Two Weeks in Shanghai

(Thanks to Blake for the feedback and edits along the way - much appreciated)

When I visit Shanghai I stay in a quaint, old-style hotel in the French Quarter in Pu-xi. Pronounced poo-shee; it is the older part of town west of the river. There are plenty of sparkling new hotels these days, especially down toward the Bund or across the eastern side of the river - but I've never been taken by chain-hotels, even the best of them. There is something interesting about independent hotels, they usually have an unplanned and impossible-to-replicate quirkiness. The Yongjia Chalet is just the place.

If I hadn't lived in Shanghai in the past, I would never have known the hotel was there. It doesn't come up on the first few pages of any Shanghai hotel search and even TripAdvisor has ignored its existence. So now when I come back for business, it's my regular place. There are some great bars and restaurants nearby, especially Cotton's on Xinhua Road, a gorgeous old home turned into a pub and beer garden.

On this particular trip I was in for two weeks. I arrived Sunday around lunch, I was staying until the Sunday afternoon a fortnight later. My company's office and training rooms were three stops away on the subway system. I had a relaxed Sunday evening, I slept early and well. I didn't need to be in the office until after lunch on Monday, so I had time to do emails and prep all through the morning.

I showered, dressed, and went along the hall to the elevator down to breakfast. I was all the way inside the lift when I remembered I needed my breakfast ticket. Luckily the door hadn't closed. I threw a finger at the 'open' button just in time, apologizing in English to the old couple in the lift. I know the Chinese word for sorry, but struggled to get it out in my mini-panic. I noticed a girl in a robe come around the opposite corner and dash to try and get the lift I just left, but in my rush did not pay attention to the result.

By the time I went back to my room, picked up the breakfast ticket from the far bench and got back to the lift, the girl was still there. She must have missed it. The hall area was super quiet and awkward, just us two standing there watching the numbers go from G to -1, then -2, i.e. the carpark underneath. I stepped back slightly to get a better look at my waiting companion. Where was she going in a bathrobe? As I looked, her hair was long and she used it to cover the side of her face toward me, hiding, so I could check her out without her noticing. The more I looked, the more I sensed she was not comfortable. She wasn't entirely steady on her feet, as if she was tired or hungover. And she had no shoes at all. Back home I would have thought nothing of it, but in China it was a bit weird. I leaned forward to see if she was Chinese. I couldn't really tell, but I expected she was. Her body type seemed Asian; her legs were long, her hips small, her shoulders square and jet-black hair. Back home she would have been short but in Shanghai she was probably a taller than most girls. I couldn't get a feel for her age, but her hands looked young, perhaps late teens or early twenties. You never could tell with Chinese women. Only their face ever gave them away, if you looked at just the body - naked or dressed - it was difficult to tell, especially if they were fit.

The lift sat forever at -2. Who would build a hotel this size with only one lift? Not one of the big chain-hotels, certainly.

The girl in the robe went forward and pressed the down-button ten times, rushing it. It worked to move the number from -2 to -1 but there it sat again, for longer than you would expect. It must have taken twenty pushes to get it from -1 to G where it was again stuck for an annoyingly long time. The girl was clearly anxious and it rubbed onto me. I sighed loudly in sympathy. Robe-girl with her bare feet checked all the corridors in all directions for stairwells but the only one near us had an open-the-door-and-set-off-the-fire-alarm sign on it, in both English and Chinese. She clearly thought it over but decided to keep button-pushing instead. Walking around, I could see her face. She was local and she was young. And gorgeous. Chinese people tell me that only Americans think Lucy Liu is beautiful, that Lucy is the West's view of pretty Chinese - but not China's. China considers Chinese beauty to be Zhang Ziyi, someone less sultry and without the cats' eyes. I fall on the side of my people; I like Lucy. And the woman so nervously pressing away at the lift near me looked like a beautiful young Liu.

As the lift slowly ran up the numbers to 5, I heard a door open down the hallway, around the corner to the left. I could hear what seemed like two guys speaking British English. My girl in her robe lifted her intensity on the button, fairly jumping up and down, urging the lift to move and get here. She was clearly terrified of whatever and whoever was down that hall. The talking continued but seemed to be stationary, like they were standing at their open door. The girl in the robe was completely stressed, I was beginning to worry for her. To add to the bedlam, her robe had loosened. She was too concerned with looking over her shoulder and up at the lift numbers to notice. I could see her right breast; she had nothing under there, not on top at least. She wasn't big, but not exactly small either; it was a gorgeous Asian breast. Both the tension and my penis rose. The door finally closed and the guys started to move our way. The lift was about to arrive, but I wasn't sure we could get in it and shut the door in time to avoid the extra passengers. The girl's panic was starting to scare me, too. Perhaps these guys really were bad?

One feature of really old lifts is they give a super loud 'ding' before they arrive. When it went off, both of us jumped out of our skin. I had become as nervous as the girl. As the ding echoed down the hallways, the guys in the passage yelled out 'wait' and sounded like they broke into a trot. The lift doors opened but, in my judgment, there was no way we could get in and get them closed before the guys coming around the hall would be on us.

So, I acted.

My girl was moving toward the lift as the doors began to open, but I stepped in assertively and grabbed her by the arm. Without asking and without consideration for discomfort, I pulled her around the corner to the opposite hallway, toward my room. We were just in time. I saw the first of them run into the lift area as I went around the corner. Fortunately he was too busy concentrating on getting his hands into the lift doors. He didn't see me. I put my finger to my lips, the universal "shhhh!" Then I stood behind the girl and pushed her down the hall to my door. I tried to be as calm as I could, opening the electric lock and pushing us in. The guys never looked down my hall, or if they did it wasn't until after we were in my room.

"Shit!" I yelled a whisper. What had just happened? The girl in the robe was clinging tightly to me, safe behind the closed door. "Are you okay?"

The girl shook her head and started crying. Did she understand what I said?

"Do you speak English?" I asked, holding her head to my shoulder. She didn't talk, just nodded, sobbing.

We stayed that way for some time.

The first thing she said was, "My things."

It wasn't exactly perfect English, she had a strong Chinese accent, but it was English. I knew what she meant.

"In that room still?"

She nodded into my shoulder again.

"Who are they? Are they dangerous?"

The girl didn't respond at all.

"Are they scary to women?"

This time she nodded profusely.

"Are they scary to men, too?"

She didn't answer. She didn't know. They probably weren't. From the brief glimpse I had of one of them, he was relatively small and maybe university age. The accent was British. British guys in a hotel in Shanghai. Probably tourists passing through; though how they found this hotel was a mystery. Chances were the beauty in my arms was a prostitute. She didn't look or feel very old in my arms. She probably hadn't been on the game long.

"Okay," I breathed. "I've probably got one shot at this. What did you leave behind? Just the important stuff. What do you need the most?"

I could go and talk to the hotel staff, or she could, but knowing China that would cause a complete stink. I was meant to be in the office by 2pm. That was still a few hours away, but if the hotel security and police were called, they wouldn't just let me go off so easily. And the girl in my arms, assuming she was a prostitute, there would be all sorts of trouble for her.

I pushed the girl away from me, telling her "Wait."

The guys back in that room probably hadn't seen a Singapore Permanent ID card before. I took it out of my wallet and placed it in the picture pocket over the photo of my childhood puppy. Swishing around, it looked official. It had enough Chinese writing on it to be confusing.

"Okay. Listen to me. I need you to stay here. Shut this door. Do not go out. Do you get it? Do not go out. Nod if you understand."

The girl nodded, holding her robe together.

"What do you need?"

"My clothes. My bag, my purse, my keys. My phone. My headband. My glasses. My shoes."

I shook my head. She wasn't getting all that. She will have to settle for purse, keys, phone and any clothes I could get quickly. The ruse may only work for a minute. How many Chinese hotels have westerners as security? The bluff wouldn't hold for long. I pulled on my suit jacket and my darkest, most serious tie.

"Which room is it, do you remember? Will anyone still be in there?"

Going to find out, I moved down the hall and around the corner. I banged on the door authoritatively. There was shuffling inside the room but no-one spoke or came to the door. I held my resident ID card at the peephole.

"Security. Open up."

Still nothing but shuffling and whispers.

"Gentlemen, unless you are planning to run down the rusty, broken fire escape and want to break your neck, I suggest you open up," I boomed.

The movement inside became more frenzied, like the room was being tidied.

"Your choice boys. Talk to me or talk to the police. If you won't talk to me, I'll be back with a key and the police. Any of you boys seen the inside of a Shanghai lock-up before?"

The door chain went on and the handle turned. The door opened two inches. A voice from behind the door spoke.

"What do you want?"

"There's a girl downstairs who wants her purse, keys and phone."

"Don't know nothing about that."

I silently took a deep breath. I'd never done anything like this and wasn't even sure why I was. I thought back to the way some of the police talked to me when I was a teen and was pulled up for causing a kerfuffle.

"Listen son," I said, though I would have been no more than five years older than them, "All the girl wants is her stuff back and she'll be on her way. If she doesn't get it, she wants the hotel to call the police to take you all away. I reckon it might be easier just to pass out her stuff and never see her again. Easier on everyone don't you think?"

I was trying my best to stay cool, to stay confident, to act like I faced shit like this all the time.

"Don't have nothing. Those other guys took it," said the voice.

Shit. What if that was true?

"Well, then I guess we're both shit out of luck. You just made both our days longer and harder. Fuck. I hate dealing with Shanghai cops."

I pulled out my phone and dialed a nothing number. I started talking in the Chinese I knew, i.e. ordering two beers, telling the driver to go left, then right, then stop. The guy on the other side of the door had no idea what I was saying, until I dropped the word 'police' in English.

"Wait. Wait. Stop. What is it she wants?" a second voice said behind the door, panicked.

"Purse. Keys. Phone," I repeated grumpily.

"Wait."

I made that I hadn't hung up the phone in case they were looking through the peep hole. A minute later a bag was shoved around the corner on the floor. I bent and picked it up, careful to keep an eye on the door. Inside was a purse of sorts, a mobile phone and a key purse along with make-up and a hairband. There was a glasses case in the bottom.

"What about her clothes?"

A white piece of material was shoved around the corner. It was a long-sleeved white shirt. There was no underwear amongst it, though I couldn't actually be sure she wasn't still wearing shorts or skirt (or her panties at least) under the robe.

"Shoes?"

Clunk, clunk. Two beige-strap heeled shoes came around the door. I'd done pretty well, it was enough. It was time to back off while I still could.

"Okay boys. I'll take these to her and get her out of the hotel. But listen carefully. If I were you, I'd pack up right smartly and check out before she goes home and tells her daddy or brother or her pimp, and they change their mind about the police - or worse. My advice is to get out of this hotel within the hour."

I listened for any response. Nothing.

"Did you hear me?" I asked with power.

"We heard you."

"Good. Enjoy Shanghai boys, but I suggest you move to a hotel the other side of the river. Quick smart."

My heart throbbed as I walked back down the hall with the gear. I turned right at the lift, pressed the button to bring on the 'ding' then turned right into the other hallway and down to my room.

The girl in the robe was on the bed holding the room phone over her head like a weapon. When she saw it was me and saw I was alone she was clearly relieved, especially when I held up her bag, shoes and shirt. She dashed over and grabbed the bag, sifting through it. From the look on her face most of the contents were still there. I guess the guys hadn't got around to rifling it, thinking she was never to be heard from again. She grabbed her shirt.

"Where is my under?"

"Under?"

"My...lingerie," she said with difficulty, though I couldn't tell if it was language or embarrassment that made the word come out awkwardly.

"Top?" I asked pointing to my own chest, then my hip, "Or bottom?"

"Both," she said, eyes wide.

Shit. There was no going back. Not now. Not me at least. I was astounded I had succeeded as much as I had.

"No skirt," she added.

Double shit. "I'm really sorry," I said meaning it.

"No. No. Thank you. Thank you," she returned. She went and sat on the chair and held her head in her hands. She was tired. She looked like she had been up all night. She looked like she had dried cum in her hair and on her neck.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"I'm Ju," she told me.

"Ju," I repeated. "I'm Simon. Simon."

After a moment of silence, I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, taking a towel from the rack. I took it to Ju.

"Come. Clean up."

Ju looked up at me, worried.

"By yourself," I assured her. "Come on. The door has a lock."

I led her into the bathroom and let her shut herself in. I took my jacket off and sat on the bed, bewildered. This was not how I expected my morning to go. I looked at my watch, it was still only 8:40am. My stomach rumbled; I was hungry. I wouldn't be going out yet, though. I had to think through this mess first. Maybe there was someone who could come and pick Ju up? It would probably be a good idea if I wasn't around, though. Sometimes people in China have a habit of reacting first and asking questions later. I might find a tire lever across my head before Ju had time to explain I was the hero not the villain.

Ju's phone vibrated on the bench where she had left it. I looked over at it, noting the charge was almost gone. It was the same phone connection as mine so I took it and put it on my charger. I don't know why, I wouldn't normally do something like it, but I found myself curious about who Ju was. There was no lock on the phone and the photo icon was right there on the front screen. The shower water continued to pour so I took a chance and clicked.

Immediately I could see that all the recent camera work was video. It only took me a moment to realize what the videos were.

Holy shit.

I instinctively turned the volume down to 2 bars then hit play.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Those boys used her own phone to take movies of what they did to her. One of them said the videos were a present she could take with her to remember her night.

Holy shit.

I got hard instantly. I almost sprayed. There was little Ju. Getting the shit fucked out of her. Fuck. There must have been 5, maybe 6 guys. The first video was the last taken, and it looked like there was daylight coming in the window. Progressively the windows got darker as they moved back in the queue.

Holy shit. Those boys had been to town on her. I'd never seen anything like it. Not for real. She was on her back with a cock in each hand, one in her mouth and one in her pussy for the first few videos, guys taking turns in different positions. As they moved back in time, I saw a video where they were shaving her pussy while one guy was in her mouth. Further back still there were less guys on her each time, boys taking turns to double-team her. Back in the first few videos they were doing her individually, taking turns one at a time, her clothes slowly appearing as the movies went back in time. I could tell she was more and more reluctant the earlier the video was taken. In the first two it looked like she needed to be held in place while guys lifted her skirt and pull her panties aside, fucking her from behind. She was shaking her head violently. I went back to look at the last videos again. By that time, she had lost any fight, moving to let guys get into her mouth and vagina easier, reaching out to hold the spare cocks, like she had been trained.

Ju was so small next to these European guys. Some of them struggled to get all of their cock in her, laughing and teasing her as they tried. None of them used condoms and almost every cum was in her pussy or her mouth. They filmed it pouring from her cunt and showed how hard it was for her to swallow. She didn't look like she had drunk cum before, she was retching after the first few times. As with other things though, as daylight crept into the videos she became more used to it. Of course, the guys weren't giving her as much sperm in the end as the beginning, either.

On her back her tits looked flat, but standing up they stood out nicely for a girl her size. I glanced at the bathroom door. The girl in all these videos was naked in my room now. Those fine-looking tits were naked just the other side of that door, as was her freshly shaved vagina. But I couldn't imagine how sore her pussy and mouth must feel, and how sleepy she must be. I walked over and banged on the door.

"Are you okay?"

"Okay," came the tired reply. "Thank you."

Thank me? Now I felt guilty for looking into the privacy of her phone, though I was certain she had no idea what was on it. Should I delete them, save her the pain? No, they were just too hot, I couldn't bring myself to do it. And maybe she wouldn't mind watching what she had done. Maybe she could use it for marketing purposes, I giggled.

I kept watching the videos until I heard the shower turn off. My favorite was one near the beginning. One guy had her stood up in the middle of the room. Her pants were completely off, all she had on was her bra. He had hold of her hips and was fucking her from behind as they stood, the others sitting around watching. He reached up with one hand and flicked the hook on her bra, opening it and pulling it from her. The whole scene was cum-blowing. Ju was obviously uncomfortable being fucked in front of others; she was trying to shy from them. When her tits fell free, at that angle they were spectacular, jiggling just the right amount as the pelvis slapped her from behind. When the cum went in her she tried her hardest to scramble off, she didn't want sperm in her vagina. Ju had no protection, but she couldn't break the grip on her hips. The group cheered as the guy behind her flicked his hips and groaned. It was pretty full on.