Then she'd toss her dirty shirt into her room and step into the shower.I'd hear the water hiss on, knowing it was running down her skin and wrapping h...r in a glistening cloak. She was so close and I wanted her.And then we left and we were alone. I could have reached out and touched her face, her lips, her neck. She rode beside me in the pickup with the window down, looking from her phone to the dashboard, playing songs on the radio that I didn't know but would smile along to anyway, playing. That's where I met her. Her name was Laya Bounxouei. She was beautiful, she was young (only twentythree), and she was smart. She was a university graduate who had a good education from a Laotian high school. Her father was a surgeon, her mother a nurse. She was interested in finding an American man. I started chatting with her, and we got along great. She was fluent in English. Did I mention she was beautiful? She was tall for a Laotian gal, 5'3, with long black hair, dark eyes and light,. More

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