From Jenny to Mei Ch. 24

She was really more distracted by thoughts of Mei Chun than the challenge before her. She had felt her anticipation all day long and the brief greeting as she came in with Ai only rang Pavlov's bell.

Not only did she want her naked and horizontal again, she was eager to unburden herself upon Mei and talk about last night with Tim after she had left. She had other friends she could speak to about life in general and an older sister, with whom she kept in close contact, but no one she could talk to about the twists and turns of her now very complex love life. Certainly not her sister. The married mom of two wouldn't understand her attraction for Mei, though she could probably handle her sister being gay, or half gay.

As she dawdled in Mrs. Moskowitz's hair she thought about Mei and Ai, of how nice it would be to just turn gay, and of getting royally fucked by Philip. Instantly she understood the contradictions in those two ideas, but it didn't bother her in the least. Why couldn't she be gay and straight at the same time? Why not live as a lesbian and fuck her two men when she chose? Screw anyone who told her it wasn't the way to do things. 'I mean,' she thought, 'why not? I can love anyone I want to, whenever I want to!'

And then, with relief, she saw Kenisha return and gesture for her to hand over the brush. She smiled at her just as she had before the blackmail and she smiled back in gratitude. And it was as though a valve opened in Karla and she remembered why she liked her so much.

Standing at the counter she paused her work mind for a moment and took time to feel. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She let her emotions rise to awareness and experienced what she recognized as gratitude. She was grateful to Mei Chun for the changes in her life, her new acceptance of her sexuality and the slabs of heavy self-doubt and fear that were sliding off her back. The more she acknowledged gratitude the lighter she felt until she started growing giddy. She was becoming a new person, the person she had always kept walled away inside. A much happier and self-confident woman.

Opening her eyes, she looked around at the people before her, some leaving reinvigorated, and some arriving to work out the stress of the day, and she felt good, new, well-balanced, and happy.

##########

"You feel that, don't you?" Ai asked at the water cooler.

"Feel what?"

"Feel the desire, the, I dunno, the interest."

"You mean do I feel every male eye on the two of us?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

Ai's eyes closed for a moment and she inhaled deeply, then relaxed. "It's like a field, y'know? Like an electromagnetic field or something. Something I can feel."

"You're nuts. I mean, you know you're hot and you know this is a room with sweaty men in it so you know they're looking at you. But you can't actually feel it."

Mei took a seat at an overhead pull station, adjusted the weight, put her elbows in the rests and brought her arms down to press the bar until it touched the tops of her thighs.

"I do feel it."

Mei smirked.

"Have you ever wondered what love is."

"I don't know love very well," Mei confessed, "it's kinda new to me."

"Love is a real thing. A radiation, like light or heat. It's like gravity."

She stopped mid-set and listened to her. She hadn't yet seen the serious side of Ai and she seemed so earnest in her explanation that it retained her attention.

"Ever wonder what gravity is?"

"No." She started her set again.

"It's like the bending of space but there's no particle. They're looking for a thing called a graviton."

"Right," Mei said. "And why do you know this stuff?"

"Dad made us watch Nova." Mei looked at her blankly. "On PBS?"

Still a vacant look occupied her face.

"Public broadcasting."

"Oh... right. And what does it have to do with being hot?"

"So love is a force like gravity but no one knows that."

"Just you," Mei smirked again and repeated pulling the bar to touch her thighs.

"Apparently."

"You're a smart chick, Ai, I get it, but sometimes I think you think too much."

Ai had heard this a lot, and while it didn't bother her like it did Sarah, she felt it didn't reflect well on those that said it.

"Hmph," she chuffed but somehow without disdain, "you wanted to get to know me right?"

"Yeah," she said, suddenly concerned she had struck a nerve, "I didn't mean to dis you, Ai. It's cool you like science stuff. I just... y'know... in one ear, out the other. But you can teach me. I'd like that."

"It's ok. Some people like opera and others don't."

Mei gave her a sideways glance as she repeated another rep.

"I'm the kind that can't stand opera."

"Oh, thank god," Mei sighed and smiled at Ai's laughter. "There is no way I'm going to listen to some fat lady yelling at home."

Ai's look changed. Her eyes went quickly from those of a friend to those of a mother and back to friend again.

"What?" Mei asked, letting the bar clank back over her head.

"Is that the first time you thought of his house as home?"

Mei got off of the machine and stood a foot or so back while Ai maneuvered to replace her. She realized how it was the first time she had thought of his place as home, or rather, verbalized it. She had considered it home for quite a while now.

Before she could answer, Eric, her trainer, approached them and offered to guide them and review Mei's form. And as they progressed through the circuit it became clear that Ai was surprisingly strong, doing more weight on the machines than Mei and having a greater familiarity with them.

"Do you do kegels jiějiě?" she asked when Eric stepped away to help another member.

"Yeah, just, you know, at work when I think about it."

"Do you have an exerciser?"

"No. What, like a thing you put in?" Mei, with the same expression looked intrigued and disgusted simultaneously. "Do they work?"

"Oh yeah. I do at least a half an hour a day. I've got, like, every gimmick they sell on Amazon. I've got these balls you can just keep in for hours and you just have to make sure they don't fall out."

"Oh wow," she said, her libidinous curiosity aroused. "Can they... can you?"

"Yeah. It's great. Sometime in the library when I need a break I'll just make them move back and forth and, if I concentrate I can come. Then I just get back to studying. Anytime you see me in a rocking chair, you'll know what I'm doing." Ai saw Eric approaching and concluded, "I bet I could crack a walnut with mine."

Eric caught the last few words but was gentleman enough not to show it and helped them finish out their session.

"Steam?" Mei asked as they headed to the locker room.

"M'kay," Ai replied as they stripped.

##########

Markéta felt a quiet pride with her finger in the ass of the head of state of her favorite country. She loved France, its charm, elegance and the centuries of refinement. Her native Czech Republic had more beautiful scenery and brewed beer that no French brand could equal but Prague, while a fabulous city in its own right, could not match Paris. And while she squeezed more lube onto her right hand in preparation to shove yet another finger in his ass, she reflected on certain aspects of international relations. Here she was, the daughter of a locksmith and a menial secretary from a modest Central European town, making the nominal head of one of the continent's most powerful nations whimper into his gag and cry copious tears.

"Is this where you're hiding momma's earring - you filthy pervert?"

He grunted, either in confession or denial, it didn't matter to Markéta. She had an instinct that she followed with Pierre. When they reached this stage, passing through intimidation, remonstration, recrimination, and threats to this, the persecution phase, what she said or did mattered little. When the tears started she would insult him in the context of whatever scenario she had devised and maximize his humiliation.

She didn't really understand the psychology of what this did for him but felt that perhaps he had so much guilt to work off that this relieved his deep subconscious. Anyway, it was better for him to work it out in private. She figured his mind was going to force the humiliation on him one way or another and maybe by fucking him in the ass with glove covered fingers while calling him names would do the trick. There wasn't much in it for her. She frankly thought fucking his ass with her fingers revolting but she looked past his sick need for momma's discipline and saw the man, or rather boy, beneath all the layers of twisted sexual perversion where she found a real, tender-hearted sympathy for him.

'Good thing I got these sturdy black rubber gloves,' she thought as he sobbed uncontrollably. 'I'd hate to think of his shit under my nails.'

She had, indeed, chosen well. They were thick black gloves that reached to just below her elbow and kinda felt good on her hands. They were well made with fabric reinforced webbing in the fingers that she could feel on her fingertips as she sought out his belly button. 'Maybe these are fisherman's gloves?' she thought, 'for a fishwife with delicate hands.' She would get another pair and perhaps have fun with Mei somehow. 'You never know what you might need in the bedroom,' she reflected, 'Mei is a unique girl and god knows what she is used to with that man of hers.'

As she formed her fingers into a ram and stuffed the thick black rubber covered digits as deep as she could into his rectum, she thought more of Mei. She thought of how she would gently guide her how to make love to her. How she would tell her that she liked having a tongue between her toes. 'She said she wants me to teach her,' and let that guide her next few moments of fantasy. 'Gently, slowly,' she envisioned herself telling a naked Mei Chun lying between her legs, 'Comme ça. Oui! Now kiss like a butterfly. Small nibbles at the top of that soft valley between the lips.' Thinking like this had been how she came at night, her own fingers a substitute for Mei's lips and tongue. She discovered that she cried her name when she climbed to the pinnacle and for long moments afterward. She felt self-conscious, alone in her hotel room, Mei's name still on her lips as she slowly awoke from 'the little death.'

'Gisella had been right. Of course she would be. I do love her and I'm so foolish. How could it be? How could it happen in just a few hours and in an American shopping mall no less.' But the truth was there, her compelling ruminations on the petite Asiatique would not give her peace.

As she took hold of the President's cock in her other black gloved hand, this one free of lubricant, his flesh squeaking as she pumped him, she daydreamed of taking her to LA to meet her famous clients. She would introduce her as her lover and dare anyone to comment or look with the slightest disdain.

"Come you filthy motherfucker!" she said and spat on the president's back. "Come you goddamned pervert!"

As the statesman tightened his muscles and began wheezing through the gag, moments away from issuing his dribble of semen on the fine carpet of his wife's bedroom, she again took pride in her service to 'La Belle France'. And just as he started his orgasm she stopped, stood and stripped off her gloves. She watched him jab his hips forward in a futile attempt to finish his orgasm and laughed at the pathetic sight. She was ruining his pleasure, but that was the point.

She lifted her hand high in the air and, with a maniacal laugh she'd practiced in the shower, brought the pair of rubber gauntlets down with savage momentum onto his buttocks.

"Pervert!"

'Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!'

"Zvrhlík!"

'Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!'

"Pervertito!"

Again and again she whipped him, each finger of the sturdy gloves breaking capillaries in his skin causing blood to seep into the surrounding dermis.

"Come you pathetic little nothing of a man."

'Twack!'

"Squirt on your wife's carpet!"

'Twack!'

And, of course, the moment she grasped his cock in the sweaty, soft, warm skin of her hand, he did — and did some more.

Markéta crouched down to see his cock throb out one stream after another. This was the part she liked, watching a man come. She considered the cows on her uncle's farm. 'Beautiful! Just like milking. Perhaps Mei Chun and I can have fun milking her Philip together.'

It always made her feel powerful triggering that series of involuntary contractions that propelled out a man's semen. It made her feel goddess-like, especially when she could look inside through a man's eyes the moment his lust saw its goal looming ahead. She knew a man's mind switched over to a more fundamental mode when his eyes lost a bit of their focus, his eyelids hooded over newly glazed pupils, and his primitive brain took control. That moment when he was about to come never failed to arouse her, often prompting her own orgasm. 'He's coming for me,' she would think as her lover pulsed, 'it's all he wants in the whole world: to splash his cum deep in me!'

But there was precious little of that at the moment. She wasn't with Pierre for her own pleasure other than the satisfaction she took helping this man fight his demons. She felt pity and tenderness for the broken man. And after he finished soiling the carpet and tumbled onto his side she ordered him to lick it clean and repent of his, "... disgusting thoughts or next time I'll bring my big black dildo to shove up that asshole of yours."

Upon reflection it sounded like a good plan to her. Using a strap-on might be good practice for Mei Chun. She had always thought the idea of them a kind of sacrilege, like the Hebrews lost in the Sinai creating a false god, but maybe fucking her with one could be enjoyable, and pegging the president would help her learn how to thrust her hips like a man.

She looked down at him as he lay, curled knees to chest, weeping but nodding his head dutifully. It hurt her to see a man so destroyed and yet she knew he needed this.

"And don't leave it for the staff! You will use your tongue and suck every fiber clean. Do you understand?!..."

He nodded pathetically and sobbed louder than ever.

"... or I'll fuck you like the sniveling little bitch you are."

'Smack!'

"Are you hearing me!?"

"Esss, 'amma."

"Good!"

She stormed off and slammed the door while he lay, wrists and knees bound, huddled and weeping.

Outside the door Sébastien rose from his chair. He had taken to keeping watch in the anti-room during these sessions as an extra measure to preserve the president's privacy. Smiling broadly, with that familiar tilt to his head, he opened his arms slightly, palms up, waiting for her approach.

"Markéta." He seemed to pronounce her name as If she were a favorite niece.

"I was hard on him, Sébastien, darling. Please call me in exactly thirty minutes and hand him the phone. I need to reassure him."

"Of course." They hugged. "Thank you again. He has been like a new man since meeting you. These times have revitalized him in the most remarkable way."

She smiled with warmth at his compliment and recognition. She genuinely liked the president's personal assistant. They had a shared duty and a silent understanding. They were as colleagues tackling a delicate problem from different perspectives and they had a mutual admiration for one another.

She liked his large hands on her hips and put hers on his shoulders. She looked deeply into his calm eyes. He was her father's age and had a graceful solemnity about him that made him a firm, mature and caring man.

For long moments she gazed at him then asked, "May I?"

He blinked gently, nodded his assent and she leant in and kissed him tenderly, for just a moment, on the lips.

"Thank you," she said, and pressed her palms against his suit chest on their way to returning to her sides. He stepped back. "I get so worked up, you know, with him. And a girl needs some reassurance of her own."

"I can only imagine how this," he gestured with a tick of his head, "affects you. I'm glad to be a gentleman for you, if even for a moment."

"Oh Sébastien, if you were not... ah," she sighed, truly lamenting that aspect of his nature, "I would drag you into that closet over there."

"Alas," he sighed with a lift of his brow, his smile letting her know that he had his own regrets.

"Yes. You really would make the perfect paramour."

"Let's have dinner soon," he said. "And I'll regale you with more gossip than would stuff a goose."

"Small consolation given the mood I'm in, but yes. Sounds fun," she said. "Thirty minutes, please, Sébastien."

"Of course. Goodbye, Markéta. You are a wonder."

He turned, placed a hand on the doorknob of the First Lady's suite and waited while Markéta descended the stairs.

##########

Ai liked the gym but would not ask Philip for a membership and could not purchase one for herself. She would simply have to make do with jogging until Philip offered for the third time. Accepting on the first offer was crass, accepting on the second was eager, accepting on the third, her mother had taught her, showed good manners.

Amidst the clouds of steam Mei engaged Ai in a recounting of her family's history and as the mist thickened Mei thought of hell as she told her about the terror in Vietnam.

"I cannot imagine."

"Me neither," Ai agreed. "They were kids, really. No older than me. Running for their lives." She paused to change the mood. "Sometimes I think there are no evil people, just fools, but then I consider the Viet Kong, the Khmer Rouge, even that crazy Mao motherfucker and I think I'm wrong."

The word 'motherfucker' got Mei's attention because Ai didn't curse frivolously and her earnestness caused Mei Chun to consider the nature of Man in a new way. She had thought of individuals as good or bad but not mankind in general. Were people innately good or evil?

Soon it got too hot to continue so they cooled in adjoining showers then met in the sauna. In the hot dry room they spoke about Mei's proposition to Dr. K and since there was a fat, middle-aged white lady already on the benches they spoke in Chinese.

"I agree," she said regarding his note, "that is just the kind of things old guys do. They are always so sweet."

"Is it going to hurt Philip?"

"Sure it will."

"Then why is he letting me?"

"'Cause he loves you."

It hurt Mei to hear her own fears so quickly and confidently confirmed. She had finally admitted that at least some of what she was doing was for herself, that giving Dr. K pleasure would bring her the kind of fulfillment only sex could. She imagined Dr. K's tall body shiver with his climax, the sigh he would make and his voice catch as he thanked her. She could imagine the gentle stroking of her hair with his big soft hands and the taste of his semen. She thought of how good it would make her feel to be ... 'to be...' — the word 'utilized' slid into the queue of verbs lining up for selection -- 'how odd,' she thought, 'utilized' is... why would I settle on 'utilized'?

She shook her head to clear the thought, then said, "Just once or twice. Just to get him out of his funk."

Ai didn't respond.

"Just a thank you for being such a sweetheart and to get his mind thinking of something else."

Ai knew it was self-deception but was wise enough to understand that Mei Chun would have to see it for herself.

The topic withered with Ai's silence and Mei's contemplation. Two minutes passed slowly. To restart the conversation Mei said, "I want you to take the massage with Karla."

"But Mei, she'll be expecting you. I'll just be a disappointment. She'll be all warmed up to suck your pussy." Pussy in Chinese is euphemistically 'little sister' so when Ai said mèimèi, Mei said, "But she will be sucking my mèimèi."

The laugher clattered around the wood lined room. The fat lady turned and looked askance at the two youthful naked women. Ai smiled at her but realized the lady was in the mood to be perturbed and took Mei's wrist to leave.