Palau Palsu: Love For Sale

I realize that I made it sound like we spent a lot of time talking about politics and government, but we really didn't, even if that's how we got together. More often, we did normal date-type things and tried to make the most of our limited opportunities to be together.

Coming into our last semester, we both had enough classes and assignments to keep us busier than we liked, but Lena and I were spending most of our free time together. She didn't -- quite -- move in with me, but I think my apartment held more of her clothes and makeup than her dorm room did. And she spent most nights in my bed.

To my surprise, Lena hadn't been very experienced with sex when we met -- not a virgin, but close to it. She knew she liked sex -- quite a bit -- and readily admitted it, but she had been looking for something more substantial than a quick hookup. It amazed me none of the men in her classes had tried to be that "more" -- to my eye, at least, she far outshone her competition. Their loss.

From our first time together, I knew I'd found someone special. Someone I cared about, someone I enjoyed spending time with -- and the most enthusiastic bedmate I'd ever encountered. Given the chance, she was an eagerly responsive lover, approaching every new thing we tried with an air of happy discovery.

But though we tried, even the fittest and most enthusiastic can't spend all their time in bed having sex. So we talked; some of our best conversations were in the relaxed aftermath. Somehow, it's easier to bare your soul when you've already bared your body. We talked about our very different childhoods, the things we'd enjoyed, what was important to us, what we hoped for in the future ... Everything but the elephant in the room: our planned futures wouldn't be together.

Increasingly, that thought hurt both of us. So we ignored it and concentrated on less painful things. I continued to learn more about her country and the world she'd grown up in, but only because I was learning more about Lena Tan:

"So you're Straits Chinese, like in Singapore?"

"Well, I am. And my family. But we're a minority in Palau Palsu, not the majority like in Singapore. The majority at home is indigenous, then ethnic Thai or Malay."

"But you think of yourself as a native."

"Because I am -- the big wave of Chinese immigration was over a century ago! We've been there for a long time; both my mother's and father's families have been living on the island as far back as we have records. I'm part Malay, too -- a lot of the Chinese who arrived back then were single men who married local girls. But mostly Chinese."

A few days later:

"I get so sick of these stereotypes. This is supposed to be an elite school -- you'd think that people here would know better!"

"What was it this time?"

"Barb wanted to know why the interior villages are still so backward, with thatched huts and bare-breasted peasant women. Like a century ago." She fumed quietly for a bit. "Backward? Except for Singapore, we're the most modern country in the region! We have schools, running water, electricity, cell phones, the internet. You know, almost like a 'real' country. Argh!"

I tried a bad joke. "Probably no bare-breasted women, then. Pity."

Lena flushed.

"Well ... in our climate, sometimes wearing just a sarong makes sense, for both men and women. A century or so back it was common all through the region, not just places like us and Bali. So yes, sometimes."

"Really? I thought that even Bali didn't do that anymore."

"We're not Bali, we don't think that 'Western' always means 'better', and we're not a Muslim-majority country. After Independence, the King's grandfather was an advocate for modernization, but also for keeping local dress and customs when they didn't conflict. Away from the city, or at festivals, he and his wives made a point of wearing traditional outfits to encourage that." She gave a wry smile. "Or maybe he just liked tits! Anyway, it became a royal tradition, and it worked; people still wear traditional clothing much more often than in, oh, Malaysia, or Indonesia. Except at festivals, you don't see it as much in the capital, but it's legal, and away from the city it's common during hot weather." She grinned. "Our weather's usually hot."

I grinned back. "Ever try it yourself?"

Her eyes shifted slightly. "Rick! Even if I was born there, my family background's Straits Chinese!"

"You sounded like you knew what you were talking about."

She was definitely blushing now. "Well ... yes. Usually, when we're at our country villa, my mom and I wear just sarongs. When it's only us and the servants. Sometimes in the village. But never in the city!"

I blinked at the mental image but was wise enough to keep my mouth shut.

Lena rhapsodized about the food she grew up with. She admitted that the Malaysian and Thai restaurants near the school were often "close", but insisted they were always disappointing in some way. If nothing else, the lack of fresh ingredients was a major barrier, and I'd never even heard of some of the tropical fruits she sighed for.

Though she occasionally talked about the friends she'd grown up with, missing them was only part of what drew her back. She also missed the warm tropical air, the beaches, the crowds and smells of the open markets, the view of the sun setting over the ocean from her parent's villa. She missed home.

She talked about her parents a lot. As I'd already realized, she idolized her father and hoped to follow in his wake. But it sounded to me that was even closer to her mother -- little stories about an afternoon together at home, or a walk on the beach, or watching her mother haggle for the perfect piece of fruit in the market ... There was a warmth there I couldn't miss.

Most of what I learned about her home was like that, just bits and pieces. On the whole, it sounded like a pleasant place, one I'd love to visit. But very different -- in many ways, she'd grown up in an alien world. With equally alien attitudes.

We were discussing -- again -- Palau Palsu's penal system. In the main, I approved of their mandatory work policy. But I still had problems with the whole concept of mandatory sex work. I don't think I'm a prude; I don't have any objection to prostitution as long as it's consensual. But as a prison job? It still seemed like legalized sex slavery.

Lena didn't see it that way -- not just "didn't have a problem with it", but she thought it was a good idea.

"It's not human trafficking! I don't see why you think it's so wrong to assign a prostitute who has been sentenced to prison to work in a brothel. How is that any worse than assigning a mechanic to work in the carpool, or a cook to work in the prison kitchen?"

"It still seems wrong. Creepy. They don't have a choice."

"Rick, they have to work at something! Yes, if they're already a working prostitute they get assigned there -- it's the job they were already doing. But other women with a long sentence will usually ask to be assigned there, even if they weren't a prostitute before -- having sex a few times a day while serving their sentence is a lot more pleasant than spending the same years doing hard labor in a work gang. They can put away more money in their release savings account. And sometimes a rich man who wants a mistress will buy their indenture. It's not like any of that will hurt their reputation as much as being convicted in the first place! "

She sounded very sure of herself.

"Ask to do it? I suppose that's better. Maybe. But 'usually'? I really have trouble believing that."

She shrugged. "Back when we covered law and government in high school, my friends and I talked about it. Quite a few of the girls said they'd register to be a whore rather than spend a long sentence doing hard labor."

"Really?"

"Even my mother agreed with them. She said it would be a lot more pleasant than cutting cane!"

As I said: alien.

And some of her other stories -- casual references to "the servants" at their "country villa", her father's bespoke London tailor and collection of vintage cars, her mother's British "public school" education - made it obvious that we came from very different social strata. Even our speech showed it; we might be in the US, but for most people, her understated "Received Pronunciation" accent conveyed sophistication, far more than either my acquired "General American" accent or -- especially -- my Texas country-boy twang.

I could go on, and on -- we had so many differences in our background and outlook it seemed we couldn't possibly belong together. It didn't matter. I had finally let myself admit the truth: I loved her and wasn't ready to see her leave.

"Lena? Have you ever thought about staying here after graduation? Not moving back, or maybe going to graduate school first?"

She looked at me questioningly. "Why would I do that? You know how much I miss home. And my parents expect me back as I've graduated; my Dad's got a job in his department waiting for me."

I swallowed, then went to my knee: "Because I love you. Because I don't want to lose you. Because I'd like to marry you if you'll have me."

"Rick ..." She looked away for a long moment. I could see tears in her eyes when she looked back. "Rick, I love you too. If I could, I'd say yes in a heartbeat. But I can't."

"Why can't you? After graduation, I'll be making enough money to support us both. If we keep this apartment instead of looking for someplace bigger there should be enough left over to cover your graduate school, too -- it'll be tight, but we can do it. Once I get some experience, maybe I can find a job in your country, or work remotely."

Her face was troubled. "Rick, I told you. My parents expect me back right away. They need me back. I love Palau Palsu, and I've always hoped to return, but I'd be willing to stay here to be with you. I'd get homesick, but I'd do it. But my parents can't wait. I'm their only child, and they've been helping me with my plans to join my dad's department since I was in high school. They helped me select my major, advised me on classes, arranged internships in other government departments the last couple of summers ... everything. Dad's put off hiring a new assistant so I'll have a job. He expects me to carry on his legacy. If I don't go home now, it'll all have been wasted. I owe them everything. And they want this."

I rose to my feet and took her hands. "I was afraid that's what it was. It's hard to fight all that." I held her eyes. "So tell me -- how about you? How much do you want to follow your dad's footsteps, maybe run his department someday? Be someone important in the government?"

She bit her lip and looked away again. After another long moment, she looked back at me. "I wouldn't hate it. Maybe it's vanity, but I think I could do a good job. Maybe make a real difference -- and I do love the idea of making Palau Palsu a better place. But ..."

"But?"

"But I'm not sure I really care about all the other things that go with the job. My dad loves being 'Minister Tan'. Being somebody important. The status. Seeing his name in the papers, or seeing his picture standing close to the king. My mom doesn't care about that part for its own sake, but she always taught me to do my best at anything I try. If I follow in my father's footsteps and do well, they expect that for me too. Even if I don't care about that part of success very much."

Lena sighed. "It doesn't matter. They say it's my family duty to move back. Just like it was my mom's to marry my father instead of going to Cambridge as she wanted. Now it's my turn to step up." She gave a wan smile. "At least they haven't picked someone out for me to marry. Yet."

I hadn't realized how much pressure she was under. She was right; whatever the two of us wanted, staying would be impossible unless she was willing to cut all ties to her family. I couldn't expect her to pay that price. But -- she'd admitted that she would if she could.

"Rick?" Her voice was tentative. "Have you really considered moving to Palau Palsu?"

It was my turn to pause.

"I've thought about it. Doing what? I know you're a modern country, but you don't really have a high-tech industry, do you? I've spent the last 10 years working towards a job here in Silicon Valley. I've got my dream job waiting for me as soon as I graduate. After a few years, I'll have the experience and contacts to work remotely. But not yet."

I held up my hand as she started to speak. "For you, I'll give it up, if there's something real that I can do there. But I need to pull my own weight. Here, I can do that easily. I'm not sure I can there. Especially before I get some experience."

She closed her mouth again and thought. Finally, she looked back up and told me. "You're right. I wish you weren't."

I could feel her shoulders shaking as I held her close. I told her: "It's not hopeless. Just difficult. Why don't you see if your parents would consider graduate school before you return, maybe a master's or a doctorate? Or law school? And ask them if there's anything in my line there I don't know about -- they'd be able to find out, even if they don't know the answer right now."

Her face was wet when she looked up, but she was smiling again. "I'll ask them. But what if we can't find anything?"

"Lena, do you think you can handle a long-distance engagement? I'm willing to try one if you are. Give it a few months, a year, or two at most to see what we can find. If one of us isn't happy with our job, the decision is made. I'll move there or you'll move back here. I'm willing to wait for you if you're willing to wait for me."

Her eyes searched mine. "How long? What if we both love our jobs? What then?"

I shrugged "Worst case? I'm sure I can get a job in IT. Even if I'm grossly overqualified." I grinned. "Who knows? I've got ridiculous stock options. Maybe we'll go public at a high enough price I can move there to retire. You can be my kept woman. You're certainly qualified!"

"Yeah, right!" She blew a raspberry. But she was laughing.

We went looking for an engagement ring the next weekend. The diamond wasn't enormous, but the ring wasn't costume jewelry, either. I loved the way it looked on her finger.

We also had a rather fraught online meeting with her parents; I was not the sort of son-in-law they had in mind! To be fair, they weren't worried about my race. Just ... let's just say that my family didn't fly to London or Paris on holiday very often. Or ever. But Lena can be just as stubborn as I can; that and our agreement to a long (and long-distance) engagement won us their grudging approval. Though I thought that her mother had warmed slightly when I'd again insisted on proving I could pull my own weight.

Maybe they weren't thrilled. But they'd given us their blessing. We were officially engaged.

As I'd expected, there weren't any jobs that matched my qualifications available. Oh, I could count on finding an IT job, even one that paid well by local standards; what I couldn't find was something that actually drew on the skills and training I'd worked so hard to acquire. Or anything close to the salary I would earn in Silicon Valley, or the stock options that came with it. It had been a faint hope, anyway. It was looking increasingly certain that we were in for a long separation -- unless something changed, we'd be apart for at least a year.

So as graduation grew closer, we did our utmost to make our time together count. We revisited favorite places "one last time." We took pictures everywhere and tried to make as many good memories as possible. And our lovemaking took on an almost desperate quality.

The weekend before her parents were due, she surprised me. I returned to our apartment to find it so dark I could barely see, illuminated only by the outside light filtering in through the drawn curtains. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a dim flickering glow coming from the hall. I followed it to the bedroom door.

"I have a present for you, Rick. Something to remember me by."

There were candles scattered around the room. Lena stood beside the bed, wearing a wispy nightgown, one I hadn't seen before. I could see hints of her body underneath it; in a better light, it would have been nearly transparent. The dimness made it harder to read her expression, but her voice sounded nervous and almost formal.

I tried to match that formality. "I thank you. Might I see it?"

She must have appreciated the effort; her teeth glinted in a quick grin as she tugged on the gown's shoulder ties to let it puddle at her feet.

Even in this dim light, she was lovely. Lena stood straight, almost at attention, with a slight smile playing across her face as my eyes feasted. The candlelight deepened her golden skin to deep brown and cast flickering shadows over her body's slender curves. Her breasts swayed gently as she began to move, dark nipples spiked erect as she slowly pirouetted in place.

"Rick, I want you to take my last virginity."

In the months we'd been together, Lena's sexual horizons had broadened considerably.

She'd never said much about her first lover. I didn't even have a name for him, just his muttered characterization as "a mistake" if she mentioned him at all, but he must have been both inexperienced and unimaginative. Foreplay was unheard-of, she'd never had sex in any position other than flat on her back with her legs spread to receive him, and knew just enough of oral sex to give a clumsy blowjob. It could have easily put her off sex altogether.

Fortunately, that hadn't happened. She's responsive enough that even his fumbling had been enjoyable, if frustrating. But she knew that there could be more, and she'd thrown herself eagerly into learning it with me.

I've never thought of myself as an expert lover. But I try to be a good one, and I've come to enjoy pleasing my partner nearly as much as my own gratification. Plus, I truly cared for Lena; from our first time, I'd worked to give her my best.

She responded enthusiastically. The good feelings possible with even simple foreplay had come as a shock to her; with just a few minutes of preparation, even her "mistake" would have been able to bring her to her peak reliably. She seemed to love sex in every position we tried and worked hard to improve her own skills in return; if still not expert, her blowjobs were far from clumsy. And she'd been amazed to learn how much she loved receiving oral sex.

Really, she just liked sex. She might have favorite acts, but she'd willingly try anything new I'd suggest at least once. Except for one thing: anal sex. It wasn't that the idea disgusted her. If anything, the idea of anal sex, the nastiness of it, turned her on. She'd even come to enjoy the occasional finger slipped inside her bottom as she neared her peak. But the thought of an actual cock -- my cock -- spreading her tight rosette terrified her.

That actually wasn't unreasonable. My cock is fairly big, longer, and thicker than most. Not freakishly huge, but big enough that I've learned a little caution; with a new partner, I needed to take my time and let my lover set the pace. Even if a girl asked me to pound her hard, I was cautious until I was sure she could take it

Though no longer virgin, Lena's tight cunt had been a challenge to enter; our first time, despite her wet readiness, I'd needed several careful tries to work myself fully inside. Even now, months later, she remained a snug fit.

Her rear entry was even tighter. She actually enjoyed a little ass play now, sometimes, but I'd never put anything larger than a finger inside. My cock is a lot thicker than a finger. So I was genuinely worried, and she could hear it when I asked her "Lena, are you sure? I don't want to risk hurting you."