Tales from Old Shanghai 01

"I have a gift for you, Chuntao," she says at the end.

There are two lockets on her dresser. Plain gold, on a chain. Taking her scissors, she snips a lock of her hair, curls it, places it inside the locket; hangs the locket around my neck.

"Remember me always, Chuntao," she says, placing the locket around my neck.

"I will," I say, and I know what that second locket is for. I too snip a piece of my hair, long strands which I curl and I too place them in that locket. I smile sadly as I hang it around her neck. "Always sisters," I say. "Always, whatever happens. Always."

We are in each other arms, weeping, for she will be leaving Shanghai, travelling to a foreign land and a new destiny and how I hope she finds everything her heart desires, there with her Englishman.

"Goodbye, Chuntao," she says at last, and he will be here soon and I do not want to be here to see him. I want this farewell to be for Hua alone. "I'll write to you, I'll tell you everything." She's smiling now, eager to see her Mr. MacDonald and I'm happy for her, so happy.

"Goodbye, Hua," I say, drying my tears, smiling, but I'm sad for me. So sad, for now I am truly alone, and I hold her one last time, I kiss her and then I leave, closing her door behind me and I'm crying as I walk down the long corridor to my room.

"What happened to Hua, grandmother?" Tien-chien asks, holding my hand in both of hers, for my hand is shaking now and I know I am old. Old, and my body may be weaker than once it was but my mind is as clear and sharp as ever it was and I remember so clearly, as if I was there.

I shrug, my eyes looking back into the past, seeing Hua as she is in my memories, for I have almost nothing of my friend. No painting, no photos, nothing but a single letter and a lock of her hair in that gold locket that she gave me on the day that we parted forever, as I gave her a lock of mine and I can only hope that, wherever she is, she has that hair with her still.

"She arrived in Malaya," I say. "I received a letter from her. Her Mr. MacDonald owned rubber plantations there, he was a wealthy man with the surging demand for rubber. He had a new house built where he lived openly with her, she was indeed a respected second wife. Even the English acknowledged her as such and she received invitations to some small gatherings and hosted gatherings at his house. Everyone treated her well, except for some Englishwomen, but that was to be expected and that did not spoil her happiness."

I smile sadly. "She was truly happy, I am so sure of that. She was expecting her first baby, she was so excited. I wrote back, I wrote again from here after your great-grandfather brought me to America but there was never anything further from her and then the war began and the Japanese took Malaya and Singapore. No-one expected that. I thought she would be safe in Malaya, her and her Robert MacDonald. She would have been safer in Shanghai, I think."

"After the war?" Tien-chien asks.

"Nothing," I say. "We had enquiries made. The rubber plantations he owned, your great-grandfather found them, but the ownership had changed after the war ended, his wife had sold them through the lawyers. She had never even travelled to Malaya. We did find his wife in England. Mr MacDonald died in the fighting against the Japanese when Malaya fell. He was an officer of some sort in the British Army there, your great-grandfather and I met his English wife. She was not offended at our asking about Hua, she said they lived apart and she wished him whatever happiness he found with her but she knew nothing of Hua."

I smile sadly. "She helped us as best she could, gave us access to all his papers, all the documents she had. We found where he had lived in Malaya, up country, but when we travelled there, in 1951 I think it was, it was after the Emergency there had started, it was dangerous, the house had been destroyed, the neigboring planters had been driven out by the terrorists and there was no record of Hua, none at all, and no-one there who even remembered her. All I know is that for a while, she must have had what she wanted so much and she was happy and I was so happy for her after that letter."

"Oh, grandmother," Tien-chien says, and now tears trickle down my great-granddaughter's cheeks.

"It is in the past now, Tien-chien," I say. "I wish I knew what had happened to her though."

For a moment, I sat there in silence, remembering my friend. My sister, for in our souls that is what we were. Sisters.

"I will go on with my story, Tien-chien," I say at last, returning those memories of Hua to that place in my mind where I cherish them, for those memories, my memories, they are in all probability all that remain of Hua. Those, and the sketches I have made of her, drawn from my memories and I remember now, those sketches are in this rosewood coffee table on which our tea sits, together with her letter. The locket of her hair is with my jewellery, more prized and treasured than all my diamonds.

The diamonds? My children shall have them, I care nothing for diamonds and jewellery. Hua's locket with her hair? I shall wear her locket to my grave, cherishing her friendship in death as I treasured my friend in life.

I free my hand from Tien-chien's, lean forward, open the drawer and there they are, a dozen of those sketches, for I discarded the ones that did not meet the demands of my memory, that did not picture Hua as I remember her. I have not looked at them for many years, I could not bear the pain of knowing she too was lost to me, but now Tien-chien shall have these too.

Carefully, gently, I lift the top sketch out, and it is she. It is Hua. I drew her as I remembered her, sitting on her bed in our shared bedroom when we were students together. Students, young and innocent and happy, not the whores we would become, and Hua is as I remember her then.

"She's so beautiful," Tien-chien's almond eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

"She was," I say. "Hua was far more beautiful than I was."

Even now, eighty years on, I miss her so.

But I must go on with my tale.

For I will tell this once.

Only this once.

"There's a new gentleman for you, Chuntao," Mrs. Innes says, tapping on my door.

This new gentleman, he's an American, he's from Texas. He's been referred to me and I have accepted, sight unseen. What does it matter as long as he has the money and is free of disease, and those are things that Mrs. Innes takes care of.

The American likes what he sees. Me, I'm not so sure. He's huge. Gigantic. Over six feet tall. A giant. His arms are bigger than my legs. His chest is a barrel. He's hairy and I can barely understand a word he says but he pays well and he wants me. He doesn't want to waste time.

"Hot damn," he says, even before the door has closed behind Mrs. Innes. "Hot damn, gal! I want you now, here, on your bed."

"So eager," I say, smiling as he tells me so and I do not mind. It is faster this way, without the preliminaries and I have university assignments to complete. I take his hand in mine and his hand is enormous and that growing bulge within the confines of his trousers is as enormous as his hand and for a moment, I have some qualms about his size.

"You betcha," he says. "They told me you were gorgeous but Jayzuz..." That's the way he says it. Jayzus. "Sweet Jayzus, you're beyond gorgeous, gal."

"My name is Chuntao," I say, smiling, for I do enjoy his open admiration. The way his eyes look at me, he is half in love with me already, I am sure and I hope he isn't, because that could be a problem and already I like this American. Other men, I would use that love to relieve them of their money, for the ones that come to me these days, they pay much for their pleasure and I know they can afford more.

This one? He may be a giant, but he is like a giant puppy and I smile again as I take his jacket from him, as my fingers begin to unbutton his shirt and he is not like so many foreigners. He is not sweating from the heat of the Shanghai summer like the Englishmen do.

"You are used to the heat?" I ask him, removing his shirt and he is watching me, looking at me as I have seen foreigners look at those Christ statutes in their Church that I and Hua go to on Sunday's with Mrs Innes and all the other girls. With adoration. That is the look on his face. Adoration, and I know I have this one hooked already. He has hooked himself and he is mine to strip to the bone.

"Ah'm from Texas, Shuntow," he says, and I can barely understand him. Did he try to say my name? Shun-tow? I giggle. Yes, I like this American and adoring as he is, I will not take advantage of that as I would with other men. Not with this one. He's sweet. A big sweet puppy, even if he is old.

"Texas in summer, it's hotter than hell," he says, watching my fingers as I unfasten his belt and that bulge is enormous. A monster and my knees are week, I am breathing hard, my face flushed pink and his skin is browned, tanned. He has scars across his chest, on his arms and his back and he is big but he is not fat. Muscle. It's all muscle and I ease his trousers down. I go to kneel and he takes my hands in his enormous paws.

"You don't kneel for me, Shuntow," he says. "Ah don't like to see a woman on her knees." And he removes his own trousers and underwear and I gaze at his cock, mesmerized.

"Wow!" I say, and that is an American word I have learnt and when I look at his cock, I say that word with meaning. It is not big. It is enormous, long and thick and hard and he has balls the size of tennis balls, I am sure. Can he even fit inside me? My knees weaken at the thought.

He chuckles. "You ever see one like this, Shuntow?" he asks me. I look at it. Actually. I have never taken my eyes from it. I shake my head, no.

"Come here," he says, and I obey, my knees weak and I'm a little scared now, because he is so big. He's big. He's massive. His legs are as thick as my waist, his arms are bigger than my legs and his cock? His cock is huge and I have seen many of them. I have had those cocks inside me. I obey him, I come, I stand before him, meekly obedient.

"How old are you, Chuntao?" he asks, and his face is serious.

"Nineteen," I say, for I am, now, and I feel older. Far older.

"Good," he says, and now he smiles and his fingers unbutton my white gauze blouse, the school uniform one that I still wear because the men that come to me enjoy my uniform. His fingers are deft, quick, they peel my blouse from me, his hands caress my shoulders, my arms, he turns me. My back is to him, my bra is unfastened, peeled off me, my skirt drops to the floor.

"Take your underwear off," he breathes and I do. I stand naked in my room. Naked and on display for his eyes to examine. To enjoy. He does enjoy.

"Hot damn," he says, and his mouth's hanging open, like a dog slavering for a bone. That's how he's looking at me and his cock is engorging as he eyes me, growing, hardening and I watch, fascinated, as he swells, stiffens, rises and now his cock is no longer hanging, it's jutting outwards, then upwards at an angle and his next words are almost a groan.

"Use your cute little hand on me," he says, not moving.

I nod, my insides churning and I am hot and slippery and scared. I reach out and my hand finally touches his huge, hard shaft. My fingers cannot wrap around his shaft, it's too thick and its strong and powerful in my hand. Like him.

"Stroke it, Chuntao" he breathes, and he's almost shuddering at my touch, his breath coming fast, excitement writ across his face and when I look up and his eyes meet mine, I know he is hooked.

He is mine. This huge American puppy is mine, he is in my hands and almost, my heart warms at the adoration on his face and I stroke him, slowly, my hand running up and down the length of his shaft, exploring him and he is so hard. Rigid with his excitement and I want to bring him off. I'm scared but I want to give him pleasure and I want to experience him. I want him to drive me out of my mind.

I want him to use me and in being used, I will forget the pain of Martin's loss, as I do for a while when men use me well. This American, he will use me well, I know that and I smile as one of his hands cups one of my breasts and it is small in his large hand. Small and delicate and his fingers brush gently.

"You're like a doll," he says. "A beautiful porcelain doll." He says that is if he can't believe it. His face says I am beautiful. His arousal is evidence that his words are true. "I want you," he adds and there's something in his voice that says he wants me for more than an evening together and inside me, I respond but my hand continues to stroke him.

"My balls," he groans and I know what he wants. My other hand reaches down, I cup his balls as I stroke him and they are huge too. Enormous in their sacs of skin, the size of ripe plums, perhaps bigger and my mind presents me an image of all the semen they must contain.

"They're big," I gasp. "They're huge."

His hand leaves my breast, strokes my neck, my chin. Tilts my face upwards to look at him and I wonder how old he is. It is hard to tell sometimes with foreigners but I think in his forties or fifties and he is older than my father. All the men who have had me, except Martin and those friends of Martin, they have been as old as this American or older and it is easier that way. I cannot pretend to be other than what I am and I know what I must do. I must give him pleasure and take his money in return.

"They're big, and they're going to give you babies," he says, and I blink, for no man except Martin has ever said that to me. I do not know how to respond to that and so I smile blankly.

"Come," I say, and I draw him towards me bed, wondering if it will stand his weight and strength. Wondering if I can too and I want to take his edge off. "Sit down," I say, and he does, he sits on my bed, naked, and standing before him, I am only a little taller than he, my breasts are at the level if his face and he smiles, his hands urge me closer, his mouth takes possession of one breast, engulfing it completely.

One of his massive hands is behind me, on my butt, caressing my smooth skin and his touch sends surging waves of excitement through me. His other hand cups the breast that his mouth does not possess, delicately tracing my taut curves, rolling my nipples under his fingers and I shiver under those multiple caresses.

His tongue tastes my nipple, his hand teases my other nipple and they swell, engorge, rubbery hard and one of my hands strokes his massive head, holds his head to me as he suckles at me, as I urge my breast into his mouth and I make no noise but my mouth opens wide, for he is skilful, he knows the ways to arouse a woman and he arouses me.

My other hand still holds him, stroking him slowly and he's rock solid, rigid, a steel bar and I sink to my knees in the floor before him and his whole body stiffens as I stretch my lips wide around his huge girth and take the head of his cock into my mouth. His cock tastes of him, tastes the way he smell, clean, foreign, that masculine taste with which I am so familiar, for many cocks have now used my mouth and I this is something I do almost daily.

A cock in my mouth is as natural as cleaning my teeth and my mouth services him without conscious thought. My hand fists around him, stroking him as I run my tongue around the head of his cock, slide my tongue tip around the rim of his cockhead, savouring his taste, enjoying is excitement, bobbing my head slowly up and down for I am in no rush to bring him off and my other hand caresses those huge balls and I want him to finish in my mouth, that will take the edge of his excitement and when we do it again he will be gentler with me.

"Jesus, Chuntao," he says, and it's a little later and it's more of a groan and he can't even say my name correctly. It sounds like he's saying "Jay-zus, Shun-tow," and I'd giggle except I'm blowing him, my head bobbing up and down and his cock really is enormous, my jaws are stretched around him, he's choking me and his balls are the biggest I have ever seen I can't wait to tell the other girls about him. How big they are and I can't even get half his cock in my mouth and he's far too big to slide into my throat like I do with other men.

"Jay-zus, Shun-tow," he groans, his head arching back and he's shaking as he rests on his elbows, watching me as I blow him. "Jay-zus, gal, 'ah swear, you're sucking 'ma brains out through 'ma dick."

I don't reply, I'm too busy and the way he's quivering, his muscles taut, he's so close and I'm almost gagging on him, trying to get as much of his cock in my mouth as I can and I caress his huge balls, almost lovingly and I want him to finish, I want him to cum in my mouth and for him, for this American, this big happy puppy who so obviously adores me, for him I will swallow and I bob my head faster, sucking, swallowing cock-flavored saliva, my fist pumping him slickly now.

His breathing is harsh, heavy, he's groaning wordlessly as I suck on him, his cock slippery with my saliva and now I hum as I blow him, and that vibration is enough to send him over the edge in an instant.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhh." For the first time, one of his hands holds my head, his fingers curl in my hair, holding me as his hips jerk, as he urges his cock into my mouth, half choking me and in that moment I don't mind, I don't object, I want him to satisfy himself. I want him to finish in my mouth and I suck hard as his cock throbs between my lips, his muscles tighten, his hips arch towards me and he floods my mouth with that first jetting flood of his hot thick semen.

I swallow greedily. I gulp it down, tasting his thick salty seed. My cheeks bulge as he spurts again, as I gulp, swallow, suck and my first works him, my mouth services him and with every spurt I gulp more of his semen, draining him dry and by the time he's finished, I feel as if I've drunk a half-pint of his cum and I almost climax as I savour those last diminishing spurts.

"Jay-zus, you swallowed it all?" he groans. "Oh sweet jay-zus... Oh fuck." One of his hands is brushing my hair back from my face as I lick and suck his cock clean, swallowing every last drop and he tastes so good. He does.

"Ahm sorry, Chuntao," he says, as my mouth slides lasciviously off this cock, as my tongue licks my lips clean, slowly, and I smile up at him, letting him watch me, for I know men enjoy that. "Ah shouldn't swear in front of a lady but Jesus, ah've never had a blowjob that good in my life and I've had a few, ahm telling you."

I lift my head, smiling as I lick my lips clean. "You've never met me before."

"Jesus," he groans. "I'm so... I'm... " He looks down at me and he's speechless and I'm sure he's never been speechless in his life and I smile.

I smile, but that smile is sad now. "I'm not a lady. I'm a Shanghai whore and now that I've finished sucking your brains out through your dick, I'm going to suck you hard and then you're going to lie here and let me fuck you." I kiss his cockhead, a brush of my lips. "And if this monster of yours doesn't kill me, we'll have a bath together and you'll fuck me again."

Three times, sometimes four; that is all most men can manage and with this big American, I think that will be more than enough for me too.

"Sounds like a plan," he says, smiling, watching me as I begin once more to lick his cockshaft and he responds. He hardens to rigidity so quickly under my tongue and my lips and my fingers.

"Lie on my bed," I tell him. "Lie back."

He does, he's watching me as I ease myself off my knees and up and onto my bed. He watches me as I swing myself around, over him, straddling him and I'm moaning softly as I hold his rigid cock in my hand and he's as big and hard as he was before I blew him.