Dara Leaves with Her Husband

This stand-alone story starts the morning after "Dara Is Instructed By Her Husband" which in turn follows "Dara Fishes For A Husband." Reading those stories is suggested but not required, most of the same characters are in all three. For the convenience of those who read the other stories, the chapters are numbered sequentially.

Dara has caught Sung Ro, with a temporary marriage. Sung paid Dara's father with a large check which will feed her family. However, after years 'off the grid' her father can't deposit the check. Fortunately, Sung taught a seminar on US banking to top executives of the largest banks in Thailand, so he had powerful friends. After the banking is taken care of, Dara and her husband go to Bangkok, where she will transition from a starving 18-year old dropout to a faculty wife in Hong Kong.

All sex is between people who are 18 or older. Chapter 6 occurs in a small town in eastern Thailand. Chapter 7 is mainly in Bangkok. It is the Summer of 2006.

Chapter 6. Deposit The Check. Husband makes a powerful self-important man his bitch and is rewarded. (Erotic Couplings.)

Chapter 7. Bangkok. Life as a wife. Her first time alone with him in the shower and the bed. (Loving couple at home.)

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Chapter 6.

Deposit The Check

The first morning of my married life, less that 20 hours after I first saw my husband, we all ate breakfast in the hotel room before we went shopping. Sung ordered a bunch of things and we all ate off all the plates while we shuffled about getting ready.

Bop dragged me into my room for a private talk. She was upset.

"I heard noises last night."

"On a wedding night there are some noises one expects. But good manners suggests these are not talked about."

"Your room is pretty well soundproofed. I wasn't talking about those noises, although what I could not hear sounded pretty good. I sort of listened for awhile when I did the sheet... while you were in the shower. Also once you got ready for bed." I blushed and she smiled, then she moved on.

"But there were other noises, not from your room. After you guys went to your bedroom, Cara said she wanted to 'take the steam' but did not want to go alone. Dad said he would go with her, unless she preferred my company. Cara said the steam room was coed and such an attractive young girl as me might not be comfortable, plus I would make others uncomfortable, so she and Dad went together. They were gone for an hour so I am sure they didn't hear noises from your room - unless you made noises later? After supper?" She was fishing, but I declined to bite. "Anyways, when they came back from the sauna I figured that was my cue to go to bed. Dad did the same, I know because I tucked him in - he said it was my job now.

Father and I always spent a few minutes at the end of the day talking about plans for the next day. I tucked him in because when my mother died, I said I should take over for her in household tasks. As I got older, it also insured that his teenage girl was home when he went to bed. In the hotel Bop's bed was in the room with the twins.

"About an hour after I tucked Dad in I heard hushed noises... from his room. It sounded like a female voice trying to keep some happy sounds quiet so as not to wake anybody. It was from his room, not yours or Cara's, and the voice... it was female. I do know that this morning Cara and Dad were in their own rooms when I saw them."

Dad was 46 and had not been with a woman in years.

It used to be that when Father killed a big monkey he took part of it to a neighbor's house and shared the meat. That always took two to four hours. The lady of the house loved monkey meat from when she was little, and she was grateful. She had a husband who was much older and always looked run down. Eventually the husband figured out what monkey meat on the table meant monkey business in the bedroom. He decided he did not like monkey meat that much. He was not going to complain to Father, as he figured it might be bad for his health. So he took his wife and moved suddenly. More monkey meat for us.

"Do these things bother you?" I asked Bop.

"No... yes, I don't know. If Father is happy that is good... But she is wearing a ring. So my thoughts are a jumble."

"You could ask him yourself. This afternoon you will be the woman of the house."

"I guess I am having second thoughts about that. The previous woman of the house was tough about chores and homework and such, but I was sure she was always thinking of us. I know we would not have gotten this far if she was not clever, hard working, and sacrificed herself so much for us." Now Bop had tears in her eyes. Maybe someone else did too. "I am not sure I have that toughness..."

"I love you too, and am still thinking of you. We will have emails, and maybe a phone. We will keep in touch. Get yourself and everybody a passport, so you can visit."

"You mean visit Honk Kong?"

I looked at her in a meaningful way and whispered. "Maybe the US. He says that, as his wife, I can become a citizen... which means I might be able to bring you and the twins over for schooling some day. Perhaps Father can see Wisconsin."

Wisconsin! Deer and geese and turkeys! No rainy season! That really started the waterworks. She got me going. It was some time before we went to join the others.

But nobody complained.

After breakfast Sung explained that we could not dress to impress the bank people, there was not enough time for fitted clothing. So we would go casual, with new outfits all around. Father in a golf shirt and slacks while Bop and I got casual blouse-and-skirt outfits. The twins also got outfits. There were new sensible shoes all around. It did not take long.

When we got to the bank we left Cara in the SUV with the twins. There were TVs in the headrests so the twins were very happy. Cara had a book about "Sleeping Beauty." I wondered about that.

Sung said we were to relax, stay close to him, and act bored. Banks like this one were designed to impress people, it made them easy to lead. We were not to be impressed, it was all boring. We were to pay no attention to anyone except the bank manager, and we were only to nod when addressed. He was very serious about this, we had to follow the script.

I should say something here about Father. You know how they say some people "look like trouble?" The picture next to that phrase looks like Father. When he was younger he was in the military, and was quite handsome - in a wicked way. He has always been very muscular for a Thai, like a young Rambo, plus unlike Rambo he was taller than average. Since Mother died he has added some weight. Have you seen the latest Rambo movie? His looks are best described as "rangy," or maybe "hulking." Now Father is like that. In the woods he is at home. In the bank he will attract attention no matter how he is dressed. The clothing Sung bought us did not really change things, except maybe they suggested a degree of success, possibly in something disreputable.

When we walked in Sung was the best-dressed person in the bank, wearing what I later learned was a $5,000 suit. (Yes, that is an obscene amount of money for a suit. Even for an American. Sung has several custom made in Italy. "Cost of doing business," he said with a sigh.) Sung acted like everybody worked for him, and he was a mean boss. The guards took one look at Father and they started to close in, but we followed Sung and paid them no attention. When one guard tried to step in front of us Sung did not even meet his eye, he just kept going and the guy gave way. We walked to the back of the lobby, past this little fence thing into the area with desks, where the floor is carpet. We kept walking directly to the last desk. There Sung addressed the occupant like he owned the place, he did not even look at her.

He glanced at his watch as he spoke. "Miss, would you please dial your central office, extension 475, on a secure line and ask for George? Give the person who answers my name..." he handed her a card, "... and then give me the phone. Then connect in your boss and tell him what you have done."

The secretary did not do as my husband asked. "Why would I do that?" she asked like she owned the place. Very snooty.

Sung glanced again at his watch like he was checking the time, waited a tick, then he spoke to her. "You are being timed. I need to talk to George on a secure line. If I have to call him on my phone it will not be secure and he will have to call your boss on his private extension and instruct him to fire you or fire himself... George will say he does not care which. So I suggest..."

She started dialing, I have never seen anybody dial a phone so fast. She blanched when they answered at the other end, she was not expecting whoever she was talking to and it scared her white. She talked softly but urgently to somebody, then presented the phone to Sung like it was his personal phone and she was not worthy. She wasn't scared, she was terrified. Next she picked up a second phone and spoke softly to somebody else.

Somebody was talking on the phone to Sung and he responded. "Yes George, you are looking good too. Been on the tennis courts have you? Yeah, me too. Look, I am in your branch, I think it is 26?" He looked at the secretary who nodded while listening on the phone. "Yes, and I have some unusual requests. Too many, they will probably melt your bank manager's brain. Oh, you DO have a replacement handy. I wonder... Good show..." The woman touched a button. A guy at a office stuck his head out the door, looking like he had been disturbed. "Yes, I see him now." Sung waved like an old friend and the guy waved back, very unsure. "Look, I am on my honeymoon... Yes, she is, I took your advice... A lovely local flower. The best... You were right of course... That too! Well, I can't talk about that, she is right here. But you will appreciate that I can't wait all day for approvals and paperwork, there is shopping to do... and other things... yes, recovery time. You do understand! So I was wondering..."

The person on the phone responded. There was a brief conversation in shorthand I could not understand between Sung and, I assumed, two other people, one of which was not happy at all. When it was over the door of the back office opened. My husband finished his call. "Yes George, I see him, I was sure you would understand, that covers it. Thanks. I will see you next week, I'll let you know then. Yes, a grade, of course. No, I can't count that high. Ta ta." Then he gave the secretary her phone back, looked at his watch, then shook his head. The snooty woman now looked humbled and afraid.

The door that opened said "Bank Manager" and I assume that was who welcomed us to his large, well-appointed office with a great deal of faux deference. That included shooing away the four security guards who were watching Father like pigeons with a nest full of eggs watching a very large snake - close, very concerned, but helpless.

I recognized the bank manager from around town; he was always acting important and bossing people around, then tossing off insults. Nobody stood up to him, and I always wondered why. Now I knew.

But even the bank manager had a boss, and my husband knew him.

When we were all seated and introduced (I was Sung's newlywed bride, not my father's daughter), the man asked what he could do for "George's friends." My husband explained. They used a type of shorthand talk which I could not follow. Then my husband showed the bank manager the check he had given my father.

They were pleasant enough until the manager said, "Normally we don't do that type of thing so quickly. Perhaps..."

Sung's sigh stopped him. He got very calm for a moment, then spoke in a low voice. "As you heard me explain to your Executive Vice President, everything I am giving you to do today is unusual, and the type of thing you don't usually do without days wasted to get useless approval. As you and I both heard George order you, all would be done exactly as I ask, and done immediately as if he were here... and you weren't... so my bride and I can get on with our day. My time is far more valuable than your job. Now, I do not want to hear that phrase again from you. If I do I can assure you that you will not work in banking in this country again."

The guy was clearly not pleased for the lecture, or the reminder of who my husband knew, but he took the check, recorded something on the computer, then asked what was next. What was next was opening an account for Father, with Bop as a co-signer, without benefit of an address. It seemed the bank would hold the bank-related mail for him until other arrangements were made. That also did not sit well, the manager's face was very sour and he ground his teeth as he entered the things in the computer. Next Sung asked for a set of pre-numbered checks that normally took a week by mail. The manager said, with some satisfaction, that he had none to give. It was a way to defy my husband without disobedience to his boss.

"You have a 502 account with check numbers starting at 3001 in the vault. Those will do," Sung said. He spoke like the words were a whip.

"How did you know THAT?" the manager asked, his voice an octave higher in awe and freight. "Those are special... That is confidential," he sputtered.

"Yes. Not to me, so now you know. I asked Bennie two days ago when I planned this visit. He was nice enough to check your records, as you should have before you spoke and made a complete and total fool of your incompetent self before me and my friends. Make it so."

A call was made. Soon somebody scurried in with a checkbook, the name and other information were just printed. My husband made the bank manager present the checkbook to my father, who looked very bored. That did not improve the bank manager's mood.

Next were credit cards, debit cards and ID cards which required a picture and a PIN number. The manager knew there would be a set for Father; he asked if I was getting the other set. Sung pointed to Bop instead.

"We can't do that! What is she, 12? You can't..."

Sung's voice cut him off like a knife. "My dear sister-in-law is 14 and quite responsible. The act allows it in Section 302 - b - 4, as you should know if you studied the regs - I see the newsletter on your desk. That is your second strike, one more and I make another call while you empty your desk and the guy in the next office gets a promotion so HE can accommodate us. Make it so."

Bop looked terribly scared, she hates to be a cause of trouble and clearly, in this case, she was ground zero. Father held her arm to reassure her.

The manager did not like it at all, he was being managed like a junior clerk trainee and he thought that type of thing ended 40 years ago. But it happened as my husband commanded. Father and Bop had their pictures taken where they sat. Bop demurred so Father spoke to her. After he did the pictures were retaken several times until Bop was satisfied; she was suddenly very picky. It was allowed. When they were okay with the pictures they needed to enter a PIN, which confused Father. But Bop whispered something to him and it was all better. I have a clever sister.

Next, Sung pulled a form out of his pocket and asked the manager to sign it. The manager actually turned red and sputtered. "What is this... wait. We have not used this form in years, it is out of date."

"Yes and No... we will call that a foul ball instead of a third strike. The form has not been used in East Thailand for 5 years, but two branches out West use it on occasion and it is still on your website - note the lower corner... It has the proper information for a loan when a house is found. The Maximum Down Payment, Installments and Rate are clearly stated and are binding."

"The rate is too low! No address is given!"

"You do know a foul ball can be caught for an out, don't you? This one is still in the air." The guy realized he was right at the edge, we all saw as he deliberately put on a better face. My husband continued. "I know what is on the form, I printed it. You and I both know that you can approve the lower rate until Noon today, it is the limit of the discretion range. The Noon foolishness is why I had to get out of my wedding bed early, to somebody's great disappointment." The bank manager glanced at me and I smiled back. He made a very unpleasant face.

Sung continued to rub it in. "I would prefer to return to our bed quickly. This form is intended to lock down the rate before the purchase is identified, so the bank can't jack things up at the last minute as I have heard some less reputable banks do. That subject will come up when I talk to the Minister of Banking and his staff in a couple of weeks." At that the manager literally blanched, now he was terrified. Some of those staff members were military officers who took things too far. He asked himself, what did he do to deserve this?

My husband continued. "Sign it now please, and call your witness to notarize it. Also initial the box where it says 'no credit report required' if you please. We would not want any confusion later. I would have to call somebody, and it would not be good old George but The Turk instead."

The bank manager shivered at that, he literally bowed his head and did as my husband asked.

I learned that the form was a mortgage approval, allowing Father to buy a home based on the amount of cash in the bank and the monthly payments my husband would make. It was a great gift, as we had been off the grid so long. Father had no credit history so even with money in the bank we could not rent a decent place. The amount and terms allowed Father to include a car in the purchase, if desired, assuming the amounts were under the listed total.

The manager was very unhappy with the whole business and could not wait for us to be gone. He actually got up to show us out. Sung was done with this guy, but he looked at me, saw my mood, and decided he had one more item.

Walking into the office I had been scared, this was an important person and I was troubling him. I was taught not to throw stones at a tiger. (Yes, we have real tigers in Thailand. One argued with Father about a monkey who had an arrow in him. Bop now has a tiger-skin jacket.) The office was intimidating. But as my husband gave him orders that the Manager plainly did not like, I started to get some unfamiliar feelings. It wasn't until the guy signed the loan form that I finally got it figured out. I was getting turned on by my husband dominating the officious bank manager like it was for our amusement!

Wrong! It was for my excitement.

I had read a story where a woman said to a friend, "you made that guy my bitch!" She was so turned on she stripped naked and went down on her friend in an occupied men's locker room while others watched and lusted, but did not disturb. I was now feeling the same way. Through the ages, women gave themselves to commanders, superior men. I was half-willing to give myself to my husband on the floor of the office with everybody present looking on.

I had noticed, the carpet was soft enough.

I happened to glance at Bop; and was shocked to notice she was feeling the same thing! I felt a sudden urge to rip her eyes out. She saw me and looked ashamed. But she was still turned on by MY man dominating the bank manager.

After considering my state Sung said to the manager, "The last thing we need is a twofer. You need to set these two up for a safe deposit box. You... not an underling, need to do that from the desk by the vault. In the meantime, I need some privacy with my wife, we need to discuss something private and I may need to make a phone call." He held up his cell. "On my dime of course. Please lock your desk and your computer, I will lock the room after you leave."

I wondered what a dime was.

The manager was outraged. "You can't be kicking me out of my own office! That is intolerable!"