Big Trouble in Hong Kong Ch. 01

Note: this story builds slowly and doesn't feature a lot of banging, although I do get to it. So if you're looking for a quick wank, this probably isn't for you.

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I was underwater--swimming in something...couldn't be water, it was dark and thick like black oil or molasses. My eyes burned I knew my air was running out. But I couldn't see how to get out. Hell, I couldn't even figure out which way was up. A light began to barely glow somewhere and I swam for it with all my strength. But I wasn't moving because the molasses was too thick. My lungs screamed with the effort and just as I was about to give up, I surfaced, and drank in great desperate gasps of air. I laid there a few minutes just basking in the simple task of breathing. Slowly I opened my eyes, but the world looked like a thick sheet of wax paper. My vision was blurred and I couldn't lift my head to look around me, no matter how hard I tried.

I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to raise my head. Immediately a chisel split open the back of my skull and searing jolts of pain screamed down my spine. Surely I had been attacked by murderous bandits and left for dead in a stinking ditch in some squalid part of...wait a minute...I had no idea of where I was. Boston? Glasgow? Johannesburg? Fighting back the pain in my cranium I tried hard to remember, to no avail. My hands grasped the surface of the liquid, which I realized wasn't liquid at all but fabric. Perhaps some kind of a bedspread. I determined it must indeed be a bedspread and I must be lying across a bed.

As the world slowly swam into focus, I was able to make out the telltale trappings of a hotel room-a dresser, huge armoire, nightstand. "There's always phones on those nightstands," my addled brain reasoned. And sure enough I could just see the top of the receiver. I gathered my strength and began to crawl toward it. But my body wasn't ready to be put through this ordeal and I found myself having to rest--twice. Then my hand wouldn't sufficiently close around the receiver to bring it to my head. I decided to just pull the whole thing toward me and hope the receiver would drop near my head.

It did. And I watched as my thumb shakily pushed '0.' There was a pause and then a voice answered "Front desk."

"Please," I croaked, "Send a doctor."

And that was how Dr. Chu found me: naked, beaten, face down on a hotel bed with no clue where I was or how I got there. He gave me two shots in my ass, dressed my facial wounds, ordered me some food and drew a bath for me. Then he filled me in: I was in Hong Kong at the Grand Hyatt Hotel. I'd been there three days but I put out the "Do Not Disturb" sign so no one tried to clean the room. Chu said I'd been drugged, most likely rohypnol by one of the high priced hookers in the Wan Chai district.

"They usually triple dose their customers," Dr Chu told me, "just to be sure."

Through my slowly clearing mental fog I could remember being out somewhere, talking to a couple of women. But that was it.

See, I've always had a thing for Asian women. Ever since I was in Vietnam and went to Hong Kong for R & R, I've loved everything about them—the way they walk, the way they talk, the way they fuck—they live to please their men, unlike American women who act like they are doing you a favor just to touch your dick.

So every opportunity I get I try to fuck some Asian women. Whenever I come to Hong Kong, which is about 3 times a year, I go to Wan Chai for a high class hooker. None of that risky street stuff for me. I want a clean, classy woman who knows how to fuck.

But I digress.

I looked around the room. My pants were neatly placed across the desk chair and—big surprise here-the wallet's gone. There goes about 5 grand in cash, if I recall. And now I'll have to spend a day canceling credit cards. I looked to my hands and my Audemars Piguet watch and a very expensive, custom-made black diamond ring were also missing. Now, this was starting to piss me off.

About that time lunch arrived and Dr Chu and I ate. Whatever drug he gave me was working pretty well and I had regained everything but touch feelings in my lower legs. Chu told me that drugging of American businessmen was becoming fairly common in Wan Chai nowadays, and that several had died. Likely the girl was one of the Phillipino locals or Thai whores that come to work a week at a time, then disappear back into Thailand.

"You want me to call police?" Chu asked sincerely.

I thought about it a moment.

"No," I said, "I don't know what I'd tell them. I don't remember anything."

Not to mention, of course, that I didn't want to admit I'd been mugged by a prostitute who left me drugged, naked and unconscious for three days—all because I was following my dick.

I thanked Dr. Chu and told him I would be more careful in the future. I stayed in my hotel room the rest of that day and night, calling clients I had missed meetings with and fighting my way through the mental fog. I had dinner in, booked a flight home and packed my suitcases. The next morning, I called the bellhop, grabbed my briefcase and performed my usual final scan of the room. It looked like I had everything, but then I saw a clock/radio on the dresser. It struck me as odd that it would be there since in most hotels it's on the nightstand.

But there was something else...

Then suddenly it hit me.

That was my clock/radio...only it wasn't a clock/radio, it was a video camera disguised to look like a clock/radio.

I remembered reading about it on the plane in one of those sky market magazines. It is a nanny-cam designed to catch nannies abusing children, but I had bought it at a local electronics mall and set it up to discreetly tape my encounter with the hooker.

I dropped my briefcase and looked at the counter on the back. Sure enough, it's motion-activated hard drive had recorded 2 hours of video.

I called the front desk and cancelled the bellhop, then attached the camera to the room's TV.

There she was-a walking wet dream. I had met her at Joe Bananas Bar, one of the nicer clubs in Wan Chai. She had told me her name was Juli and she was truly one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. She was tall for an Asian, about 5'9 with more curves than most. She looked to be about 24 or 25 with sparkling brown eyes and perfect teeth. She was wearing a long red silk dress, slit up the side to her hip, and the top was a halter that didn't allow for a bra. Her C-cup tits moved enticingly when she spoke or laughed. She moved gracefully, seductively and confidently. We quickly agreed on a price for a good fuck. She asked me what hotel I was at and when I told her, I swear I saw her perfect nipples on her perfect tits harden. She asked if we could have a drink and dance for a little while first, flashing me that sexy little smile while touching my thigh.

"Sure," I said, "what do you want?"

"I get drink," she said, "you wait here."

She then stuck her tongue in my ear while rubbing my cock through my pants.

"Oooh, he big boy," she said, giggling, "I hope I can fit in my mouth."

Then she disappeared and I was left trying to hide my very obvious erection. A few minutes later she returned and handed me a very red, very sweet mixed drink. I tasted it, thought it was probably a Singapore Sling.

"What is this?" I asked.

"House specialty," she said, "Lets dance."

We danced a couple of songs and I finished my drink. She looked at me and said "Time to go."

I smiled and paid the bill. But as I got to my feet to leave, I remember feeling oddly lightheaded when I followed her to the cab. That's the last thing I remember.

The video began as we opened the hotel room door. I was already looking pretty wasted as she escorted me to the bed, taking off my sport jacket and tie, all the while murmuring words of encouragement.

"Now you sit here," she said with that man's dream of a mouth, "I make you feel good."

She started to do what would appear to me in my doped state as undress, but the video showed what she was really doing was casing the room for things to steal. Meanwhile, I was looking unhappier than ever. Finally I said "Excuse me," and headed for the bathroom. She searched the room in my absence and I could hear myself retching from the bathroom. Moments later, I staggered out and she immediately grabbed me and began removing my clothes. She unfastened my pants and dropped them to the floor, then took my boxers off. "Oooo we gonna take care of you," she purred as she took off my shirt and eased me back on the bed.

At this point I was for all intents and purposes, unconscious. She kept up a sexy patter for another minute or so, stared at me for a few seconds and poked me, hard.

"HEY! HEY!" she shouted at my limp form, "YOU AWAKE? HEY!"

After a few more seconds she was satisfied that I was out. Suddenly she changed.

"Stupid fucking American," she spat at me, "now you gonna lose everything. You so fucking smart."

She then slapped me—hard. She grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks together.

"You wanna fuck Chinese girl? You want some pussy?" she growled, "It gonna cost you now."

She punched my face and blood began trickling from my mouth. Now I know where those bruises came from.

"Stupid little Chinese girl outsmart big rich American," she laughed to herself.

She climbed down off me and started rifling through my pants, my luggage. She grabbed my wallet and then oddly, neatly folded my pants and put them back on the chair. Looking again at me, she grabbed my wrist and stared at my watch and ring for a few seconds, trying, I guess, to decide if they were worth stealing. She then took off the watch and ring, which she put in her purse along with my wallet.

Finally she looked around the room, apparently satisfied she'd cleaned me out. She walked back to the bed, looked down at me with what I can only describe as contempt, and spat in my face.

"Hope you enjoyed yourself," she laughed, "you come see me again."

With that she turned and walked that perfect little ass out of my room.

********************

An hour later I called the bellhop again, checked out of the hotel and headed for the airport. As I took my first class seat, I smiled into my Chivas on the rocks.

I had a plan.

Six months later I checked into the Hong Kong Peninsula Hotel as Daniel Taylor, an Australian businessman from Brisbane. My dyed blonde hair was shorter, and I was sporting a goatee. Colored contacts made my brown eyes green, and small, stylish black rimmed glasses completed my look.

After settling in and taking a shower, I put on a tailored Armani suit, a Luigi Borelli shirt, silk tie and a pair of John Lobb loafers and I was ready to begin my quest.

It made sense to start at the scene of the crime so I found myself with a Chivas on the rocks (that I watched the bartender pour) at Joe Bananas. Seeing how I was dressed, the hookers flocked to me, asking me to dance, if I wanted company, etc. I ate it up, throwing money around like I had an unlimited supply, all the while keeping an eye out for her...

Her name was Jia Lee, and she was well known in these parts of Asia. I knew because when I got back home after the mugging I sent a still shot from the video to a ex-CIA spook buddy of mine who works as a consultant for Interpol. They knew her well. She was a former Miss Universe contestant, famous for using her world-class looks and body to seduce and rob mostly Caucasian men. She was also heavily involved with the Triad called WSW, the Chinese mafia. They protected her and kept her out of jail. In fact, she was known to be the concubine of the "Mountain Master," head of the "family."

She worked the top lounges occasionally, trolling for only the wealthiest clients, not because she needs money, but because she enjoys it. And she does it with impunity because WSW owns the Hong Kong police and they would never arrest her.

Good thing I didn't file a police report about my mugging, because that would have identified me as a victim and therefore, someone to watch out for, not that they would know me in my new look and identity.

As I watched some young Philipino hooker slobbering on my cock, doing her best to make me cum quickly, I thought about Jia and how much I wanted to see her do that. Tonight's whore cost me $600 American but I knew Jia would be at least twice that.

The second, third and fourth nights were pretty much the same—different high-end bars taking a lot of my money and always going back to my hotel with the best hooker I could find and lavishing a lot of money on her after fucking her brutally. I knew this would give me a reputation among the girls as a high roller, essentially chumming the water to bring out the shark I wanted.

Then on the sixth night, while sitting at a table in 'Typhoon' (a notorious high end hooker bar) with three young whores vying for my attention, I caught a fleeting glimpse of what I thought could be her reflected in a mirror over the dance floor. I immediately grabbed one of the women and dragged her out to the floor where I danced with her while subtly looking for Jia.

And sure enough, there she was. Her hair was a little different but I knew that was her. Her silver sequined mini-skirt clung for dear life to every dangerous curve and her breasts roamed free under the top, swaying languidly with her every move. She had the attention of every man in that bar and she knew it as she seductively danced with another skimpily dressed woman.

"Excellent," I thought to myself as I pulled my dance partner to me, sloppily kissing her and feeling her tits while putting a hundred dollar bill in her cleavage and telling her to get us some drinks. As I had hoped this little show was not wasted on Jia, whose eyes widened slightly at the sight of a very well-dressed foreigner freely tossing money around.

Feeling sure I had set the hook, I headed back to my table where I uncorked a bottle of expensive champagne and poured glasses for the girls there. The other whore returned from the bar with even more drinks which I gave to the hookers. Although I, of course, would have no part of any mixed drink, I had to give the impression that I was drinking heavily and ready to party. So when I poured glasses of champagne for the girls, after taking a showy first sip I would subtly switch glasses with one of the girls who had finished hers. As I appeared to get drunker, I became freer with my money, handing out tips to waitresses and the hookers.

Eventually I extracted myself from the table and went to the men's room. As I came out, Jia was there waiting for me.

"Well," I said loudly in my carefully practiced Australian accent, "hello there. Are you lost?"

She flashed that million watt smile, saying "No, just looking for handsomest man in bar."

"Oh. Well when you find him, why don't the two of you join me at my table?" I said.

"I already found him. I'd love to join you," she said, smoothly slipping her arm around my waist as we walked back toward my table. Right away I noticed the other hookers were nowhere to be seen and that two large Chinese men in suits had taken a table nearby.

"What's your name sweet cheeks?" I asked, doing my best to add a subtle slur.

"Lisa," she said, "and you?"

"Dan, nice to meet you Lisa."

"Likewise," she purred, "you English?"

"Australian, Brisbane, " I replied.

"Ahh," she said, "you here on business?"

"Yeah, my company makes computers here," I said, "but that's not what I want to talk about."

"Oh, what you want to talk about?"

"Your pussy," I said, "and how much will it take to get my tongue in it."

She briefly looked shocked, then smiled at me.

"You don't waste time do you?"

"Made my fortune being direct." I said.

"Mmmm, what hotel you in?" she asked.

"The Peninsula." I said, "Why?"

"I love that hotel," she smiled, "nice rooms, nice men. Two thousand dollars--all night."

"Whoa, that's a lotta money," I replied, "what do I get for that?"

She looked straight into my eyes, "Whatever you want. You do anything to me,"

She reached down and began stroking my cock while rubbing those beautiful tits against my arm, adding "all night long."

My eyes trailed up from her barely covered crotch to her perfect tits, "Deal," I said, "let's go."

She smiled at me. "One drink and a dance first," she purred, "they make me horny."

"Okay then," I said, as I started to signal the waitress.

"I get drinks," she said, "you relax."

Man, just like before, I thought, how many times has she done this?

"Sounds good," I said, "I need to make a phone call so I'll meet you back here."

She agreed and headed for the bar. I grabbed my champagne glass, took out my cell phone and headed for the foyer, stopping briefly to speak to my waitress. As I made a call, I took a tiny white envelope from my jacket and emptied it into my glass while praying my spook pal was right when he told me this drug would counteract the effects of rohypnol. Pretending to continue my conversation, I swirled my drink until the drug dissolved, drained the glass and headed back for the table.

'Lisa' was there with two red drinks waiting. She smiled and handed me one. I smiled, looked at the drink and asked "What is this?"

"House specialty," she said, "you try."

I took a sip. Yeah, this was it, same as before. I smiled, took another sip and grabbed her hand.

"How bout that dance?" I said.

Not waiting for a reply, I dragged her out to the floor where she gave me an erection just moving that incredible body and smiling seductively at me.

When the song ended, I pulled her close to me and whispered "I need to fuck you now."

"Mmmm, sounds hot," she whispered, "we finish our drinks and go," she said as she licked and sucked on my neck.

Meanwhile, the waitress I had tipped $100 came to our table pretending to clean up and switched the drinks.

We finished our drinks and headed out. 'Lisa' signaled her goons and they followed our taxi in their own car.

In the hotel elevator, I took her in my arms and passionately kissed her, feeling her tits through her dress. She responded, thrusting her tongue in my mouth and moaning professionally. After a moment, I broke the kiss, telling her I was feeling a little lightheaded. She smiled and said, "Don't worry, we get to room I make you feel better."

When the room door closed, I pushed her back on the bed and started kissing her while pinching those wonderful tits—hard. She yelped and pushed me off her, sitting up.

"Something wrong?" I asked innocently.

She looked at me then back down at the floor, as though trying to get her bearings.

"You feeling a bit dizzy?" I asked as I moved her purse away and under the bed.

She nodded her head and tried to stand, unsuccessfully, falling back onto the bed.

"That'd be the rohypnol kicking in then," I said casually, "no fun is it?"

Realizing the tables had been turned, she looked desperately around the room for her purse—a way to call for help.

"Sorry, I've had to put your purse away. Not to worry though, you'll get it back."

Her final conscious act was trying to lunge at me with her claws out. I easily caught her hands, looking her in the eyes as I held her down on the bed. "Now you get to know what your victims went through."

Just before she lost consciousness, I saw the first look of real fear in her eyes.

Moments later a bellman arrived and removed my luggage including my large trunk, from the room next door, (where I had placed it after picking the lock of the adjoining door) and took it directly to a van in the parking garage. I took her purse but left my fake passport under the bed, where I knew it would be found. I had paid my bill earlier before carefully wiping my fingerprints off all surfaces in my room. I pulled the van out of the hotel and around the corner. Going back to the hotel, I could see the goons sitting in the lobby. I summoned a bellman and handed him a letter and $50, telling him to give the goons the note and quickly walk away.