Heart's an Ocean Wide

When he regained some clearer consciousness he was in another room from where he had been having afternoon tea - it seemed, just moments earlier. And there was just silence, and the presence of the Chinese woman.

And it was a mysterious, a wondrous scene.

She was still wearing the Vuitton royal blue and black set, leather boots and all - but now the ruffled, short, split pant-skirt was zipped opened at the front, and pulled to each side by small corded ties, revealing a triangle of black hair.

"Are you awake yet, James B. Johnson?"

This voice was so, so different. So... Safe.

"I hope you are awake." She chided quietly.

He was not feeling unwell, he thought, a little surprised by the fact. Far from it, in fact. It was like he had just woken up slowly from a long, a beautiful, restful, reviving sleep.

Outside the broad windows tiny little lights flickered on ships out at sea in the bay. The night was blue-black velvet.

He sat up on the edge of the frette linen covered King sized bed. Under foot, new thick pile softly caressed the bare soles of his feet. The whole thing was so sensual, he was surrounded by extraordinary luxury, the woman gliding closer towards him, and the feeling of her tenderness flowing towards him - all an enchanting mysterious, sensational experience.

A tender touch... An overwhelming happiness rising like a bright star... Up from his heart.

He could smell her close up to him. He felt the voile silk ruffles around her hips as his hands moved up to hold her. And he also sensed the cloying, invading, smell of warm cunt.

"Can you enjoy me, James?" She whispered, right up close to his ear. "You'd better enjoy me, James. Enjoy me... To your heart's content; you won't remember a thing afterwards. I am certainly going to enjoy you."

No, no. His mind reeled. What is this? No. I want to remember!

"But I want to remember." He said.

"Oh but you won't remember. Anything at all."

She squatted down in front of him, flicking her pant-skirt unnecessarily up behind her milk white arse. "You don't think I could live my life and do my work and be in the public eye and such and have studs like you be around the place with the paparazzi leering - or gloating..."

"But -" He begged.

She placed a finger on his lips.

"No." She shook her head gently. "Bu-u-ut... Maybe there will be a way."

She undid his zip. "Maybe. And for right now though, I intend to enjoy you, if that's okay with you."

There was something like a plank rising up from some source behind his ball sack, and go right on and up underneath his balls, and it was making his penis stick up and out almost painfully hard, with the knob end becoming enlarged more so than usual in an arousal state and certainly more than he was used to any time recently.

"Give up on it," Cathy-Lee said, through mouthfulls of hard cock.

Oh what the fuck was the point, he thought finally. He got tough on her and held her quite hard, first holding her head and grabbing her beautiful strong black hair, and then getting his cock out of her mouth and standing up to kiss her narrow cruel lips firmly, tasting her tongue and mouth.

"You wanna fuck me now, James?" What a stupid rhetorical question. "But wait," She said. "Watch me dance for you first."

She quickly stepped back from him and turned and pressed a switch on one of the huge speaker box controls. They were "Moon Audi Opulence" speakers - or so he read on them.

"You like this? Martika 'Flow With Go."

*

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

She was the bitch of a hot sexy dancer.

The sound system produced this huge sound, thumping, thundering. And when the lyrics went to: "lickin' a thong ding-dong King Kong it's a drug come on - your ass is here," and she slapped her own shoved out ass with a hard, tight, but still elegant hand, he nearly came all over the floor. But he didn't. And it was some kind of drug for sure, of course, and also of course, true to her word, he never did remember a thing afterwards.

*

No matter how many times I tell James now that he has fucked this amazing A-list Chinese actress, he just laughs at me.

But we are going to make that movie and Cathy-Lee is going to see him again. And I will ask her to give him back his dog-tags then. Which 'he knows' he lost somewhere but says he doesn't know where. He didn't lose them, though. He just mislaid them. And he's also developed this feeling for some kinds of music too that he never touched before... BT - Mercury And Solace, Martika, Myon and Shane 54 Outshine (Nigel Good remix).

And Miss Shanghai Cafe Lounge, by Shanghai Reconstruction Project (which is the name of the music group and not a town planning company).

He's fixated now about how to train for anal with a handful of chopsticks; adding just one incremental stick at a time. Don't know where he could have got that idea from.