Walking the Way

The man lay naked under the duvet. It had not been a cold day, but the nights still dropped low, and he had the blanket up to his chin.

He slung an arm over his face. He felt the smoothness of his freshly shaved face against the skin of his inner arm. He kissed himself. Savored the tender flesh. He leaned his head to the side and kissed his shoulder. The hollowness below the joint. The bicep. He made out with himself. His loneliness abated.

Then his thoughts turned to another. A woman who had been born on the shores of the Yellow River and was named after that powerful beginning. Li Huanghe. She had even taken an English name in honor of that birth. River.

And as he lay in bed that night he pictured her in his mind. Her delicate features and short cropped hair. Narrow almond eyes. Small nose. Small breasts. Tiny mounds of flesh with outsized nipples.

He went hard beneath the blanket.

As he thought of her, he stroked himself. Slow rhythmic motions. He brought himself up to a heat, then he stopped, let his endorphin high diffuse. He intended to take it slowly tonight.

When he was soft, he opened his eyes. Outside the window was a large magpie. Its blue and gray wings fluttered in the spring air. Black crowned. Long tailed.

The bird was an omen. A symbol in Chinese mythology of separated lovers. A symbol of hope for reunion.

The man knew what to do. His eyes rolled back in their sockets. He left his body. His consciousness entered the magpie. The bird blinked. Stunned by the intrusion. When it opened its eyes, he saw his own body through the smudged glass. He was laying on the bed, under the duvet. Eyes rolling beneath the lids as if dreaming.

His secret power. Walking the Way.

Then the bird took wing. He was in the driver's seat. Saw the world through the bird's eyes. He watched Shanghai pass below. There were neon lights and signs and advertisements. There was traffic, even this late. Lights of white and red reflected off the recent downpour that still lay pooled on the roads. There were no stars overhead. Never in big cities. Only a velvet darkness. The buildings he flew over were closed. Most of the windows were dark. But there were a few lights still on. A few people still awake to enjoy the night.

Together him and the bird flew out over the dark waters of the Yangtze River, then over the French colonial buildings of the Bund. The bird wheeled, tracing a wide circumference in the sky. The man knew his destination.

When he saw the gate, the bird descended. It flew low over trees. Then banked into a complex of high rises. He counted the floors. Knew which unit. And fluttered to a perch on the windowsill.

There were potted plants in a narrow aluminum box suspended from the window. The magpie gripped the rail. It lowered itself on its haunches. Fluffing feathers. Settling in for the show.

Li Huanghe lay atop the blankets. Her head rested comfortably against a stack of pillows, loose hair tumbled freely. She was naked. She took a bottle of lotion from the nightstand and rubbed it on her legs.

The magpie's gaze crawled across her creamy thighs. He was enchanted by her beauty, by her perfection. He loved her with all his heart.

This woman was his wife.

He had met her through a mutual friend. She worked with a foreigner he had gone to college with back in the States. They exchanged contact information and talked on the phone.

It was sometime later that they got a chance to meet. Sometime after that, they married.

The man never regretted his decision. She was strong and soft. Intelligent and passionate. She was cold to him at times and yet she loved him with all her heart.

There was a light on in the bathroom. There was the sound of running water. It stopped. Then a man stepped out.

She smiled at him. Beckoned him to her despite her nerves. Knowing this was wrong and knowing that she wanted him all the same.

The man approached the bed. He was Chinese. Lean build, with a dark complexion and some minimal hair on his chest and lower legs. In the soft glow of the lamp, he removed his boxers, hard member erect. He was uncircumcised.

Dark and passionate. Goofy and naïve. He seemed oblivious to her discomfort.

Then he slipped under the covers and held her in his arms. His touch electric.

She trembled harder now. She knew what she was doing, what this encounter meant, and it terrified her.

They spoke some words in Mandarin. The man understood a little. The rest was muffled by the window and his own lack of fluency.

There was a blare of traffic. Cars passed below him. A chill wind washed over the bird's body.

The man searched the room. Noticed a spider in the corner. He stepped out of the magpie and Walked into the jumping spider's mind.

The warmth slapped him after the chilly air outside. The two lovers' bodies glowed golden in the warm lamp light.

She asked him if he wanted a drink. He said yes. Then the man's wife held up a hand and a glass magically appeared, half filled with a clear rice wine. Baijiu. The man smiled and downed the alcohol in a single shot. Then handed the glass back. With a wave, the empty glass disappeared back to the ether from which it came.

Her spell. Reverence for Shangdi.

The man slid closer. Held her in his arms. His mouth found hers. The kiss was soft, carefully controlled. He kissed her with a tenderness she had come to expect from him. His hands caressed her shoulders, her arms, her waist. She pressed herself against him.

Then the kiss broke. A second time she went for the lotion. She applied more to the inside of her thighs. She set the bottle aside. Smiled at him. Then he mounted her. Her legs hooked at the ankles. Thighs pressed together. And he squeezed his member between her thighs. He rubbed his manhood against the soft flesh of her inner leg.

This kind of foreplay drove her husband crazy, and now she was sharing it with another man.

She closed her eyes. She knew he wanted to go faster, appreciated him taking things slow on her account. In fact, she knew that she couldn't do this with just anyone, but they had been friends for so long, they knew each other well. And it took that kind of guy to tempt her from her husband's bed.

His member was hot and throbbing. It bumped her crotch. She gasped from the sudden contact.

He mumbled an apology.

She shook her head. Dismissing his concern. She was not nearly as nervous now. And she realized in that moment how much she ached for him. She grabbed his cock, knew it would torture him to wait any longer. She gave it a soft pull. He groaned.

This was to be her first new partner since her marriage. The man felt a hot rush of jealousy. This guy was going to intimately know his wife. He resented this man.

The man moved into position. She was wet with anticipation. He slid inside. She gasped. Sudden and intense, it filled her. She smacked him on the ass and pulled him deeper into her.

Then he fucked her hot and fast. It had been slow up to that point, with an emphasis on foreplay, so she didn't mind it fast now. He pumped it with a practiced efficiency that spoke of comfort and frequency.

She surrendered and let him fuck her at his own speed.

He propped himself on his hands, suspended over her. His hips flexed. His member deep. It came out between thrusts. Then slammed back in.

The man watched through the spider's eyes. He saw his wife's cheek flush red. He saw her eyes squeeze shut. Her pale legs up in the air. Ankles locked behind the man's waist. He got an eye full of her smooth skin. Her soft glow.

She cried out with each thrust. There was a slurp of juices. A slap of sweaty flesh against sweaty flesh. The bed creaked under the intensity of their lovemaking.

Then the man went faster still. A staccato of thrusts. He lowered himself on top of her. Chest crushed breasts. Skin slick against skin. She moaned. One long cry of pain and pleasure. Her hands gripped the blankets.

After a few more titanic thrusts, he tensed. He climaxed. Exploded in her crotch. His whole body convulsed. She grabbed his butt and pulled him deeper. Held him inside her. Savored the fullness within her.

Then he went slower. Still flexing. Spasming inside her. He descended from his high. His movements became relaxed. He came out. Lingered a moment. Then slowly entered. Slid the length of it inside with excruciating slowness. Calibrated now for her pleasure.

She moaned. Flexed her own hips, bouncing his member off the walls of her womanhood.

The man starred, transfixed by the sight of his wife being fully satiated.

It was a while before she too climaxed. She shuddered, as an orgasm washed over her. With her it was a full body experience. Her head rolled back against the pillow. Fingers gripped the bedding. Blood pounded through her. Flushed her cheeks and breasts. Tingling the tips of her toes and the padding of her fingers.

Two bodies entwined afterwards, slick with sweat. Post coital bliss. She slapped his butt. Held him inside her. Savoring the afterglow.

They kissed some. Starred into each other's eyes.

When they separated, she lay against his chest. Then she held up a hand. Thumb and forefinger slightly apart. A cigarette magically appeared. She offered it. He took a draw.

Then he spoke. His Mandarin words roughly translated as, "I hope you don't regret this."

"I don't," her voice was soft and husky with emotion.

"I hope our friendship won't change."

She smiled and patted his arm. "Of course it will."

The man knew he should depart. He stepped out of the spider's mind and back into his own body, lying in bed all the way on the other side of town. He became himself again. He became Ryan again.

He blinked. Took some moments to orient himself.

When he did, he found his member hard with desire. He rolled over on his chest. The soft linen sheets felt smooth against his naked body. His hands gripped his thighs, creating a cavity. His hot member pressed between the bed and his abdomen.

He rubbed himself against the bed. It was quick and hurried. He paused a couple of times to cool off, before charging ahead again. The whole time he pictured his wife and the other man.

Soon he shot his juice across the bed and his stomach and his forearms.

Ryan rolled over. Faced the ceiling. He thought about the events that led to this strange night.

"I have a fantasy," Li Huanghe told him one night while the two lay side by side in bed. "I want to have an affair."

Ryan flinched, said nothing.

She curled beside him. Put her hand on his chest and continued in a soft voice, "Don't worry. You are the love of my life. I don't regret marrying you. I only want to sleep with someone else."

"What brought this on?"

She laughed. "I want to torture you," she said. "I want to drive you crazy knowing I'm with another guy. That you are powerless to stop me. I want you to lay here in bed, alone, imagining us together."

Ryan blinked. "You're evil," he said, not unkindly.

"It's what excites me." Her hand traced a pattern on his bare chest. Her touch was gentle. "Then afterward I will come home. It will be very late. I'll lay beside you and tell you about him. What he was like. How good he was." Her fingers paused. Then moved down to his boxers. Slipped inside and caressed his manhood. "Then I will make love to you and it will be glorious. The anticipation will make it glorious."

Ryan was aroused despite himself. The thought of her with another man was oddly exciting.

Over the next few days they discussed it. Li Huanghe told her husband she had a friend from college. Lu Kun.

She asked a mutual friend, Bai Xiang to talk to Lu Kun as an intermediary. However she insisted that Bai Xiang not tell Lu Kun that she had suggested this, instead that it had been Bai Xiang's idea.

Lu Kun readily agreed. And the date was arranged.

Ryan and her spent weeks planning the details. The other man wasn't even involved. Where they would meet for dinner, what they would do after. It was all scripted well in advance. She liked having a plan.

When the day finally came, both of them were nervous about what this meant.

"Are you sure you want this?" Ryan asked her.

"Yes."

He kissed her on the top of her head before watching her leave for her date.

When she returned, later that night, she climbed into bed beside Ryan.

She lay her head on his shoulder. "Thank you for not being angry."

"How was he?"

"Amazing," she said with a smile. "And so very gentle. He knew I was nervous and didn't force me to go faster than I was comfortable with." Then. "It was an incredible orgasm."

"I'm glad for you."

"Are you jealous?"

Ryan knew what she wanted to hear. "Yes."

"Good." She smiled and kissed him. Soft at first. Then the tension between them snapped. And he grabbed her and crushed his mouth against hers.

Then they made love. And it was indeed glorious.