Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 2

As we strolled back to the Chateau, I asked Liana if she had any boyfriends here in Singapore. She told me the guys here did not seem to like her. I told her I found that extremely hard to believe. She just smiled sweetly, as if she didn’t believe it herself. I then asked if she had any boyfriends back in Sulawesi. She had a few, she told me, but they weren’t serious. “Just a bunch of stupid boys,” she said. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” By this time, I was finding it a little hard to walk since I was grappling with an erection that was caught in my boxers, jutting out sideways. This was no big handicap, though, as Liana herself was not able to move too quickly in her tattered flip-flops. Thanks to these two restraints, the stroll back was long and leisurely. We laughed and giggled a lot, though I can’t for the life of me remember what we were laughing about. As we waited for the green light just across from the Chateau, I decided to make my move. I asked her if she’d like to come down to my apartment sometime soon, maybe have some tea and cookies. She said she preferred the sugar cane juice. I told her I was friends with a major supplier. She asked when she should come. I asked when she could come.

We arranged for her to come over early Saturday afternoon. “Sir” and

“Ma’am” were going off to visit friends in Malaysia this weekend, and she said she could drop in when her auntie had her naptime. “Great. Oh, we should spend some time together over at my place,” I added.

“No problem,” she promised. “My auntie usually takes a long nap in the middle of the day.” I really liked the way she said “lo-ong.” My cock somehow managed to stiffen even more as it found another nook at the side of my boxers to snuggle into. I could barely move. But for Liana and me, it just remained to work out the logistics.

She had told me that her auntie usually dozed off right after lunch. That should be about a quarter past one, she thought. But it was almost three by the time she finally arrived. I was going crazy by then, scanning some of the DVDs I’d pulled out to try to distract myself while waiting for her. But it was worth the wait. When she finally stood there in the doorway, she was just so hopelessly lovely. She had done something special with her hair and even put on a bit of lipstick. As much as I loved her natural look, she was even more alluring with this little touchup. I had a hard-on within seconds.

I offered her some sugar cane juice. She said she would love some.

Then she shyly asked if I could add some alcohol to it. “Sure,” I answered,

“no problem.” I reached into the back of my cupboard for a bottle of vodka.

She scooped up the glass, then downed the whole thing in one long swallow. “Sorry,” she said, “I was so thirsty.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” I replied, then asked if she wanted a refill.

She nodded, but added, “Just half a glass.” While I was still pouring, she turned and glanced at the kitchen floor. “Oh,” she sort of squeaked. “You really need your floor cleaned.”

“Oh yeah, but it’s alright,” I replied. “I … I always leave it until Sunday.

I look forward to doing it right after morning coffee and the Sunday Times.” I doubt she even heard me. She looked around quickly and then, as if guided by some preternatural instinct all Indonesian girls born to be maids have, headed for the cabinet under the sink where I keep what few cleanup items I have. She enthusiastically hauled out a rarely used bucket, a scrubbing brush, a couple of rags and some liquid that I guess you use to clean floors.

She was amazing; I don’t think I could have found those things so quickly.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” I said.

“Oh no, Sir, this floor really needs a good clean.”

“Just leave it,” I barked. “I’ll … I’ll take care of it later so you can get a good sleep tonight. I promise.”

Liana had moved to the kitchen sink and was running hot water into the bucket. “No, this is good, so. I really like cleaning floors. It’s so much fun.” While I moped, she mopped. And then things got more interesting. “I hope you don’t mind, Sir. But it always gets so hot when I do this work.” Before I could ask her what I was supposed to not mind, she had swiftly tugged off her tight-fitting tee and with one further, deft movement removed the bra as well. She stood there with those luscious coffee-toned breasts topped by dark nipples and a kid’s-party smile spread all over her face. She looked down briefly, as if to check what had me so transfixed, then looked back up, her smile conveying a sense of total understanding and agreement.

She then swivelled and flipped the bra and tee onto the kitchen table with all the grace and artfulness of a stripper.