Beijing Chicken...

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...and Southern Fried Duck: An American Gigolo in China.
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"Welcome, sir. You are Mr Martin, yes? Please if you would follow me" From her first sentence as I entered the tea house, I could tell that the hostess had good English; a strong Chinese accent for sure, but with a gentle sing-song quality to it and a friendly confidence that put me immediately at my ease. This confirmed the impression I had got as I had approached the tea house; it was a obviously a high quality establishment. While a few restaurants in the area had staff that could speak some English, it tended to be rudimentary, hesitant and at times nearly incomprehensible.

At three in the afternoon the bottom floor was nearly empty of customers, but as we passed through the main hall though I counted at least ten different hostesses, each tall and beautiful. I suspected that they were chosen not only for their general good looks, but also according to a particular fetish that the manager or owner must have. They were all over five foot eight, and none had pronounced breasts or bottoms, though the traditional Chinese dress that each wore subtly emphasised their figures. Each dress was identical, white with the branches of a cherry blossom tree embroidered up the left-hand side. Each had a small walkie-talkie discretely pinned to their chest. Their hair and make-up was also identical, with their hair tied in a bun held in place by a matching pink and white sticks. Unlike many Chinese girls they didn't cover their faces with whitening make-up but seemed to have naturally porcelain skin. Each was beautiful, but for my money, the hostess who had greeted me was the nicest of the lot. Though the restaurant was empty, each girl stood upright in her appointed place, neither looking bored nor chatting with their neighbour, but waiting with a relaxed serenity. They bowed slightly in turn as I passed.

I tried not to feel too out of place. I told myself that I should feel like ten thousand Renminbi, which was after all what I was getting paid for this afternoon. After all I was wearing the new Armani suit and the Rolex watch, my shoes were shined, my eyebrows were plucked, I was carrying an expensive looking leather briefcase. I tried to reassure myself that I looked the part. On the other hand, it was nearly forty degrees and it was impossible to avoid sweating. The air quality around Beijing had been particularly bad that day and my skin felt grimy. I felt like a fraud, especially knowing that my clothes and watch would have to be returned by the end of the afternoon.

I ran my fingers though my newly cut and styled hair. I had enjoyed having my my head washed and massaged in the salon. I'd even enjoyed being hand shaved with an old fashioned cut-throat razor by a woman who was apparently one of the most sought-after stylists in Beijing. More embarrassing was having my public hair trimmed by one of her trainees, especially as she had done little to hide her amazement at the size of my member, "Aiya..Hen da...very...big". We didn't have enough of either language in common for me to do anything more than simply agree with her. "Yes...big" I had said with a nervous smile. Without being too immodest, my dick is big by Western standards; by Chinese standards it's nearly freakish; ten inches erect and not that much smaller flaccid. As she took her scissors to my pubes, she had to work around my cock, moving it from side to side, gingerly at first, and then with more confidence, each time sighing gently "hao da ya", so big. She'd been a plump girl, trendily dress with a round face, as she'd bent over me to see to her work, I'd been able to see down her top. I thought about trying to get her phone number, but after I had to endure her applying wax and pulling the hair from out between my bum-checks, my affection for her waned temporarily waned somewhat. Beside I had to keep my mind on my work.

As we reached the stairs of the tea house, my hostess turned her head back and said "Mrs Lin sends her apologies, she will be fifteen minutes late. She asked me to serve you and make you comfortable. I am Meiyan ". As she climbed the stairs, I found myself staring at her behind, perfect in its elegant minimalism, and wondered if she had to endure painful waxing in the pursuit of her profession as well. I imagined myself lifting up that cherry-blossom dress right there and spreading her ass checks apart, giving her hole a good inspection to ensure it was completely hairless for its night's work. After a second I snapped myself out of it. It was good that I was horny, but having that kind of image might not be helpful for the business at hand.

Besides I was getting ahead of myself. I had no real evidence that she was any more than she appeared to be, a glorified tea-lady for the kind of people who could spend the equivalent of the national weekly wage on boiled water and some leaves. That said, I found it impossible to believe she wasn't at least propositioned by clients every night. She'd be able to handle them; a smile, a joke, a gentle refusal that someone still managed to stroke their ego. They'd return every week, ordering increasing expensive tea in the hopes of looking affluent and culture, but never actually getting anywhere with her. No, I decided, I was the only whore in the room.

The suit, the watch, the haircut and this meeting had all be arranged by Sue. I guess you'd could call her my 'pimp', but that would be a fairly incongruous word to use for the middle-age woman who spent most of her days doing translating work for big multinational companies and her nights setting up illicit meetings for wealthy clients who wanted to try something more exotic than the local fare. She dealt with both 'chickens' and 'ducks'. Chickens were the women; Russians mainly from what I gathered, though she had lately been developing contacts that would allow her to bring South Americans into the country. I was a duck. A pretty boy brought in to amuse the lonely wives of absent businessmen. With my new haircut I felt more like just the duck's arse.

We entered a private room, with a low table carved out of a tree trunk in the centre. Two cups were already on the table. The table was surrounded by a trio of three-legged wooden stools. She indicated for me to sit and took a place opposite me. Besides her stool there was a small metal kettle sitting on a miniature brazier over some hot coals. It was already whistling gently. One one side of the room was a large folding screen depicting a dragon and a phoenix engaged in a circular flying dancing around each other. On the other side a small fountain gushed water out and down over a miniature waterfall. The only two concessions to modernity in the room were the double glazed windows, which almost blocked out the noise from the busy main road below, and the air-conditioner which lowered room's temperature to a far more comfortable level.

Meiyan sat and from shelf on the underside of the table she brought out a delicate wooden board and a equally delicate tea-pot. Using the water from the kettle she washed the boards, the teapot and one of the two cups. The used water was allowed to spill onto the table, which was gently curved into a basin shape, allowing the water to run down a hole in its center.

"Mrs Lin selected some tea for you to try. This is Puer tea, from Yunnan. It is Mrs Lin's favourite". She took a plain white envelope and poured a few leaves into the pot. She then added the water and left it to stand for a minute.

"This tea takes a while to settle. Perhaps in the meantime you have some paperwork for me. Mr Lin has asked me to take care of some of the...preliminaries?" It was only on this last word that Meiyan ever hesitated with her English and the only time she looked at me to check she had used the right word. I was still impressed, I doubted one in fifty of my English major students knew the word. I nodded strongly to show she'd got it right, but it had suddenly shocked me. Maybe she wasn't such an innocent tea-lady after all.

I realized that I hadn't even said a full word since I entered the tea-house and remembered how much Sue had emphasized how important confidence was in this industry. "Certainly...Yes, right...Preliminaries, right, okay. How would you like to proceed?" I was hardly oozing confidence yet, but hopefully in the fifteen minutes I had until my client arrived I'd be less of a compete nervous wreck.

"I believe you have some documents from me" she said. It took me a few seconds to realize what she was talking about. I fumbled clumsily with my briefcase, not wanting to open it too far unless she saw what else was in there. Eventually I managed to dig out the manila envelope and handed it across to her. She took out the papers and began to look over them carefully, reading each section as if she was reading a tax report. Syphalis: Negative, HIV: Negative, Clymidia: Negative. It is strange how mortifying it can be to have a beautiful girl you've just met read that you don't have any sexually transmitted diseases.

When she had finished reading she reached under the table and produced a single sheet of paper. It was a health certificate for Mrs Lin. It was also in Chinese so I couldn't read most of it, however it was the same layout as my own form and I could read the words negative in each of the important boxes. The only other part I could read, by coincidence, was the name; Mrs Xiang Lin. Lin, which means forest, is simply a stylized picture of two trees next to each other. Xiang means fragrant and happened to be one of the words in one of my favourite dishes; menus being the only writing in China I'm good at reading. Unlike my form there was no photograph attached.

Having finished the main body of the report, she looked confused for a second as she tried to find the date. "Let me see, last Tuesday. Have you had sexual intercourse of any kind since the 16th?" I stuttered that I hadn't. That wasn't strictly true; Rose, my current girlfriend, had been surprised by my lack of ardour this past week and had paid some special attention to me the previous night which it had been impossible to refuse, especially as after a few minutes of her tender care it became obvious that I was clearly 'up' for it. We were still at the early stages of the relationship and using condoms, so I didn't feel guilty about the lie. I'd been worried about how I would slip out for this afternoon's meeting, but as it turned out Rose had a Japanese lesson with her friend Yuki all afternoon.

Meiyan got up, gently slid the sliding door into place and sat back down again. "Okay, I would like to inspect your penis now."

Several silent seconds past in no particular hurry.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" I eventually managed to say.

"Relax. Don't worry. You know your advert says you have special characteristics which Mrs Lin wants to check before we proceed". Like her previous statement there was nothing in her voice to suggest that what she was requesting was in any way out of the ordinary.

"Here?" I eventually managed.

"If you wouldn't mind", she gave me a large smile. It was in no way a saucy smile, but a rather the exaggerated over-friendly smile that a waitress or air-hostess might give after dealing with a particularly slow or bothersome customer.

I stood up, undid my belt and let my trousers fall to the floor. I then pulled my boxer shorts down to my knees and let it all hang out. I was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how small the table we had been drinking was, and consequently how close Meiyan's face was to my crotch. She looked my member up and down for a second. While she showed no particular excitement or embarrassment at it, I like to think the inspection lasted longer than strictly necessary and that there was more up and more down than she was used to. She suddenly paused and for a delicious moment I thought she was going to take my dick in her mouth. I wondered if I should encourage her in some way; touch her hair, gently move her head towards me, lift my member up towards her lips. My dick twitched and rose semi-hard in front of her at this thought.

She suddenly leaned back and said "Okay, everything seems to be in order".

"Really. You don't want to use a tape measure?" Good, I was getting more confident in this situation. She had to control herself very hard not to give me a genuine smile just now.

"No. I can see you match with your advertisement. Impotence also not a problem" She set to serving the now ready tea, leaving me to pull up my trousers and redo my belt, feeling somewhat cheap. I wondered vaguely if this was what feminists called objectification.

"Please try it" she said offering me a cup as I sat down. The cup was no larger than an egg-cup and the colour of the tea was only slightly darker than water. I took a mouthful. The tea was undoubtedly very good, but I'm more of a coffee drinker and it was wasted on me. I tried to pretend to savour it and show some enjoyment of it, but I wasn't really sure how one was supposed to do that.

"One more matter", Meiyan said. "This is slightly awkward. I don't want to offend you, but I realise you are a foreigner here and we have had certain misunderstandings with other foreigners in the past. Mrs Lin is a powerful business woman and requires the utmost discretion. The service you are providing today is illegal in the People's Republic of China. However I would advise you to remember than Mrs Lin is somebody and you are nobody and you will find that the service you are providing is a lot more illegal for nobody than it is for somebody. Nobody in the police, press, or government would be the slightest bit surprised or the slightest bit interested in Mrs Lin's hobbies. At least, not unless they are currently dissatisfied with their own service provider. You will make a lot of money in Mrs Lin's service; tonight and possibly in the future. I would strongly discourage you from trying to make any more."

Beautiful as she was I couldn't help but feel that Meiyan had transformed into a stern schoolmistress lecturing a class of schoolchildren of the horrors that awaited them if they were naughty. It was obviously a speech prepared in advance, as she had recited it she had been careful and precise in her choice of words and level in her tone. "No absolutely, I understand completely. No problem" I muttured, eyes on the ground.

"Now finally there are some matters about tonight's...congress." She paused for a second. "Can I use that word here?"

"Err, well its a bit old-fashioned perhaps. Maybe a little...I don't know exactly. Maybe we'd say entertainment or activities. Maybe not be quite so clear about it".

"Really?" For a second she chewed her lip. It struck me that, while she was not embarrassed in the slightest about inspecting a penis, she was highly defensive of any perceived threat to her mastery of the English language. "Maybe it's okay to still use it. You can understand right?"

I nodded and she continued. "Anyway, about tonight's congress. Mrs Lin does not speak English as you know and I doubt you Chinese is good enough for such a purpose." That was true enough, Rose had casually taught me some of the basic slang for sexual activities early in our relationship, but nothing I would like to try out with a client.

She continued "This is probably not a problem as I believe Mrs Lin will be able to communicate basic wishes to you through body language. She did want me to tell you that she appreciates a man being masculine in bed and will allow you a certain amount of freedom in how you choose to pleasure her. That said, you are to remember that it is you who are pleasuring her and not the other way around. You are to limit your activities tonight to intercourse and cunnilingus. You may kiss her anywhere on her body except her lips. If she wishes French kissing she will initiate it. As discussed, sex will be without a condom and you are to finish inside. Mrs Lin enjoys rougher sex, but that does not give you the right to disrespect her in any way. She will guide you as to what is pleasurable to her and what is too much. Do you have any questions?"

I felt like I was at a job interview and that, somehow, it was important to ask deep and insightful questions at this point to show my suitability for the role. For the life of me I couldn't think of any. She had made it pretty clear that I wasn't going to receive oral sex from her. I couldn't really ask anything about that. I wasn't surprised, many Chinese women disliked giving blowjobs and Rose had only tried it after sustained pressure from me. I thought. "Does Mrs Lin have any favourite positions?"

"Mrs Lin enjoys most of the standard positions. Missionary, dog style, and cowgirl will all be acceptable to her. I believe Mrs Lin most likes to finish in dog style so I recommend you save that until last. She also likes having her hair pulled during orgasm in this position. Mrs Lin is also particularly fond of standing up sex. However if you attempt this I would urge you to consider carefully the difference in your heights". This monologue was an unexpected gold mine of information. I began to wonder again if she had personal experience of Mrs Lin's foibles, if Mrs Lin was particularly meticulous about her preparations or whether she had just been extensively debriefed by previous service providers. I was going to probe her deeper, when suddenly her walkie-talkie squawked into life with a stream of Mandarin. She touched a button on the side and gave a couple of word's answer. "If you will excuse me, Mrs Lin is here." She stood up and left the room to go and greet my client.

She was gone only a couple of minutes, but this time seemed much longer. Suddenly alone I could reflect on what I was about to do. My conversation with Meiyan had brought home to me the reality of the situation. I was okay about whoring myself out. The money was good and I needed it. I reflected on the inherent weirdness of all the formality surrounding the process. When I agreed to be a gigolo, I thought I would be given the number of a hotel room, turn up, fuck, get paid and go. That's surely how it usually happens for female prostitutes. What's normal for men? I realised I really didn't know. But I was sure it wasn't just me, this was deeply weird on many levels surely. Perhaps when I met Mrs Lin, knew a little more about her, things would start to seem more normal.

I heard her laugh before I saw her. It was a huge booming fog-horn of a laugh, drowning out the soft titters of the hostesses paid to laugh at her jokes. I didn't understand a word but the joke couldn't be anything other than very crude. Another attendant entered the room first, indicating the way with a gentle bow to her client. Then Mrs Lin entered.

My heart sank. She was in her fifties, although she'd clearly had some kind of cosmetic surgery. She was short, so that even with the ridiculously tall high-heals she wore, she was still a good head shorter than the all the attendant girls. She was plump, not the sort of plump that could be characterized as Rubenesque, not even obese, but kind of doughy. She was just fat enough that most of her was visibly beginning to sag. Two parts that weren't sagging were her breasts, enormous and obviously fake. On a woman twenty years younger they would be stunning, if not slightly too much. On Mrs Lin they just drew attention to the rest of her deficiencies.

But that was fine. I wasn't expecting to sleep with a supermodel after all. I hadn't been entirely sure before hand what I was expecting my client to look like, but I was expecting that she wouldn't be the kind of woman I would usually be attracted to. What really worried me was her style. She wore a tight leather skirt which hardly came down past her wide ass. She wore a low cut top which showed off far more of her plastic surgeon's handiwork than was strictly decent. Her high heels, as well as being a danger to her physical safety, were red and sparkly. Leopard skin tights covered elephantine legs. She was covered, head, ears, neck and arms with the kind of jewellery that can only be decribed as 'bling'; the sort that is designed purely to show off the owners wealth and status. Her hair was short and spiky, with one tuft of hair at the front died white. The woman was entirely tasteless.