Chinaman's Chance

My name is Jennifer Yang. I was your typical Asian-American princess born and raised in southern California. I was attending UCLA majoring in business, intent on professional success and marrying well. But then I fell in with a bad crowd (according to my parents) and everything changed. They were Hollywood types; stuntmen to be specific.

A stuntman stands in for the actor when the script calls for a risky or dangerous action: fights, falls, car crashes, the whole bit. They taught me a lot and helped me get my first jobs, which qualified me for my SAG-AFTRA card. My years of ballet, gymnastics and martial arts lessons were paying off. I had excellent balance and I was unafraid of heights. Also I was stage struck. I guess I'd always had a secret hankering for show business. I took drama and joined the chorus in high school. I studied music and could play the piano and violin decently. I even took up tap and step dancing in college to keep in shape.

Because of my small stature (4'9" and 85 lbs.) as well as an almost nonexistent bust line, I stood in for child actors; nothing spectacular but it gave me great experience. I quit school. My family and friends were scandalized and my parents were threatening to disown me, but I wouldn't be intimidated.

After a few months of being persistent and knocking on doors, I gradually expanded my contacts within the industry. On one of the jobs, I was hired to go to the Alabama Hills for some location work with a second unit team. The Alabama Hills aren't in Alabama. They're not even named after the state of Alabama. They were named for the CSS Alabama, a British-built Confederate warship, by local miners who sympathized with the Confederate cause. The CSS Alabama captured or sank dozens of Union military and civilian ships from 1862 until 1864, when it was itself sunk in a battle off the coast of France.

The Hills lie alongside the eastern edge of California's Sierra Nevada mountain range near the town of Lone Pine, just off US route 395. This area has been used as a film location for almost as long as the film industry has been in Hollywood. This area has seen tons of feature films and television episodes shot here, mostly westerns but has also substituted for other parts of the world and even other planets. My so-called stunt consisted of clambering up a couple of large rocks and running into a cave entrance. It wasn't any big deal, but the director was pleased and it was a lot of fun.

My next job for the same production sent me to San Francisco, one of my favorite cities in the whole world. Founded in 1776 by Spanish settlers, it is pretty small compared to the other great cities of the world. Still, San Francisco is first class all the way. We were filming some scenes at a vacant and abandoned hotel that was scheduled to be torn down and replaced with an office building.

I was rehearsing my stunt with a couple of the other crew-members when the floor where I was standing collapsed with a thunderous crack. The next thing I knew, I was falling. I squeaked in surprise and tried to grab onto something solid, but the only thing I grabbed was air.

I heard a woman's scream when I hit bottom, but then lost consciousness from the impact. When I came to, this middle-aged man started speaking Chinese to me in a dialect I didn't understand. Then this older woman started yelling, "You speakee English? You speakee English?"

"I speak English," I finally said and tried to clear my head. I was sore all over, but I didn't think I had broken anything. That definitely was not the stunt I was hired to perform. "Where am I?"

"You are in Madame Bordeaux's, the most exclusive parlor house in San Francisco and most probably anywhere west of the Mississippi in these United States. I am Madame Bordeaux. I want to know how you got in here and why you attacked one of my girls."

"I didn't attack anyone." I began to wonder where my fellow crew-members were. I didn't know these people. I was lying on a bed in a small room lighted by a gas lamp surrounded by men and women dressed in period costume, late 19th century was my guess. There weren't any location shoots scheduled that day so I couldn't understand why they were dressed that way. There were even more people peering through the open doorway, all strangers.

"That's not what Sarah said," Madame Bordeaux responded.

"Sarah also said it was a seven foot tall Chinese giant with fangs, claws and armed with a hatchet. It looks like the only thing she got right was that she is Chinese all right," another man said. The woman nodded.

"Did you check her for weapons?"

"I checked every square inch of her body for weapons," he said. "At first I thought it was a boy with her short hair and wearin' trousers and all, but she is all girl." The man grinned and leered at me. I felt my face burning from the shame and humiliation from having been told I'd been groped while I was unconscious. I was going to go straight to the police once I got out of this place and swear out a sexual assault complaint against this bastard.

"I still want to know how you got in here."

"I was on an upper floor when it gave away and I fell," I explained. Everyone looked up so I looked, too. There was a solid ceiling above me.

"There is no upper floor above us, only the roof. There is no hole either."

"I don't understand," I whispered.

"I don't either," the woman said, "but I intend to."

"She's probably a runaway from one of the Chinatown crib houses," someone else said. "She's cute for a China girl. I wouldn't mind trying her out." My anger and confusion was giving way to just plain fear. Did these people think I was a prostitute?

"Look," I said. "I'm sorry I trespassed. It was unintentional and there doesn't appear to have been any damage done. If you think I've done something wrong, you can call the police and have me arrested." I'd feel safer in the hands of the police than with this group of people. I could call my boss and he would bail me out of jail.

"We need a little variety around here," the woman said. "I think we'll keep you around for a while."

"Will someone please call the police for me?" My request only got a laugh from the assembled crowd. I didn't understand what was so funny.

"Did someone call for the police?" A well-dressed middle aged man stepped forward. "Sergeant Sam Butler of the San Francisco Police Department at your service." the man declared. He wasn't in uniform, but I had to assume he was telling the truth.

"Please take me out of here," I begged.

"Certainly, my dear," he responded. "All in good time. Let's get acquainted first." He handed the woman a coin. She smiled and nodded. I realized I had just been sold to this so-called officer of the law.

"I'm not going to do anything with you," I shouted.

"I took his token so you don't have any choice," said the bitch.

"You took his token so why don't you do whatever he wants with him?" Madame Bordeaux slapped me in the face. I pulled my leg back to kick her in the throat, but the Chinese man grabbed me from behind and pulled me back. I was helpless, so I spat at her landing some spittle on her chin. She slapped me again. The ring she was wearing cut my cheek that time. It stung like crazy and my own tears made it feel like a burning acid was being poured onto the wound.

"They will beat you if you continue to resist," the Chinese man whispered in my ear. "Let them do as they will." I ignored him and still struggled.

"I can give her a little something to calm her down a bit," the madam told the cop.

"No, I like my whores to have a little spirit," Sergeant Butler said. "Of course, if she gets too spirited, I'll just beat the shit out of her until she starts cooperating. Do we understand each other little China girl?" I gave him the evil eye stare, willing him to collapse right there and die in excruciating pain. Unfortunately he still lived, but I must have communicated something because he said, "Maybe your boy should continue restraining her or perhaps you can chain her to the bed. Hey, better yet Mike, George? Stay here and we'll make a party out of it. One of you take the Chinaman's place."

"That will be two more tokens if you please," said the brothel keeper.

"I am sorry," the Asian man whispered as he relinquished his grip on me to another man who took his place. Yeah, someday I'd make sure he was as sorry as the rest of them were going to be. I just wasn't sure how I was going to do that.

I shook my head and tried another tack. "Please don't do this," I begged. My tears were flowing freely. I prayed that this was just a nightmare and I would wake up safe and sound in my own bed. It all seemed so real, but it couldn't be, could it? Maybe my brain had been scrambled in the fall and I was hallucinating being trapped in a nineteenth century bordello. Where were my crew-mates? Why hadn't they come to rescue me?

"Strip her," Madame Bordeaux ordered.

"Don't!" I cried as two women started grabbing and pulling off my jeans and top. I tried flailing my arms and legs, but it didn't even slow them down. The crowd watching was a bunch of grinning idiots.

"She hardly has any pussy hair," one of them said. "Hardly any teats neither."

"That doesn't matter to me," said Butler. "The rest of you are welcome to watch, but it'll cost you."

"I just want to make sure I get my turn at her," said someone.

"Me too," said someone else.

"Come see me downstairs," said the brothel owner. "You can all have a turn." She turned to me. "I'm now kind of glad that you dropped in on us." People around her thought that remark was clever and laughed.

"I'll make sure you live to regret it," I hissed with as much venom as I could generate. "I swear it. That goes for anyone who so much as touches me."

The bitch yawned theatrically. "I can't tell you how many times I've heard that same phrase before." She exited the room with the crowd following her. I was now alone with the cop and his two buddies.

"I hope for your sake that you have calmed down a bit. Biting, scratching, kicking, hitting, spitting or other such thing will just get you hurt or killed." The cop might have been talking about the weather for all the emotion he put into his warning, but I could tell he meant every word. "Are you a virgin?" I closed my eyes and shook my head. The only man I had been intimate with was the man I thought I was going to marry. We broke up when I quit school. I was resigned now to being raped. There wouldn't be any cavalry riding in to rescue me at the last moment. I could hear the rustle of clothes as the man disrobed. The man holding me started playing with my boobs. I was actually grateful because that always started me lubricating down there. I'd been afraid I'd be dry when he penetrated me.

"Well, that is a disappointment, but we can't have everything, can we?" Butler's weight made the bed creak as he got on and I whimpered when he touched me. He thrust into me without protection and I was filled. Pain and discomfort followed.

I lay as passive as I could, hoping he wouldn't be getting any pleasure from raping me. He didn't seem to mind. The bastards started chatting with each other as if this was something they did routinely. I prayed I wouldn't become pregnant. I was on the pill, but that isn't 100% effective. Another worry was the possibility of contracting a sexually transmitted disease. Lying there like a lump was just prolonging things so I decided to try to hurry things along if I could. I could fake an orgasm as well as any woman. I also had excellent muscle control. I started grunting, "Unh! Unh! Unh!" -and then, "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah! You're fucking me good! You're fucking me so good! Keep it up!"

I chanced a peek at his face and Butler looked very pleased with himself. I let out a screech and clamped my vaginal muscles down on his dick. It worked. The man grunted and spewed his seed into me. I was so disgusted, I wanted to puke. Instead I smiled for him.

"That was a lot better than it started out," said Butler. "I think you have found your calling in life." Butler was immediately replaced by George and then by Mike. I followed the same game plan as best I could even though I felt nothing, but pain and humiliation. That trio left and not more than a few minutes had passed before another man walked in. They were not going to give me a break. I stifled a sob and spread my legs, resigning myself to servicing him also. I had two more "customers" after that guy before I finally got a break. A woman came in with a bucket of water and dumped some into a basin. She gave me a cloth and I was allowed to clean up some. She didn't look too happy with me so I had an idea who my chamber maid might be.

"Are you Sarah?" I asked.

She looked surprised and said, "That's right."

"I'm Jennifer."

"I can't say it's a pleasure," Sarah responded. "First you just about scare the life out of me and now you're stopping me from earning a living. This is my room."

"I'm sorry," I said and meaning it. "You can have whatever I earned. I'm getting the hell out of here anyway."

The woman giggled like a little girl. "For one thing, Madame Bordeaux thinks of you as found money. You or I won't be seeing a penny of it. For another thing, the only way you're getting out of here is when you're dead and then they'll just dump your body in the bay. That can be sooner or later depending on how well you behave and how much money you're earning for the house."

"Help me escape from here, Sarah. Please," I begged.

Sarah shook her head, looking scared. "I don't want to wind up at the bottom of the bay with you. Sorry."

"I understand," I said. Sarah handed me a thin cotton shift that hid absolutely nothing and told me there was a chamber pot underneath the bed. She also told me the door locked from the outside plus there was a guard on duty. The guard also acted as a bouncer for unruly customers. I would be moved to my own room in the morning. The young prostitute seemed ready to leave.

"May I ask you one more question, Sarah?"

"I'll answer it if I can," the woman responded.

"What year is it?"

"That's a strange question," Sarah said, "but easy enough to answer. The year is 1882. March is the month."

"Thank you." Sarah nodded and left. I briefly saw the guard at the door before it closed. He was the same man who said he had groped me. Being groped didn't seem so bad now after everything else that had happened to me in the last hours. I heard the door lock engaged and sat down to ponder what I had just been told. I had been thrown back in time 131 years before I started. No wonder no one I knew had come to my rescue after I had fallen. They hadn't even been born yet. For that matter neither had I. This was impossible!

Okay, I told myself. None of this real. You're lying unconscious on a hospital bed. This is just a weird dream caused by injuries suffered in your fall. When you wake up you're going to be surrounded by family members with your parents saying things like, "We told you so. We knew this would happen. Have you learned your lesson?" The trouble was that everything felt real right then. I was especially sore between my legs. A small hand mirror showed the cut I suffered just below my left eye was going to scar. There wasn't a lot of swelling.

The window had bars on it that I wouldn't be able to slip between even with my small frame. Yelling for help or screaming was probably a waste of time. I'd probably just attract the guard. It was dark out and a cold fog was rolling in. I was scared, lonely and tired. I needed some sleep. I would be able to think better and plan my escape. But where would I go even if I did escape? I didn't have any friends or family to rely on. I knew from personal experience I couldn't depend on the police. And who would believe my story? Excuse me, I'm from the future, the year 2013 to be specific. I need to get back to my own time. Can you help me? Yeah, they'd help me, right into a loony bin. It didn't seem like I was going to get any more customers they wanted me to service so I decided to try to get some sleep. I did fall asleep, but not without shedding a lot more tears.

I was awakened by knocking at the door and the sound of sing-song pidgin English. The door opened and the middle aged Chinese guy from the night before walked in holding a tray and wearing a big grin. "You eat," he said. "You have big day today."

"I'm not hungry," I responded. Actually I was starving. I wanted so badly to smash my fist into that guy's teeth. I noted the difference from the way he spoke the night before and this morning. He spoke fluently when he was whispering to me. This morning he sounded like he had only an elementary grasp of English. I wondered why he was putting on an act. He asked me something in that Chinese dialect I didn't understand. I responded in the Mandarin dialect that his mother was a dog turd.

"You must eat," he insisted loudly while shaking his head 'no'. He dropped something from beneath his tunic and kicked it underneath the bed. I almost didn't see him do it.

"Your ugly face is spoiling my appetite, whatever your name is," I responded just as loudly. "I'll eat after you leave. Now get the hell out of here, you slant-eyed motherfucker." I heard a muffled guffaw from somewhere and I knew we were being spied on. The man frowned and then returned to grinning.

"My name Sammy, but okey dokey," the man replied. "I go." He knocked on the door and someone let him out. I examined my breakfast tray. It was a bowl of mush, a dry piece of toast and a cup of water. A wooden spoon was my sole dining implement, nothing I could use as a weapon. The meal looked pretty unappetizing, but I was ravenous. On the other hand, I had been warned against eating any of it, hadn't I?

I pulled out the chamber pot and started to piddle. While I was doing that, I tried to examine whatever the man left behind as surreptitiously as I could manage. It was some rolled up clothing with a short note wedged beneath string holding the pack together. 'Food and water drugged. Madame sold you to tong. Pretend to eat then sleep. When you hear tower clock bell strike nine times, change clothes. Two bars on left side of window move easily from bottom. Not too far to drop. Be brave.' I shuddered when I read that I had been sold to a tong. Tongs were organizations in the United States and Canada that were associated with the Chinese criminal underworld. What did they want with me? Duh! The answer was obvious. I was a commodity. Madame Bordeaux sold me to one of them for some quick money. They would most probably be selling my body in a Chinatown brothel.

I rinsed my hands in the water still in the basin and then walked to the window. I took a look at the bars, but nothing seemed different about them. I didn't want to try moving them in case I was still under observation. I imagined that this might be a cruel joke, but what did I have to lose? I had to trust Sammy. I returned to my breakfast tray and pretended to eat and drink. Most all of it wound up in the chamber pot. I stretched and yawned. Then I lay down and feigned sleep. That was difficult to do with my nerves on edge just waiting for the signal to move. My body twitched involuntarily when I heard a bell begin to toll and I cursed myself. Nine bells, I thought, or was it only eight? Fuck it! I couldn't even count anymore.

My shift was off in one motion. The clothes consisted of black pants, black tunic, black cap and a pair of sandals. I was dressed like a coolie, a Chinese laborer. The cap even had a fake queue, the pigtail hairstyle Chinese men were required to have as a sign of loyalty to the Qing dynasty emperors. I crept to the window and peered out. There was no one in sight. I took a deep breath and tried to move the loose bars. There was some play in the bars, but moving them wasn't nearly as easy as Sammy let on. After a few seconds or so of resistance, the bars began to move, but more noisily than I would have liked. I slipped through. So far so good. I wanted to create confusion as to how I escaped so I moved the loose bars back into place while hanging onto a stable window bar, not a problem given my physical conditioning. There was an old cushion below me; small, but adequate to break my fall. The height wasn't a problem. A second after I was on the ground, I was stashing the cushion under a pile of leaves.