Jade East

This is a story of the old Hong Kong of a generation ago, of a gateway between West and East, of a place of unique people with unique attitudes. A century from now, this will all be a vague memory, a rumor among other rumors in abandoned texts.

Chapter One.

At the moment, Laura Scanlon is alone in the airplane, seated near the window, her eyes on the darkening sky and the calm Pacific Ocean so vast in its extent.

They've been in the air seven hours, seven hours out of San Francisco, seven more hours to Hong Kong.

She smells perfume from somewhere, or is it a man's cologne? No, it must be perfume. Then she wonders why Emilio hasn't yet returned. Is he still in the lounge? These days she always feels so lost without Emilio. She can't bear the idea that soon they'll be parted. She wants Emilio here beside her again. She runs her fingers over the soft leather purse in her lap. The lights in the cabin are dim as people rest before the evening meal. Enough time has passed since they left San Francisco to make people weary of each other, to make them eager for silence as the noise of the engines continues.

The steward approaches, glances at her, smiles and passes on. Laura looks at the man on the opposite side of the aisle and she wonders if he lives in Hong Kong. Their eyes meet and she turns her face away to look at the window again. The only man she wants is Emilio. She feels so insecure without Emilio. She'd rather they go to Europe than to Hong Kong. They might bask in leisure on the Riviera if it pleased him.

* * *

Seen from a certain angle, she looks younger than her twenty- eight years. The skin of her face is translucent, the cheekbones high, the lips full and modestly sensuous. Her brown hair is luxuriant, carefully waved, a cluster of impish curls on her left temple. When she stands erect before her mirror, her breasts are substantial enough to be slightly pendulous, the curves of the two breasts neatly balanced by the perfect curves of the two buttocks. Except for the curves of breasts and buttocks, her body is long and slender. Her belly is flat and her thighs are long, and at the joining of her thighs the hair is only slightly darker in color than the hair that frames her face. She keeps her grooming immaculate, hair, nails, makeup, all of it cared for with the utmost devotion.

* * *

Emilio returns to her with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands. "Look what I've brought for us, darling."

Laura shows her happiness by kissing his cheek as he sits down in the seat beside her. She watches him as he opens the wine, and then she holds her glass to be filled. She waits until Emilio has filled his own glass, and then they toast each other, smile at each other, sip the wine with their eyes on each other.

"I love you," she says.

Emilio smiles as he touches her hand.

A late dinner is served, and she listens as Emilio tells her an amusing story of a trip to Brazil. She feels happy. She feels happier now than ever before in her life. She wants nothing except to make Emilio as happy as herself.

* * *

In Florence one morning she stood in front of the dressing table in their hotel room wearing only a pair of white lace panties, her hands on her hips, her eyes on the mirror as she looked at her breasts, turned her body to look at them from another angle, wondering if they were as pretty as she thought. Then Emilio came out of the shower with a huge erection under the towel, and when she saw it they both laughed and he pulled the towel away to show it to her. He came behind her, pressed himself against her, his stiff penis against the white lace that covered her ass. She leaned her hands against the dressing table as he pulled the panties down her legs and off her feet. She leaned and bent forward as he slid his penis deep inside her sex and started doing it to her from behind. His balls slapped against her sex, and when he finished she quivered as she felt the wetness between her legs.

Afterward they went out to look at the statues in the Piazza del Duomo.

* * *

When the dinner has ended and the trays are cleared by the stewards, they sit back in their seats to watch a dull film on the screen. Laura feels drowsy as she leans her head against Emilio's shoulder. The sky outside is dark now, the cabin quiet as the passengers settle in for the long night.

She hears the voices in the film only vaguely as she attempts to sleep. She cuddles against Emilio. She always feels so secure when she sleeps against his shoulder like this.

She does not want to think about tomorrow.

* * *

Sometime during the night she awakens as she feel Emilio's hand sliding into her lap. She remains motionless, her eyes closed, waiting. A blanket now covers them and she hopes no one can see anything. She waits for Emilio's hand. The hand continues moving over her knees, then slides under the edge of her dress to stroke her knees through the nylon of her pantyhose.

What time is it now? She opens her eyes and she looks at the cabin around them. The cabin is so dark, it must be past midnight.

Emilio's hand moves upward, his fingers pushing between her legs, her breath catching as she feels his fingertips stroking the insides of her thighs. She opens her legs to him, her knees parting under the blanket. She closes her eyes and she remains motionless as Emilio's fingers at last touch the nylon that covers her sex. She wants him to stop it. She wants him to go on.

"Darling, wait..."

"No one can see us."

"Yes, but let me go to the washroom first and I'll take something off."

He sighs as he pulls his hand away. She kisses his cheek, and then she rises and she slides her body out to the aisle. Now she tries to remember in which direction she ought to walk, and then when she does remember she turns and she walks down the long aisle to the washrooms.

* * *

One day when they were lovers only a short time, he asked her if she was more devoted to him than to any other man that she'd known. She said yes, it was true, she was more devoted to him than to any of the others. He said he wanted to have her in a public place but that she had to be specially dressed for it. She would have to wear a black dress, and under that black stockings and black shoes with very high heels. She would have to find garters to hold up the stockings or maybe stockings with elastic tops. When she had what he wanted, when she was dressed in the manner he wanted, he took her into the country and he made love to her against a tree. He had her against the tree with her dress raised to her hips and one of her legs lifted so that he could get his penis inside her. Then he had her on the ground with her legs in the black stockings on his shoulders and his cock driving into her sex with such force that it made her cry out with pleasure.

* * *

In the airplane, when the door is locked, she looks at the minuscule washroom and she's thankful it's still clean. She glances at her image in the mirror, at her red lips, at the waves of dark brown hair that frame her face. Then she slips out of her shoes and she lifts her dress to get at the waistband of her pantyhose. She pulls at the tights, pulls the nylon sheath down her thighs and legs and then off her feet. After she drops her skirt, she gathers the pantyhose and she stuffs them inside her purse.

The plane rocks a moment and she has to steady herself against one of the walls. Then she slips into her shoes again, rising up on the high heels, her eyes on the mirror over the basin. Once again she looks at her face, at her eyes. She pulls at her dress to slide it upward, and then she moves a hand between her legs to touch her sex. She quivers with pleasure as she feels the wetness, the moisture coating the outer lips.

As she leaves the washroom, she thinks only of Emilio. She walks along the aisle again, searching for their seats, searching for Emilio. Then at last she finds him in the darkness and she slides past his knees to seat herself next to the window again.

In a moment their laps are again covered by the blanket, and as Emilio once more slides his hand under her dress and between her legs, he murmurs his approval when he finds her pantyhose gone.

She turns her face toward his and they kiss in the dark.

His hand moves again under the blanket, his fingers stroking the insides of her thighs, the bare skin of her thighs under her dress. He finds her sex and he strokes it lightly with his fingertips. Her eyes closed, she opens her legs even wider under the blanket.

Someone passes along the aisle in the darkness. Is it the steward? Laura quivers as she feel Emilio's fingers touch her again. She feels her thighs trembling. She wants her sex to be open to him, open to his hand, open to his fingers. Is she wetter now than before? She moans as Emilio strokes the lower part of her slit, avoiding her clitoris, avoiding the apex.

He whispers in her ear: "You're excited."

"Yes."

"You're thinking about tomorrow."

"No, it's not that at all."

He makes a sound of amusement. "But I think it is."

"Emilio I told you..."

"But you're doing it to please me."

"Yes, if you want it."

His fingers again. The pleasure he can give her with his fingers always amazes her. No other man has ever been able to do to her what Emilio does to her. No other man has ever brought her such excitement.

A shudder passes through her body as he begins a slow masturbation of her sex. His fingers have still not touched her clitoris, but she knows it will happen. She sits half-reclined, her head turned to the side, her eyes closed as Emilio's fingers gently stroke the parted lips.

Now he finds her stiff clitoris and he grazes it carefully with a fingertip. Her sex is drenched now, and it occurs to her that her dress will be stained. But she planned to change her dress in the morning anyway. She groans as Emilio presses his fingers against her clitoris. She wants him inside her now. She craves to have his fingers inside her. Inside my cunt. Inside my cunt here in the darkness.

He continues to stroke her with his fingertips.

Then at last she feels one of his fingers penetrate the mouth of her vagina.

She prays for him to finish it, prays for him to bring the orgasm on quickly.

She feels her knees shaking, and then he touches her clitoris again, rubbing it with his finger, rubbing it back and forth, until an instant later her belly twitches and she gasps as the fire of the orgasm sweeps through her sex.

When she recovers her senses, she kisses his cheek. "I love you."

"You come like a schoolgirl," he says with amusement. He pulls at her hand to get it into his lap and she immediately knows what he wants. She finds the bulge of his penis and she explores its contours, the stiffness under the cloth of his trousers. For a while she merely runs her fingers over it, exciting herself as she feels its rigidity, the length of it, the bloated glans under the cloth. "Go on," he says.

She senses his impatience and she finds pleasure in it, a reassurance of his desire for her. Her fingers find the zipper along the front of his trousers and she pulls at the tab, pulls the zipper down toward his thighs. Then she slides her hand inside the opening to find his penis, her fingers pulling at the tube of warm flesh, extracting it, bringing it out of his trousers under the blanket, her fingers squeezing it, her excitement increasing as she feels the wetness at the swollen tip.

"Go on," he says.

Yes, go on. Her fingers curl around the rigid shaft, stroking it slowly. Now she recalls the image of it, the picture forming in her mind, the memory of his penis bloated and strong, extended to its full dimensions, the knob so much darker in color than the shaft, the veined length of it. She feels a great warmth in her belly, an affirmation of her love for him.

This is my master, she thinks.

Her fingers are on the shaft, her fingers curled. She begins to stroke it, her hand moving, her wrist moving, her fingers squeezing and then relaxing again. She tries to remember the first time she did this to him. Where was it? In the Bahamas? Yes, in the Bahamas, in that bungalow they had on the beach. He came to her naked after a shower and she fondled his genitals and she started masturbating him. Then he stopped her and he made her go with him to the beach and start it again. They stood on the beach under the moon and the dark sky and she stroked him with her hand until he came in great spurts on the sand. She remembers the way the sperm glistened in the moonlight.

Does he want to come quickly? She adores making a man come. She adores making Emilio come. She adores the way his penis always twitches and throbs in her hand when it begins spurting. She feels the increased size of it now, the swelling all along the length of the organ, the swelling of the bulb of the glans. With her free hand, she opens her purse, fumbles inside it, extracts a tissue and then carries the tissue under the blanket to the tip of his penis.

Now she strokes him with more determination, her fingers gripping the shaft, her wrist moving up and down, up and down.

Then she feels the pulsing, the twitching, and finally he utters a muted groan as he begins discharging the sperm into the tissue that she holds over the glans.

She finishes it. The presence of the blanket covering their laps makes it awkward, but she manages to finish it completely.

Afterward she leans against his shoulder and she tries to sleep.

* * *

In the morning when she opens her eyes, she discovers she still holds the wad of tissue in her hand. What time is it now? Is it seven yet? They breakfast together, smile at each other, use the washroom to clean their faces and change their clothes.

"I think I'm frightened," she says.

"No, don't be."

"But will he like me? He may not like me at all."

"It's all arranged."

But she remains uncertain. She has agreed to things, but she's still uncertain of the consequences. How does one ever know all the consequences of things? She has agreed to things because Emilio asked it of her. Only because Emilio asked it of her. I do love him, she thinks.

As they circle in toward Kai Tak Airport, she looks at Hong Kong Island, at the bay and Kowloon.

"Where's his house?" she says.

"In the hills of Kowloon."

Chapter Two.

Li Wu is smiling at them. He wears an English suit and his appearance is trim and elegant. They sit in a large room in his opulent house in the hills of Kowloon. They drink cool white wine and they talk quietly about trivialities.

"The weather here has been quite wonderful," Li Wu says. His English is perfect; not British, but not completely American.

Emilio nods, and they begin talking about the various climatic zones and their significance in the scheme of things.

Laura watches them. She looks at Emilio and she looks at Li Wu. She hears the words but she pays no attention to them.

At intervals Wu looks at Laura. Their eyes meet. She turns her eyes away to look at a Chinese tapestry on the far wall.

Then in a moment she glances at the two men again and she's relieved to find that Wu is no longer looking at her. She feels overcome with uncertainty. When she looks at Emilio again, he smiles at her as if to offer her reassurance.

She looks at the decor. The house is indeed beautiful, filled with Chinese and European antiques. Li Wu is evidently a man of refined tastes, a collector of art objects, a person of sensibilities.

After a while Li Wu rises, murmurs an apology and leaves them.

Emilio smiles at her, and when she rises from her chair, Emilio also rises and he goes to her and takes her hand.

"I'm uneasy," she says.

"But everything will be fine."

He kisses her forehead as he strokes her shoulders. Then she presses against him and she's amazed as she feels his erection pushing at her belly.

"Everything will be fine," he says again. "But you must remember to be obedient."

"Yes."

"I'm going to leave now."

"Please, not yet..."

"No, darling, it's time."

She wants to cry, but she restrains herself. He kisses her again, this time kissing her lips, and then he pulls away from her and he leaves her.

* * *

One time in Barcelona they had a lover's quarrel. They'd been strolling in the Plaza de Cataluna, and when they returned to their hotel room Emilio said he wanted to watch her masturbate. She had never done that while anyone was watching her and she refused. Emilio became very angry and he left her alone in the room for several hours. When he returned he asked her again and this time she agreed. After she undressed, he told her how to arrange her body in the middle of the bed with her knees up and her thighs open. He sat near the foot of the bed, in a chair near the open window, and he watched her as she fingered her sex. Having him watch her do it excited her greatly, and she soon had a series of strong orgasms. After that he made love to her, and when he entered her he said her sex felt swollen and hot. He promised that if they quarreled again he would never leave her.

* * *

She's alone in the room. She looks at the furnishings, the Chinese paintings, the antiques. She goes to the window to look at the gardens. Through the trees in the distance, the bay is visible. In which direction is Hong Kong? Then she look at the edge of the gardens and she feels a sudden shock as she sees Emilio and a girl.

Or is it a woman? At this distance it's not possible to tell one way or the other.

She stares at them, at Emilio and the girl They appear to be talking, the girl turning her slender body a moment, and then turning back to face Emilio again.

Emilio takes the girl's arm and he leads her away. Laura watches them until they move out of sight, around the corner of the house to where the front drive is located. She can see part of the road that leads from the front of the house to the highway.

She stands at the window without moving. All the windows are closed and no noise enters from the outside.

She hoped she would not see them. She did not want to see them. But now that it's happened, she isn't sorry. It's better, she thinks.

Suddenly a long black limousine appears on the road to the highway, the long car moving slowly away from the house and toward the gate at the edge of the estate.

It must be Li Wu's car, the same car that brought them from their hotel in Hong Kong. Emilio and the girl are no doubt in the car now.

She watches the car. She feels a great dismay as she watches the car vanish beyond the trees.

Well, you knew it, she thinks. You did know it.

* * *

"Women are made to give pleasure," Emilio once said. "Don't you think that's true?"

"Must they give pleasure always?"

"Yes, always. In any case, they ought to."

"And if it doesn't please them?"

"They ought to give pleasure anyway. They ought to take pleasure in the pleasing. It's more sensible, isn't it?"

* * *

Li Wu has returned to the room. They sit facing each other across the blue and white Chinese rug. Is the rug also an antique? Li Wu talks about his house, his collection of Oriental objects, his fondness for the paintings of the Frenchman Utrillo.

"You're very beautiful," he says.

"Thank you."

"Much beyond my expectations."

"Is that girl your wife?"

"Which girl?"

"The girl who left with my husband."

"The agreement is that one doesn't speak of such things. She knows nothing about you, you see. Nothing at all. Isn't that fair?"

"Yes."

"Will you have more wine with me?"

He pours the cool chablis into her glass and she sips it. He looks at her ankles. Her legs are covered with a dark beige nylon that gives them a sleek look. Then he lifts his eyes and he gazes a long time at the front of her silk blouse.