Free Stealing Asia by David Clarkson Page B

humiliation. I swam diagonal to the shoreline, hoping to put
some distance between me and the girls, but they just got to their feet and
started walking along the beach to meet me. When it was finally time to leave
the security of the water, I cupped my balls with one hand and shielded my
modesty with the other whilst making a quick dash for my cabin. Mercifully, the
door was not locked and I was able to dash inside.
    ‘I’ll get you
back for this,’ I promised Asia when she finally joined me in the cabin.
    ‘What are you
going to do - leave me stranded naked on the beach and then call the boys out
to witness it? We could do it after lunch, if you want.’
    Knowing Asia as
I did, something told me that she was not joking. There are some battles we
know we simply cannot win. With revenge out of the question, she continued to
tease me all through lunch. After we had eaten she went to sunbathe, whilst I
decided that I would try to make an effort with her friends. The girls were not
around, but their trans-Atlantic boyfriends were both sat by the bar with beers
in their hands. I expected them to rib me about the unplanned skinny dipping
episode as they must surely have heard by then, but they were not in a joking
mood. Clay had spotted a boat making its way around the rocks and seemed
agitated by it.
    ‘It’s probably
just a delivery,’ I told him. ‘Or maybe even some more backpackers. What’s
there to worry about?’
    He shot me a
condescending look. I had no idea what his problem was. As the boat came
closer, I could see that it was filled mostly with Thais, with only one foreign
face onboard. Much to my delight that sole foreigner was my friend, Esteban. He
had no way of knowing I was on this beach, so seeing him again was a great
stroke of fortune.
    ‘I know that
guy,’ I said. ‘I was with him when I met you two at the full moon party. Don’t
you remember?’
    They both shook
their heads and then walked down to the shore with me to greet the new arrival.
His transport was larger than the long tail that we had taken and was not able
to sail directly onto the shore. He alighted from the boat about ten metres or
so from the beach. The water was almost up to his neck, forcing him to carry
his pack high above his head as he made his way to dry land.
    ‘Esteban!’ I
called out, as he finally made it onto the sand.
    ‘Ben?’ he
replied. ‘I cannot believe it is you. It seems that Lady Luck is fond of me. I
never expected to find a friend out here on the remotest part of the island.
How are you?’
    ‘We arrived the
morning after the party,’ I replied. ‘I wanted to find you first, but you had
already gone. I’m sorry that I left you like that.’
    He waved away my
concern.
    ‘Think nothing
of it,’ he said. ‘Am I to guess that by “we” you are still with this beautiful
redhead of yours?’
    ‘Of course; her
friends are here too. Do you remember them from the party?’
    I turned to the
Americans.
    ‘Guys, this is
Esteban Cruz.’
    Neither of the
Americans offered him their hand, which I found not only strange, but also
rude. A little embarrassed, I went on to introduce the pair to Esteban.
    ‘This is Barrett
and Clay.’ I said, before turning back to the Americans. ‘I never actually got
your Christian names. It seems a bit formal calling you Barrett and Clay all
the time, don’t you think?’
    ‘We aren’t
Christians,’ replied Barrett.
    The American
seemed to spit that last word out as if he did not like the taste of it in his
mouth.
    ‘I mean your
first names. What do we call you guys?’
    ‘Barrett and
Clay’.
    ‘Barrett Barrett
and Clay Clay,’ I said, not even realising that I was speaking out loud.
    ‘Actually, it’s
Clay Krantz and Barrett Stern,’ said Clay.
    I felt a little
stupid, but tried not to let this show. Esteban nodded half heartedly and we
left the Americans whilst we walked up to the bar, which also acted as a
reception. Esteban booked into the resort and paid