From Jenny to Mei Ch. 20

Still she prevaricated. "I'm not..."

"All women are, Markéta. That's the secret. Some won't admit it but self-deception isn't your way." She moved to her right, around her kitchen counter that was her primary workspace as she spoke. "We have the gift of an unlimited love. Men are fine, useful and necessary." She reached into a cabinet and brought down two glasses. "Men get things done. Heavens, imagine living in a world run by the likes of you and me. Vegetables would never get to market much less trains run at all, forget on time." She opened the refrigerator and removed a bottle. "But women are love. We make the world a place worth living in."

Markéta watched as she unwrapped the bottle and prepared to open the Spumante. "How do you know?"

"That you're in love? It's as plain as your face is lovely. I can see it in your eyes and on your skin."

"I don't even know it myself."

"The perfect third proof."

"But..."

Gisella draped a kitchen towel over the bottle and, with a twinge of arthritis reminding her of her age, she deftly popped the cork. It made a muffled thud and she poured them two glasses of fizzy bubbles. "Spend the night with her, take her to dinner and then your bed. In the morning you will know."

"It's just infatuation," Markéta said with a degree of hope, "and she doesn't feel the same. I don't think she needs me."

Giselle sipped from the flute and wondered if it were possible that anyone would not need Markéta. "But you want her to need you. That's what is important. Receiving love, like receiving flowers, is nice but it's the need to love that gives life meaning."

It was in the way that her old friend looked at her, the unmistakable look of love that made Markéta understand her feelings for Mei. A thrill quivered her spine as her mind allowed the honesty of her emotion to finally escape.

It was easy after that.

In that one moment the idea of loving a woman lost all it's fearsome peculiarity. Giselle was right, as a woman she had the power to love and the freedom to choose whichever sex she pleased. And why had she been afraid of admitting how she felt? Who could feel shame loving such a lovely creature as Mei Chun?

The realization caused a blockage to burst and over the next hour she enthusiastically described her young Asiatique in every detail. And it was with great warmth and happiness that Gisella listened to her. It reminded her of her own loves and she was grateful to be the one to whom Markéta shared her revelation.

"So?" she said, pouring the last of the second bottle into Markéta's glass. They were now sitting side by side on the couch, shoes off and snacking on olives, crackers and prosciutto.

"So I love her, maybe, God help me. Thank you for forcing me to see that."

"Will you marry? Move to California and settle down?"

Markéta knew by the hint of sarcastic mirth that her friend wasn't serious. "No," she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "And anyway she has a man to whom she is dedicated."

"Oh?"

"Yes, at best I get a lovely little ménage à trois when I am in America."

"A cozy foreign family. There are worse things, Markéta."

"She's taken to calling him master."

Gisella received the tidbit with a, "Hmmm."

"It's her little game I think."

"Not yours? Is he kind?"

"Yes, well I've not met him. A few phone calls. He seems a gentleman. Very polite... witty in an American way."

"And wealthy? Men should be wealthy." She stood to collect the bottle and walked to the kitchen island. "If a woman should be lovely and feminine then the least a man can do is be wealthy and domineering when called on."

"Quite wealthy, I believe. And the domineering, well she tells me he has a gift for that too."

"Jealous?"

"Yes, a bit."

"Proof number four. But don't begrudge her. Very few women can resist a powerful man. One that dotes upon her and ties her up when she hints at it." She placed the bottle and glasses on the countertop and returned to the couch. "There is something inherently incestuous about love making. Nothing perverse, mind you, nothing as blatant as wanting sex with one's father, but for most of us the archetype of father and lover share characteristics that merge together, especially when things get rough."

"You seem to know so much about..." she smiled at Gisella and tilted her head, "Why have you never...?"

"Oh, I have. And I enjoyed it. I used to keep a young man around, even got him a room in an apartment in the same building for a few years." She confessed in giggling intimacy, "I tired out that poor boy until he found his own truth."

"Went gay did he?" Markéta tittered.

"Priesthood."

"Oh my! Fucked him straight into the arms of God, did you?"

"My service to the church." They shared a heartwarming moment and their laughter tied them together even more intimately than before.

"But you falling for a young woman serves me right," Gisella said. "I was infatuated with you when you could not see me and now that you have blossomed you have eyes for a girl as young as you were."

At times over the years Markéta had familial feelings for Gisella. She was her favorite aunt, or so it had felt. Now, with the revelation about her feelings for Mei Chun made and out in the open she felt a different kinship with her.

With a sigh of regret that she had disappointed her friend, Markéta allowed her head to slide off Gisella's shoulder and onto her lap. Looking up into her face she gratefully received the soothing strokes to her hair in silence.

"I just hope for you, darling, that it works out better."

Markéta let a space exist before she said, "I'm sorry."

"We would have been fabulous lovers, Markéta. Set all of Paris aflame."

"Yes," she said softly and let a tear of regret pool in her eyes.

##########

Hector Guzman pressed himself from the fender of a primer grey Chevy Impala and tossed the scantly smoked cigarette to the curb. He stroked the fat above his elbow, pushing the pain of a new tattoo away.

He wasn't happy and his unsympathetic fellow gang members didn't offer condolences for his lost whore because Hector earned no respect and the Untouchables didn't give it away.

Tattoos were his way of expressing his innermost feelings and of writing his personal story on his skin. He daydreamed of leading her through that story, one mark at a time while she looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Not that it would impress her. He was a nobody, in a second rate gang that didn't even attract the notice of the police.

The mark that stung his arm was special to him. He couldn't read it but was assured by the artist that it read 'hot love' like he wanted.

Mario was the best tat artist for blocks around. All the Untouchables got a discount which, if Hector had thought about it, wasn't necessarily a good thing. Sometimes quality was worth the price, like when getting a tattoo in a foreign language. Still, Hector was satisfied thinking of how it would impress her, not knowing that the characters 熱 and 愛 made no sense together and that orientation mattered in pictographic languages.

'She'll see,' he thought as he rubbed his arm. But as the sting failed to retreat he knew she wouldn't. She would never see because she wanted nothing to do with him. His humiliation at being repugnant to her mixed with his feelings of self-loathing and the poisonous combination felt like shit. And feeling like shit angered him because it reminded him of how he felt when he'd let her get away. The disrespect she had shown pissed him off, but more that that it was that she left before she could see the real Hector Guzman. The masculine but tender man he could be. The man who wanted to be what she wanted him to be.

And as the cellulitis took hold and the itching began in earnest, Hector decided that he could not afford to let her go. She was his last chance at redemption, at earning his self-esteem. If he couldn't have her, if he could not slap some sense into her, then there were other ways to return her rejection.

He scratched at the tattoo that now burned his heart as well as his skin and ruminated on how, if she continued to reject him, he would make her pay.

##########

Philip was eager to go but Ai's shrimp came and she was enjoying them. He had one, and despite his sophisticated palate, found he liked it. With an act of will he relaxed and focused on her, knowing it was unfair to concentrate on Mei when Ai was here with him.

"Don't worry. She'll be fine. A guy in his first threesome is like a kitty cat. He's harmless."

"I'll wring his neck if he tries to fuck her."

"Is it so terrible? In your mind?"

"It's instinctual."

"Yeah, I guess, but I think you'd like a threesome with the right guy. You know, a friend. It's a real relationship builder."

"I don't have friends like that."

"Too bad," she said.

"Too bad for me or too bad for you?"

She wiped her fingers, took a sip of water and looked at him with unamused eyes, "Envy doesn't suit you, Philip."

"What do you mean?"

"Stop and consider for a moment. You have Mei Chun. Then you have me and we both are so totally in love with you. You'll have Karla too and Mei told me about the sexy European woman."

"I know," he said, disturbed by a whiff of guilt like smoke in his nostrils.

"I'm just saying a bit of empathy, some generosity to the male half of the world wouldn't be out of place. That doesn't mean that you ever have to share us. I don't need it."

"What about Mei?"

"She's got a sex drive like I've never seen before. She'd be a superstar escort. Think of her in porn for god's sake! But she's dedicated to you. Anyway, that's what the machine's for. If she ever has a fantasy about being with another guy she can work it out on that thing." She started picking at the shrimp again and fed one to him. "You like your grapes pealed, master?" she said with a giggle.

"Oh not you too," his smile delighting her.

"Why not? I kinda like the idea. Me and Mei Chun with you on our lap on the couch feeding you grapes and stroking you like a cat."

He would concede the image had its attraction.

"It blew her mind that I can speak Chinese."

"Oh you can?"

"Yeah. My grandma was from the same province as Mei Chun."

"They here in the US?"

"No. I never met her. My grandparents were killed by the Việt cộng in the war. My folks were boat people. Settled in Thailand in a camp and were sponsored by this lady from Mississippi and settled in California before I was born. But mom wanted me to learn."

"We Americans have no idea how difficult life can be."

"Well me too. They don't talk about life in Vietnam. Not much. My life has been great. I love my folks."

He was about to say, 'I know,' but didn't want her to know he'd read her email.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe Tim isn't so bad. You ready?"

"Yep. So what do you want to do at the hotel?"

"I dunno. Let's hang out in the bar and throw peanuts at the bartender."

"Sure!"

##########

'He's on his way to the bar' read the text on his phone. He called her and put it on speaker for Ai to hear.

"How'd it go?"

"Smooth as silk," a satisfied Mei said, "he was like Play-Doh."

"Did he touch you?"

"Of course he touched me but just kisses and a lick on my nipple or two. No sex."

Ai squeezed his hand to reassure him and he relaxed, remembering her urging to be more sympathetic to the male half of the species.

"Hiya, jiějiě," she said and got a 'hi' in return. "He was like a kitten right?"

"Yeah, harmless really. He came so fast the first time he got embarrassed and didn't get up again till I licked her. I thought his eyes would pop out."

"Is he willing?" Philip asked.

"I think so. He looked dazed and said he needed time to think. He's heading to the bar. Is that where you are?"

"Yeah," Ai said. "Philip had to lie to get me served and slid the bartender some ridiculous tip."

"He asked if I would be here when he got back so I think he's going to be fine with the arrangement," Mei said.

"He doesn't know that the arrangement doesn't include you," Philip pointed out.

"You'll think of something, master," she said and Philip could here her smile. "Are you saving them up for me, master?" She delighted in disobeying his prohibition against calling him that unless he were fucking her.

"Yes. My hand is tingling just thinking about it."

"Listen, Karla's out of the shower and I'm going to... you know... again, and give her a massage. She's been under a lot of stress."

"Enjoy, jiějiě!"

Philip also said his goodbye, wondering how many times Mei could have sex in a single day. Then he asked Ai, "What does that mean?"

"Big sis," she said and pointed to the door as Tim came into view. "He doesn't look good."

"He's had his world turned upside down. Wait here for me, honey, this might take a few minutes," he said as he stood.

"You're going to talk to him?"

"Yep, got to explain things to him while he's vulnerable."

"Ok, master," she said with the most adorable, radiant smile.

"Remind me to add your spanking to Mei's total."

Ai saluted.

He walked to the bar and took the seat next to Tim who was running his fingers through his hair, seemingly worried but with a grin on his face.

"You look like you've been through the wringer," Philip said as he settled into the adjacent stool.

"Nah, just had a crazy evening."

"Tell me about it." Philip addressed the bartender, "A single malt for me. Which do you have?"

The bartender he'd tipped a fifty earlier ran them off in quick succession. "Which one is the real smoky one."

"The Dalwhinnie."

"Right, I'll have that one." He looked at Tim. "One for you? Tonight's the night to try new things."

Tim looked at him and said, "Sure, thanks. Funny you should mention new things."

The bartender brought the bottle, two highballs and a small bucket of ice.

"Leave the bottle, Steve. We'll settle up later."

"That was my plan, Philip. Let me know if you need anything else."

"You a regular?"

"No," Philip said, "just make friends easy."

"I'm Tim," he said.

"Philip."

They shook hands.

"So what's on your mind, if you don't mind sharing with a stranger?"

Tim thought, 'Why not, who better to tell the story to than a friendly face I'll never see again.' "You're not going to believe me."

"Try me. I'll believe most anything and I like stories that start with that line. Even if they're bullshit."

"My girlfriend got picked up by a dyke last night and slept with her."

"Wow." Philip didn't like hearing Mei described as a dyke.

"Yeah. I know. And we met at a restaurant for dinner and they confessed and asked me to come back here with them."

"No?!"

"Yeah, and I'm taking a break to try to figure it all out and they're probably up in that fucking huge suite, with a fucking balcony no less, going at each other again."

"And you're having a drink in the bar?"

"Well, they wore me out to be honest. I'm going back once I get my head around it."

"I love sex," Philip said wistfully, as though he hadn't had it in a while.

"Yeah, me too," said Tim. "I mean what happened up there was amazing. I'll never get that image out of my mind. As if I wanted to."

"First time with two girls?"

"Yeah," he felt like a stud, "ever try it?"

Philip said he hadn't.

"Getting head while the other girl is rubbing herself two inches from your face is unbelievable."

"Sounds habit forming."

"Yeah. I could get used to it."

"You don't look overjoyed. You confused? Not sure your girl's still into you?"

"Yeah." He looked at Philip and wondered at his perspicacity.

"Ever cheat on her?"

"When we first started dating I got back with my old girlfriend once, but not since we started having sex."

"Been dating long?" Philip really was enjoying the scotch and tried to remember the brand.

"A bit over a year."

"You know, young women like to cross that line every now and then but they usually come back, get married and have kids. I don't think it's something to worry about." He looked at Tim. "She told you, right?"

Tim nodded.

"I mean she could have kept it a secret."

"That's what she said."

"Tell me about the other girl." For Philip, Tim's reply would decide his future. If he denigrated her he would steal Karla away from him and perhaps go out of his way to destroy him. If he were respectful and complementary then perhaps he wouldn't.

"I see why she did it. I mean, she's beautiful, a thin Asian chick, Korean I think, and you know, she's really nice. If she were some bitch I could just... I don't know. I'd be angry but she's really very nice and she seems to really like Karla."

Philip felt genuinely relieved. "That her name? Karla?"

"Yeah, Karla's my girl's name, Mei Ching is the other girl."

"So what's the problem? I mean if you're going to be having sex with both beautiful women I can't seem to see it."

"I guess I want to marry her some day and I don't want to loose her to another woman. And this other girl has a guy who makes her call him master and hits her."

"What a prick!"

"Right. I know, like, this is the twenty-first century. What a dick. I wish I could meet the motherfucker."

"So you don't want to share his girl with him."

"Of course not."

"Want them both for yourself? Set up in your apartment sleeping three to a bed?"

"Wouldn't that be fantastic but she's really hooked on the asshole, like she's mesmerized. Can't stop talking about him even while she's going down on Karla."

"Did you do both of them in this suite of yours?"

"No... would have loved to but she won't let me touch her. Apparently sucking my girlfriend is ok but my dick is off limits. At least until she checks with dickhead."

Philip saw him scan over his shoulder for a moment and he knew he was looking at Ai. He ignored it and asked, "How can she afford a suite in a place like this?"

"Some dead uncle or something. Apparently the Korean girl is rich."

"This story gets better and better."

The bartender, Steven, returned and said, "Mr. Conners, the manager wanted me to let you know that the bottle is on the house."

"Thanks, Steve," he said cordially but wished the bartender hadn't said his name. He saw Tim's wheels turning but before he could get another question formed and delivered, Tim said, "We've got a client named Philip Conners at the accounting firm where I work."

Philip kept a low profile in public, never attending charity functions and giving anonymously, but the city's money people knew his name. Unfortunately, Tim apparently worked for one of the two outfits that he'd hired to keep an eye on his money managers.

"You're not a billionaire are you?"

"Listen, Tim," he began to stand and laid the pretense aside.

An quizzical expression appeared on his face as a whiff of recognition tantalized Tim's mind. Then it jelled. "You're him aren't you?" His voice had slowed and his eyes narrowed.

Philip's whole manner changed. Standing tall, looking down at the confused younger man, he said, with confident authority, "Come with me." He took the bottle and motioned.

Tim moved slowly to follow while trying to work out what was going on. It was odd meeting this guy but coincidences happen. That wasn't what had him uneasy, it was feeling a déjà vu sort of sensation. It wasn't that this had happened before but something else. That things were connected in a way he didn't understand.

They settled in a trio of chairs not far from Ai's table. "We need to talk like men and resolve this and come to some kind of understanding."

"What?" Tim started to elaborate another question and then another light went on. "She said his name was Philip."

The dots were connecting.

"Yeah, sorry about the BS at the bar but I wanted to know what you were going to say about Mei Chun."