Before the masseuse could slowly grope her way out the door with the help of her cane, Lin turned over and climbed on top of Yinghong to force his way in, clearly highly aroused. At first all she could see were the whites of the blind masseuse’s eyes, and amid the premonition of death caused by unexpected apprehension and fear, she let herself go and moved with him.
They spent the night in Beitou. When she woke up the next morning, she could see from where she lay that under a drizzly sky, the bright red flowers continued to bloom on the tips of the old cherry tree. In a room that was totally different from what she recalled from the night before, the man next to her slept on.
What occurred to her at that moment was the thought that she could not afford to lose him again. In order to keep him and, in particular, to retain his normally short-lived passion, she would, she knew, do anything.
It finally became clear to me that his halfhearted performance in bed a while ago was likely caused by his tendency to be bored easily. There might not be other women he sees regularly, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he still feels passionate toward or interested in me. The information I managed to extract from the driver I’d personally hired showed that he never takes women back to the suites, but that means nothing.
The dread I’m feeling now is worse than the last time, when he made an abrupt departure. We’ve been together less than six months, so what sort of future awaits me?
I didn’t dare think about it.
It was, ultimately, after our trip to Beitou, that I could, during our intimate moments together, bring myself to ask him about the girls he procured with money.
To my surprise, the girls were not particularly lascivious nor were they all that good in bed. In fact, they liked to pretend that they were not used to it, so their clients would think they were new in the trade and lacked experience.
So after they know the clients better, do they try to keep the men?
Lin smiled. There isn’t much chance of that. The men are in it for fun; what’s the point in sleeping with them more than a few times?
They ought to have techniques unmatched by the average woman, I persisted. He gave me a tender look and patiently explained things to me. Ten or twenty years ago women from good families were ignorant of such things, and only those girls knew how to please a man. Now there are videos for anyone who’s interested in watching.
So I finally learned that I was fighting a battle I could never win. No matter how hard I tried, I could never compete with girls he could change night after night. I was destined to be powerless against a sexual life cultivated in Taipei’s business world.
In order to win enough votes for the guild directorship, Lin agreed with Yinghong that presenting prospects of foreign investment in real estate was a workable strategy. He knew there was a lack of stability in Taiwan’s politics owing to the long-standing fear of communism and a possible invasion from the other side of the Straits, which made newly rich businessmen eager to move some of their assets off the island to reduce risk. The best investment option was, of course, the “gold country,” the target of envy for the Taiwanese.
A real estate investment tour was organized, with help from an American company, to provide investment possibilities for midrange real estate developers who lacked the know-how to do it themselves. This could prove to be effective in getting votes. Lin himself had already checked out the hotels and rental apartments from a distance, and his dream was to buy up landmark buildings in American cities, like the Japanese corporations had done.
Yinghong arranged an exploratory trip for the two of them, with L.A. as their first stop, for it was a city with many Taiwanese immigrants. In her contacts with American businesses, she was able to use her fluent English to her advantage; at a late-spring dinner, she knew to order the new vintage Beaujolais, chilled at the right temperature. Her pretty face and tender concern, which showed her pedigree, added a mystique to Lin Xigeng; there seemed to be something mysterious about a real estate tycoon from the East who could afford to hire such a special assistant. What connections did he have back in his own country, which had recently gotten so wealthy? they wondered.
Moreover, Yinghong knew the advantage of playing second fiddle; she limited herself to interpreting for him. She’d let him handle even the most insignificant inquiry and never answered for him just because she knew the language. All the time they were dealing with the Americans, she never made him feel uneasy about his lack of English proficiency; instead she made sure he understood that language was merely a tool. Given his financial status, he could have hired thousands of interpreters, but in the end, it was he, Lin Xigeng, who could make decisions without speaking a word of English.
When they were alone after the meetings and dinners, she played out her plan to make erotic moments occur naturally in the car, though she had all the details mapped out beforehand.
Back in Taipei, he’d always preferred to arouse her in the back of his Rolls Royce, reaching under the various types of skirts, not even deterred by a short pencil skirt. With long pencil skirts, he would ask her to shift around for him reach under. She usually tried to fend him off halfheartedly and would say no if he wanted to go further. The driver might be her own hire, but she was never naive enough to think that no one would know. Having been around Taipei’s business circles for so long, she had no faith in anyone, for she was not one of those nameless “girls,” who could simply disappear into obscurity afterward. No matter whether or not he married her, she knew she must maintain a spotless reputation to gain people’s respect.
But she usually consented to his many demands, as long as there was some kind of cover-up. In the daytime, he would pretend to be reading the paper, which provided enough coverage for her to unzip his pants and play with his penis till it was fully erect. He would then, with a proud and confident expression, look at it, at the long, thick, dark instrument that extended beyond the hold of her slender fingers with their fair skin and bright-red nail polish.
At night, when devoid of the excuse of a paper, she would feign fatigue and lie in his arms for comfort, though actually resting on his knees to kiss and suck on his penis. The need to avoid detection and the ruses they had to devise only added to the titillation, making them both excited.
He would often want her to sit atop him, claiming that people could not see through the tinted windows. And as for the driver, he would think she was just being affectionate, but she would not agree to his request, no matter how persistent he was.
Finally in L.A. on the night before they left town, they got into the black stretch limo they’d rented for the trip, after a night of proper interaction and small talk, a champagne toast for future successful cooperation, and the American-style good-bye of hugging and kissing.
She had chosen the limo chauffeur herself. A young white man, he had a sincere smile, earnest enough to promote the American Dream. From a quick inquiry at the car rental agency and casual conversation later, she learned that driving the limo was a part-time job for him, as he had come to L.A. for other prospects, such as Hollywood. Of course. Why not?
On the spring night before they returned to Taiwan, she asked the chauffeur to drive around L.A.’s prime residential areas and main thoroughfares, with the full knowledge that they could drive around for hours in sprawling downtown, even at night, when there was less traffic.
“Let’s experience the magic of L.A. at night.” She said to the young man with a smile.