Read Hong Kong Heat Online

Authors: Raven McAllan

Tags: #Erotic Romance Fiction

Hong Kong Heat (10 page)

“That looks heavy,” Debra commented as they joined the queue to disembark.

“I have cold drinks and snacks in it. I thought we’d eat once we’ve walked the trail and if the boy who sells ice creams at the top isn’t there, we’ll be glad of them. Actually, we’ll be glad of them anyway. It’s going to be humid.”

The sun was high and hazy and as they left the air-conditioned ferry cabin, the heat hit them in waves. Debra untucked her T-shirt from the waistband of her cut-offs. “Blimey, you aren’t wrong. Is it always like this so early in the year?”

Braam shook his head as he took her hand and turned her away from the single village street lined with fish restaurants and tiny food shops. The smell of spices and hot, used fat followed them. “Nope, it’s come early. And you never get used to it, not totally. You thank the Lord for air con and do everything whilst it’s cooler. That’s why we’re out and about so early.”

They walked past a children’s play park and a map of the island. Debra stopped to look at the map.

“It says that we want to go the other way.” She traced the trail with her finger.

“We do,” Braam agreed amiably. After I’ve shown you something. Not the ‘you show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ either.”

Debra chuckled. “Maybe not, not here. Oh my goodness, look at that.” She waved their joint hands toward a ramshackle row of shacks. “Are they still used for people to eat in? Really?”

“They sure are. After all, who wouldn’t want to eat in Jonnies, the Best Seafood Restaurant Ever, or the Best Peking Duck outside Peking Sunshine Café?”

“Hmm, if you don’t fall through the floor, or get eaten by something.” Debra wrinkled her nose. “Still, looks can be deceiving, I guess. One of the best meals I ever had was in a tiny wooden hut over a lagoon in South Africa. You could see through the cracks in the floor to the water and I swear they used to fish through them to catch the oysters. And they were the best oysters I’ve ever tasted.”

“Knysna?”

She looked surprised. “Yes, have you been there?”

“Oh, have I ever. It was my getaway from the pressure of the job place when I worked in South Africa a few years ago. Damn shame when they modernized it. It’s not even there now. The rent went up so much, they pulled it down, along with a few other ramshackle but brilliant restaurants and bars. Modernizing and not in a good way.”

 

Debra had to agree with him. Modernization wasn’t always the way to go, although she thought the row of wooden shacks they’d passed a few moments earlier would benefit from some.

The track climbed the side of the hill away from the water. Debra wondered where on earth they were going. If she’d read the map correctly, they’d have to retrace their tracks to find the path over the hills to the other, larger fishing village where they could catch another ferry back to Central. No wonder they’d had an early start. It wasn’t solely because of the humidity. Braam had a plan.

Hand in hand, they walked along companionably until Braam turned off the track onto a tiny dirt trail that twisted and turned around the scrubby bushes and trees as it made its way downhill.

“I’ll go first. Watch your step, it’s a bit uneven. Our destination is a few minutes away at most. We used to come here almost every week when I was growing up. It was always deserted apart from one old guy fishing off the rocks. I never ever saw him catch anything. Here we are.”

The track became sandier and Debra strode out, only to stub her toe on a half-hidden stone

“Dammit, ouch. These damn pebbles stick up like olives in a pizza. I hate olives.”

Braam turned and kissed her nose. “Do you need kissing better?’

Debra shuddered theatrically. “Eugh, no thank you. It was my toe. I hope to goodness toe sucking isn’t one of your fetishes? Because if it is, you’re out of luck. Like I said before, my feet are a no go zone.”

“You’re safe, that’s not on my list. Ear sucking, nipple sucking, clit sucking? Oh, yes, but I’ve never made it low enough to want to toe suck. I get waylaid at the c—”

“Yes, well, oh, good, oh grief.” Debra was sure her cheeks matched the color of her underwear. Her best worn in the pool and not suffered underwear. Not that he could see it, thankfully.

Braam stood to one side and waved his arm. “Voilà.”

In front of them the view changed to one of blue sky and sunlit sea.

The tiny cove was enchanting. Across the water, Debra could see land. Tree-covered hills dotted with houses and, perhaps, a road, where vehicles shone as the sun reflected off them.

“Where’s that?” She pointed across the water.

Braam came up behind her and put his arms around her. His hands rested on the swells of her breasts. “That’s Hong Kong Island. That way—” he lifted one arm and pointed—”is Aberdeen and the typhoon shelter. Over there is Stanley. Good view, eh?” He put his arm back around her and his finger brushed her nipple before settling nearby.

Just an inch across please.
Debra leaned back into his embrace and wriggled so his finger slipped and tightened over her nipple. It hardened and peaked the soft material that covered it.

“Oh, someone’s pleased to have attention.” Braam kissed the nape of her neck. She shivered. He did that so well. Deb bent her head to give him better access.

There was a clatter of pebbles and they both looked up. Debra noticed and felt that Braam didn’t move his arms more than the inch needed for them not to be making out in public.

An old man emerged from the track they had used. He had on an incongruous tartan tammy, a fishing rod over one shoulder and a bucket in his hand. He grinned, showing three blackened teeth, then bowed his head and said something.

Braam answered him. His voice rose at the end of his speech, so Debra judged that he had asked the older man a question.

The man cackled and spat expertly into the bushes. Debra averted her head. Even though spitting was now illegal in Hong Kong, she doubted that many people were prosecuted on Lamma, especially not on a beach. It was highly unlikely that a policeman was going to pop up from behind a bush.

The man spoke again and Braam chuckled and waved. Debra looked at him.

“Wow, you actually do speak the lingo.” Deb fluttered her eyelashes. “You
are
clever.”

“Yeah, of course. How else would I order dim sum from the street vendor? Hold on.” The older man was speaking once more. Braam responded and the guy grunted, gave his gappy grin and walked down the beach.

“He said he never catches anything. He comes down when his wife has her sisters over for lunch. He needs the peace.”

“Is it the same guy as when you were a kid?”

Braam smiled. “I’d guess not, he’d be about ninety now. But who knows? Ah well, bang goes my chance of seducing you here. I was going to add to my memory bank. Shall we go? We need to face the gauntlet of all the hustlers outside the restaurants before we can get onto the trail.”

Debra nodded, more disappointed than she would have imagined. His brief almost caress had set her pulse racing and her imagination into overdrive. She followed him back through the trees to the main track.

 

* * * *

 

He was correct about the hustling. Debra was glad she had Braam for protection. Although most people took a polite no for an answer, some were more persistent. When one guy grabbed Debra’s arm, Braam snarled and gave the man such a mouthful that he took a step backwards and almost hit his chest with his head as he said something in a most apologetic tone. No one else bothered them after that.

Did the restaurateurs and shopkeepers have some sort of semaphore or code that said don’t mess with this man?

“What did you say to him?” Debra asked curiously. “He went pale.”

“I threatened him with my uncle. He has the same name as a bit of a bad ‘un in Macao. It works every time. Though Uncle Abilio wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s a scientist and rarely steps out of his bubble.”

“I love it. Braam, how many languages
do
you speak?”

“Um, well, as opposed to the ‘hello’, ‘please’, ‘thank you’, ‘goodbye’, ‘where’s the loo’? and ‘can I have the bill please’? variety? Mandarin, Cantonese, Portuguese, Dutch and English.”

She blinked. “Blimey, that makes my schoolgirl French pathetic.”

“Maybe your talents run in a different direction?” He raised one eyebrow and leered.

She sniggered. “Yeah. Cross stitch. I’m a dab hand at jabbing with a needle.”

He put his hands over his cock.

She shook her head. “Am I likely to need to… No, don’t answer that. Oh, look.” She moved faster toward a shop front a few yards away then stopped.

Braam turned to look at her with a quizzical expression. “What?”

“Them.” She gestured toward a stall. “I want those.”

“You want? Cheap here.” The stallholder had caught the word ‘want’.

“The kids’ chopsticks?” Braam asked her incredulously. “With the cartoon plasticy thing holding them together? Why? Oh, duh, you’re present buying.”

“Well, yes and no. It is a present, but it’s for me and do not laugh,” Debra said. She knew she sounded defensive. “I need them all right? I can
not
use proper chopsticks to save myself. Okay, I can’t use these in public, but at least I can give myself the illusion of eating Chinese food the Chinese way when I’m alone.” She shut up as Braam embarked on the expected haggling with the shopkeeper. At least she assumed that was what he was doing. There was a lot of head shaking and fingers held in the air, until finally he and the shopkeeper shook hands.

“Choose your color, love. Do you want the slimy green whatever it is or the pink star?”

“The star, of course, thank you. Hold on, I need to get my money out.” Debra swung her shoulder bag around.

Braam put his hand on her bag and stopped her. “My treat. All ten Hong Kong dollars of it. Around seventy odd of your pence. I’m a cheapskate.” He handed a note to the shopkeeper and took his change and the chopsticks in a neat purple net bag. It almost didn’t clash with the fastening of the chopsticks.

Debra stood on tiptoe to kiss him. As soon as her lips touched his, she felt the familiar clit tingling, muscle clenching sensations that she experienced every time they touched. Damned if he didn’t send her bones to jelly and make her mouth water. The brief hard clench of her ass as he returned the kiss made her moan. She moaned again as his grip lessened and he ended the kiss and the ass-hold.

“You, my love, will have us arrested if we’re not careful.” Braam was breathing heavily as he ran his hand through his short hair. “One touch and I forget where we are. We could be in the middle of a crowd at a major sporting event and I’d still lose track of anything but you.”

Awww.
There was no answer, except, “Thank you, I feel the same.”

“Good, but we need to curb our enthusiasm in public. Right, shall we get a move on? I’ve earmarked a place for snacks and drinks, but we need to walk a bit. Is that all right with you?”

“Oh, yes.” They linked hands again and left the shops, restaurants and houses behind to climb the steep track out of the village. Debra soon found she was puffing. Okay, she didn’t like exercise per se, but she liked walking and did a lot of it. This was something else. Sweat dripped down her back and between her boobs. She’d be getting the adult equivalent of nappy rash between them, not on her butt if she wasn’t careful. She tried to wipe her cleavage surreptitiously and stole a mutinous look at Braam. He, of course, looked as if he was strolling along the promenade of stars on Kowloon waterfront and ready to see if his handprint matched Jackie Chan’s or Bruce Li’s.

“What?” Braam handed her a bottle of ice-cold water. “You were muttering.”

Debra took a long swig before she answered. If she wasn’t so thirsty, she’d pour half the water over her head to cool herself off and the other half over Braam just because.

“Wondering how, if I bashed you over the head, I’d get back to Central. How on earth can they say this is a stroll?”

“To be honest, I don’t think anyone says that,” Braam pointed out. “It says it’s a walk over the hills.”

“Hm, it says around four kilometers and about an hour. We’ve been going for at least three.”
Sheesh, I sound a right mardy bitch, but seriously, this is tough.
Debra hated feeling like that. All whiney, poor me pathos.

“On this track, twenty minutes. Do you want to go back? We can get a ferry where we landed.”

He sounded so concerned that Debra’s bad mood dissipated like the early morning mist over the Peak. She had to hope it didn’t roll back in like it did over the Peak.

“No, I’m fine, honestly.” She hugged him then drank some more water. “I’m hot and bothered for all the wrong reasons. I want to go on. I was having a moment. A pissy moment.” She snapped the water bottle lid closed. “Sorry. All okay now.”

“Honey, I was pushing you. We’ll take it steady now. Are you up for a tiny detour? No more than ten minutes each way and somewhere to sit and nibble.”

Nibble what?
“Of course I am. Lead on, MacDuff, or should I say, Van M.?”

Braam tapped the tip of her nose with his little finger. A for no reason but friendly gesture as far as Debra could tell. Whatever, it made her go all tingly inside.

“Either will do. Do you want me to take your bag?”

“Nope, I’ve pulled up my big girl panties and I’m fine.” Debra put her holdall over her shoulder.

“Damn, I was hoping you were in those interesting scraps of lace I glimpsed in the pool. Mind your step. This bit’s narrow and the steps are slippery. Let me go ahead. Then, if you slip you’ll fall on me, not down the hill.”

How could she concentrate on steps when he made a statement like that?

She waited until the path became reasonably level. “I am.”

Braam stopped dead and she bumped into him. He turned round to look at her. “You are what?”

Debra ran her tongue round her lips very slowly and smiled. She made her voice as deep and sultry as she knew how. “In those interesting scraps of lace you glimpsed.”

He blinked and swallowed. His Adam’s apple moved convulsively. “Woman,” he said hoarsely. “You’ll be the death of me. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and turned along a side track.

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