Mellow Yellow Ch 11

Melinda was changing her nursing shift so she just got up, had breakfast and a shower and left for work. That meant that we wouldn't have a chance to discuss Susan's problems until the evening. I went to my office room and checked my e-mail to see if there was any business mail and found another e-mail from Susan.

To: "Tran Mei-Ling" xxxxxx@xxxxxxxxxxxx.xxxx

From: "Wu Sui" xxxxxxxx@xxxxxxxxxxx.xxx

Subject: My predicament is growing

Date sent: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dear Mei-Ling, my good friend:

Please let me finish the story I started in my first e-mail. I am sure that you will help me work through my predicament after I tell you the rest of the story. I still don't have all the answers but I love Charles. I will be his lover, even if I lose my job, although I hope it doesn't come to that.

I slept well that night, secure in the knowledge that I had made Charles' willie work where numerous white bitches before me had failed. There was a faint trace of Charles' aftershave and his perspiration on my futon as a result of my therapy. I chose to sleep on the futon instead of my bed to prolong our time together. I think I slept so soundly not just because of my accomplishments but because I was thoroughly exhausted from the multiple orgasms I had received as a result of the wonderful instrument I had forced inside me. Well, every medical procedure has its side effects.

In the morning, I awoke, surprised that my private parts were not sore as a result of their encounter with Charles' enormous member. I distinctly recalled the difficulties I had inserting it and how I felt almost impaled, as if I was sitting on a fence post. I traced my finger around my inner lips and the opening to my vagina and there was not a hint of discomfort. I thought that my vagina would be stretched but it had returned to its usual tight dimensions.

As I proceeded with my gynecological self-examination, I regretted that I had required a condom for the "therapy". I wished that I could feel the sticky traces of this wonderful man's semen trickling out between my legs. I longed to bring my hand to my nose and breathe in that erotic manly smell that had so excited me during my classes on in-vitro fertilization. I felt satisfied, more satisfied than I had been in my life. I was happier than I had been since I came back to Hong Kong as I now had a man in my life and I had the best sex of my life with him the previous night.

Unfortunately, happiness does not seem to be a permanent state for me. As I prepared to go to Charles again, my situation weighed heavily on my mind. Until the moment that Charles and I made love, I could have backed out. Now, I was involved with my patient and there was no turning back. I also began to be concerned whether Charles would see through my deception. When he found out, would he understand or would he lose respect for me? Would he be so angry that he would never see me again or worse, report me to the Hong Kong College of Physicians and Surgeons?

As I left my apartment building, I said good morning to the widow Chang as she performed her morning ritual of Tai Chi. I checked her face for an expression of disapproval or even a knowing wink but there was nothing on her mind, except perhaps for the last episode of her favourite soap opera. Obviously, I needn't worry about widow Chang demolishing my reputation. I hurried to the subway and took the Island Line to Charles' apartment. I entered the apartment building when someone spoke to me in Cantonese:

"Where do you think you're going. This apartment building is for British civil servants only."

In a tiny cubicle beside the door was a tiny, self-important looking old man. The bottom half of the door to his cubicle had a shelf that served as a desk and bore the word CONCIERGE. He put down his Chinese newspaper on the door shelf and peered over his reading glasses. Well, I had never been to the apartment of a British civil servant before so I wasn't sure of the protocol, although I was sure that everyone would be civil and display good manners, no matter what they really thought. I was wrong as the tiny man barked at me again:

"Are you deaf young woman? I said that this building is only for the British civil servants. What is your business here?"

Really, Mei-Ling, sometimes Chinese treat Chinese worse than the English do. I decided that I would not be intimidated by this petty person, so I said in my most dignified and condescending manner:

"I am Doctor Wu Sui-Beng. Mr. Charles Burnhamthorpe is expecting me. Our business is none of your concern. Please announce to Mr. Burnhamthorpe that Dr. Wu has arrived."

With that, I flounced away and took the elevator to Charles' floor. The little toad in the lobby must have followed my orders because Charles was at the elevator when I stepped out.

"My, My, Susan. Aren't we much more professional-looking than last night? Please come to my apartment. I have taken the liberty of preparing an English breakfast."

I followed Charles to his apartment and was welcomed by the soft sounds of an er-hu playing on the sound system.

"Why Charles, I didn't realize you liked Chinese music."

"When you don't have much of a social life, you take up hobbies. Mine was studying classical Chinese music. I have every recording of er-hu masters I could find in the markets and music stores. Please sit down, Susan, and I'll bring breakfast."

While Charles made his final preparations in the kitchen, I sat at the breakfast table, and looked around at Charles' apartment. His apartment was larger than mine but it didn't seem that much bigger because Charles had more furniture. I was used to the clutter of furniture in Western homes and the decorative tastes of white people from my student days in Canada. Charles seemed to have different taste than other westerners I had met. His walls had pieces of good art, mostly western style although he had some nice Chinese pieces. The mostly European atmosphere seemed to be incongruous with the Chinese music that floated through the apartment at my first inspection. There were shelves of books, some of which appeared to be rare editions. I wanted to get up and examine Charles' reading material and learn more about my new lover.

My curiosity was interrupted by Charles bringing two steaming bowls of porridge. I have nothing against porridge. I find it somewhat like thick congee. I just wish that porridge were made from rice, which is food for people, not oats, which is food for animals. I complimented Charles on his cooking and then he brought out another course of bangers, eggs, toast and jam. I like bread and English jam is quite palatable, even if it's very sweet. Even the English cannot damage the humble egg. However, I have always wondered why the English bother calling the banger a sausage. There must me nothing on earth which is so greasy, filled with questionable parts of the pig and all tied up in a bag which, at one time, contained excrement.

The English are very fussy about table manners and I struggled to keep my fork in my left hand so I would not offend. Charles sensed that I was becoming tense and started a conversation to try and put me at ease:

"Really, Susan, you have been examining my life and my loves for a couple of weeks and I hardly know anything about you except where you live. Please tell me all about your family and especially all about yourself."

Charles was right. I had been secretive about myself but that's how doctors are supposed to be with their patients. However, I had demolished the doctor/patient relationship effectively last night so I told Charles my whole life story. Charles had learned from me all the psychiatrists' tricks to get out of me what he wanted to learn. He was good at it but I was still better. I managed to avoid telling him about any of my previous lovers. After all, Charles was still a virgin a scant 12 hours before and I didn't want to damage his still fragile confidence by comparing him to others. Finally, Charles hit me with the question I had been dreading:

"Now, Susan, you haven't told me if you ever did sex therapy before. You haven't, have you? Actually, last night wasn't conventional sex therapy at all, was it? I suspect that it was the kind and loving act of a remarkable woman."

I was stunned. Charles had figured me out that quickly. My mind scrambled for something to say but all I could do was apologize:

"Yes, Charles. It wasn't sex therapy at all. Please don't be angry at me for pretending to be what I am not. I know that it wasn't professional of me but I think I began to love you from the moment when Ms. Yang shut the door as she left. When I discovered what your real problem was and that there was nothing physically wrong with your willie, I knew that I was the one who could bring you sexual fulfillment. Yes, I have never performed sex therapy. The story was just a way to get you to bed."

"Susan, there is no need to apologize. In fact I admire your ingenuity. Susan, the way you made love to me was so different from anything I experienced in my life with women that I am in your debt forever. I am the one who should apologize for talking about a fee for what you did. A man must never pay a woman he loves for sex."

Charles words melted away the biggest fear that I had. He wasn't angry with me at all. Quite the contrary, Charles had just spoken the words of love that I longed would fall from his lips. I was ecstatically happy for a moment but my mood crashed to the floor in an instant when I thought about the consequences of a public profession of our love. There was my ethical situation, our racial situation, pressure from family, and the impending departure of the English, so many things seemingly beyond my control. Tears welled up in my eyes as these thoughts flew through my head. Why is happiness so fleeting for me?

"Susan, please don't cry. Did I say something wrong? Is there someone else for you that you haven't told me about?"

"No, Charles. My tears are from happiness and sorrow over our love for each other. We know we didn't do anything wrong but a doctor is not allowed to become involved with a patient. Nobody will believe that I didn't take advantage of you. The scandal will cost me my job. Even if I still have a job, what will happen to us when the English leave Hong Kong?"

"It's dashed more complicated than you've put it, my sweet love. If there is a scandal, Her Majesty's government will ship me home in disgrace on the first British Airways flight that's available. With the hand over of Hong Kong imminent, the British don't want to do anything to upset the Chinese. The Chinese wouldn't want a lowly civil servant of the foreign devils diddling a future citizen of the People's Republic. So you see, Susan, it's not just your professional ethics that's a problem here. This situation could cost me my job and my future as well."

Now I really started to shake and cry as I realized the jeopardy I had placed my lover in. Why had I so selfishly thought of myself and my own self-gratification without thinking of what might happen to Charles? I could only see gloom and darkness ahead with my lover and me separated by half a world, stigmatized and living in utter shame and disgrace. Charles read my thoughts and put his arms around me to comfort me in my despair.

"Susan, please don't fall apart on me, especially after we have just professed our love to each other. This is something that we have to work out together. I don't want to leave Hong Kong when the Chinese take over, especially now that I've met you. I have been talking to many of my business contacts and the Chinese themselves about staying. As a commercial attaché I know where the money is buried. The Chinese may not appreciate democracy but they do appreciate Comrade Pound and Comrade Dollar. So that problem may work out for us. As for the other problems with your Mental Health Board and my employer, we must devise a way of going public. In the meantime, we will be secret lovers and careful ones at that. Who knows about us?"

"You're right Charles, we must be careful. I haven't had time to tell any of my friends or family about you although I want to brag about you. There's only Dr. Leung and Ms. Yang, my receptionist who know that you were my patient. Oh yes, I also told that awful dried-up old man at the door my name, that I'm a doctor and that I had an appointment with you. I still thought you hadn't seen through my pretensions to be a therapist when I came here."

"Oh, you mean Old Ang the concièrge. I hope he didn't insult you. He does a good job of looking after us but he has an unfortunate tendency to assume every single Chinese woman who shows up at the door is a whore on an assignment. Don't worry about him. He's retiring at the end of the month and returning to his village in Guangdong. See, none of the problems are as big as you think they are."

I let my tear-stained face rest on Charles' chest. Charles removed my glasses and put his arms around me. I found this so comforting that my tears dried up and the troubles I had foreseen receded into the distance. There were no more troubles, only the man I loved saying soothing words to calm my troubled mind. I relaxed and began to enjoy our closeness. Mei-Ling, I came to realize that a man who is not in love couldn't comfort a woman. I had not felt the comfort of a loving man since Léo. I reached up and touched Charles' face and drew his head towards mine.

Charles began to passionately kiss me. I responded in kind. Mei-Ling, I was in an emotional state of fear and despair but Charles' kisses and caresses turned these emotions of mine to love and lust. As Charles held me tightly to his body, I felt tingling between my legs and my panties becoming moist as that part of me anticipated another visit from Charles magnificent willie.

I started to use the lessons learned from the mouth of Léo and playfully ran my tongue between Charles lips and over his white teeth. Charles opened his mouth and my tongue eagerly dove in to explore his waiting mouth. I was surprised because Charles' tongue seemed to match his willie for size as it darted in and out, violating my mouth as I had violated his. Charles mouth was sweet and wet but I sensed that my panties were becoming even just as wet as my beaver prepared to welcome again its visitor of the previous evening.

Charles took his hand away from my lower back and started to unbutton my blouse. I was amazed at his concentration as one hand opened up my clothes, one hand caressed my eager body and his tongue continued its frequent explorations of my mouth. Charles uncovered my shoulder and his lips turned their attention to my shoulder and my neck. Charles was providing me such exquisite pleasure that I had to return the favour. I pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt and kissed every spot on his neck and shoulders where he kissed me. One pleasure I could not return to Charles was the erotic tickle as he removed my hair from my shoulders.

With one hand, Charles unsnapped my brassiere. This proved to me that Charles had both talent and strong fingers as other men either needed two hands or tried to rip my good lingerie off. Charles held me close so my breasts touched his chest. I felt a surge of excitement at the intimate touch of my womanly pride against his manly, hairy chest. Charles caressed one breast on the side and then the other, raising my excitement and the moisture content of my panties. Charles then alternately kissed each erect nipple. I thought my orgasm would surely be triggered by Charles tongue as it glided sensuously around and over the tips of my breasts but he suddenly stopped.

"Woman, I want you now. I want you to shag me the same way you did last night."

"No, Charles. You must take me this time. This Chinese woman is all yours to do with what you want. I want you to have me your way. I must have your big white willie thrusting between my yellow thighs again. Don't stop Charles. I made your willie work last night and this time you'll make it work all by yourself. Yes, fuck me, Charles. Fuck me."

"Fuck" is not exactly one of the words we learned in English classes in Hong Kong Schools but my mind couldn't think of anything else to say. Charles unzipped my skirt and scooped me up in his arms as if I were a sack of rice. To tell you the truth, Mei-Ling I was so consumed by desire for that huge willie between my legs that I had as much life in me as a bag of rice. Charles placed me gently on the bed clad only in my panties. Despite my professional clothes, I had taken care to wear my "therapy" lingerie underneath. I must have been a sexy sight with my erect breasts and skimpy thong panties hiding Charles' objective. Charles quickly undressed. His willie hadn't lost a millimeter overnight and it stood out straight from his body. Charles took a condom from the drawer by the bed.

"No Charles. Leave it there. I want you to experience how I really feel inside, the real feeling of a Chinese woman. I want to feel you and to feel your seed inside me."

Charles didn't argue with his doctor. He knelt on the bed and slowly removed my panties. His eyes opened wide as my wetness followed the crotch of the panties down the inner part of my thighs. Charles spread my legs apart and inexpertly tried to push that huge willie past my tight lips. Well, why should I have expected Charles to be an expert? He had only gotten past this point with a woman once in his life and I had done all the work. I reached down and took Charles willie with one hand. I thought I had grabbed the handle on a cricket bat. It was that thick and just as hard. With my other hand, I parted my outer and inner lips and rubbed the throbbing head of Charles' willie up and down from my vagina to my clitoris.

I could feel an orgasm building so I stopped. It would do Charles no good in building up his confidence if we both came at this point. I brought up my legs and placed the tip of his willie at the entrance to my vagina. Since Charles wasn't using a condom, I had to make him last but I also had to tell Charles what to do without sounding like a white bitch.

"Feed me that big white willie of yours slowly, Charles. You will feel the inside of me better, you'll last longer and you won't hurt me. Be careful of me, my Giant."

Charles pushed his bulging tip past my entrance and I felt my insides being deliciously spread apart in the same way as the previous night. Charles entered me with far less difficulty than I had experienced last night. I am not sure if this was because without a condom both our lubricants were more effective, if it was because I had not had my orgasm yet or if I just had lost my fear of a big willie. In any case, I relaxed as Charles was taking charge and concentrated on my needs instead of his. As the tip of Charles' willie creeped further in, I traced its way every inch of its journey up my vagina. I could feel that flared tip spread me apart and then the stretching replaced by the fullness of his thick shaft.

I have read a lot of literature on female sexual response, especially about the G-spot. Frankly, Mei-Ling, I never believed in its existence or, at best, it was something that only existed in white women. As I concentrated on Charles' willie passing my cervix and expecting even more and more, my G-spot suddenly became a reality. Charles' tip triggered an orgasm, as I had never experienced in my life. It was the full deal, Mei-ling. I saw coloured lights spinning in my head. Every muscle in my body tightened and twitched as if I was having a convulsion. Later Charles told me I screamed his name over and over again but I am sure that no thought was running through my head other than love for the man who could do this to me.

Charles also told me I was thrashing around so much that he couldn't last a second longer and he came just after I began my orgasm. He says that I lasted three minutes thrashing about and he only managed to keep his willie inside by pinning down my hips and hanging on. I am sure that his hands on my hips and bum kept the orgasm going. All I know is that when I finished, I was covered in sweat and looking into Charles eyes. It was the look of love but there was a trace of disappointment in his blue/grey eyes.