your father and step-brother
have been deceiving you for quite some time. I am sorry you had
to find out in this abrupt manner".

Peter sat silently, watching the actions on the screen. Kacey
rolled off Richard's belly and knelt on all fours in the large
bed. Peter watched, entranced, as his father rolled over and
positioned himself behind Kacey, then licked the boy's asshole a
few times before pressing his thick knob head into Kacey's brown
pucker and pushing into the twelve-year-old's bum. Peter saw
Kacey's head rear up, and wondered whether he was shouting in
passion or pain.

"Do all men...do these things with boys?", Peter asked Chen, a
tremour in his voice.

"Men that enjoy the company of boys enjoy most of these
activities, yes", Chen replied, studying his young friend for
signs of either revulsion or eagerness. He noticed that Peter's
hand had wandered into his lap and appeared to be pulling at the
material of his trousers to provide more room for what lay
beneath.

"How do you feel about your situation now, bearing in mind what
we discussed yesterday?", Chen asked gently.

Peter came to a sudden decision. "I never want to see any of
them again. They've been making a fool of me, haven't they. I
hate all of them", he added, not viciously but with a tinge of
sadness in his voice.

"Take off your clothes and sit with me again, Peter, as you did
yesterday", Chen suggested. Peter complied, not caring that he
was already erect from the stimulating scenes of the video.
Naked, Peter sat in Chen's lap and kissed his mentor freely, as
he saw his father doing with Kacey. Chen returned the kisses,
but with a little more restraint, fondling Peter's tool as he
did so.

"Your father seems quite taken with that boy", Chen whispered in
Peter's ear. "Do you wish it was you in that motel room instead
of Kacey?". Peter shuddered as he admitted as much with a nod of
his head. "Do you think you could love me in that way, Peter?",
Chen asked softly. Peter looked Chen squarely in the face to
give his reply. "I already do, Mister Chen", he breathed.

Chen fondled Peter's cock slowly as he kissed him, picking up
speed until Peter grunted and thrust his hips upwards, shooting
a few drops of semen onto his bare belly. Without waiting for
Mister Chen to clean him up, Peter wriggled down Chen's lap onto
the floor, kneeling at the older man's slippered feet. Chen
smiled down at him, as if to give permission for whatever Peter
had in mind. Peter wanted to try something he had seen on the
video, and he felt the need to try it while his courage and
desire were strong, straight after his climax.

He lifted the side of Chen's caftan, and pulled down Chen's silk
drawers, exposing his penis. It was sparsely haired, compared
with his father's bushy one, Peter thought. He picked up the
flaccid tool and licked the head a few times, in case it tasted
bad. Detecting no taste except bland skin, he aimed Mister
Chen's knobhead at his open mouth, and started to slowly jerk
and suck, as he saw Kacey doing with his dad.

Mister Chen proved to be a much quieter lover than the two
sex-crazed animals on the videotape. After several minutes of
Peter's sucking and jerking the Chinese gent gave out a soft
little gasp - "Ahhh", spurting his seed into Peter's mouth.
Closing his lips, Peter rubbed Chen's oozing cockhead over his
cheeks and chin, squeezing out the last few drops. Swallowing,
Peter stood up and asked Chen for a glass of water.

"Of course, my dear boy, the kitchen is around that corner and
down a short hall", Mister Chen gestured. Peter left the large
room and rounded the corner only to run smack into the back of
Fong, who had been polishing a large metal bowl. Peter was
shocked into remembering that he was naked, his erection quickly
starting to wilt. But Fong was unperturbed, picking up the
bottom corner of his apron and dabbing it at the drying semen on
Peter's face.

"You make Mister Chen happy, Master Peter, very happy. Mister
Chen happy, then Fong happy. You good boy. Good boy", the
elderly retainer chattered as he swabbed the seminal fluid off
Peter's shyly smiling face. After he finished, Peter poured
himself a glass of water and returned with it to the main
sitting room where Chen had rearranged his clothing back to a
more modest state.

"Peter, my love, I believe I have arrived at a solution to our
several dilemmas", Mister Chen began, calling the naked boy over
to sit in his lap again."It will require a little play-acting on
your part, and a small, temporary inconvenience. For my part, I
have decided not to barter with your charms with
my...associates, but to keep you all to myself. I have long
desired an heir, a protege, to share my fortune and enjoy it
when I pass on. A life companion, who would give himself
joyfully to me in every way. I believe you are that special
person, innocent yet charmingly erotic, open-hearted but
conscious of the importance of custom and tradition. Here is my
proposal..."

* * *

The phone in their resort room rang late the next morning, after
the two boys had breakfasted and departed. Jean slept through
the noise, leaving a groggy and disoriented Richard to answer
its summons.

"Hello? Yes? What is it?", he slurred.

"Ah, Mister Jones, so sorry to disturb your morning repose. This
is the front desk, sir", a voice replied.

"Front desk? What's up?", Peter's father asked, still half
asleep.

"There is a doctor here from our local Children's Clinic who
wishes urgently to speak with you, sir", the polite voice
answered.

"Doctor? What the hell's happened? Is it Kacey? Is he hurt? Or,
uh, Peter?", Richard yelled into the mouthpiece.

"Sir, please, I know nothing other than that a doctor wishes
urgently to speak to you. You will find him awaiting you in the
foyer", the voice responded, ending the call. Richard dropped
the handpiece and rushed back into his bedroom, threw on some
clothes and gave Jean a shake before  quick-stepping it to the
plush foyer of the resort.

Both Richard and the doctor simultaneously identified who the
other was as soon as Richard raced into the reception area of
the resort. The doctor held up both hands to attempt to calm the
situation.

"You are the father of Peter?", he asked the dishevelled man.

"Yes, what's happened, for god's sake?", he shouted.

"Please, Mister Jones, there is no immediate danger. Calm
yourself. You will not aid your son with this outburst", the
doctor soothed. "He is at my Clinic. He came to me early this
morning and showed me a rash on his back and stomach.
Unfortunately, I am all too familiar with the cause of this
rash. If you would come with me, I will take you to see your
son". The doctor took Richard's elbow and began to lead him out
the front entrance of the resort.

"But..Jean, my wife...she..." Richard spluttered.

"Do not concern yourself. I have advised Reception of our
location and Mrs Jones shall follow and join us when she can",
reassured the Doctor. The two walked briskly the mile and a half
to the Chen Memorial Clinic, where Richard was shown to an
observation window which looked into a private room. Peter lay
on a bed, on top of the sheets, wearing a pair of white boxers.
A vivid red rash covering his chest and stomach could plainly be
seen. Tubes led into and out of his arms. A battery of
complicated machinery with dials and screens hummed and
flickered behind the bed.

"Is he..can I go in? What's wrong with him, Doctor?", the
distraught man begged loudly.

"Please, Mister Jones, try to compose yourself. As you can see,
your son is receiving all necessary medical attention. But to
confirm my suspicions, may I ask, has your son been near the
beach at dusk recently?"

"The beach? What? Uh, yeah, he spent the night on the beach a
couple days ago. Why? What is it?", Richard demanded.

"Alas, it is as I feared. The symptoms are unmistakeable. Mister
Jones, there is a mosquito which is endemic to this region,
Anopheles Funestus, which carries the 'C' strain of malaria. It
is especially voracious around the hour of sunset. Locals have
built up an immunity to its bite, but visitors are not so
fortunate. Your son was bitten by many such as these. May I
enquire, are you familiar with tropical diseases?"

"Of course I'm not familiar with tropical diseases! I'm an
American! I mean, we come from the North of the U.S., where it's
pretty cold", Richard amended. "When will I be able to get him
out of here, Doc? Uh, not that your facilities are substandard
or anything, in fact", Richard paused, looking around at the
high-tech equipment, "you look pretty well up-to-date, but...I'm
sure back in the States we got a lot of doctors who...er",
Richard trailled off.

"Of course. You wish your son to receive the best of treatment,
and where else would that be obtained but in one's own country.
By all means you should remove him back to your home. Shall you
be chartering an aeroplane, or travelling by ship?", the Doctor
enquired.

"Chartering a...what? Why would I charter a plane? We got
tickets!", Richard looked bewildered.

The Doctor smiled condescendingly, as if explaining two plus two
equals four to a small child. "Malaria-C is highly contagious
for the first four to six weeks of incubation. You said that
Peter spent the night at the beach two days ago. So he is still
contagious for another forty days. No airline will carry a
contagious passenger, it would put all the other passengers at
extreme risk. If you wish to fly, you would have to charter your
own aeroplane, and pay for its fumigation after the flight. I am
told such a charter, complete with attendant doctor and nurse,
would run into tens of thousands of US dollars."

"Er, okay, ah, you mentioned a ship?", Richard suggested,
thinking of his bank account.

"Yes, of course, the sea option. The advantage of ocean travel
is that Peter could be housed in a containment suit, thus
avoiding expensive fumigation. He would also not require
isolation while wearing the suit. He would still need medical
staff in attendance, of course, and the sea voyage from Phuket
to the United States only takes some twenty eight days. His
period of contagion would be almost completed when he arrived at
San Francisco. Following that, of course, he would still have
the recuperation period".

"Recuperation?", Richard echoed, beginning to feel ill himself.

"Oh, yes, Malaria-C is very debilitating. Following the initial
infection and contagion periods, I would estimate in one of
Peter's age and physical condition, a recuperative term of not
less than three years".

"Three years!" Richard exploded.

"Certainly. He would need twenty-four hour a day medical
attention, expensive medication, constant physical therapy to
prevent muscle atrophy and specialised therapeutic equipment to
assist his mobility during that time. A recent issue of the
Lancet, the British medical journal, estimated the cost of
treatment of a single case of Malaria-C at some three quarters
of a million US dollars."

"Three Qu-!", Richard was stunned into silence. He had brought
the family to Phuket for a short vacation. He had permitted his
son to go to the beach. How was he to know the kid would get
bitten by some damned Asian bug? How was he going to pay for all
this stuff the Doctor spoke about? He leaned against the glass
observation window and gazed in at his son.

"I sympathise with your situation, Mister Jones", the Doctor
soothed. May I point out that this Clinic has had excellent
results in treating Malaria-C over the years? The benefactor who
donated the funds to build this Clinic, a local businessman,
lost a loved one to this very illness, and was determined that
no others would perish from its ravages. Not only is our
recovery rate enviable, but our after-care facilities are second
to none. I do not know your financial situation, but I can
advise that the Chen Clinic would, according to its
establishment charter, be willing to treat your son for this
condition, then maintain him in our adjacent hostel for the
period of his recuperation. He would be able to communicate with
you daily by webcam and telephone, and the cost of the treatment
would be covered in its entirety by our benefactor's donation".

"Peter could...stay here and be treated...for free?", Richard
stammered. "No charge?"

"The specifics of Mister Chen's bequest make it very clear.
There would be no charge, you would simply have to sign a few
forms handing over medical guardianship to me. I would treat him
as if he were my own son".

"Doctor, I...uh, thank you, thank you so much, I...don't know
how to...uh", Richard sobbed. Jean arrived in the hallway at
that moment, so the Doctor drew her aside to explain the
situation. She grasped the essentials a lot more quickly than
her husband; after all, Peter was not her son, it was obvious
that the family should not have to suffer bankruptcy when an
alternative solution was offered on a plate.

Giving one final feeble wave towards his sleeping son, Richard
allowed Jean to lead him away from the observation window to the
Doctor's office, where he absently wrote his signature on a few
forms. Jean took Richard back to the resort where the couple
packed their bags and waited for Kacey to turn up. Jean called
the airline and was able to alter their booking to an earlier
flight, and the three left Phuket five hours later, bound for
their wintry American home without Peter.

* * *

Back at the Clinic, Peter was scrubbing the red food colouring
off his chest, stomach and back, aided by Mister Chen who
scraped a soft brush lovingly over his boy's torso.

"He didn't put up much of a struggle, did he", Peter reflected
aloud. "Dad, I mean. And Jean, well, I guess she has her own son
to worry about".

Chen did not want to sound too jubilant in victory. "I'm sure
your father looks forward to a point in time three years and one
month from now when he can again draw you into the bosom of his
family. But by then, you will be legally entitled to decide for
yourself where you shall live, under Thai law", he added,
smiling.

"Did you really pay for this hospital?" Peter asked, towelling
down.

"It was suggested to me by an associate who holds a position of
some influence in the Government that my...activities in Phuket
would be subject to much less scrutiny were I to endow some
public health facility for the good of the local people. Health
and happiness are strongly allied in our traditions. The Doctor
who runs it owes me a few favours", he added, smiling.

"I bet he does", grinned Peter. "By the way, do you still have
that videotape of dad and Kacey?" he asked, a strange smirk
playing across his lips.

"Did you wish to use it as a tutorial?", Chen countered.

"No! It's just...well, I've never seen much of that kinda thing,
and I...", Peter whispered.

"Alas! I fear that the tape has somehow found its way into your
stepmother's luggage and will shortly be winging its way across
the Pacific Ocean", Chen sighed.

"But you made a copy, didn't you, Mister Chen", Peter urged.

"You already know me too well, my young lover", Chen replied.

* * *

End