Sex and Shanghai In Chinese, 欲望上海中文版

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2011-07-17T19:40:00.000+08:00

Hui Zheng invited you to Dropbox

2011-02-01T01:12:00.001+08:00

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Recordatorio: zenlucent@gmail.com te ha invitado a probar SugarSync

2011-01-21T23:05:00.001+08:00

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2011-01-16T23:58:00.001+08:00

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所谓的行为艺术是个借口

2006-09-05T09:36:00.001+08:00

自称是"欲望上海"博主的Chinabounder发给美联社记者一封邮件。邮件自曝，这个博客（欲望上海）其实是一个恶作剧。"这些文章是我们5个行为艺术家所作，成员包括1个英国小伙子、1个澳大利亚女子、2个中国小伙子和1个日本女子，我们写这个博客的目的是要调查。我们有计划地将让别人看我们的博客，并观察这些人的反应……我们想调查现代中国到底改变了多少。"

我认为这个说法是事后的托词. 因为blogger.com在八月以前在中国一直无法登陆 . 而Chinabounder在5月份就已经有了. 如果他们真的想试验,就应该选一个没有被国内查封的网站做博客. 而且更不应该在试验刚开始的阶段就把网站关闭了.

转载ChinaBounder的日记

2006-08-31T04:26:00.000+08:00

因为ChinaBounder的日记最近被关闭了，为了避免流言和对他日记的误解，我暂时把他日记中的所以帖子转载出来(缺最后2篇)。当然这涉及了版权问题。
特此声明所有Labeled "CB Diary" 的帖子中的英文部分转载自 chinabounder.blogspot.com

不要被误导

2006-08-31T04:05:00.000+08:00

ChinaBounder 在自己的日记里提到他的名字是Brian。
现在很多人在上海寻找叫Brian的外教。
可是请注意，这个很可能是一个误导，那个其实不是他的真名。
请大家在没有确切证据前不要伤害任何人。

2006-08-29T03:05:00.000+08:00

If you think that Chinabounder sucks, and want more people to know about him;

if you think ChinaBounder wrote what actually happened in Shanghai and China, and hope more people to be aware of it;

translate those dirty diaries into Chinese,
and send it to chinabounder.chinese@gmail.com

We will post it over
http://chinabounderinchinese.blogspot.com/index.html

p.s. Those diaries revealing CB's racism will have the priority in translation.

国内外关于的 ChinaBounder 的讨论

2006-08-25T08:50:00.000+08:00

toddisnotadog
---- http://blog.sina.com.cn/u/49eaa5170100052d

a letter from Dr. Zhang
--- http://blog.phoenixtv.com/user3/zhangjiehai/archives/2006/299423.html

who is ChinaBounder
----http://whoischinabounder.blogspot.com/

discussion about Chinabounder from the west
----http://battleangel.org/item/2296#969
----http://cipherjournal.blogspot.com/2006/08/what-is-literature-last-time-i-wrote-i.html

网络追缉垃圾老外大行动

2006-08-25T04:51:00.001+08:00

--- 本文转载自Dr. Zhang

亲爱的各位网友，不，各位同胞们：

今天我怀着无比愤怒的心情告诉大家一个外国垃圾的故事，并号召各位国人同胞一起行动起来，将这个垃圾清扫出中国。

事情的经过是这样的：几天前，一位网友告诉了我一个在上海的英国人的博克。我看了以后震惊、气愤、恶心……，看了他的博克之后，我只有一个念头：是可忍，孰不可忍？一定要把这个垃圾找出来，把他赶出中国！！！

他在博克里，用极其淫秽、肮脏的语言记录了他－－一个在上海的外教－－利用教师的身份，在上海玩弄中国女人的过程，而这些中国女人大部分竟然是他的学生；与此同时，他又极尽所能侮辱、诋毁、歪曲中国政府和中国男性。

他在博克的一开始是这样描述他在上海的生活的："所以，你们看，这个星期六我和Star在一起，星期天我和Yingying在一起。中间我通过MSN和Cherry联系，打一个电话给Rina，用SMS挑逗Tulip。Suasn我给她发了一封Email调情，并通过Wendy的博客向她求爱。"

这个垃圾在博克里公开宣称，他纯粹只是为了玩弄这些中国女学生。他说，"我们不谈爱，不谈婚姻，甚至不谈住在一起"他竟然有一次厚颜无耻地说，"我已经厌倦了她，X（女性生殖器）是X，我留着她只是为了以后再玩弄她。"

这位垃圾的拿手好戏是，用及其淫秽、黄色的语言描绘中国女性的身体和他们做爱的过程。比如，"我亲爱的婷婷，你有一个极好的、漂亮的身体；我无法停止想念你漂亮的皮肤，你可爱、光滑、柔软的乳房，你性感、光滑、精致的小腹，你甜美、优雅的大腿和手臂……哦，当然，在你的两腿之间，你是多么的漂亮，多么的性感，多么的完美！

这位垃圾还极度自恋。在他的笔下，所有的中国女人还都在第一次脱衣服之前自惭形秽地说"我的乳房太小"，而当他脱了裤子之后，中国女人又都惊叹道："你的鸡把真大！"哪怕这个女的是一个处女、这是她的第一次也不例外。

婷婷是一个已婚妇女，这个垃圾在描写他玩弄婷婷的过程中，时时不忘讽刺挖苦婷婷的丈夫、然后又指所有的中国男人不能满足中国女人。

中国男人在他的笔下，除了性能力低下之外，简直就是丑陋无比。一次他连用了三个dull（呆滞的）来形容中国男人（Chinese men are dull, dull, dull.）。他说，中国女人通常能听懂他的恭维。但是，中国男人通常不懂（China Man（请注意Chinaman是对中国人的歧视性称呼）, generally, is not）。

他举例说，他对上海女人说，我一看就知道你是上海人。这个上海女人就会理解这是一句恭维的话，表明这个女人外表很时尚、很现代。可是，有一次在课堂上，他对一个男学生说"你是上海人吗？"，这个学生竟然反问他，你是怎么看出来的。于是，他下结论说："这表明中国男人是怎样的一条感觉迟钝的、缺乏想象的鱼。（This goes to show what a stolid and unimaginative fish China Man（请注意，他再一次用歧视色彩的词来称呼中国男人）can be.）"

从这里也可以看出这个垃圾的无知。中国人都知道，对一个上海男人说他像上海人不是恭维他。恰恰相反，只有说他不像上海人才有可能是恭维。

无知却丝毫不妨碍他信口雌黄。他说，"所有中国的不幸都怪在别人头上。中国总要找一个人来责备。从国家主席到普通民众都是这样。中国人，总的来说，对自己的社会一无所知，也完全没有兴趣去了解。"

太可笑了！真是太可笑了！

让我忍无可忍的是，这个垃圾在中国的课堂上肆意诋毁中国人的民族感情，公开散布分裂中国的言论。

众所周知，就在这个月的15日，日本首相小泉再一次参拜敬国神社。自然又一次激起中国及广大的亚洲国家的强烈反对。可是，这个垃圾在8月17日的博克上公然诋毁中国人民的民族感情！

他说，"我能理解他们（指中国学生）的祖辈的愤怒。但是，他们，他们又从来没有被日本伤害过。他提到一次在同济大学上课，他问一位学生"都已经过去60年了，你们为什么还如此愤怒？" 他说，一方面这是中国政府在操纵人民感情的结果；另一方面，他又说，"中国热爱它的痛苦；他们和他们的痛苦跳舞浪漫"

全世界的人都公认，德国在战争反省的问题上，要比日本好得多。可是，我的一位美国教授朋友、犹太人，不使用德国的任何产品。60年过去了，试问，他为什么也如此不能释怀呢？难道这也是美国政府对他感情操纵的结果？！

我曾经在《中国人的两大致命缺点》一文中高度评价了以色列人不惜一切代价"千里追纳粹"，并将他们最终送上以色人自己的绞架的行为。一个小国尚且能够如此，堂堂的中国又做过什么？如果中国人能够向以色列人对待纳粹那样对待日本军国主义分子，日本人想必早就向我们道歉了，也绝对不敢再去参拜什么靖国神社了。

就是这样，这个垃圾还觉得中国人做得太过分。这个垃圾似乎忘了：他的祖国曾经也在纳粹的铁蹄下呻吟过。

因此，我在这里郑重地呼吁：向以色列人学习，同胞们行动起来，把我们这次"网络追缉垃圾老外的大行动"进行到底，直至把他赶出中国。

他竟然在课堂上公开从事分裂中国的活动。比如，他有一次问一位新疆的学生"新疆真的应该是中国的一部分？"同时，他无数次告诉学生，台湾根本就是一个独立的国家。

一本对中国女人、中国男人的生动教材

可是，反过来，我又不得不说，我是如此地感谢这个垃圾、感谢这个垃圾如此直率地把他的经历、想法写出来。这对中国女人、同时也对中国男人来说，是一本多么生动、难得的教材啊!

他对送上门给他玩弄、让他满足性欲的中国女人是怎样评价的呢？他说，"这些女孩都是容易女孩，这个星球上90%的男人都会去占她们的便宜。

有一位网友质问他，你这样占那些天真的中国女孩的便宜，你不觉得恶心吗？他回答说，"当然，这是恶心的。但是对我来说这是很有趣的，而且对像我这样成千上万的白人男性来说是很有趣的。"

他直言不讳地说，他把中国当成乐土。他说，"我也想到这些人－－比如像我－－过的这种腐朽的生活，但不是大错。我们把这里当作乐土。"

为了说明外国男人玩弄中国女人的现象多么普遍，他还举例说，有一次在一家饭店吃饭。他旁边一桌有几个外国男人在吃饭。他就无意听到其中的一个男人在向别人吹嘘，他玩过多少中国女人，而且他怎样同时玩三个。

他幸灾乐祸地说，"这里对西方女性来说很难。像我这样的人就连看也不看西方女人一眼。我们对她们视而不见，她们不存在。"

为什么呢？他解释说有两方面的原因。第一，因为西方女人太聪明、太有头脑，她们根本不吃我们那些胡说八道的一套。她们太了解我们是些什么货色了。第二，就是性。中国女人就是要比西方女人更惹火、更风骚。

如此毫不加掩盖、露骨的心灵直白、太令人震惊了！中国女人，你们都听到了吗？

作为一个学者，作为一个男人，我一直在毫不留情、直言不讳、一针见血地批评中国男性，因为我自己是其中一员。可是，面对包含我们的母亲、妻子、姐妹和女儿在内的中国女性时，我一直手下留情。

可是今天，当我看完这个垃圾的博克之后，我实在忍不住要问那些中国女人一句："你们到底怎么了？"

我知道，你们许多人其实并不了解国外，不了解外国男人中有这样的垃圾存在。这中间，只有一个女孩，因为听这个垃圾偶尔提到自己有个博客，又怀疑他同时和许多女人交往，于是通过网络搜索到了这个博客，读到原来自己和这个外国人做爱的细节已经在网上被公之于众，并且知道了这个外国人根本不爱她。

我能理解，有些中国女人是为了钱、有些人是为出国。可是，女同胞们，请你们在和外国人交往时时刻记住这样一句话：你愿意成为一个黄色博克的女主角吗？

不要被别人玩弄了身体，再玩弄了尊严。

我也有话要跟中国的大老爷们说：想想那些垃圾老外，玩弄了你们的姐妹、嘲笑了你们的无能。你还要说什么外事无小事？，你还要把老外当回事？你还要见着老外哆哆嗦嗦了？挺直你的脊梁骨吧。

这是何等的奇耻大辱！

中国的外教是垃圾老外的藏"龙"卧"虎"之地

今天的中国人到底怎么了？把英语抬得这么高。华东师范大学的钟教授介绍说，有些中国的中小学竟然要求学生用英语唱中华人民共和国国歌。

这样的民意，客观上形成了对外教的巨大需求。正是由于存在巨大的需求缺口，许多教育部门、机构对外教的要求很低，甚至没有要求，只要是外国人就行。由于门槛低，吸引了大批在本国混不下去的垃圾。

这个垃圾自己就在博克里承认"外教是任何一个没有能力或者不原因做其他工作的西方人的都可以做的工作。在中国，有许多不错的、关心学生的外教，也有大量像我这样的（垃圾）"。

在西方国家，教师是一个非常受人尊敬的职业，尤其是大学教师更是如此。那绝对不是什么人都做的。所以，许多不了解内情的外国人对此非常奇怪，一个在本国找不到工作、混不下去的垃圾为什么一到中国就能成为老师、甚至成为大学老师，中国到底是一个什么国家？

尤其是这个垃圾，竟然从事灵魂工程师、而且是我们的时代骄子的灵魂工程师？！

我是做心理学研究的，这个垃圾，不厌其烦、不辞辛劳地把这些床第之事写出来，只有一个原因，他是心理是变态的。试问，这样的变态狂，怎么能做老师？而且是他自称是大学老师，是复旦、交大、同济、上外的老师。

他玩弄的中国女性都是他的学生。在国外，老师和学生之间的这个关系是绝对禁止的。可是，这个垃圾利用教师的身份，对此骗起涉是未深的女学生。试问，这样的禽兽，怎么能做老师？

他肆意散布分裂中国的言行，他诋毁中国人的民族感情。他说中国男人性无能、都是一个模子刻出来、都木纳无比，他说中国人对自己的社会、历史一无所知。试问，这样的自大狂，怎么能做老师？

我们的有关部门也真该来管一管！

我们怎样才能把这个垃圾赶出中国？

已经有很多国人同胞、男的女的、国内的国外的到他的博克上反驳他、指责他。但是，我可以告诉大家，对于这样的变态狂，你越是理睬他，他反倒越是来劲。只有一个做法。把他赶出去。同胞们，我们不能再让过"中国的大学供他生活，中国的女人供他满足，中国的男人供他消遣"的生活了。

我们的行动方案如下：要把这个垃圾赶出中国，具体工作必须要由上海的有关部门来进行。而要有关部门来关注此事，必须有媒体的介入。而我的媒体的朋友告诉，媒体介入需要一个新闻"由头"。所以第一步，我们要在网络上造势、形成一个事件，以便报纸、电视这些传统关注此事有一个"由头"。为此，

第一阶段（从即日起－九月上旬）

在这个阶段，请各位网友同胞们把我这篇文章通过电子邮件发给你的所有朋友，然后要求你的朋友再发给他（她）的所有朋友。有研究发现，只要这样传播五次，就能让几乎每个有电脑的人都收到。再通过论坛、博克等多种方式传播出去，让尽可能多的人（尤其是中国女人）知道这件事。由于这件事发生在高校，请大家务必在上海所有高校的BBS上张贴。

只有让所有的中国女人知道这件事，才能起到真正的教育的作用。只有减少这样的中国女人，才能消灭这样丑陋的外国男人。否则，扫除着一个垃圾，又有无数个垃圾进来。

第二阶段（九月上旬－九月中旬）

让上海的、甚至全国性的平面媒体关注次事件，以便给上海相关部门施压。只要有足够的压力，我相信，就能把这个垃圾赶出中国。我的目标是，在国庆节之前把他逐出中国！

怎么找到他？

他在博克里提到了以下信息，有助于我们跟踪到这个垃圾。

英国人，属狗，名字有可能是Brian。他自己说他在复旦、同济、上外、交大做外语老师。但是，他在交大工作的可能性最大。他习惯于在课程结束之后在黑板上写下自己MSN的Email地址，并鼓励大家（实际上是女学生）同他MSN联系。

他玩弄的第一个女性Tingting，已婚，医生，无锡人。Lucy是来自北方的富裕家庭。说她家花在狗身上的钱要远远多于给保姆的钱。Ceecee是上外英美文学专业的学生，上海人。

最有价值的线索是，他曾经和一个女生到天平宾馆开过房间。并且提到，那个房间没有窗户。大家知道，宾馆里极少有房间没有窗户（我就从来没有遇到过没有窗户的房间），但是，我到天平宾馆核实过，他们那里确实有没有窗户的房间。他和同一个女生两次到"博学楼"开房间。有一次的房间号码是418。他多次和不同女性到位于茂名路的日本餐厅"le garcon chinois"吃饭。

如果大家认识的外教中有符合这样条件的，如果有谁发现了有价值的线索，请立即到我的博克（http://blog.phoenixtv.com/user3/zhangjiehai/index.html）上留言，或者直接给我发Email（zhangjiehai20022002@ yahoo.com）。

网友们，同胞们，如果你是有血性的中国男人，如果你是有尊严的中国女人，请你加入到这次"网络追缉垃圾老外大行动"中来！请大家立即行动起来！

我相信网络的力量，因为我相信我们中国人的力量！

"网络追缉垃圾老外大行动"发起人：张结海博士

Little Black Book

2006-08-25T04:49:00.000+08:00

Friday, August 25, 2006

In that very class where first I noted ex-Ethel, Clarissa sent me a teasing, pleasing text message:-
does it easy to find a suitable China girl to sleep with?
I took the chance to flirt back:-
finding a girl as beautiful, sexy and unforgettable as the one I met on Friday night is extremely hard.
And as I tapped this off to her, another arrived:
Ok together with your sweet girl. i will find u later with a handsome guy.
The next morning I messaged her:-
Last night I dreamed of you... all night long, my Clarissa...
Normally that’s a lie when I say it. In this case it was true. I remember it clearly because it was a sexy dream, one in which I was just about to realize all my hopes; but just as I reached that moment I was woken by a text message from Tulip.
To this, Clarissa replied `ur killing me, u know?’
That filled me with joy, for I took it to mean `killing me with conflict’ – that is, that she was thinking of me like I am of her, though a less pleasing interpretation would be that she meant I was a ladykiller and the she saw through my shallow moves.
But still I tried to play it a little, replying ‘Killing? O, if only I could change that double `l’ to double `s’…’ And she, quick to take up this little linguistic game, said ‘u mean kidding? I know!’
This flirty tone to our relationship carried on online. A month or so after we’d got to know each other, she’d told me how she did not like to sleep alone (her husband being elsewhere on business.)
Me: yeah, i am sleeping alone these days too, and i'm not too happy about it either!C: why not find a girl friendMe. oh, i guess i could... but i am not good at being that serious .. so i don't really want a proper relationshipC: besides.... i would be thinking of you even if i did have a gfC: it doesn't matter at allMe: oh?C: as I am not an MBAMe: i know, dear Clarissa, i know... i would not make the rude suggestion that you were!Me: but i hope u could be a good friend at least!C: Don;t we?Me: we are... but.. friends should spend time together, and, alas, u are too busy for that! what a shame...C: know I am afraid of u C: afraid of ... I think u knowMe: well... i guess... so maybe it is better we are friends more by msn than in person (of course I did not mean that at all, but one must know when not to push too hard)Me: but... it would be niceC: i know u r a "killer" but I don't want to be killedC: I need a peaceful lifeB: yes, i do understand, Clarissa. but in fact i am not really a `killer' - it is only when it comes to you that i find it hard to control my thoughts.C: sweet man
This promising conversation ended there, since Tulip called me, following up her sms (more of her, later, too); but that was a good enough place to leave our online chat. This kind of conversation can be kept brief, hanging, for that makes it more piquant, more stimulating.
Keyed up to the pitch of needing feminine company, the day after this conversation I idled through a few contacts in my address book.
First of all, I called up Joy. Joy had studied at Tsinghua University, and (as are many from there) was fearsomely intelligent. Perfect in English, she was now following it up with German, and it was in such a class that I’d met her a few months before this.
Lecher though I am, the single sexiest quality in a woman, for me, is intelligence; true intelligent – not merely book-learned repetition - shines in the character, and it takes very few seconds for it to be obvious. Just a minute or two of conversation with Joy when I first met her was enough to captivate me – her breezy self-confidence, her brisk, pugnacious, teasing manner of talking to me. And so I’d set myself after her and, course concluded, we’d met for dinner.
Yet splendidly bright as she is, full of life and character, over dinner I saw that that life seemed to have little of emotion in it. Bracing she was, but also unyielding, wrapped in ice. I do not mean just with regard to my trifling desires, but rather that she was held back, reserved, as a way of life.
This is not quite to say she knows nothing of emotion, for she is aware of it and its complexities. But only in a logical way; she knows it, even understands it, some – but does not feel it. She is too rigid, intellectual.
Well, flaunting my ease with these things – or crassness, perhaps – I asked “Have you ever been kissed?”
“Of course I have!” she said –“Here,” pointing to her cheek, “and here,” to her forehead. I laughed out loud at this and in the ensuing conversation she told me that she would have to date a guy for at least two years before letting him her lips.
Partly it’s so absurd as to be laughable; partly it’s sad. This cocoon of bullshit, of lies; it’s what leads to sure marital sadness, as Chinese woman too often goes from chaste virgin to being badly, coolly and rapidly fucked by her cold fish husband – as she unwraps the gift she’s seen glittering in her mind all her life and finds a cold, cooked, congealed potato therein. Ah, yes, a ‘generalization’ again. But what shall I say? I can only write of what I see, what I am told. China is a sexually repressed society.
But (to get back to my search for a date) there was no reply for her. So then on a whimsy I text-messaged Holly, also a long-term background interest of mine who I will add to the growing list of women to write about in more detail.
In brief, for now, Holly caught my eye in class primarily because she reminded me of a girlfriend back in England. Echoes from the past are powerful, hard to ignore, and a certain amount of repetition in life has its charms. And this particular girlfriend back in England was a long term part of my life, and the years I spent in Germany and then Australia. I was not then the thing that I am now; China was the tutor and feeder of my riots.
Holly’s manner too reminded me of this past girlfriend, though of course that was likely more my need than her reality, me just seeing what I wanted to see. But the way she was slightly ill-at-ease (for the first time I invited her out it was with a general group of friends), the air she had, like that ex-, was of being in a milieu foreign to her… I don't mean to suggest any lack of social skills, not at all; more that she reminded me of how this ex- had once told me about going out with ‘wild young things.’ It was perhaps just that she found the party a little boring but something she felt she ought to enjoy – though would have preferred a quieter, calmer place. Her slight air of detachment, of observation… it was redolent, reminiscent of my life with that ex-.
But I got no reply from Holly, either. Of course, I could have called, rather than messaged, but that is not quite such a good way to flirt; for Holly would have been at work and thus would have been forced to respond to my call professionally not personally, for offices in China are not much different to offices in any country, and ears are open, tongues wag.
So then I sent Candy a message, and soon enough one arrived back from her. She was out of town. This was perhaps just as well, for I had neither seen nor messaged her for a few weeks, and to get together with her tonight purely because I wanted a woman would have been so obvious indiscreet as to have made her ha me.
And that many attempts was enough for me, so I went to Paulaner bar to take advantage of their afternoon special on beer, where, at half price, it is only surprisingly expensive rather than outrageously expensive and where (it being the afternoon) silence reigns; for in the evening Thai and Philipine bands sing, the noise is overwhelming and the crowds of easily-fooled locals, out to be seen, cram the place.
Later that evening, however, Clarissa called me, high and happy, at a party somewhere; and then again later, on her way home, 1 a.m., she called again, the party over and she on her way home; and this seemed to me a good sign, for it showed she again was thinking of me. Sure, maybe she just wants the flattery I surely provided, but even were that true it would still prove connection, frisson; she would not have been thinking of me, called me, had I not some impact on her.
Sure, I rolled out such seductive words as seemed fitting; she was after them, telling me she was sure I did not really care about her (for this was still relatively early in our relationship) – and what was that but a chance to tell her just how potently I did feel about her? How I thought of her every day? Pressed her for dinner, and she liked it but would not commit – because, to judge by the call and our online conversations she was enough interested in me for that putative dinner to undo her self-control; and, thus, while she was separated by a phone’s distance, she knew to hold to that gap as hard as she could.
And indeed she told me she had to go home to her husband – her mention of him both a barrier and an offer. A barrier because it was to remind me he was there, she was his; but an offer because, in going home to him, she showed she was thinking of me.
More, she put him there, obvious, to show he was part of the equation; that no matter what might happen between us, she would remain married to him. And that suited me just fine. I did not want to love her, exactly, but nor quite was it just a matter of sex. Yes, sex was my goal, true, but sex with at least some emotional anchor to it.

他的真名

2006-08-24T14:14:00.000+08:00

In his blog post "seducing ellen"

Ellen 叫他 Brian.

在comment 中有人写过，

"I read a comment on the site which was soon deleted that said he was a teacher called Brian now working at jiao da, and that he had only been in china about ten months. "

他叫什么? 如有任何线索,请在这里留言.

寻找 Chinabounder

2006-08-24T01:59:00.000+08:00

根据我们的了解和他在日记里的描述

British, should be tall and slender,
He is a dog-year guy. so 36 years old.
Teaches english in various universities
Know Jiaotong university well.
Likes to write his msn email on the board at the end of his class.
Lives on or near Huai Hai Road.

他来着英国, 高瘦.
男， 36岁犬年产，
在上海各大学教授英文，
对交通大学似乎很熟悉。
喜欢在最后一次的培训班上留下自己的msn email. （当然, 男生和他联系是没有下文的）
住在淮海路附近

他公开的email是chinabounder@hotmail.com

我们希望能找出这位猥大的作家和实践家
如果大家有任何线索，请在这里留言

流言版

2006-08-24T01:58:00.000+08:00

如果您对我们的网站有想法和建议，请告诉我们。
请留言。

成员加盟

2006-08-24T01:57:00.000+08:00

这是一个集体的博客,
它的发展需要大家的支持. Chinabounder 实在是个多产的作家, 他平均两三天就会发表新作品. 而且肠肚还不短. 再加上以往的丰富作品, 靠个人的力量实在无法完成这样巨大的翻译和追星工作.

因此, 本站
真诚的欢迎狂热读者的加盟.

如果你翻译了ChinaBounder的文章，请Email to ChinaBounder.chinese@gmail.com
我们会把你的作品贴出，并保留你的署名。

****
如果你想加入我们的队列, 只需要拥有一个gmail account, 然后发信至 chinabounder.chinese@gmail.com, 申请成为成员,
我们会在最短时间内给你回复.
(抱歉，因为现在的blogger是beta版，这个功能还不稳定，如果你可以把翻译发给我们，我们会贴出并附上你的名字）谢谢
****

大家一起贡献力量, 寻找Chinabounder.

其人其站

2006-08-24T01:55:00.000+08:00

很多人还不知道 Chinabounder, 而且更多的中国人不知道.

他是一个在上海生活多年的苏格兰人. 他是一个普通的外国人, 在上海教授英语. 他又是一个不普通的外国人, 他是玩弄女人的高手.
他有一个博客, 叫 Sex and Shanghai, 听起来很像 sex and city, 实际上也确实是都是些关于女人和性的东西, 一个记录他如何欺骗和勾引中国女人和他上床的日记.

这位 Chinabounder 恐怕是在生活中说了太多的谎话, 所以他用这个博客向上帝说了实话, 也许为了忏悔, 也许为了...他可悲的虚荣心. 当然, 在日记里, 除了记录那些淫事, 这个英国绅士还不时批判一下中国的历史和现实, 鄙视一下中国男人.

这个鬼真是无知下流和自以为是. 嗯, 应该有更好的形容词, 可惜我小时候没学好语文.

不管怎么说，他的日记有着很高的探讨和批判价值。所有应该把它介绍给更多中国的读者, 让他们看看英国绅士的风范.

在以后的日子了, 我们会逐步把他的日记翻译成中文. 并且, 我们会像所有狂乱的粉丝一样, 找出这位作者, 了解他的真实生活.

敬请关注.

More of Clarissa

2006-08-21T04:48:00.000+08:00

Monday, August 21, 2006

So the evening with Clarissa had come to a slightly moody end. But she was so sexy and unusual with it that I could not forget her. Blocking her instant messenger profile was just the spiteful, childish reaction of a man thwarted in his desires. And when I woke the next morning those desires were again strong and urgent in me; and so of course she did not stay blocked. She was just too fascinating, too diverting. Now, in a city of so many beauties as Shanghai is, that’s saying something. And in truth Clarissa seems hardly standout, for she does not have the tall, slender body of a would-be model. On an objective scale she could not be compared to Ceecee It's just It. Some women'll stay in a man's memory if they once walked down a street. (regarding whom things grow warmer). Yet Clarissa has fascinated me from the first moment I saw her. It isn’t beauty, so to speak, nor good talk necessarily.
Morning also brought with it the clear realization hat I had been a little sulky to her in the cab. She was the one who had it all to lose, so she was the one who should call the shots. It seemed to me then that she was calling them that night too, sounding me out, sizing me up.
When she’d told me of the lover she had, older, married, rich, she’d also said that one of the problems with a lover was they always wanted more…more demands, more love, eventually marriage. So it seemed to me what was on her mind when she said that was finding out if I could be discreet, subtle. In the cab I wasn’t.
And thus when I did log on and saw she was on, too, I paused a while, not wanting to bombard her straight away. But she buzzed me first, albeit with no more than a ‘You’re late today’ (late getting up, she meant). I replied with how much fun I had had with her, and she said the same; and that was that, then she was gone.
In looking through my diary to chart the course of my relationship with Clarissa, I see that this night I had a class in which one woman in particular caught my eye. Now of course that happens all the time, but this woman has since become an important part of my life and, indeed, on a recent trip to the city in which she now studies, she became my lover.
She was cute, tallish, a sexy dresser in that discreet yet revealing way some women have… A polite style of dressing, a little reserved, because that is the way the bulk of Chinese guys (and thus Chinese society) demand it; but also with hints and whispers of sexuality, of the truer self just below that exterior, hints that most guys do not even see but that I seldom miss.
Or maybe that’s trying to dress up bullshit as a compliment, since what I really mean is the lines of her bra, white, a little bit of lace, which I could see as I stood over her talking to her, covering her breasts, where what did the trick.
This being university, I kept myself formal, teacherly, and tried not to hit on her too bad. But I could not resist teasing her when she told me her English name.
Being outside Western culture, a name is just a name to a Chinese student – why should it be anything else? And so quite often I meet young women who have chosen names such as ‘Mayble,’ ‘Ethel,’ ‘Doris’ and so on, names that would be met with a burst of laughter back home. Generally I tell the student this, given that they plan to study overseas. ‘If I met someone called Enid in my country’ I will say, ‘She would be about 70 years old. No one your age has a name like that!’ At this point the student will usually laugh along with the rest of the class, and then ask me to choose a better name. There is, of course, power in that request, for to choose a name is to mark her.
And so usually I accept, saying I will think of something and tell her at the end of the course when I have a better idea of her personality. Naturally, if she is cute, I will say at the end of the class ‘I should get to know you better before choosing a name…. Let’s meet for coffee.’
Chinese names, of course, also have this component. Thus, someone born in the insanity of the Cultural Revolution might well have the character ‘red’ as part of their name, or some other boastful exhortation as to how fine and dandy China is. Someone born at an earlier period might be called `Build China’ or ‘Love China’ and so on. I have a reasonably good idea about this and, of course, turn it to my shallow advantage saying, when I encounter such a name, ‘Ah, a good solid cultural revolution name’; which remark serves to make the class think I am a China expert. It is nothing but flim-flam and veneer, but it is effective.
As for the Cultural Revolution, for those not in the know, it was a decade of the vilest insanity when maniac Mao Zedong did his best to destroy the country even more than he had already fucked it up already, even more than the crackpot lunacies of all his other schemes, his Great Leap Forward, his Four Pests campaign, his Hundred Flowers, his disastrous Korean war, his murders, poisonings and purges, and all the other filth that spewed from his peasant mind. He did nothing good, kind or decent in his whole life. He was pure scum. He was filth. I shit on him.
China’s population remains, of course, largely ignorant of what he was. Apart from a tiny, thinking minority, many people still admire him, or at least half-admire him. ‘He made some mistakes’ students will tell me, which is a remark about parallel to saying ‘Well, Hitler may have killed a few people but at least he made the trains run on time.’ Or they will tell me, demonstrating a risible inability to think, ‘He helped the Chinese people to stand up,’ echoing the words he said at the founding of the PRC.
But enough of this; I have already vented spleen on the topic below. Taking a leaf from the fat psychopath’s own book, I will get back to women. Women, say the biographies (well… not the ones available in China, of course) were a central focus of his life, as he liked to stack up 3 or 4 in bed at the same time, and often adolescent ones. Now since as well as being a fat lunatic he was also a fat lunatic with absolute power, he could simply order any woman to bed, and made great use of the privilege. I have to work a bit harder to get my women, and thus I gave the tried and trusted `I can give you more advice if you get in touch by email,’ line to this student (who was at that time called Ethel, but is now called something more suitable, a name I chose); and she did get in touch and we became friends and then lovers.
But we did not become lovers until a year or so after we’d first met. The reason for this was not because she was unavailable, but rather because I knew if we became lovers it would be a big deal for her. I knew my feckless ways would hurt her, for she would want my love and commitment. And so I forbore, all the time she was in Shanghai.
Whispers of it, hints, were always there. I recall in particular kissing her goodbye outside 美罗城 Right then, as I kissed her lips, I knew I could take her to bed with just a little more wooing. And, sure, she was attractive, intelligent, all the things I like. But knowing what a big deal it would be for her, that was a path I did not take. one time, after we’d met for coffee, how I read her eyes, saw the readiness, how she offered me her lips, not her cheek.
Not until I met her in another city – and there, under its different skies, we became lovers. And, now, as I knew would happen all along, she is half in love with me, sending wistful emails, reaching out for a love that I do not return.

Seducing Christine #4

2006-08-19T04:47:00.000+08:00

Saturday, August 19, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by Jennifer.
中文由Jennifer翻译。感谢他的支持。

So after eating we walked along Huaihai Road back to my place. At first, she wanted to watch TV a little, putting off the coming moment. But maybe that was just out of the wish to seem modest, for within a few minutes she had lost interest in that and was instead in my arms, returning kiss for kiss.

Then she wanted to take a shower, and wanted privacy while she did so, meaning that I could not undress her, which I rather regretted. Undressing a woman is, of course, very stimulating, and especially a Shanghai woman like her, decked in lacy, fluttery clothes. Undressing a woman is also stimulating as one moves towards the moment of revealing the panties, for that is always exciting, even here in this society where many women wear the most frumpy, plain underwear. My interest in underwear being what it is, I asked what color panties she was wearing.

“The same as last time!’ she laughed. Those had been sporty type panties, with a certain appeal, though limited. But after she came out of the shower, in her night dress, and I took her to the bed, and lifted the night dress off her (after only minor qualms from her) I was rather please to find black lacy panties, which, she told me, she had bought specially.

当我们吃完饭沿着淮海路回到我的住所时，起先她想看会电视，来推迟即将到来的时刻。但也许这保持矜持的愿望实在是难以做到的。不到几分钟她就失去了看电视的兴趣，转而投入我的怀抱，不断地回吻着我。

然后她想洗个澡，但是自己去洗，这就意味着我不能为她脱去衣服，我以此为憾。脱去女人的衣服是非常刺激的。尤其是像她一样穿着蕾丝的衣服的上海女人。脱去女人的衣服很刺激的另一个原因就是它正朝着脱去她的内裤这一步发展，这总是令人非常兴奋的，即使是这里许多女人都穿着样式老旧的内衣。我对于内衣的兴趣是她所穿内衣的颜色。

“和上次一样！”她笑着说。那是运动型的内裤，但还是有一定吸引力的。但当她穿着睡衣从浴室出来时，我带她来到卧室的床上。我撩起她的睡衣（她只是稍微迟疑了一下）。我非常高兴的发现了黑色的蕾丝内裤，就是她告诉我她特地买来的那条。

‘And what will your mother say when she sees these?’ I asked, teasing, for I already knew the answer. And indeed the idea of her mother finding these panties made her eyes open wide.

‘She’d kill me! But I won’t let her find them’ she said.

The panties matched her bra in color, but not in style, for the bra, bought by her mother, was a Mickey Mouse bra. What parents! Christine also told me, soon after she arrived, that she was not wearing perfume since her mother had taken it away from her that morning – why, she was not sure. It seemed not to have occurred to her to ask, though that may have just been policy so she could preserve the innocent image she had in her mother’s eyes. To them she is still 12.

The real reason her mother took away her perfume was that her parents were out of town that weekend. She’d told them she’d stay with a girlfriend (which was the lie she used to stay with me), and presumably her mother thought she might go into town with this friend and, perfumed, would be in mortal danger.

What parents like this do not understand is that in restricting their daughters so severely they just drive them into the arms of chancers like me. The daughter under such restrictions chafes at them, they circumscribe her whole world. But when she gets a chance to break free of that confinement, when she meets a guy like me – then she embraces the opportunity, and becomes everything her parents hoped her not to.

“那要是你妈妈看见她会怎么说?”我开玩笑的问道，因为我早就知道答案了。但这样的想法还是让她睁大了眼睛。

“她会杀了我！但我不会让她发现的”她说。

这内裤的颜色和她的胸罩的颜色是相配的，但款式不相配。胸罩是她妈妈买的。是米老鼠的。多好的父母呀！Christine还告诉我，当她来过这的不久后，她妈妈在那天早上就把她的香水没收了。至于为什么，她也不确定。看起来她是不会去问原因的，这可能是她想要在她父母前装作天真的策略。对他们来说，她还像个12岁的小孩子。

她妈妈拿走她香水的真正原因是那个周末她父母去了郊区。她告诉他们她和她的女朋友一起住（实际上这个谎言是为了和我住而编造的），所以可能是她妈妈认为如果她要是和女朋友一起上街的话，香水会招来很大的危险的。

像这样的父母是不明白正是因为他们这么严厉得约束才会把他们的女儿推向像我这种人的怀抱。他们的女儿是在如此严厉的约束下，她的整个世界都是受的限制的。但是一旦当她得到了打破戒律的机会，当她遇见了像我这样的男人，那她会紧紧地抓住这样的机会，去做她父母不希望她做的任何事情。

But even though she’d brought these panties just for me, getting them off her took a little more while, for she thought she should still be reluctant. Yet she was horny, too, so her protests, her No, her Don’t, her hand holding them in place, did not last long. As I eased them off her hand flew over her mount in final protest but, easing it away, I saw what I had been waiting to see; and she is nicely made, shapely, hair so neat as to be coiffured, though she insisted it was natural (which I am inclined to believe).

I wanted to go down on her, of course; and here too was more fuss, since she felt it was `abnormal.’ She soon forgot that complaint when I dived in, and trim, clean and tasty, it was great to do, sexy, intimate, erotic. So, a while of that and then she pulled me up towards her, signaling she was ready for the final push. But already I knew it would by hard going, for by tongue and finger I had found she was tight indeed; and even plenty of lubrication helped little.

It hurt her and was awkward for me, too much fumbling, coaxing. Indeed, I grew churlish at her reluctance to grin and bear it, churlish enough to say “Maybe you’d better find a Chinese boyfriend.” That was an ungrateful thing to say, and, lying on the bed in chagrin I compounded the insult by falling asleep, having had just a few hours’ kip the night before. I woke what must only have been 5 or 10 minutes later, and she began to cry, so naturally I comforted her, already feeling guilty; and we tried some more.

但即使是她为我买了这样的性感内裤，但要脱去它们还是花了一点时间的，因为她认为她应该要表现得勉强些。但她也很兴奋，所以她的推脱，她的反抗，她说的：“不”，“不要”，她用手抓着内裤等行为都没有持续多长时间。当她做了最后的反抗后，我脱掉了它。我看到了我一直在等待的。她体型很好。阴毛看起来也很整齐，虽然她说是天生的（但我是不会相信的）

我想吻她那里，当然又有了一些小意外。因为她觉得这样有点“不正常”但当我开始后不久她就忘记了抱怨。这样很好，性感、够刺激。过了一会儿，她想把我拉上来，这预示着她已经为最后的一步做好准备了。但其实我已经知道那样会有点难度。因为通过舌头和手指我知道她那里是很紧的。即使是用大量的润滑剂也起不到太大的作用。

这样既伤害了她又会让我很尴尬，太多的尝试，哄骗。事实上我已经开始对她装作很勉强的傻笑不耐烦了。所以我粗鲁地说“也许”你应该找个中国的男朋友。这当然是不应该说的。躺在床上，我用装睡来掩盖刚才的侮辱。像是已经睡了几个小时一样，我在5分钟或十分钟后醒来。她已经在哭了，我很自然要去安慰她。觉得有点内疚，然后我们又试了试。

A little more success, now, getting halfway in; but still it was pain for her. So we left it there awhile, cuddling and talking, and then she brought me off (though I had to hold my hand over hers to get the rhythm), over her belly and mons, she watching in fascination as I came, saying, in wonder, “So much…”

We showered again – this time, together – and that was pretty sweet. The daringness of it (as it seemed to her), like that time with Mona in Zheng Da, wrote breathless pleasure across her face. And so anon to bed, and here she wanted to kiss, kiss, kiss, even lying on top of me to do so.

“I want to kiss you all night long” she said. I just lay there and let her do what she wanted; it was rather wonderful and she even began to kiss up a little emotion in me. Yes, her body on mine in the dark, her lips and tongue… that memory is a keeper.

Well, another attempt to make love in the morning, and with more success. Still I could not fully get in, but there was less pain and more willingness in her. And then lunch – for we woke late -- and then another try, again with a little ground gained.

I saw that with a few more tries she would be used to it, and so this time I was relatively brief with her, and then ate her again, all the way until she came. That gave me a real sense of cool, having her come under my tongue and seeing how it just wiped her out for ten minutes, how she lay on the bed wrapped up in it, lost, amazed.

“Still think it’s abnormal?” I asked. She did not. And then she did me, again; but this time all on her own.

Now there was some male pride in this; I’d asked her more about her boyfriend the night before. She told me he never went down on her, because he did not like it, but that she did use her hand on him – though to get all the way there he had to do himself, she explained, gesturing with a hand to show she meant that to reach orgasm he had to wank himself.

Well, that was a challenge to me – the woman ought be able to get the guy off, both to validate her own equality and to show the guy is relaxed, at ease with her, is truly her partner. And it worked, for though she did not say it, I could tell that when I came under her hard, she was pleased. I hope it made her feel womanly.

And that was about it; she showered, dressed, and I accompanied her to the tube at half 5 so she could make her 6 curfew at home — a curfew which I was again rather glad for, since, having been with her the last 24 hours, I was ready for my own company again.

有点起色，但只进去了一半，还是让她觉得疼。所以我们就这样子拥抱着，聊了一会。然后她握着我的**（我要握着她的手引导着她）掠过她的小腹和乳房。当我射的时候，她入迷的看着我，惊讶地说“这么多、、、”

我们又一起洗了澡，这次是在一起，非常的甜蜜。对她来说这是非常大胆的，就像在正大和Mona一样，她的脸上写满了愉悦。再回到床上之后，她想要不停的接吻、接吻、接吻、甚至爬在我身上接吻。

“我想吻你整个晚上。”她说，我只是躺在那让她做她想做的。这是相当的美妙的。她甚至有吻起了我的情绪。是的，黑暗中在我身上的她的身体、嘴唇和舌头、、、这个记忆是美好的。

另外一次做爱的冲动是在早上，这次更成功。虽然我还是不能全进去，但她没有那么疼了。似乎也更享受了。因为起的晚，午饭后又试了一次，这次又有些收获。

我看到几次尝试后她会更加适应，所以这次我要容易些。又吻了她那里。直到她达到高潮。这种感觉对我来说是很酷的，看着她在我的舌头下达到高潮。看着她在床上上下扭动、完全失去了自我，真神奇。

“还觉得这不正常吗？”我问到.她当然不觉得了。然后她又让我达到了高潮，这次完全是她自己做的。

这是很多男人很骄傲的，我在这晚之前问了她以前的男朋友。她告诉我他从不吻她那里，但她是会用手帮助他的，尽管最后还是要靠他自己。她还用手做了个她男朋友自己达到高潮时的样子。

那对我说是个挑战。女人让男人达到高潮时，既要满足自己还要让对方放松，让对方很享受。这才是她的伴侣。尽管她没说，但我知道我在她手中达到高潮时，她是高兴的。我希望这会让她觉得很有女人味。

在那之后，她洗澡穿衣。我在5点半时陪她到地铁站这样她就能按规定6点到家。对于这个规定我是很高兴的，因为在和她呆了24小时之后，我又是独身一人了。

The Concept of Irony

2006-08-17T04:46:00.000+08:00

Thursday, August 17, 2006

So the Chinese press is shaking with vitriol about Koizumi’s visit to Yasukuni.
The China-Japan relationship is one particularly fascinating part of life here. It shows, in many ways, how unwilling – or unable – to think millions of people are in this society. For they misunderstand the past, present and the likely future. And they are blind to the crashing irony and hypocrisy which riddles their belief.
I should perhaps begin by saying that Japan’s conduct in the war was a crime against humanity of the gravest degree, lest this blog be overwhelmed by young hotheads who, at the hint of a supposed conciliatory gesture to Japan, will begin to froth at their anonymous mouths. The horrors they committed at Nanjing were overwhelmingly evil, and the bone pits on display at the Nanjing Massacre Museum are a sight I will not forget.
But here’s how the Japan argument plays out with the average, say, Tongji student, who (being at that university) is generally a bright person.
Me: “It was 60 years ago. Why are you still angry?”Student: “They have not apologized for the war.”Me: “They have. Numerous times, for example Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama in 1995, or PM Ryutaro Hashimoto in 1997, or Junichiro Koizumi in 2005.”Student: “Oh… are you sure? I never heard that. Well.. anyway… they do not teach the truth in their history books.”Me: “The history book to which you agree is indeed offensive.” (Smile of righteous victory begins to play across student’s face; student’s shoulders begin to tense back in patriotic fervor)Me: “But it is taught in less than one percent of schools.”Student: “Oh… are you sure? I never heard that.”Me: “I am. Let me ask you a question. Do you think educators or the government should choose the syllabus in your university?”Student: “Educators. The government does not know what it best, and I wish at my university the teachers could decide what to teach.”Me: “Well, in Japan, educators decide what to teach, not the government. The content of the books is not a direct government choice. ”Student: : “Oh… are you sure? I never heard that.”Me: “When that book was published, there were large demonstrations against it. 30,000 people marched in the streets to protest it.”Student: “Oh… are you sure? I never heard that.”Me: “What do you think would happen if people tried a public demonstration like that here?”Student giggles.Me: “Did you know the PRC signed a joint communiqué in 1972 waiving all war reparations, and in 1978 signed a treat of peace and friendship with Japan?”Student: “Oh… are you sure? I never heard that.”Me: “Did you know that when the war ended Japan left about US$100 billion of assets in China, which it agreed to leave as reparation?”Student: : “Oh… are you sure? I never heard that.”Me: “Did you know Japan is China’s number one aid donor?”Student: : “Oh… are you sure? I never heard that.”
And so on.
It’s a curious double world, China, where it is fine to hate Japan, de rigueur to puff up with nationalist arrogance and demand ‘Japan face up to history,’ while at the same time wallowing in the grossest ignorance of China’s own recent history. The truth of the matter is that the CPC in general and Mao Zedong in particular have killed far more Chinese people, have hurt China far more profoundly than ever the Japanese did. But that is a truth too far for China, and here people are more comfortable with their simple world view, China good, Japan bad, with their simple surety that Japan is, was and always shall be evil, with their shallow-minded reliance on mathematical tricks to prove this contention – such as, for example, their oft-repeated claim that the Japanese killed 300,000 in the Nanjing Massacre, a figure which a cooler-headed look at history suggests is simply not true .
And it really is an alarming thing to hear students talk about Japan. The anger that comes into their voice, the real passion and hatred… I can understand their grandparents’ anger, for that anger comes from direct experience. But for them, who have never been hurt by Japan, it is astonishing, shocking in its brutal, visceral and unthinking conviction. I have met students in class who have actually wept when talking about Japan. It is absurd; how can they hold such hatred to something that never affected them?
It seems to me China is in love with its suffering; its people clutch the Nanjing massacre and all that to their hearts, they dance and romance their pain. It defines them; it is them. And, mired in their unthinking ignorance, what they do not see is that in so hating Japan they are learning precisely the lessons that the Japanese of that earlier generation learned – the absolute contempt for another race that allows such atrocities to be committed.
And the irony of it, the irony! So on the front page of yesterday’s China Daily there’s a photo of Japanese people, in Japan, protesting about Koizumi’s visit to the shrine. Japanese people protest, and the government will at least listen. Chinese people protest, and what happens? The government sends in the fucking tanks. People here are too busy hating Japan to see that it is the freedoms Japanese people have that they should be clamoring for instead.
But of course this is precisely why the CPC encourages hatred of Japan. In doing so, it can take the minds of the people off internal problems and focus them on external ones. The way that the CPC uses the appalling cruelty of wartime Japan to bolster its grip on power shows the most breathtakingly arrogant cynicism, the most profound contempt for the suffering of the Chinese people of the time. But most people here are blind to this. Nor, having the haziest understanding of democracy, do they see that Koizumi has to go to the shrine to show he is not being bossed around by other Asian nations. Not that that means Japan is militaristic – indeed, in the year that I worked there I found the people to be remarkably peaceful, though at that time I did not specifically look into their feelings about China.
And textbooks, let’s talk about teaching truth in schools, shall we? The Cultural Revolution, for example, that decade long period of lunacy in which thug scumbag Mao said, “Destroy the old and the new will take care of itself,” a period in which tens of thousands were murdered. In Chinese school textbooks (and I have checked) it gets two paragraphs, and, in the teacher’s guide, the instructions say “The teacher need not linger on this topic.” These same textbooks lie that the Great Famine was a natural disaster, and that Mao was ‘70% right 30% wrong,’ that the CPC did fighting against the Japanese in the war (whereas in fact the Guomindang did all the fighting after the CPC refused to join their ‘United Front’ against Japan.
And irony upon irony… In the features section of yesterday’s Shanghai Daily there’s a piece about “My grandfather Mao Zedong” in which his granddaughter has the gall, the absurdity to claim:-
“He was a son, husband and father firstly, a statesman secondly.”
There is nothing about this statement that is true.
Mao let both his father and mother die alone, though he had the chance to be with both as they died. He regularly abandoned wives and children, and for his whole life his sole center of concern was himself. And this woman, this granddaughter, even admits she never met Mao (who clearly did not give a fuck about her) yet has the unparalleled gall to claim he was a family man!
Or let’s talk about how Mao ran the Jiangxi Red Army base between 1931 and 1935. During his rule, the population dropped by 20%. Seven hundred thousand people died from non-natural causes. Half of these deaths were from people executed as ‘class enemies’ or from slave labor. In the case of the ‘class enemies’ Mao and his cronies thought up tortures every bit as brutal as the Japanese. For example, a wire would be run through the penis and the ear, and then plucked like a violin-string by the torturer; or a red-hot gun-barrel would be inserted in the anus.
And are people here clamoring for this truth to be faced up to? Or do they rather put Mao on the banknotes, his portrait in Tiananmen Square, his murderer’s face on a million busts and million statues? One of the greatest murderers of the 20th century but he’s a hero here.
Now the lies told in China do not make the lies told in Japan any less serious. They are no excuse not to be critical of Japan. But aside from a few wishy-washy generalities such as the bogus percentage above, local people (save for a tiny minority who see that to know their history is the true way to love their country), mostly live in total ignorance of the last half century’s terrors. Yes, some anger at Japan is justified, but nothing like the passionate hatred that soaks this society. And what is worse? To be hurt by an enemy (as in the case of Japan and China) or be hurt by a friend (as in the case of the CPC wallowing in the blood of its own people). attacking
“That’s all in the past” students will tell me, and so it is. “We know all this” they will say (only they do not; they but know it in the most general, vague terms) “But what is the point of talking about it?” Why, then, are Japan’s atrocities not in the past? Ah, the double standards of this society.
I am a man who knows something about double standards. So back to that next time.

Seducing Christine #3

2006-08-15T04:46:00.000+08:00

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

I did not think to message her again until the evening of the next day – which, of course, shows my fundamentally callow attitude. Now I was sure of her, there was no need to woo. Sending messages to a woman you’re unsure you’ll charm to bed is stimulating, spicy; the need to bat messages back and forth, to tease and maneuver, keeps the thumb active, keeps the mind ticking over on what the next reply will be, and the response to it. But once you’re sure of the woman, all that dies down.
And so (as I might have expected if I had really bothered to think about her at all) she replied to my message that she was unhappy.
‘Why?,’ I asked.‘Because you didn’t send sms to me, Ha ha, do you believe it?’She followed this by texting, ‘I’m really waiting for your sms all day. I know u r busy but I’m still feel unhappy. Ha ha.’And so I replied to say I was sorry about that, but that I had been very busy. I had not, of course.‘I know ~ I’m happy now~ I want to be your girlfriend now~ ha ha ha ha only make a joke but I’m really like you.’
Then she asked, ‘you have been kiss many girls, right?,’ to which I made some glib reply.‘Oh my heart is broken.. :-) 你真的是华心大萝卜啊。。’
Now I did not bother save my messages, so all I have is a record of hers. But my replies can be pretty much guessed from the pattern of what she says.
‘what are you mean? You will kiss me for a long time?’‘why? You change heart quickly or love other girls fast?’‘which kind of woman do you like best?’‘you like a playboy.. But I’m still like you. You have special charm. I wanna say goodbye to my bf’‘together with him I can’t learn anything and I found I lost many times’‘my mood is complex now. I don’t know whether to meet you is a good thing or a bad thing.’‘Let me think about it.. Well this Sunday I will get away my parents and stay with you all day, OK?’ (I’d asked if she’d spend a night with me)‘Or you unwilling to stay with me?’‘It’s very exciting~ Just like you say, I’ll let my youth colourful~ Don’t cheating me any more’‘Whether any girl told you she wanna be your gf you all agree with her?’‘I love you, I wanna be your gf.’‘Ha ha Don’t mind only sound out you~’‘昏.. I know you like see me become a bad girl’‘You wanna see me have many many boyfriends?’‘Very well!! I miss you all night until now~ :-) How about you?’‘Sorry’ (I had not said anything to make her say sorry; the reason she said it is clear from the following message.)‘Maybe you don’t like to hear I say I miss you.. So I say sorry.’‘:-) You say you dreamed of me, tell me something about that’ (I’d told her I dreamed of her. I had not. But telling a woman this is an effective gauge of where she sees the relationship going. It is a shallow and obvious thing to say, and would not work on a Western woman, but of such flimflam is my box of tricks made.)‘Maybe it will be interesting! Don’t worry, tell me’‘Are you sure you tell me the truth?’ (I’d told her it was a sexy dream – that’s part two of the routine.)‘I understand what’s your thought’‘Tell you later!’ (I’d wanted to know what she though of my dreaming about her so.)‘Take care of yourself. I like you regard me as an adult~~~ You can tell me everything you thought, about sex…’‘Yes I think so! :-) and you are manly too’‘Sorry, I meant include sex.’ (Her meaning was ‘I meant to say you were sexy also.’)
The next day we met again, but just for an afternoon. And while we spent it in bed, we did not make love. As we idled together, talking, she worried out loud that, if we made love, I’d then lose interest; and so I likely would, I thought to myself.
But yet… as I lay there, just cuddling, it was rather sweet, and I felt whispers of emotion. She fitted in my arms snug and light; cool against my body, even under the duvet, light, sweet. Slender as she is, her body lies against mine nice. When I’d carried her into the bedroom it was as a scrap of silk – she is featherweight, 45 kilos or so. With a bulkier woman it takes each body a few hours to adjust to each other, and so cuddling soon becomes too warm, sticky, under the duvet, after lights out, until the cooler small hours and the body’s adjustment. But she was just right, and it was good. She’d be fun in bed, I was sure, and promises of it percolated through the afternoon, how she straddled me, pressed into me.
I could see that she’d take a little more persuasion before she gave herself to me wholly, but I knew I’d be able to persuade her to yield, and that she had the potential to be a fine lover. She would not be a great lover to start with, of course. Women here, I have often found, are cautious lovers at first, having been raised to suppress their sexual side. I was well aware, for example, that when I went down on her it would cause her to squirm at first. She’d find it dirty, wrong, product of this society as she cannot help but be. Mona, for example, in telling me about a new local boyfriend, said ‘But I will have to hide how experienced I am with him. He wouldn’t like that at all. He has to feel like he’s in charge and I don’t know anything.’
But I was pleased Christine she felt I saw her as a woman – that too would help bring her to me, for her parents and sap of a boyfriend only make her feel like a child. Perhaps if I was a bit more honorable she would be child in my eyes too, for, when I first got to know her, she had not quite turned 20. But that youth fired me rather than cooled me, and so I carried on with my pursuit.
This time, after she’d left (to hurry home for her 6pm curfew) I made sure to send messages after her:-
‘I miss you too. Tell you a good news. Maybe I can stay with you a whole night this Saturday.’‘You can compare with superman! 快去吃饭！谁叫你中午不吃完上又不吃的！’‘We must make love on Sunday?’ (I replied to say that it was totally up to her. And of course it was; I would respect whatever choice she made – but would do my best to persuade her to choose yes).‘Oh I see! Thank you! You are very kind! I love you! Kiss~’‘Do you have free time after 6 tomorrow?’‘算了当我没说’‘噢!Maybe I can stay with you all night. I’ll try my best.’‘Try my best!’
And so we met to spend the night together. She was a little early at the rendezvous, which seemed to me a measure of the keenness she had for the encounter. I suggested eating – was she hungry? She was, and she wanted to eat at McDonalds. This made my lip curl, rather – such trashy bland pap. It made me think less of her, though she did not quite see my distaste. But I pushed the feeling down – after all, she was only 19, and so it was no surprise she has the tastes of a teenager. And the more mercenary angle of it occurred to me too – junk food a cheap and quick precursor to sex. What need for candles and romance?

Seducing Christine #2

2006-08-13T04:45:00.000+08:00

Sunday, August 13, 2006

During that coffee with Christine I’d almost made a slip. She’d said something – I forget what – that made it unclear how she’d got my email, and gave the impression she’d got it from a friend. I half followed up this comment, but in doing so almost gave away that I did not recall where I’d met her. But by switching back to what I had thought to be the case (that she had got it from the university people) I was able to cover my error (something which was eased by her only moderate command of English) and thus hide from her the fact she was, to me, at that point, essentially wholly random.The messages that we exchanged after that coffee soon came towards the point, and I asked if next time I could see her all night.
‘Ha ha, I think it’s impossible’ she replied. ‘But if you can come to Wuxi (the city where she studies) maybe we can stay all night’
That was a promising reply, yet she remained a little unsure (and that of course made her the easier to seduce) and followed it with another message to say, ‘You can laughing now. I’m silly, right?’
A week or so after that coffee, I found myself with a free day, due to a cancelled class, all the students having been packed off to learn the sparkling profundities of the Three Representatives. Or was it the ‘Seven Goods and Seven Bads’? Or the ‘Four Maybes, One Yes and Three Don’ts’? Some such specious dreck.
And so, suddenly free, I messaged her suggesting a meet. She accepted with alacrity, as I knew she would since her messages the intervening days had been green lights all the way. We met at a big mall near People’s Square, her clad in a pink dress covered with blue polka dots which fluttered in the warm breeze, wrapping itself more closely around the contours of her body. But we did not linger, soon heading home so I could ‘show her my flat.’ This of course was a euphemism, and she showed she knew it by the tense, expectant way she sat in the cab. She knew it was sex, I knew it was sex. But I also knew that this was no easy green light. She would still need persuading, cajoling. And indeed she then seemed to set up a get-out, telling me ‘My stomach aches.’ This, of course, meant she had her period, at which I felt a brief surge of chagrin. So maybe I was wrong, I thought, and we would not be lovers today. But then I thought again; she was, after all, coming back with me. Whatever happened, this was most surely not merely a matter of ‘showing her my flat.’
Her nervousness increased once we got back to my flat, but I did not let that stop me too long, clipping her in my arms and angling for a kiss. She tensed, but did not pull away; let me kiss, but did not respond. And in this she was just like when I was seducing Tingting; bursts of passion mixed with stretches of reluctance. She’d kiss back for a moment or two, then withdraw again. Yet clearly she was interested, not murmuring for me to stop as I caressed her body.
I was sitting on the dining room table as this took place, her in my arms, her body held between my knees. I wanted to take her to the bedroom – which of course met with much protest from her, ‘No, no, I can’t, I am not a bad girl..’ Yet even so she let me lead her there. At the threshold she stopped; so I just picked her up – she is light, lithe -- and carried her to the bed.
It took a while, her passive and active by turns; a battle between what she wanted to do, and what she was conditioned to do. Again like Tingting, she wanted to be persuaded, wanted to be talked round. And some sweet words, some whispered ‘darlings’ and my assurance that she was not at all a bad girl allowed me to begin to undress her.
And now her reluctance showed for what it was, a mere veneer, for she began to return kiss for kiss, and now with interest, with passion, none of the perfunctory, cool response of before. Now she willingly let me unzip her zip, slip her cute pink skirt up over her head, to reveal her smooth body, her bra, which, unusually, was not a padded one, for her breasts did not need it.
Indeed, she even worried out loud to me that her breasts were too big – a rare worry for a woman here to have. More than this, she was actively apologetic about the size of her breasts, telling me, ‘I hope you don’t mind… I don’t like it..’ And while I tried to convince her that they were wonderful, exciting, sexy, well-shaped, she was reluctant to believe me.
But she was still not fully ready, for she would not let me take her panties off, though I very much wanted to see her naked. But she was pretty sure about keeping her panties (tight fitting white cotton sporty type) on, and I accepted it was as a result of having her period rather than fear of fucking, for by this time I knew she was not a virgin. And so I did not push the matter. Why should I? I now knew that getting was I wanted was just a matter of time. There was no hurry – indeed, the anticipation made it all the more interesting.
I, naturally, was already naked, and at first she refused to look at my cock. And for our whole time abed she was not quite comfortable with it. She half wanted to look, half was afraid to. So I had to ease her hand down there, and then she did caress me a little, but nervously, unsure.
She did gratify me with murmurs as to its size – which murmurs, given her general innocence, could not have been calculated enough to be flattery. ‘It’s so much bigger than my boyfriend’s...His is just…’ and here she tailed off.
Ah, her boyfriend, who she mentioned to me before as something of a playboy, a handsome guy, runner after women. This is palpably rubbish, for what she went on to tell me shows he was no sort of lover. Kissing, caressing, I asked her if she enjoyed sex. ‘Sometimes..’ she said, with not much enthusiasm. In our resulting conversation I learned that she has been with him two years. And in this two years they have made love …six times. So few that it is easy for her to remember each time – each time, I tell myself (with little risk of being wrong) brief and unimaginative. I could easily imagine his technique – brief, hasty, furtive, bumbling; taking, not giving. Six times in two years! I knew that next time we met I would show her more than she’d dreamt of.

Seducing Christine

2006-08-11T04:43:00.000+08:00

Friday, August 11, 2006

Some months ago – never mind how long precisely – a new contact popped up online, greeting me with what have become very standard words - ‘Hi, do you remember me?’
Quite how a student expects me to remember them when they first contact me I do not know, given that all I see of them is their sign-in name which, even if it is a variation of their real name and not a more creative handle, gives no clue to their identity since I seldom teach any one group of students for long enough to get to know their names. And yet, after every class wraps up, four or five students will begin a conversation with those very words.
But given that in this case the sign-in name of this new interlocutor, Christine, was clearly female, I judged it best to make it seem as if I did recall her, and so I gave my catch-all answer, ‘I taught you English, right?’
She told me that this was right, and she was glad I remembered her.
By dint of asking open-ended questions I established she was a student who’d come to one of the universities I work at for an oral exam, and that she got my email from the information form used at that interview. But still I was unable to remember anything specific about her. However, given my penchant for the Lucky Dip, I let the conversation grow and unfold, and, by its end, had agreed to meet her for coffee during the following few days. For even though I was not quite sure who she was, I liked the pot luck of going to meet her. The anticipation of who willbe waiting for me in the coffee shop (or wherever the rendezvous is) is always stimulating.
Now it so happens – with a dash of the chance, the pattern, the echo that I so relish in life – that this very same day that I met the (at that point) random woman was the day Clarissa flew overseas to her new life. I thought of Clarissa all that morning and particularly at 2pm when, me amid a class of guppies, she flew out. I knew I would miss her a lot, and so I did, for I was falling in love with her.
But this did not make me any bit more reflective, for I still kept the appointment I had made to have coffee with this woman who I remembered nothing about. And thus even as one woman left, a woman I cared greatly about, I was off questing after another.
Yet even as I was going to meet Christine, I ran into Amy. Amy was a staffer who worked in the accounts firm that’s in the same building I live in. I’d got to know her a little, and had come to the conclusion she was pretty certain, and passably cute with it. She’d emailed me once or twice to tell me the sense of frustration she felt in her life, asking if I thought she should take the risk to change to a new job. Naturally I urged her to do so; but more to the point, in the email in which she asked that she also referred to her ‘husband.’
She had mentioned this guy to me before, when we’d shared a coffee. But that time she’d told me he was her boyfriend. Either in the present email that use of ‘husband’ was a mere slip, or, last time, she’d lied to me; and if she had, it was a fine sign indeed. There’s but one reason a woman downgrades a husband to a boyfriend, and it is the same reason that she airbrushes her other lovers out of her life altogether when meeting a new guy.
But at that time I was busy with other women and other classes, and so I decided merely to put her on pause and maybe apply myself to her a little later on. Fundamentally she was dull; but dull and cute, and a fuck’s a fuck.
And so keeping matters brief with Amy, I headed off to the rendezvous with Christine.
If there was a moral plan to the world it would have been just deserts for my scoundrelly ways if she had turned out to be a fright – but not so; the woman who arrived to greet me was young, sexy, snappily dressed and, I was sure within a very few moments, almost certainly a cinch to seduce. And I did now remember her from the interview, and remembered being rather struck with her.
She was young, just 20 – which, in this culture often means more like 15 in emotional outlook -- and she was indeed 15 in some ways, a little timid, and most certainly corralled and controlled by her parents.
She told me she could only stay for two hours, since her parents had told her to be back home by half past six. She also told me her mother had, at first, wanted to come with her but had settled for getting my phone number from her. Such parents! They give her the curfew of a ten year old.
I told her she had partly herself to blame for accepting this. She said she had tried to change her parents’ minds… but obviously had not tried hard enough.
As we talked, I assessed her. Not great looking, but good, and rather a trim body. I felt it would not be too hard to charm her to bed; indeed, as, later, I walked back with her to the tube, my arm guiding her from time to time, I was sure I was home; and had the train not been quite so crowded, I’d have kissed her as we parted. I sent a follow up message saying I had enjoyed meeting her, and that she was cute. She replied in kind, and we exchanged a couple more messages in the same vein during the rest of the evening.
But I was sure Christine was not quite the wholesale innocent she appeared, for she had a boyfriend (at the time; he is long since gone). ‘Do your parents know?’ I asked of this boyfriend – expecting and getting the too-common look of amused horror on her face – ‘Of course not! They would kill me!’
It is an old story; parents here seldom know the truth of their daughters’ lives. Eve, my full-time girlfriend, for example, has to lie to her mother every time she stays with me. No matter that she is 25, and, in a few days, flying off to begin her postgrad studies in Canada, she must still tell her mother (who is, by the way, a pleasant and friendly woman) that she is going to stay with a girlfriend. As with Eve, so too with Ellen, Jingjing, Mona; again and again women here pull the wool over their parents’ eyes wholesale, a lie necessitated by the older generation’s failure to see what life is today.
Sure, Christine looked and acted the virgin, but while I was not so gross as to ask, I suspected she was not; she told me her guy was a bit of a rogue so I concluded he had put her to it – opening a path for me, I hope.

Chasing Clarissa

2006-08-09T04:42:00.000+08:00

Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Clarissa was bright, vibrant, electric when we met. She’d been at an office party and had clearly had a couple of drinks, a tinge of flush to her face, animation in her manner, eyes sparkling. She was, in short, even more stimulating than I remembered her from class.
As we drank and listened to the jazz naturally my words (and hands) became wider, more expansive.
‘You’re leading me along, like a fox’ she said -- but didn’t stop me. And indeed her talk was sexual and her body language mirrored mine. So we had a good evening of it. She enjoyed my flattery and attentions, and it seemed to be going well to me, though several times she told me she was faithful to her husband. Now the mere fact she said this was a clear enough sign she knew what was in the offing. And when she went on to tell me that she let her husband think she was a virgin on their wedding night, my hopes rose.
Letting him think this was not a lie, she said, since he did not ask and she did not, thus, deny. But still it was a crack into which I felt I might drive a wedge.
Smart as she is, of course she knew this when she told me.
Later, the more I thought it over, the more I was inclined to wonder if I had not been played, and played with some expertise at that. If I was, it is no matter, for after all I was playing a role too, and if she was indeed playing me, I was content to be played.
Yes, she was good. ‘I’m going to go home, have a bath, and wait for my husband to come home in the morning.. and maybe fuck me.’ Now there’s a rare thing to hear – such verbal directness is rather rare in Chinese women. Yes, they will be emotionally direct, but even then their words are often couched in more delicate terms.
I played along with Clarissa’s provocativeness in, I guess, a pretty obvious way – ‘How about some pix?’
‘No way!’ she said, before telling me that they had taken pix, and a film, of their lovemaking. A sexy woman altogether! But even with this fire she tried to bank and ebb my ardor, telling me she was happy with this husband, and that they were good together in bed. I asked why she had married so young – she is around 24 – she said, sexy smiling, ‘To save the cost of going to hotels all the time!’
As the jazz wound down and the crowd thinned I noticed a hooker trying to close a fat Westerner on the table next to me. She was past her prime and I doubt he had ever been in it; and her play-acting, now loving, now cold, now happy, now hurt, was pretty risible.
But she saw me looking and flashed me a smile of complicity –‘Yeah, this fat slob ain’t much, is he?,’ her glance said. And I was briefly taken in, briefly felt a sympathy for her in her unhappy lot, before the clarity of the corollary meaning of her glance stuck me in all its obvious truth – she was trying to establish a tie with me in case it did not work out with fat guy, for then I might be her night’s fee.
When it was time to go, Clarissa at first wanted to go alone, but I said I would drop her home and then go on my way. ‘I know what you want’ she said, and of course she was right.
By chance her home is near Gloria’s, and, as we headed there in the cab, past the familiar buildings and territories of my relationship with Gloria’s, this restaurant, that coffee bar, I did feel a slight sense of melancholy at the upset I caused in her life and the messy, astonishing way our relationship ended (I shall write it up in due course.)
But of course I did not stay melancholy for long. Saying ‘Come here,’ to Clarissa, I drew her to me for a cuddle, which she allowed, gladly. Naturally I caressed her, and this too was okay. As also were one or two kisses, but not too much of that, for she pulled away. I eased her back and she lay in my lap. Then I erred, blowing in her ear. Earlier, in the bar I had caressed her earlobe and the effect was strong.. she arched, and said ‘Don’t.. that makes me…’ These words of course had the opposite effect, making me all the more keen to caress her there.
But now in the cab that soft puff of air in her ear was too much, and she pulled away, a scalded and no longer sexy cat; and indeed was quite irate, for when I put my arm to her again, it was ‘NO!’ and ‘DON’T’ in tones increasing peremptory and strident.
I let her cool awhile and tried again. She had not cooled. The opposite. So this riled me a bit – no one shouts at me, I thought, in my semi-drunk choler (for I can be a dyspeptic, arrogant fuck when the beer takes me a certain way and my pride is dented) – and so I became insouciant, detached (a mistake I was later to make with Tingting, though that mistake is now healed, forgotten, and she is back in my life).
My cool goodnight to Clarissa was met with, ‘Now I’ll see what you’re really like.’ In saying that, she was referring to conversation earlier in the evening.
In that conversation, she had told me she had avoided meeting me in person thus far, preferring to keep our acquaintance net based. Why? I asked. ‘Because if we met, I knew what you would want.’
Quite right. And I admitted it; ‘Yes, to be truthful, I do want that..’
‘You admit it?!’
‘Yes, but that’s not all I want.. I like you a lot and enjoy your company even if we don’t…’
She was doubtful.
‘Well, you will be able to tell … if nothing happens tonight and I never call you again,’ I said.
Hence her parting shot, hence that ‘We’ll see what you’re really like.’ She meant that if fuck was all I wanted, she would not expect to hear from me again, but that if my claim of liking her company was true, I would keep in touch.
I remember as I rode home in the cab thinking, What am I really like? I could not decide for sure. That night, I blocked her chat profile and was inclined to leave it so, for I felt she was playing me and wanted an admirer, preferably rich and definitely hands off; which was no role for me.

Fascination

2006-08-04T04:41:00.000+08:00

Friday, August 04, 2006

So Clarissa, a woman who has the most powerful effect on me – intoxicating, captivating, maddening.
As are they all, she was a student in class; but she was, is, nothing like the average student. I’d written up a bunch of adjectives on the board (or ‘abjectives’ as I now think of them, after Tingting’s neologism – Tingting who, to my surprise and delight, is now back in my life again) one of which I’d misspelled. Now this happens fairly frequently (not because I am illiterate but rather because I tend to talk and write at the same time, and thus my concentration lapses) and students almost never point it out, even when the error is egregious, say writing ‘somethig’ for ‘something’ (at which point I’ll turn it into a little homily, telling them this passive approach will not do in the West). But Clarissa, bold and confident, raised her hand and pointed it out.
And thus began my admiration for her.
Among the hundreds – thousands – of students who have come and gone, she stands out with total clarity. Even the word I spelled wrong – ‘choas’ for ‘chaos’ -- glitters bright in my mind, burnished by memories of her, and each time I write it in a class she is uppermost on my mind. Equally vivid in my mind is how, at the end of the second class, she stayed behind after to ask me some vocabulary, wondering how to say ‘小便’ (‘to piss’)
Perhaps these foundations to our relationship have shaped the edifice we have created together; bold, straightforward, honest – but also sexy, secret, intimate.
Both these elements were right there at the beginning -- the sex so much so that even that first time she talked with me after class I had to pull down my jumper. Hoping to get to know her outside the class, she was one of the rare few (like Ceecee) to whom I gave my card.
Sometime later, when she messaged me online from Guilin, I failed to recognize it was her. But the next time she did so, I worked it out… and our conversation rose from the polite to the excitable – stoked in part by her, asking me if I had heard of the term ‘MBA.’
‘Master of Business Administration…?’‘Married but Available.’
And from there our conversation grew more open. She is an adventurous sort, having had an older, richer, married lover before she got married. This is unusual, even with all China’s much-touted modernity. Many people here still marry their first boyfriend or girlfriend, and a sizeable proportion are virgins when they marry.
Clarissa told me how she had felt deeply for this guy, but how their relationship had come to nothing, he unable to be anything more than a lover, his social position ruling out any possibility of something more permanent between them.
This is something I have found time and again in Chinese women; their great openness – even need – to talk about their emotional lives; to talk of love, sex, of romance and passion, of affairs and cheating, of desires hidden and hopes quelled.
It’s not because I am especially sensitive, or profound (and certainly not trustworthy) – it is rather that there is just no outlet for this in their Chinese life; they cannot talk about it with Chinese men. (On which note: I do tend to make these sweeping statements about Chinese men, and such generalizations are often unwise. But while I do not mean to say that all Chinese guys are alike (far from it) I do still feel there are traits that many have in common. And this rather limp approach to love and passion is one of them, as is a rather antediluvian attitude to women. Frequently in class I ask my male students, ‘If in the future, when you were married, your wife earned more than you, how would you feel?’ About 70% of them tell me they would feel uneasy, or humiliated, and that it is the man’s duty to earn more than the woman. I will then ask the women what they think of that, and their most general answer is something along the lines of ‘It’s an absurd attitude but that is what guys are like.’ I will also often ask, ‘If your wife had a better job than you, and asked you to stay home to look after your child, would you?’ Utter shock unrolls across the student’s face at the thought of this, at its (to him) sheer absurdity. (It is as ludicrous a proposition to him as if I said ‘Taiwan is not part of China.’ Taiwan is of course part of China, just as it is a woman who should raise the kids. That there could be any other truth to the matter is simply inconceivable.) The women students generally roar with laughter too, at the idea that a Chinese guy could ever be relaxed enough about himself to do this. As with money, so with education. A Chinese guy, in general, will not be comfortable with a woman who has a higher education than him. Thus the saying current here, ‘In China there are three genders – men, women, and women with PhDs.’)
And thus, later, when Clarissa and I met face to face (a meeting she suggested, to my deep joy) our conversation soon dived beyond the trivial, down into these emotional depths, the truths she needed to tell. She’d suggested meeting near Shanghai’s Donghu Hotel, a venue in which, just a few weeks before, I had been running down another unhappily married woman, Carolyn. She too is one I never got (for in truth my hits are more than my misses) and has since dropped out of sight wholly. This Carolyn was, at the time, on the verge of initiating divorce and, later, sent me semi-cryptic text messages suggesting she had initiated it. But despite my replies I never saw her again.
No great matter for that (though I still think of her, for, having not got her, she is more stuck in my mind than she would be if I had). To my wolvish pleasure, the Donghu Hotel was, at that time, just near the very bar for my plans, JZ, a jazz club which has since relocated (and which is mentioned here. This rather good site clued me into the fact they had a new singer for Monday nights and thus, last week, when Kay (a woman worth an entry who I will get round to soon) wanted me to take her out for an evening, to cheer her in her misery (caused by her married lover’s casual treatment of her) that was where I chose. JZ is a sexy sort of place, good for a seduction, and as there is a sexual thing between Kay and me, it was a fine choice.)

Fucking Mona

2006-07-30T04:38:00.000+08:00

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Dinner with Mona was as I was sure it would be.
We’d met, and first she’d shown me her dorm, which she had to keep on so that she could pretend to be living there – for if the university found she had rented her own apartment she would be expelled. The dorm was not quite so spartan as others I have seen, such as those at Shang Wai, though was still mostly a big poured concrete box, with correctional facility overtones.
And then to the wet market, where we made the film I had planned, a large crowd of onlookers staring as we did so. That done, it was still early, so we returned to her flat and watched a couple of episodes of some sexy American sitcom which she’d heard about but never seen. A good choice of viewing, given my plans for the evening.
I said she would soon have to pay what we’d agreed for me bringing her these DVDs – the pay being a kiss, which we had teased about on MSN. She was still a little nervous, not yet warmed, so she blushed and murmured, and I did not press for the kiss. There would be time for it later, and I knew that the sexy language of the show we were watching would help change the mood. Finding it for her was easy; the DVD pirates are one of the city’s many wonders. Just today, for example, I found a copy of ‘Le Comte Ory,’ one of my favorite operas, but one that is a little obscure. (Rossini suits my essentially ephemeral character.)
And so when we were cooking I took the kiss, holding her under the chin and tilting her lips towards me. Still a little shy, she did not meet me with her eyes, but the response of her lips was quite enough to show how the evening would end. This kiss was spiced by the loose, shapeless housecoat thing she’d put on while cooking, having modestly closed her door as she changed out of the showy dress she’d worn to meet me. Even though this garment would well become a 50 year old Shanghai housewife with big hair, on her slender body it fell forward enough to reveal that she was naked under but for panties.
And after eating and washing up (more romantic than you might think, with its chances for caresses, warm water, suds) we made love. Kissing first, gently nibbling and caressing her; and like Tulip, like Lucy, soft breath in her ear made her wilder.
Blowing in a woman’s ear, kissing and caressing her there, feels cheesy to me; feels like the kind of thing the guy who has read his ‘Guide to a woman’s erogenous zones’ would do. It does not feel authentic – it is too clichéd, too obvious. But it works.
I eased my shirt over my head and then slipped the hem of her dress upward, first to see pink latticed and bowed panties, clearly chosen for their look; and then over her belly up to her breasts. Petite, and, thus, for me, most erotic. Big, broad aureoles, wide enough indeed to be out of proportion to the size of the breast. But cute, cute. So I played there a while before kissing back down; then she took off the dress and I the rest of my clothes – then her panties for the first glimpse of her pussy. Compact, tight, needed a trim on top. And so the oral, which I dearly love, as did she – but far more controlled, restrained than Lucy. Her passion was deeper, more locked, sighs and sips.
This country, this society being what it is, I had wondered if she too was a virgin, and while her control here, lack of nervousness, made me think not, that opinion was balanced by some seeming inexperience elsewhere as we cavorted. And while I was sure she enjoyed it, I was not sure I made her come.
It was a fine night with her, sexy and wholly satisfying, though not quite so wild as Lucy was the first time. Mona was not so unreservedly passionate and, a little to my irritation, told me, ‘It’s my special time of the month.’ I was prepared for this at least, clued into it in part by the lengthy amount of time she spent in the bathroom before we made love but more by the bloodied towel I saw hidden half around the u-bend. Later, when we were talking, I leveraged this into an accolade. When she’d said it was her ‘special time’ I’d said I knew; after we’d made love, passion spent, she now wanted to know how. So I told her she had seemed tired and a little pale yesterday, and even that she had walked a little wearily – which was true, indeed, though at the time I did not draw the conclusion that she had her period. But anyhow, the tale I now told her made me think me ‘很厉害.’
The next morning, she had to get up at 6 for the mandatory exercise her martinet university insists on, and then a lecture at 8.20. Her university day was over at 9.30 a.m, an hour when it should not even have begun.
It’s little wonder China is still a third-rate country. It will never be anything more than the world’s service shop until it stops treating its people as commodities.
I dozed until about 9 and then sat on her pink-covered bed in her pink-walled Pudong apartment typing what was the original of this entry until she came home. Having just been going over the night before in my mind, I was feeling ready and horny, and keen to see her lovely body again, those cute breasts. I put her in my lap, kissed and caressed, undressed and ate her… as before, I was not sure if she quite orgasmed; for tho’ she sure enjoyed it, there was no clear peak, no obvious climax, no pushing away of my head as with Yan or other lovers; and so either my skill lacking or she is still an ingénue that way.
However, after that, she did not really want me to penetrate her, telling me she was tired. But I guessed that more likely she meant sore, for, physically, she was the slightest women I had been with. Maybe half the bulk of me, at most. And while this made her a great lover, easy to position, lithe and responsive, it also meant that now, the next morning, she somewhat ached.
And so I made no fuss over it, was polite and understanding. ‘You’re a very gentleman’ she said – and I did not correct her either on the sentiment or the grammar, though both were wrong.
We dozed an hour, 90 minutes, and then I got dressed and she walked me to the bus stop.
Now going to the bus stop might seem the action of a cheapskate. But that is a too-hasty interpretation. Taking the bus here is, in fact, a rather positive thing to do. In general, Chinese people are often surprised when a foreigner can talk Chinese, and even more surprised if he or she can read it. Locals thus expect foreigners to travel almost exclusively by cab, in part because of the language problems (overcome by the Chinese person telling the cabbie where to go) and in part because they believe money is no object to expats. Taking a bus, therefore, shows a certain familiarity and ease with Chinese society, and that goes down very well. For while the moneyed life of many expats is a matter of aspiration and envy to local society, it is also a slight sticking point, an angle of envy, contention. Showing respect for the culture, being willing to live like a local, and able to speak and read Chinese some – all this helps.
And so taking the bus by oneself is a good thing; it shows that one is willing to make oneself a part of society. Naturally, when with the woman in question, one takes a cab.
Once on the bus I turned on my mobile. I’d left it off the night after it rang when I was between her thighs. That time, we both ignored it, and I then turned it off when we were lying prone on the bed after making love.
And now, on the bus, as I turned it back on, an sms from Tulip arrived, saying she had called me but I was turned off or engaged, and asking was I busy this afternoon, how about lunch?
This was most convenient, as right then I was heading to Lujiazui, right near her office. And so I arranged to wait for her by the Orient Pearl Tower, a hideous monstrosity of a building, all communist boasting and ugliness, with the touts and tourists peering at me as at a strange fish.
I remember thinking as I sat waiting for her of what to tell her. Should I explain my switched-off phone by saying, `I was in a class?’ Or should I say, ‘I was seeing a friend’? Or should I say ‘I was seeing a ‘friend.’”? Now, sure, to let her know I was seeing her right after another woman could be taken as an insult. But also she is a little intrigued by this free and open sexuality of mine, and I think hearing about it gives her a charge, a thrill, and that’s something worth aiming for. And so some measure of honesty might have been fruitful.
But one must not plan these things too carefully. And so I simply decided to wait and see, play it by ear.
Right on time she rolled up, at our usual meeting spot, in her blue car; a sigh and catch in my heart as she did so, as I stood to walk toward her, open the door, take in the scent of the car’s perfumed interior, sight of her lovely profile…

Fucking Mona

2006-07-30T02:56:00.000+08:00

July 30th

Dinner with Mona was as I was sure it would be.
We’d met, and first she’d shown me her dorm, which she had to keep on so that she could pretend to be living there – for if the university found she had rented her own apartment she would be expelled. The dorm was not quite so spartan as others I have seen, such as those at Shang Wai, though was still mostly a big poured concrete box, with correctional facility overtones.
And then to the wet market, where we made the film I had planned, a large crowd of onlookers staring as we did so. That done, it was still early, so we returned to her flat and watched a couple of episodes of some sexy American sitcom which she’d heard about but never seen. A good choice of viewing, given my plans for the evening.
I said she would soon have to pay what we’d agreed for me bringing her these DVDs – the pay being a kiss, which we had teased about on MSN. She was still a little nervous, not yet warmed, so she blushed and murmured, and I did not press for the kiss. There would be time for it later, and I knew that the sexy language of the show we were watching would help change the mood. Finding it for her was easy; the DVD pirates are one of the city’s many wonders. Just today, for example, I found a copy of ‘Le Comte Ory,’ one of my favorite operas, but one that is a little obscure. (Rossini suits my essentially ephemeral character.)
And so when we were cooking I took the kiss, holding her under the chin and tilting her lips towards me. Still a little shy, she did not meet me with her eyes, but the response of her lips was quite enough to show how the evening would end. This kiss was spiced by the loose, shapeless housecoat thing she’d put on while cooking, having modestly closed her door as she changed out of the showy dress she’d worn to meet me. Even though this garment would well become a 50 year old Shanghai housewife with big hair, on her slender body it fell forward enough to reveal that she was naked under but for panties.
And after eating and washing up (more romantic than you might think, with its chances for caresses, warm water, suds) we made love. Kissing first, gently nibbling and caressing her; and like Tulip, like Lucy, soft breath in her ear made her wilder.
Blowing in a woman’s ear, kissing and caressing her there, feels cheesy to me; feels like the kind of thing the guy who has read his ‘Guide to a woman’s erogenous zones’ would do. It does not feel authentic – it is too clichéd, too obvious. But it works.
I eased my shirt over my head and then slipped the hem of her dress upward, first to see pink latticed and bowed panties, clearly chosen for their look; and then over her belly up to her breasts. Petite, and, thus, for me, most erotic. Big, broad aureoles, wide enough indeed to be out of proportion to the size of the breast. But cute, cute. So I played there a while before kissing back down; then she took off the dress and I the rest of my clothes – then her panties for the first glimpse of her pussy. Compact, tight, needed a trim on top. And so the oral, which I dearly love, as did she – but far more controlled, restrained than Lucy. Her passion was deeper, more locked, sighs and sips.
This country, this society being what it is, I had wondered if she too was a virgin, and while her control here, lack of nervousness, made me think not, that opinion was balanced by some seeming inexperience elsewhere as we cavorted. And while I was sure she enjoyed it, I was not sure I made her come.
It was a fine night with her, sexy and wholly satisfying, though not quite so wild as Lucy was the first time. Mona was not so unreservedly passionate and, a little to my irritation, told me, ‘It’s my special time of the month.’ I was prepared for this at least, clued into it in part by the lengthy amount of time she spent in the bathroom before we made love but more by the bloodied towel I saw hidden half around the u-bend. Later, when we were talking, I leveraged this into an accolade. When she’d said it was her ‘special time’ I’d said I knew; after we’d made love, passion spent, she now wanted to know how. So I told her she had seemed tired and a little pale yesterday, and even that she had walked a little wearily – which was true, indeed, though at the time I did not draw the conclusion that she had her period. But anyhow, the tale I now told her made me think me ‘很厉害.’
The next morning, she had to get up at 6 for the mandatory exercise her martinet university insists on, and then a lecture at 8.20. Her university day was over at 9.30 a.m, an hour when it should not even have begun.
It’s little wonder China is still a third-rate country. It will never be anything more than the world’s service shop until it stops treating its people as commodities.
I dozed until about 9 and then sat on her pink-covered bed in her pink-walled Pudong apartment typing what was the original of this entry until she came home. Having just been going over the night before in my mind, I was feeling ready and horny, and keen to see her lovely body again, those cute breasts. I put her in my lap, kissed and caressed, undressed and ate her… as before, I was not sure if she quite orgasmed; for tho’ she sure enjoyed it, there was no clear peak, no obvious climax, no pushing away of my head as with Yan or other lovers; and so either my skill lacking or she is still an ingénue that way.
However, after that, she did not really want me to penetrate her, telling me she was tired. But I guessed that more likely she meant sore, for, physically, she was the slightest women I had been with. Maybe half the bulk of me, at most. And while this made her a great lover, easy to position, lithe and responsive, it also meant that now, the next morning, she somewhat ached.
And so I made no fuss over it, was polite and understanding. ‘You’re a very gentleman’ she said – and I did not correct her either on the sentiment or the grammar, though both were wrong.
We dozed an hour, 90 minutes, and then I got dressed and she walked me to the bus stop.
Now going to the bus stop might seem the action of a cheapskate. But that is a too-hasty interpretation. Taking the bus here is, in fact, a rather positive thing to do. In general, Chinese people are often surprised when a foreigner can talk Chinese, and even more surprised if he or she can read it. Locals thus expect foreigners to travel almost exclusively by cab, in part because of the language problems (overcome by the Chinese person telling the cabbie where to go) and in part because they believe money is no object to expats. Taking a bus, therefore, shows a certain familiarity and ease with Chinese society, and that goes down very well. For while the moneyed life of many expats is a matter of aspiration and envy to local society, it is also a slight sticking point, an angle of envy, contention. Showing respect for the culture, being willing to live like a local, and able to speak and read Chinese some – all this helps.
And so taking the bus by oneself is a good thing; it shows that one is willing to make oneself a part of society. Naturally, when with the woman in question, one takes a cab.
Once on the bus I turned on my mobile. I’d left it off the night after it rang when I was between her thighs. That time, we both ignored it, and I then turned it off when we were lying prone on the bed after making love.
And now, on the bus, as I turned it back on, an sms from Tulip arrived, saying she had called me but I was turned off or engaged, and asking was I busy this afternoon, how about lunch?
This was most convenient, as right then I was heading to Lujiazui, right near her office. And so I arranged to wait for her by the Orient Pearl Tower, a hideous monstrosity of a building, all communist boasting and ugliness, with the touts and tourists peering at me as at a strange fish.
I remember thinking as I sat waiting for her of what to tell her. Should I explain my switched-off phone by saying, `I was in a class?’ Or should I say, ‘I was seeing a friend’? Or should I say ‘I was seeing a ‘friend.’”? Now, sure, to let her know I was seeing her right after another woman could be taken as an insult. But also she is a little intrigued by this free and open sexuality of mine, and I think hearing about it gives her a charge, a thrill, and that’s something worth aiming for. And so some measure of honesty might have been fruitful.
But one must not plan these things too carefully. And so I simply decided to wait and see, play it by ear.
Right on time she rolled up, at our usual meeting spot, in her blue car; a sigh and catch in my heart as she did so, as I stood to walk toward her, open the door, take in the scent of the car’s perfumed interior, sight of her lovely profile…

This Week's Menu

2006-07-26T02:52:00.000+08:00

Monday, June 26, 2006

Having been busy every evening this week, I have had little chance for dinner and the chase – though I did fit in Anita on Wednesday and Clarissa on Tuesday.

Clarissa, whom I have mentioned in passing before, is back in China for a few months, having emigrated overseas last August. I remember the date she left very clearly, since the night before I had dinner with her and her husband (a good looking guy, but one who does not quite fulfill her). On the way back from that dinner, having given her a colossal hug goodbye (and him a handshake) some fat chick on the tube heading to the station to get a train back to her nearby hometown wanted to practice her English on me. Happy enough to oblige, I even gave her my phone number when she asked for it, and for 6 months after that put up with her mithering sms questions, and did it gladly too, for the sake of her random, tenuous connection to Clarissa. Fat girl (who I named in my phone address book merely as `some chick’) was a connection to the last day I saw Clarissa; that made her important. And that shows what Clarissa. is to me.

I did not know Clarissa was coming back. A few days ago, ten a.m, my mobile rings, with Clarissa’s name on the display. Not having had enough sleep from the night before I was groggy, confused. ‘Is that Clarissa?’ I asked. It was. ‘Where are you.. in China?’
‘Yes’ she said, and then, ‘trouble!’ and rang off. I did not quite know what to make of it. But a few minutes later, the doorbell. It was her. And to see her filled my heart with joy… She did not stay for long, telling me she had appointments to keep, but wanted me to be the first person she saw outside her family after arriving home.

But this lunch we had was more recent. At that lunch she brought her friend along, Snowy, who I had met at Clarissa’s wedding. Snowy too is married.

Clarissa had suggested we eat at the Changshu Lu branch of 博多新记. (It is an excellent place. Normally I go to the other branch of the same restaurant at Fuxing Xi Lu and Xiangyang Lu; indeed, that was where I began my seduction of Lingling. It is not as fine as some other places, but it has its own advantages. Prime among these – other than the great food – is the fact that it is overwhelmingly a local restaurant. It is rare to see foreigners in there, and no-one speaks English nor are the menus translated. Going there, then, gives the date the impression that I have truly embraced Shanghai, that I do not just move in the expat-only circles. It’s also worth a visit since the Heineken girl they have there is remarkably cute. But since I only ever go there with a date, it is pretty much impossible to do anything about the beer chick.)

Anyhow, at the Changshu branch, there were only outside tables were left when I arrived. I was sitting at one of these, waiting for her, my camera ready to picture her. Soon enough, she arrived and my heart leapt as she did…

But outside was too hot, she felt, so I suggested we walk down to the nearby Yang’s Kitchen, and there we had a nice lunch, easy conversation. Though Clarissa and I flirted, I began to see that Snowy was rather cute too.

At one point, Clarissa made a joke about married women finding lovers, and as she said it I raised my eyes to meet Snowy’s. She is rather sexy, and married women make the best lovers... She met my eyes with the briefest look of surprise, and then her features assumed a studied neutrality. I was not sure what to make of that.

As for Anita, she was a more or less random find. I was waiting at a subway stop to meet Feena last Friday (having decided to eschew Ellen, the sure thing, for the chance of Feena), when I saw a woman somewhat struggling to carry a bag down the steps descending to the station concourse. I strode forward to help her (before I had even seen her face, so it was not a total pick-up). But she was rather good looking, and so at the bottom of the stairs we traded cards, leading to meeting for lunch on Wednesday. More of that later.

So this week I want to fit in various women; Angel and Suzie, for lunch on Tuesday and then Wednesday afternoon and evening with Ceecee. I also ought to see Jingjing, who I have pissed off, but having taken her home twice now, I am losing interest.

Angel and Suzie are a couple of students who have become friends with each other and me since meeting in a class I taught. In that class, I noticed Angel, since she was quite cute (a Shanghai girl, with Shanghai style, sharply dressed, confident, a little bit sassy) but not Suzie. However, I’d given the whole class my email, as usual, and it was Suzie who popped up to talk first.

That first time she chatted to me online, I saw she had a blog, so I checked it out just to see who she was, since at that point all I had to go on was her email name. The main picture on her blog wowed me – a snap of a girl kissing another girl. It was clearly a `real’ picture, not just one downloaded from a porny website. Since that was Suzie’s blog, and since one of the girls in the picture looked a little familiar, I wondered – hoped – that it was her.

A girl who has a picture of a girl kissing another girl on her blog is a girl I want to get to know.

And so I did. But I did not tell her I even knew she had a blog, and, suppressing the urge to ask, ‘So, you’re into other girls, then?’ I just laid some getting-to-know-you groundwork shit. Then, a few minutes after we’d begun chatting, another student, from the same class, popped up; this was Angel, though I did not know it at the time, and clearly Suzie had suggested she join in the conversation.

Though I didn’t know who this girl was, naturally I hoped it was the other girl in the pic – yet since these two were only classroom buddies that was unlikely. So all three of us talked until 11pm, at which time the electricity in their dorms (on different campuses) went off – Chinese university students being treated more like livestock than human beings.

A day or two later, I got a chatty SMS message from Angel; it was clear that Suzie had given her my number (the only place Angel could have got it). Prior to this, I’d arranged to see Suzie for coffee: now, she messaged me to ask if Angel could join us. This message gave me a frisson of excitement, as I fantasized that Suzie was engineering this with an eye on seducing Angel.

I went to that date determined to flirt but also to keep my conversation away from prurient questions about that picture, her sexuality. But the topic came up anyway, for, before Angel arrived, Suzie and I were talking about student life, and I’d mentioned something about a friend at Shanghai Maritime University. She seized on that name, and told me it was renowned for having many lesbian students. Did I know if this was true? she asked, and did I know any such people?, she wondered. More of this, too, later.

Finally I am keen to take Adina out to dinner once more. I have not had much luck in wooing her; there is certainly attraction there, and potential too. But she has made it clear that she is looking for something serious. So the only way I can get her is by making a proper play for her, and showing some commitment. And I am not sure I am ready for that; plus, of course, I already have Eve, my full time girlfriend, of whom I am very fond. Eve is leaving China for study in Canada later in the year, and I would like to keep our relationship tranquil until then. Getting with Adina would make my life a bit too complex – just an endless round of changing sheets and hiding trinkets.

Cheat meets Cheat

2006-07-23T02:56:00.000+08:00

July 23rd

And such chances there were. Mona showed herself quite a good player, giving me several opportunities to suggest seeing her, rather than asking directly (for that would make her seem too forward.)
M. hi, how r u?
D. fine.and u? do anything exciting since i chatted to u? busy today, or i would have called u and come over to help u move
M. it is ok .some of my classmates came and helped me.ty all the same:).and i am wondering if u could visit my new apartment when u have time.(mp) ,in ur last class,u asked us to describe a film.what tense should i use to describe it.past simple or present tense?
D. i would like to see ur apartment! maybe next week, when i have more free time. for the film, either tense is ok, and long as u use the same tense for the whole answer. but simple past is a little bit better
M. ok and if u have more free time,i would like to meet u at the coffee. chatting to u ~
M. i see
D. i'd like that... i think u'd be a lot of fun to spend time with
D. u seem to be quite unusual in some ways
M. maybe i am.but why do u think so ?
D. firstly, u like to live alone. that shows maturity and independence, which most ppl ur age lack.
D. then, u are very self confident... look how quickly we have become friends. that's also quite unusual
D. say u are bold, strong willed, confident
M. thank you and u r a good man too.homurous and sexy.ur class is very interesting.and maybe u don't know how much we enjoy it. and by the way ,u have just given me some more words to describe a people(F)
D. oh,ur too kind!
She's a modern woman, and she quite well knew what inviting me over to her apartment meant. Sure, it could have meant just friendship, or even that she wanted to test out her power; but by her demeanor in class and other actions I was confident it was more than that. And so this conversation was seduction mixed with schooling. I flattered her some, because everyone likes to hear they are unusual, unique, special (though even so there was much measure of truth in my words.) She is bolder than her peers. And her words to me, humorous and sexy? Of course she flattered me as much as I her – and, I guess with, the same goal in mind.
And so we set a date, a date I chose with some care, for though I had plenty of daytimes free, afternoons and mornings were not appropriate for my plans, which called for an overnight stay. Sure, we’d agreed I was going to see her flat; but really, I was going to see her bed, and her body. And also we agreed we would cook together, since at one point I mentioned how much I liked shopping at the city’s wet markets (one of the many pleasures of life here, being able to buy live fish, crabs and shrimp, chicken and duck, and being able to select from a vast array of vegetables.)
Sure, I could have taken her to a restaurant, but cooking together would, I knew, have its seductive qualities just as a restaurant has its. But also I had a wider goal here, which was to film our buying trip to the wet market, as part of the ‘this is my life’ film I was making for the folks back home.
Now at this point in my life I was still involved with Gloria, the woman I stole from her boyfriend, and she had been very keen to help me with this little project. But naturally I was not so keen on that, and did not want her too much on the tape, for just the same reason she wanted to be on it – that is, that it would show her a big part of my life.
I was getting rather bored of her, keen to end our relationship but not quite firm enough to do it, for doing so, I knew, would hurt her. So for example around this time she needed to go to hospital for some minor elective surgery, and I accompanied her there, arriving at around 9 a.m. Even though we’d arrived pretty early, the doctor had already gone to surgery, having begun his day (the one day a week he did operations) at half six. Chinese hospitals are not run efficiently enough to have an appointment system; the patient must just turn up and take pot luck.
Now Gloria had booked the day off from work, and her thought was that now we could spend it together, given that she was not going to get the operation. But I really did not want to spend a whole day with her, and so I got out of it by saying that while of course I did want to spend the day with her, she probably ought to go back to work. After all, I said, she would now need to book another day off to try to see the doctor the following week and her boss would wonder why, if she had not seen the doctor this day, she had not come back to work.
I remember this clearly because, later that day when I messaged her to say I felt bad about suggesting she go back to work, she replied that in fact she had been moved by the level of care this showed I had for her. And so what had been a ruse on my part to get out of spending the day with her appeared to her as a gesture of love. We see what we want to see.
This, at least, helped smooth the slightly ruffled mood I had caused in her when we’d met a few days before this. We had agreed to go swimming, and, as we walked to the tube, we met a German guy I knew. In general I know almost no expats, preferring to move in the more local community. But this guy I met at the birthday party of another woman with whom I have developed a close relationship, Sophia (Sophia is a very Americanized woman, having spent many years in the country and having picked up many of its best qualities -- the confident, strong self-belief that can make Americans so admirable. She is one of my friends who gives me some minor confidence I do not purely see women as sex objects, for our relationship, though close (and though she is sexy) is platonic).

Anyhow, that night this German chap and I hit it off well, shared a good few beers and had a most enjoyable, relaxed evening with it. He was there with his longterm gf, also German (and, rarely for a white woman, I found her attractive).
But when I met him now, he was not with this gf, he was with a Chinese woman who was, of course, cuter, younger and sure more pliant than his German girlfriend. We talked a little while before going on our ways, and as I walked on I told Gloria a little about him, and that fact that his companion seemed to be an extra-curricular girlfriend. Gloria harrumphed, ‘I think that’s bad, I don’t like guys like that’ she said.

Of course I ought have ignored the hypocrisy, and was she a bit dearer to me I would have. But instead I said ‘Yeah, seeing two people at once, there’s no excuse for it.’ She got the point, it made her sulky, and she withdrew her hand.

Sex as Rebellion

2006-07-20T02:57:00.000+08:00

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Keen though I am to see Ellen again, my relationship with her is sexual only, and she remains a minor part of my life. The same is true of Sweetie. But this is not a permanent pattern among my lovers. Mona, for example, has become a friend after being a lover.
I hardly need say that she was a student. I met her about a year back and right from the first class I could tell she was a little taken with me. Staying behind after class to talk to me the first session, wearing nicer clothes in the second and later sessions. But really, most of all, it is in the eyes; the way she looked at me is something I have seen many times in class. Just that moment of looking eyes, the bold, clear gaze, the suggestion.
And so I was sure Mona would hit me up for an online chat, and so she did, a few hours after that first class. It was a semi-suggestive conversation and though mostly couched in the terms of just a friendly chat, it was clearly an exploration, charting the territory, the lie of the land.
She told me she was rearranging stuff in her dorm to make way for a new room-mate, and told me she was thinking of moving to an external flat, since, she said, she liked her own company better – though a lot of universities will not let their undergraduates move into private accommodation, threatening them with expulsion if the try to do so.
This is just one of the many ways in which China’s universities show their contempt for students. Mona also told me all the students at her university had to get up at 6 a.m. for compulsory exercise. But what help was there for it? She knew perfectly well that if she refused, she’d be failed. The more obvious way would be en-masse refusal, for even the ignorant and arrogant swine who run the universities know they could not fail a whole year of students without becoming a global laughing-stock.

55
But of course en-mass protest will never happen. The authorities would simply come for the brave souls who tried to organize it, at which point the other students would jump ship. This society is too selfish for solidarity. And too apathetic; the students just accept their lot without ever asking if it is right, without ever seeking to change it. I guess so many years of being beaten down, of being crushed under the contempt and despite of the government, have long since erased even the hint of an echo of a thought of self-determination, independence, rebellion.
But maybe I oversimplify. There are ways of rebellion; primarily, religion and sex.
Sex is how those like Lucy rebel. Indeed, as I was chatting with Mona that night, Lucy popped up also, to tell me how that day she had been forced to sit through some wretched hagiography on Deng Xiaoping. This was around the time of his centenary, and the wretched media here was in a dutiful froth about the matter. China Daily, for example, expressed its wonder at his depth of insight and intelligence, his shrewd and decisive proclamations, such as ‘peace and development are good for the world.’ Wow. Top-grade thinking there, Little Bottle. Lucy was then obliged to write an essay on this worthless bilge. In a society where such dead, sterile rubbish fills public discourse (as, for example, Jiang Zemin’s astonishing revelation that ‘government must represent the interests of the people’), some outlet must be sought. That’s what brought Lucy to my bed, for fucking me, a foreigner, was one way she could safely defy these numbing conventions. For Mona, too, sex was a way of personal rebellion.
Religion is the other way, and I meet a growing number of this kind of rebel. In general, such people are, like 95% of Christians, utterly unprepossessing, utterly vapid, limp, bland. In the same class I met Mona I had one of these clowns, Helen, who believed in every word of the bible, believed that, yes, god really did make the world in 7 days and so on. I tried to point out some of the more obvious asininities of Genesis to her, the usual tropes such as ‘If there was no death in Eden, all animals must have been vegetarians, so why is the lion designed to eat meat?’ and so on. But as with most of these idiots, she just replied with trite platitudes from other bits of the bible, as if she was such a rabid believer that she could not even process my questions. It was as if the fact that I was questioning her fairy tale attitude to the world was so impossible for her to conceive that my questions simply became invisible to her.
Yet while I scorn such attitudes, and have a deal of contempt for them (for, it seems to me, such beliefs are in such clear contradictions to the experience of every day life that to hold them is a willful abuse of intelligence) I also understand them and to some extent even respect them. For they are an antidote to the folly and sterility of all these decades of the most dispiriting and poisonous pap that the party machine turns out. Christianity’s claims are every bit as ludicrous as communism’s, but at least they are poetic, at least they come from life, from culture, not from death as all the party’s proclamations do. And thus folly as it is, being christian is at least the first step on the road to individuality, to selfhood. Baby steps, yes, and if this literal attitude to the bible is not left behind, no growth beyond babyhood is possible. But they are steps at least, a start -- though Lucy’s ways of rebellion, as Mona’s, are much purer, more wholesome, more truthful.
Of course in this our first conversation she kept that side of her nature a little camouflaged, as did I. Nonetheless, I was quite sure that, had I felt more in the mood to push it a little, she would have been glad for me to go over and help her ‘rearrange’ the heavier objects in her dorm – that being the excuse I would have offered and the excuse she would have accepted to get me over there. And then, no doubt, we would have become lovers.
But I did not push that option. I did not want to seem too keen and, besides, was just in the mood to sit at home and loaf. And in any case, I was sure there would be plenty more chances to see her – to add nothing of the fact that anticipation just makes realization more sweet.

Fucking Ellen #3

2006-07-18T02:58:00.000+08:00

Tuesday, July 18, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by Kikoo.
中文由Kikoo翻译。感谢他的支持。

And now that I know this woman, this keystone of my life, is reading I find myself suddenly constrained; I begin more to see this blog perhaps as others see it, crude, blundering.

现在我认清了这个女人, 这个我生活中的重点,正在读 ,我发觉自己突然被强迫 ;我开始更多地阅读这博客, 也许就像别人阅读它一样粗鲁而又浮躁的.

But no matter. Here's one I prepared earlier…

但没关系，这里我早就准备了一份 …

Anyhow, back to Ellen, who I had just come all over; she rubbed my come into her as we lay there recovering awhile before showering. Then we watched a film some, but could not keep our hands off each other, and so soon we were fucking again, an equally long bout, her on top, from the side, behind, standing, missionary; she was just as wet and hot as before -- intoxicating.

总之, 回到ELLEN,我刚刚射的她全身都是 ;当我们在冲凉之前躺在那休息一会时 ,她把我的精液弄进她 .然后我们看了几部电影, 但我们都不能把手移开对方的身体, 很快我们又做爱了,差不多时长的回合 ,她在上面 ,从侧面, 后面,站着 ,传教式 ;她就像之前那样湿润而亢奋--- 使人兴奋.

As again we lay cuddling and talking after this, I returned to what she'd said over dinner, about a lesbian thing at school. I wanted details. She gave them; they were tame. 'It was just a kiss on the lips like this' and she kissed me; a chaste peck.

做完爱后我们又想之前那样相拥和谈话, 我回到晚饭时她谈到的话题, 关于在学校的女同性恋事情.我想听细节 ,她告诉了我 ;她们很无聊. " 那只是在唇上的一个吻, 像这样她吻了我;一个贞洁的啄吻 ."

But, she said, two friends of hers had a more active relationship. This was back at high school, in the somethingth grade. Ellen had gone to the house of one of these friends, and while she was playing a video game they went to the bedroom to make love. She told me she did not realize what the cries of passion coming from their room were – 'I thought they were playing a video game, like me,' she said. But she told me, 'I went to their room and a saw one lying on the bed and the other..' and here she got between my legs to show me what she meant. 'She was under a blanket, but I knew then what was happening.' Ellen told me that the one girl really loved the other, but that in due course the other found a guy, and that this broke the first's heart. 'She was walking along the street crying… it was so sad.'

但她告诉我, 她的两个朋友有更活跃的关系. 这就要回到她高中时.她去到其中一个朋友的家 ,当时她玩着电视游戏而她们就进去房间做爱 .她告诉我她没意识到从她们房里传来的亢奋的哭声是什么 ---"我以为她们象我一样在玩游戏呢." 她说. 但她告诉我, "我进去房间看到一个躺在床上 ,而另一个 …" 这里她自己站到我两腿间示范告诉我她的意思. " 她在毯子下面, 但我知道发生了什么事情."ELLEN 告诉我其中一个女还很爱另一个,但另一个很快找了个男人 ,这就伤了第一个的心 . "她在街上边走边哭… 很伤心."

Ellen also told me that later, at university, she had had some more light experience this way. 'It was cold and we had no heating so we shared a bed… and she had a really beautiful body… I touched her, we touched each other. Just touched, that's all, but I do think a woman's body is beautiful.' I asked the obvious question; would she like to do it again, how would she feel with me and another woman? She told me she thought she would like it, that it would be fun. She said she was not a lesbian, did not want to have sex with the other girl... but that it would be fun. Wild that she is, if I can arrange it I imagine that restraint would be forgotten. And so I have been thinking of getting Mona involved, for she also has expressed some interest that way.

ELLEN后来还告诉我 ,在大学, 她在这方面有更多一点经验了. "那时天气很冷，我们又没有暖气，所以我们同睡一张床…她身材真的很好 …我摸了她 ,我们互摸. 只是抚摩,没别的 .但我觉得一个女人的身材很不错 ." 我问了个很明显的问题; 她还会这样做吗,对于我和另一个女人她会有什么感觉 ?她告诉我她以为自己会喜欢 ,以为那样很好玩 .她说她不是一个女同性恋者, 不想与另一个女孩发生性关系… 但那很好玩.她是那么狂野 ,如果我可以安排, 我想那抑制力会被遗忘. 于是我想让MONA也卷进来 ,因为她对那些也挺有兴趣 .

We carried on kissing, cuddling, for which she said 'Thank you…most guys just go to sleep afterwards' which again makes me think she is no beginner. I did ask her how she got to be so good at fuck. She told me that she had learned a lot from her long-term boyfriend. 'At first he was shy and I had to teach him.. but later he taught me. I guess maybe he had experience with other women…' She also said she had read up on the topic.

我们继续接吻, 拥抱,然后她说 "谢谢你 …大多数男人做完爱后都会倒头大睡." 这让我又觉得她不是第一次. 我问她为什么她可以在性爱方面那么厉害.她回答说她在她长久的男友身上学到的 . "一开始他很害羞 ,我还得教他,, 但后来他教我,我猜想他也许和另一个女人那里学到经验 …"她还是说她专门研究了这课题 .

And I guess that may be true, for she said to me she'd read that Western guys like large breasts, and was reluctant to believe I liked her rather more petite ones. She then asked, as we lay there cuddling, 'Do you want me to go?' for she had also read that the Western causal lover likes it that way. And indeed a few weeks ago I overheard some expat talking about a one-night stand he'd had recently, and how she had stayed overnight. 'Man, I hate it when they stay,' he'd said, 'sure, it means you get another lay in the morning… but I really hate it.'

我想这也许是真的, 因为她告诉我她看过说西方男人喜欢豪乳, 勉强相信我喜欢她的小乳房.然后我们躺在那里拥抱时她问 , "你想要我走吗 ?" 因为她还看到说西方所谓情人们喜欢那种方式. 的确, 几个星期前我偶然听到某出国者在谈论他最近的一夜情, 和他的那个她是怎样和他过夜的. "朋友 ,我讨厌她们留下来过夜 ."他说 " 当然,这意思是早上你又会有另一个在床上 …但我觉得很讨厌 ."

But I like it, and wanted Ellen to stay, and was glad she did, and touched by her pleasure in it too. So we put the lights out… but our goodnight kisses lingered, and then she went for my ear, and me for her pussy, and I said, 'You're going to get me going again' and she said 'Me too'; and so we fucked again.

但我喜欢, 我想让ELLEN留下来 ,很高兴她留下来了 ,也被她的快乐感动了. 于是我们熄了灯…但我们的晚安之吻推迟了 ,然后她趴到我耳边 ,而我趴到她的私处. 我说 " 你又想让我上吗" 她说 "是的 .";于是我们又作爱了.

As we went at it I said, `What would your parents say if they could see us now?' and she laughed the same horrified and amused laughter that other lovers have laughed when I've asked them the same question. Chinese parents frequently cannot conceive the fact their daughters are sexually active. This is why so many younger women do live a double life; and that's one of the reasons guys like me find it easy. Used, already, to hiding their lives from their parents, the additional taboo of fucking a foreigner becomes all the easier to break.

当我们正尽兴时我说 " 如果你父母看到我们现在这样会怎样说?" 她笑得和其他情人一样恐怖和开心, 就当我问她们同一问题时.中国父母不感想象自己的女儿的性冲动 .这就是很多年轻女士有两面生活的原因 ;而这也是象我这样的男人能那么容易找到裂物的原因 .她们已经习惯了在父母面前隐藏自己的生活, 和一个外国人做爱就更容易打破这附加的禁忌.

Naturally I was gratified when Ellen said 'I've never done it three times in a row before!' Indeed, when I offered to come on command the first time she had said 'Will you be able to do it as second time?' So obviously she's had some low quality lovers. Among them, a brief boyfriend after the long term guy. 'But every time his cock touched my pussy, he came' she told me. 'So it only lasted a couple of months.' I could not keep from laughing to hear of this useless guy, at which she gave me a playful punch.

自然地我很满足于当ELLEN 说 " 我从来没试过一晚做三次!" 的确 ,当我让她第一次来支配时 ,她说 " 你还可以做第二次吗?" 很明显,她以前的情人是多么地低水平 .在这些人中 ,长久男友之后的短暂男友, " 但每次他的阳具碰到我的私处时, 他就会射精."她告诉我 . "所以维持了几个月我们就分手了." 听到她说这个没用的男人我就情不自禁地笑起来, 她就好玩地给了我一拳.

As we talked after this bout, she told me, `I knew when I said I'd come home with you that we'd have sex.' I knew when she sent me her picture a few days before this that we'd have sex – but of course was not so crude as to tell her.

做完这一回合当我们谈话时, 她告诉我, "我知道当我同意和你回家 ,我们就会发生关系 ." 我知道当她几天前发相片给我时, 我们就会发生关系—当然 ,我不会那么硬邦邦地告诉她 .

Waking with her in my arms the next morning was a delight, and her body next to mine, imbued as it now was with the memories of the previous night's passion, I began to stroke and caress her, kiss her awake, stoke her body towards last night's pitch, her wild passion, her sheer joy to fuck. She responded with equal ardor, going down on me, taking me in her mouth with an eagerness that is rather rare here. And after we had made love this time she showered and went home, leaving me a dreamy morning of reveries.

第二天早上我醒了 , 她躺在我怀里, 是件快乐的事,她的身体就在我旁边 ,此刻浸透着对昨晚的激情的美好回忆 ,我又开始抚摩她, 吻醒她,朝昨晚的程度抚摩她的身体 ,她狂野的激情, 强烈的性欲. 她以相等的情欲回应我,趴到我身下 ,热情地把我的阳具含到口里 ,这在这里很少见. 这次我们做完爱后她冲了凉回家了,把我留在一个幻想的多梦早晨 .

Guilt 内疚

2006-07-14T02:58:00.000+08:00

FRIDAY, JULY 14, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by kikoo.
中文由kikoo翻译。感谢他的支持。

So a week or ten days back while I’m in bed with Jingjing, I get a barrage of messages and then calls on my mobile, all of which I perforce must ignore, as one cannot answer a call mid making-love.

But also I knew who was on the other end of those messages, those calls. A woman I’ve been seeing for many months, a woman I’ve spent more time with than any other; a woman who loves me more than I love her.

一星期或十天前我与JINGJING上床的时候，我收到了一大堆的短信和电话，当一个人正在做爱时是不可能接电话的，所以我不得不把这一切搁在一边。
然而我也知道是谁发来的短信和打来的电话。一个我花在她身上的时间比花在任何一个人都多并与她相处了好几个月的女人，当然她爱我多过我爱她。

Angered by these interruptions, after I had finished with Jingjing I replied to tell her I had been with a woman. A testy exchange followed. In the following days our online conversations, which had been close, became cool, strained.

I met her for lunch yesterday.

She told me how hurt she was.

She told me she’d read this blog. Unwisely, some months back I’d mentioned I’d begun writing it but had not given her the address, due to its frank content. Honorable woman that she is, she’d not sought it out, leaving me my anonymity. But, after that night, angry, she tracked it down (which she had a perfect right to do all along) and read it, start to end.
Before this she had no idea of this part of my life. Yes, she had some suspicions, and indeed once told me ‘I am sure there have been many other women at the same time as me.’ But I deflected the question and she, fearing the answer, did not look any more closely.

我和JINGJING做完爱后，这些滋扰让我很生气，于是回复了个女人，告诉她我和另一个女人在一起。后来，我们的网聊被关闭了，我们的关系变得疏远而紧张。
我昨天和她一起吃午饭。
她告诉我她很伤心。
她告诉我她看了我的博客。几个月前，由于里面没内容，所以我很不明智地告诉她我开始写博客，但是并没告诉她网址。她是一个多么可敬的女人啊，因为她没有指出我，而是让我保持匿名。但是，自从那天晚上，生气的她追查到我的博客（她向来很有权利这样）并从头至尾阅读了。在这之前她并不知道我生活中的这些事。后来她起了疑心，有一次她对我说：“我肯定你与我一起的同时还有别的女人。”但是我答非所问，其实她也害怕听到答案，也不再亲近我了。

But now she has read this. How much it must have lacerated her!

I want to write about her more. But that is not really possible. Firstly, she asked me not to write about her, and so beyond this, I will not write.

Secondly, knowing she will read this, I cannot be objective. Whatever I write would be an appeal to her, an attempt to exculpate myself, even though such exculpation is not really possible. I would like to try to explain my feelings for her, to write about how truly unique she is among all the thousands of people I have met here. To say how with her I was more my real self than with anyone else. To talk of my admiration and respect for her.

她已经读了我的博客，这一定伤得她很深。我想多写一些关于她，但那真的不可能。第一，她要求我不要再写她，鉴于这个我将不会再写她。
第二，知道她会读我的博客，所以我必须听她的。我所写的都还将会吸引她，或会变成我为自己的辩解，就算这些辩解也不大可能有用。我会尝试向她解释我对她的感觉，告诉她，她是我在这里所遇见上千人中唯一最真实的；告诉她，和她在一起我比和别人一起更真我；告诉她，我对她的羡慕和尊敬。

But how can I do that without coming off, to her, as insincere, trite? How could she believe it, knowing I wrote it knowing she would read it? How could she believe it after reading all the crude, basic pages below?

So I feel pretty rotten. Guilty, to have hurt her so badly. Ashamed, even.
And is even that true, after all? If I really felt guilty surely I would begin to behave in a more socially acceptable way?

Unlikely.

Partly, the chase is just too much fun. Partly, I do not, deep down, really view it as betrayal at all. Most of the women I’m involved with are willing partners and, really, compared to the depth of my relationship with this woman, all the philandering is just surface trivia. And partly (and perhaps the biggest part) I am just a selfish scumbag.

Hah, these matters with myself which I too much discuss.

然而我怎么能未经她同意而这样做呢？这样很老套，无诚意。她会相信吗？她愿意读吗？在她读过之前所有的笔记，她还会相信吗？
我觉得自己很无用很内疚甚至感到羞耻，因为我伤她那么深。
经过这一切那还会是真的吗？如果我真的内疚，我肯定会表现得更能让社会接受。
不太可能吧。
追逐是那么地有意思；再说，在我内心不再视其为背叛。大部分女人都是心甘情愿地和我一起，她们和我的关系程度与这个女人比起来，我与她们的调情都很表面。再者，（也许是最关键的）我只是一个自私的卑鄙小人。哈，这些问题我与自己讨论太多了。

Fucking Ellen #2

2006-07-12T02:59:00.000+08:00

WEDNESDAY, JULY 12, 2006

English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by Kikoo.
中文由Kikoo翻译。感谢他的支持。

Still marveling at how easy it had been to get inside her, how smoothly she took me, after a few minutes' missionary I wanted variety. 'Come on top' I told her, and she did, no murmur, no mock-shock; she climbed right on and, wow, just let go, moving up and down on me fast and hard, riding me.

还在惊奇于那是多么的容易进入她 ,她是多么顺利地带动我啊，过了几分钟我想要多样性的方式。 "到上面来。"我告诉她，她按我说的做了，没有呻吟，没有淫笑；她爬得好极了，哇 ,释放开了, 骑在我身上, 上下快速而用力地抽动.

But she wanted more that just to work me herself; she put my hands to her hips and said, 'Move me on you, move me.' And so I did, moving her back and forth, thrusting into her hard, fast, deep; and she loved it, it made her moan, made her moans grow to gasps, her gasps to cries, her cries to yells.... much to my vanity's pleasure. After a bout of that, I sat up, still in her, and she, getting the idea straight away, moved her legs so she could sit in my lap at a better angle. We fucked like that awhile, then, still in her, I moved to the edge of the bed and stood, my arms crooked under her knees. That really lit her up, taking her gasps a notch higher still.

但她更希望我来抽动她 ;她把我的手放到她的臀部说: " 把我移向你,快点 ."于是我照做了, 来回移动她,坚硬 ,快速, 深深地猛插她;她很喜欢这样 ,这让她呻吟, 让她的呻吟上升到喘气,喘气到哭泣 ,哭泣到大叫…. 这满足了我虚荣的快乐.在那一回合后 ,我坐起来, 还在她里面,然而她立即有了想法 ,移动了她的, 这样她可以以一个较好的角度坐在我的膝盖上 .我们那样操了一会儿 ,然后, 还在她里面, 我移到床边,站到地上 , 我的双臂弯曲的在她的膝下。那真的燃起她的激情 ,将她的喘息带入顶峰 .

Ego, of course, prompted me to ask, 'Have you ever done it this way before?'

自我 ,当然, 促使我问: "你之前这样做过吗 ?"

'Yes..' she said, adding 'but not so good, not for so long… am I heavy?' – a sop, I guess, to the male pride she saw so clearly on show. But her pleasure was genuine, unmediated, from the core, and she was good, good… fucking me with abandon, truly getting into it - indeed she nearly brought me off in that position. Normally I like woman on top, or standing, because those positions are not so intense for me, and allow me to plow away hard as I like with little danger of coming. But she was just so good, so lithe, so lively, so wholly into it that she was taking me to the edge.

" 是的."她说 ,又加一句" 但没有那么好,没支持多久 …我重吗?"--- 一个泡, 我猜测 ,对于男性的自傲，她如此清楚在表演上看见。但她的快乐是真实的 ,无杂质的 ,总的来说 .她很棒, 很棒… 和我做爱是那么狂热, 真的很投入---确实 ,她几乎用那方式做完我 . 一般我喜欢女人在上面 ,或者站着 ,因为用些方式我没有那么猛 ,而且允许我耙开困难就像我喜欢即将来临的一点危险 . 但是她是如此好、如此柔软、如此活泼 , 如此陶醉其中来把我带入颠峰 .

As I have mentioned below, the average Chinese guy does not, from what lovers and friends tell me, have much staying power. And thus it is a matter of pride for me to make my lovemaking last. And so I called a pause to Ellen's wild responsiveness, laying her back on the bed and kissing, caressing, eating her for a few moments.

就像我以下提到的 ,情人们和朋友告诉我, 中国男人均没有力量持久.因此这是我的骄傲 ,来延续我的性交. 于是我要求ELLEN暂停她的狂野 ,把她放到床上, 吻她,抚摩她 ,吃她了一会儿.

Then, control restored, I suggested from behind – and she rolled over easy and fluid, her butt up in the air, waiting for me. That position is the most intense for me, so I could not keep at it long. So I got her on top again, and this time I worked a finger into her ass. She only half-liked that -- 'It feels strange.'

然后 ,调节恢复, 我提议从后面做—她轻易而顺畅地转过来 ,她屁股旋起来再空中, 等待我的进入.这姿势是我最猛的 ,所以我不能坚持太久. 于是我让她在上面,而这次我把一只手指插入她屁眼 .她不是很喜欢---" 这感觉很怪."

But, like with Christine, like with Eve, like with Lingling, I think this feeling of 'strange' was more in the mind than the body. For each of these women rather liked it at first – until the good feeling of it was overwhelmed by the traditional voice, the voice of Chinese sexual prudery, which insists that such things are bad.

但是 ,像和Christine,EVE,LingLing 一样,我想这种 "奇怪的" 感觉在思想上比在身体里更多. 每个女人都一开始有点喜欢这样—直到这好的感觉被传统的声音淹没 ,中国假正经性交的声音坚持说这种事情是不好的 .

And so when I came at Ellen from behind again, she did not want the finger in the ass; but just looking at her there, that most intimate place, was sexy enough; coming at a woman from behind is as much visually appealing as it is physical.

因此 ,当我走到ELLEN 背面的时候,她不想让我把手指插入她屁眼 ;但只是看着她那里, 那个最隐私的部位,真够性感 ;走到一个女人背后视觉吸引和身体一样多

So we went at it for maybe half an hour, which was enough for her – 'I am tired' she said. I'd got into that state of mind where I could have fucked on for an hour yet. But, 'Then shall I come?' I said.

所以我们这样持续了大概半小时 ,这对于她已经足够了---" 我累了."她说 . 我已经进入状态, 那我还可以在哪里再做上一小时呢.但是 , "那我是不是该射了?" 我问.

'You can control it?' she asked. (I always like it when they ask that.)

" 你可以控制吗?"她问 .(我很喜欢它们这样问.)

'I can.'

" 我可以。"

And so I let it go, working myself up to the brink in her pussy then pulling out to come all over her. And as I came, she motioned me up towards her.. wanting me in her mouth, I think, which was erotic indeed. But by the time I was certain she wanted me to come in her mouth I only had dribbles left. This happened each time we fucked, so if we have a rematch maybe I'll have the pleasure of letting it all go in there.

我打算完成先，让我在她里面抽动至颠峰然后抽出我的生殖器射到她全身。然而，当我射的时候，她让我上来正对着她，想要我射入她嘴里，我想，这确实很色情。但是当我确定她要我射入她嘴里的时候，我只剩几滴了。这每次都在我们做爱时发生，所以，如果我们再次交欢，也许我会乐意让我的生殖器全部进入她的嘴里再射。

Oral sex is an interesting subject when it comes to Chinese women. Many of my lovers have had very little experience of it. And so when I go down on a woman for the first time, often she is reluctant, having been culturally conditioned to think this is 'dirty.' But of course the feelings generated are so pleasurable that she soon forgets this attitude. When it comes to giving oral sex, however, it is harder to make her forget that prejudice, since there is less direct pleasure in it for her, and since she cannot escape the reality of what is happening. If I go down on her she can close her eyes, press her head into the pillow and drift away in pleasure, forgetting all that absurdity society lays on her. But with a cock in her mouth she has no such chance.

口交是个有趣的主题，当它走进中国女人时。大多数我的情人在这方面只有很少的经验。因此，每当我趴到一个女人的身下时，她通常会很难为情，在传统文化思想这是"肮脏"的。当然这感觉很愉悦，从而她很快就忘记这种思想。然而，口交时，很难让她忘记那偏见，自从在她里面缺少直接的快乐，自从她无法逃避现实中所发生的。如果我趴到她身下，她可以闭上眼睛，用枕头蒙住自己，在快乐中渐消，忘记她身上所有荒谬的社会意识。但如果我的生殖器在她嘴里她就没有任何机会。

And thus to find a woman as wild and liberated as Ellen is special indeed. Once I was sure she wanted me in her mouth (for it would have been awkward to bang my cock in there had she not wanted it) I moved my cock there, and she keenly swallowed what come I had left. And so, I think, when we have a rematch – later next week, I hope – I can let the whole load go like that. Though I have had a fair number of women in my time in Shanghai, few of them have shown much interest in giving oral sex. Ellen was one; and Mona was another, and Sweetie too. (Indeed I had a particularly memorable rematch with Sweetie which I will recount in due course.)

所以找一个像 ELLEN一样狂野开放的女人确实不容易。每当我确定她想要我的生殖器进入她嘴里（因为如果她不想要的话，就会让我很窘很笨地把我的生殖器放去那里），我会把我的生殖器放进去，而她敏锐地吞下我射出的精液。因此，我想，等我们再次交欢 ---我希望下个星期 —我可以让我所有的精液都射进去。虽然我在上海已经有不少的女人，少部分表现的对口交很有兴趣。 ELLEN是其中之一；MONA 是一个，SWEETIE也是。（的确，我和 SWEETIE有一个难忘的再次交欢，适当的时候我会讲述的）。

And in fact I really must get round to writing about Mona, too, since she was such a hot fuck. We were lovers for a while, then casual fuck buddies, and are now just close friends. But while we were in that middle stage I remember with delectation one time we met for lunch in the Super Brand Mall, a huge Thai-owned mall in the city's Pudong area, and we got into a kind of horny mood; and so she and I snuck into the men's toilet (the one just near Zoe's Bistro, a place that does a rather good bacon and blue cheese sandwich) wherein I ate her to orgasm and she sucked me off. She didn't swallow, which would have made it even sexier for me, but it was still rather fun.

事实上我必须避免写 MONA，因为她是如此热衷于性交。我们成为情人一段时间，然后是偶然的性交伙伴，而现在我们成了亲密的朋友。但是当我们处于那个中间阶段时，我记得有一次我们愉快的见面，在一家超名牌商场吃午饭，这是一家在浦东区最大的泰国人开的商场，我们都有想作爱的心情；于是她和我偷偷溜进男厕所（在Zoe's Bistro 附近，做相当好熏猪肉和蓝色干酪三明治的一个地方）。在那里我吃她另她达到高潮，而她就为我口交。但她没吞下精液，如果她吞了，我会觉得更性感，但这仍然很好玩。

I suggested this since I knew, to Mona, it would be a little outré, and that would excite her. Behavior like this makes one appear like a sexual Bohemian, and that is highly appealing to many Chinese women. This is such a wretchedly conformist society that the hint of something nonconformist can be a powerful aphrodisiac. Women here are browbeaten, compelled, coerced and forced into 'modest' and 'traditional' behavior by the dull, unimaginative and censorious male majority. The chance to break out of this is powerfully attractive; a man who enjoys and respects a woman's sexual desires, and who is open, frank and free towards sex can have a lot of fun here.

当我知道后我经常提议，但对 MONA来说这有点奇怪，并且会刺激她。这行为会让一个人看起来想一个性欲很强的波西米亚人，而这会更吸引更多的中国女人。这是如此可怜的社会遵奉者，这暗示着某些不遵奉者可以成为强大的壮阳剂。这里的女人都被呆滞的，无趣的而又挑剔的男性吓唬，强迫，强制，迫使她们举止"谦逊"和"传统"。有机会突破这个是很吸引人的；一个懂得享受且尊敬女人性欲的男人，如果能开放地，坦白而自由享受性爱，在这里将会得到更多的乐趣。

Especially if he is white.

特别是如果他是白人。

While the bulk of Chinese men are stolid and phlegmatic, there are of course plenty of young, hip guys who are every bit the sexual dog I am. But it's not as easy for them as it is for me, for they are still a part of their society, even if they are unusual within it. And because they are part of their society, it is too risky for the Chinese woman to dally with them. If she wants to play, she needs to play outside her own culture; and this is one more of the many reasons that guys like me have such a ball here. Sex in a public place is not much of a big deal back home; here it is outrageous and effective. Mona's eyes widened as I suggested it, and the daringness of it (to her) palpably excited her. She got a real kick out of scurrying into the men's toilet after I'd checked the coast was clear and, hot already, it only took a minute or two to bring her to orgasm. And I confess I was excited too, more out of the knowledge that I was giving her an experience she would never forget rather than the venue itself, and thus also only took a minute or two to come in her mouth. After she'd spat out and cleaned up I again checked the coast was clear, and out we scurried. She was walking on air after this dirty erotic adventure, and I was feeling pretty satisfied with myself too.

大部份的中国男人是迟钝且冷淡的 , 当然有许多是年轻的，知内情的人都完全效仿我的方式。但这对于他们不像对于我那么容易，因为他们仍处于本身的社会中，即使在那他们是多么地不寻常。还因为他们身处于本身的社会中，这让中国女人和他们一起玩时很冒险。如果她想玩，她必须玩于她身处的文化思想之外；而这就是为什么像我这样的男人在这里玩的痛快的原因之一。在我的国家，人们在公众场合性交没什么大不了的；而在这里是无耻和犯法的。当我建议这样做时， MONA瞪大眼睛，这大胆的想法（对她）很明显地让她兴奋不已。在我看过那里已经干净并且很热了，她迅速闪进男厕所，只用了 1到 2分钟她就进入高潮。我承认我也很兴奋，我授予她知识以外的经验，她将永生难忘，胜于地点本身，也是 1至 2分钟就射入她的嘴里。她吐出来并且整理了一下后，我重新检查了边缘还是很干净，我们急忙走出去。她正在这种肮脏的性爱冒险后的空气中走着，而我也对我自己感到相当满意。

Fucking Ellen #1

2006-07-08T02:54:00.000+08:00

SATURDAY, JULY 08, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by Kikoo.
中文由Kikoo翻译。感谢他的支持。
Fucking Ellen 1#

SATURDAY, JULY 08, 2006

Getting home with her was in itself a struggle, squeezing our way through the massive crowds and trying to get onto the subway. The subway is perhaps the most visible sign of the yokel soul that lurks beneath Shanghai's glib, slick exterior. No matter than the floors and walls are plastered with '先下后上 ' (First off, then on) signs; no matter that the subway guards, brought in for just this kind of cattle control, blare the same message through loud hailers; subway time is pell-mell time, as the mob pushes and shoves its way on board, irrespective of those trying to get off first, irrespective of the occasional hapless commuter who, having got some learning, has tried to behave like a member of the human race and queue up. The feeding-time-at-the-zoo air of it all is magnified by the impatient drivers who generally try to close the door as people are still getting on and off the carriages.

和她挣扎着回家, 从厚厚的人群中挤出路通行, 努力尝试去到地铁站.这地铁也许是最明显象征着乡下人灵魂 ,潜藏在上海人的圆滑之下 .就算墙上和地上都贴着 " 先下后上"(先下 ,后上 )的标志; 不管地铁警戒为这种控制牲口而拉起, 高声欢呼同样刺耳的信息;地铁时间是混乱的 ,就像一群乌众之合推涌着上车 ,不管那些尝试着先下车的人们, 也不管当时那些学到点东西的倒霉往返者, 尝试着象人类那样赛跑并排成队.动物园饲养时间显示这全是没耐心的司机造成的 ,他经常很快关门 ,不管人们是否还在上下车.

But anyhow, we fought our way on and thence home, where I stepped out onto the balcony with her. This is something of a money-shot view since, 30 floors high, my balcony has a view over Shanghai's spectacular panorama. If the air is not too full of poison and pollution, it's possible to see all the landmark buildings, the elegant Jin Mao tower (China's tallest skyscraper – or, as the locals call it, 'Mainland China's tallest tower' – an absurd locution to acknowledged the fact that Tapei has a bigger tower and at the same time maintain the preposterous conceit Taiwan is part of China), the remarkably ugly Oriental Pearl Tower, a concrete and purple monstrosity that looks like some kind of elaborate Japanese sex toy, the multi-colored buildings along Nanjing and Huaihai Road and all the other superficially impressive glam.

总之, 我们打通路回到了家,我和她走出阳台 .这是关于之前缺钱的观点 ,30层那么高. 我的阳台可以看到上海全景. 如果空气中没弥漫毒气和污染,就可以看到所有划时代的楼宇 ,雅致的 JIN MAO塔( 中国最高的摩天楼--- 或者,像本地说的 , "中国大陆最高的塔"— 一个荒谬的措辞,就是公认台北有个更大的塔 ,而且同时散播荒谬的想法说台湾是中国的一部分 ),引人注目的丑陋的东方明珠塔 ,混凝土和紫色畸形, 看起来像一些精心制作出来的日本性娃娃, 这多彩的建筑物沿着南京路和淮海路,其他全部是表面上另人印象深刻迷人 .
It is looking over this view that I make the next move in my seductions. Having brought the woman home I will invite her on to the balcony and then stand behind her as I point out the various buildings before us, first holding my hand out in front of her to indicate this building or that… and then I wrap that hand round her midriff and lay my head on her shoulder, turn her face to mine and come closer for the first kiss.

浏览着这些风景, 我将进入下一步诱惑.把女人带回家我都会邀请她们出阳台 ,然后站到她们背后 ,指着我们面前的这些建筑物, 一开始我把手伸到她面前指着这座建筑物或那座… 然后我用那只手抱着她的腹部,并把头枕在她的肩上 ,把她的脸转向我的脸 ,再靠近点进行我们的第一次接吻.

And so as Ellen and I stood on the balcony, she murmured something about sending her father a message to tell him when she'd be home.

当我和ELLEN 站在阳台，她嘟喃着要给她父亲发信息，告诉他回家的时间。

'You can tell him you'll be home soon… or you can tell him you're going to stay in your dorm… or you can stay with me,' I said.

"你可以告诉他你很快就回家… 或者你告诉他你会留在宿舍… 又或者你留下来和我一起."我说 .

She did not reply to this, either because she misunderstood, or because she was thinking it over. 'So… Stay with me?' I repeated.

她没有回答我, 也许是因为她误会了,也许是因为她要仔细考虑 .我又问 : "那么… 留下来和我一起?"

'Will you hurt me?' she asked. 'Of course not..' I replied. 'But I do want to kiss you… want to kiss you.' She said nothing, so I moved closer; and she turned to me, and we kissed. And not a chaste, exploratory, bashful kiss on her part, no….but open-mouthed, intense, vocal.. and not just one, but dozens. I pulled her to me tighter, dropped a hand down between her legs, pressing against her, then slipping my hand up under her top, over her belly, up to the fabric of her bra. But after a few minutes of this, she said 'I don't like it out here…'

"你会伤害我吗 ?"她问. " 当然不会啦."我回答 . "但我想吻你 …想吻你." 她没有说什么,于是我靠近她 ;然后她转向我 ,我们接吻了. 在她看来这不是贞洁,探索性 ,害羞的吻 ,不… 但是张嘴的,激烈地 ,有声地 ,而且不是一个, 是一打个吻.我紧紧地抱住她 ,一只手在她两腿之间 ,挤压她, 然后我的手滑向她的衣服下面, 穿过她的肚子,到达文胸面上 .但这样了几分钟后 ,她说: " 我不喜欢在这里做…"

'Then let's go to the bedroom..' I suggested; and so we did.

"那我们去卧室吧，，"我提议；我们进了卧室。

None of that false modesty, no fake shyness; I sat down by her on the bed, kissing and caressing, and then grasping the hem of her top. She smiled, signaling, yes, with her eyes, and so I began to undress her. She moved to undo her trousers, but I stopped her hand – 'I want to do that.' So she tackled my shirt instead, when that was off I unhooked her bra.

没有虚伪的谦逊, 没有虚伪的羞怯;我们在床上 , 我坐在她旁边 ,亲吻和抚摸, 然后扯她上衣的边.她笑了 ,使眼色 ,是的, 用她的眼睛,于是我开始脱她的衣服 .她站起来脱她的裤子 ,但我阻止了她---" 让我来."于是她解我的衣抠 ,当我的衬衣被脱下时我也解开了她的文胸 .

The first time is always the most exciting… the first time to see a new pair of breasts, a pussy. Each new time is truly new, fresh, salacious… and a mystery, for with the shaped padded bras that so many women here wear, what lies beneath is seldom certain. Thus Christine's breasts were bigger than expected; Ellen's a little smaller. But I like small, and while Ellen's were not so well defined as Mona's, they were cute and girlish. Tiny nipples, aureoles, firm under my tongue, nipped between my teeth. And so then to her trousers, the button of which she'd undone already.. I eased down the zip, folded them apart, to see the next delight, her panties. Not quite as sexy as I had hoped – cotton, mostly plain, the kind her parents no doubt approve of. Sexy panties remain a rarity in China; most women choose designs more suited to their grandparents.

第一次总是最兴奋的… 第一次看到一对新乳房, 新的生殖器.每一次新都是真实的 ,新鲜的 ,色情的… 还是神秘地,因为这里很多女人都用有胸垫的文胸 ,文胸下面是什么 ,这很难确定. Christine 的乳房比预想的大;ELLEN 的小点.但我喜欢小的 ,虽然ELLEN 的没有MONA的好定义 ,但看起来很可爱而且很女孩 .细小的乳头和乳晕 ,乳头在我的舌下坚挺, 夹在我的齿间.然后是她的裤子 ,裤扣已被她解开了 ,我毫不费力地拉下拉链, 把它折到一边,来看下一个惊喜 ,她的内裤 ,没有我想象的那么性感— 棉的,几乎素色 .毫无疑问这是她父母认可的 .情趣内裤在中国很罕见; 大多女人选择的款式更适合她们的祖父母.

So off with her trousers, and mine too, and I kiss her all over, from mouth to toes. And then through her panties, which makes her press against me… and then I allow myself the final treat, the first look at her pussy… my first thought? It needed trimming -- too much hair, untidy. But I did not tell her this just yet; instead, I went down on her, teasing at first, just blowing, then kissing her thighs, kissing above, below, to the side… and then moving in for my first taste. She was wet, excited, open. I found her clit with my tongue, licked, tasted.. she pressed against me, hard, enjoying it. But not for long; 'I want.. want you, want you inside me..' she breathed. And so I moved up to penetrate her.

于是脱了她的裤子, 我的脱了,我吻遍她全身 ,从嘴到脚趾 .然后通过令她挤压我的内裤… 我允许自己最后决定,先看她的生殖器 …我的第一想法 ?那里必须清理--- 太多毛,不干净 .但我还没告诉她这些 ;反而, 我趴到她那里,先是挑逗 ,吹一吹 ,然后吻她的大腿, 吻上面,下面 ,旁边 …然后吻正中, 品尝第一味道.她很湿 ,很兴奋 ,张开了. 我用舌头找到她的阴蒂, 舔着,品尝着 ,,她挤向我, 用力地,享受着 .但没过多久 ; "我要, 我想要你,要你进入我 …"她喘着气 .于是我移上来猛地进入她.

Moving my cock to the position I was about to say 'It might hurt..' but feeling the slickness of her pussy against my cock I thought again.. Pushed forward.. And eased in, smooth, gliding.. and though she gasped as I filled her, it was from pleasure not pain; and this is the first time it has happened so easily. Each other woman has found it to a greater or lesser extent painful; but not Ellen. Which, I confess, did make me doubt her later claim that I was only her third guy.

当我把我的生殖器移到这位置时, 我想说 "它可能会弄疼你 …"但是感觉到她的生殖器的润滑度我又想了一下 …推向前 ,然后顺利地进入了, 很润滑,很流畅 …当我填充她时她呻吟了 ,但这是因为开心而不是疼痛; 而这是第一次那么容易. 每个女人都会觉得很痛或者小范围的疼痛,ELLEN不会 .我承认这让我怀疑她后来宣称我是她唯一的第三个男人 .

And so, indeed, did her unbridled passion as we fucked. Was she really that inexperienced? She was good… so good that we fucked three times that night and again the morning after, and just thinking of how good she was now makes me stir.

因此 ,确实 ,当我们做爱时 ,她放纵的激情 ,难道她真的是没经验吗 ?她太棒了 ,以至我们那晚又做了三次 ,后来早上又做了一次 .现在只想着她怎么怎么棒 ,搞得我心悸动 .

Seducing Ellen

2006-07-05T02:55:00.000+08:00

WEDNESDAY, JULY 05, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by Kikoo.
中文由Kikoo翻译。感谢他的支持

Now Ellen was maybe one of the most passionate women I've had in all my years here. Ebullient, eager, uninhibited. She's one of my favorite memories, perhaps my finest fuck.

ELLEN可能是这几年来我所拥有的女人中最热情的。热情洋溢，渴望，放荡不羁，她是我最美好的回忆之一，也许是我最好的做爱对象。

I taught her some time back, last August or so, a university vacation course at Tongji. There were maybe 50 students in that class, so when she popped up online after the class had wrapped up, I did not really know who she was. But then she sent a few photos of herself, and I remembered her just fine – remembered, indeed, that she had seemed rather bored in class. And since, in those photos, she looked appealing I took the opportunity to steer our conversation into more flirty waters when she mentioned an ex-boyfriend:-

我以前教过她，大概是去年八月份，在同济大学的暑期课程。当时那间教室有 50个学生，因此上完课之后当她上网在线时，我并不知道她是谁。后来她发了很多相片给我，才有点印象--- 确实记得，在课堂上她看起来很无聊。但从那些照片中，她看起来很诱人，当她提起她的前任男友时，我乘机将我们的谈话掺入更多的调戏成分.

Ellen: um.....seems heppened in longlong agooooooooooo

Ellen:恩 …好象很久以前发生的

Me: but these memories from when we were young should not be forgotten

Me:但是这些事发生在我们小的时候 ,不应该忘记.

Me: and u should never regret the love u felt in the past

Me:而且你不该忘记你以前感觉到的爱。

Ellen: although we broke up on this January (that is, January 2005)

Ellen:虽然我们今年一月份分手了（是在 2005年1 月）

Me: well, it is a good thing t have a few different boyfriends, u know

Me:拥有几个不同的男朋友是件好事。

Ellen: 4years relationship.....wow...unbelievable

Ellen:我们一起四年了 …哇… 不敢相信

Ellen: of couse!!

Ellen:当然 !

Ellen: i m 22years old...i am young enough

Ellen:我才 22岁… 还很年轻.

Me: gosh, yes... well, so u must have got together when u were 18... that;s quite young in this culture. i admire that

Me:是的 …那你们在一起时肯定是你18 岁时…我承认在你们文化中是最年轻的了 .

Ellen: no ,i hv the first bf at 16 haha, but when i was 16 i hv no idea with it

Ellen:不 ,我16 岁时就有第一个男友了, 哈哈,但是那时什么都不懂 .

Me: of course. no one has any idea the first time

Me:当然 .第一次谁都不懂.

Ellen: but i hv no idea even when we broken haha (She meant 'no idea about sex')

Ellen:但就连我们分手了我也不懂 ,哈哈( 她的意思是 "不懂性 "

Me: oh... it sounds like he was not a very.... manly... bf!

Me:噢 …听起来他不是一个非常… 男人的…男朋友 .

Ellen: yes.chinese is not as mature as you at that time

Ellen:是的 .中国人在那时没有你们成熟.

Me: mm, i see... how long were u together with this guy?

Me:我明白了 …那你和这人一起有多久?

Ellen: the whole 9grade,when we leave school,we broke

Ellen:整个 9年级, 当我们毕业时就分手了.

Me: i see..well... did he at least kiss u nicely?

Me:我明白了 ….那他有没好好地吻过你?

Ellen: haha no kiss (Chinese dating!)

Ellen: 哈哈 .没有接吻( 中国式的交往)

Me: oh, that's so sweet! chinese culture can be so innocent

Me:噢 …太可爱了! 中国文化很无知

Ellen: he hvnt...."upgrowth" that time

Ellen:他那时还没有 … "发育"

Me: well... i hope ur last bf was more... satisfying?

Me:我希望你对前任男有更加 …满意.

Ellen: haha yes, of course

Ellen:哈哈 ,当然啦.

Ellen: thats not good,made us brokeup,then together,then brokeup,then togegher!!made me mad

Ellen:一点也不好 ,我们分了又和, 和了又分,又和 !这让我发疯 .

Me: ah, guys can be like that... they are not good at knowing what they want

Me:人就是这样 …根本不知道自己想要什么

Ellen: so they should be known what is "no way!!!

Ellen:那他们应该知道什么是 "不行 "

Me: guys never know where the `no way' mark is

Me:人们从来不知道 "不行" 标记在哪里

Me: Ellen, this is what men are like

Me: Ellen,男人就是这样的 .

Me: for them, sex is at the center of everything

Me:对他们来说 ,凡是都以性为中心.

Ellen: to a girl he really abandon...how could he? at least he should make clear if i am still love him

Ellen:他真的放弃一个女孩。。。他怎么可以 ? 至少，他应该弄清楚我是否还爱他 .

Me: ah, again, for guys, love and sex are totally different

Me:对男人 ,爱和性是两回事.

Me: he might abandon u to chase other women... but if he thinks u will still sleep with him, he will still chase u

Me:他可能抛弃你又去找别的女人 …要是他觉得你仍会和他睡觉, 他就会继续追求你.

Ellen: ummmm...may be.but we all move on now.so we still friends now.in some way he is still good friend

Ellen:也许吧 . 但我们仍然在交往, 在某些方面他还是一个好朋友.

Me: that is good too. i always feel it is a shame if a couple never keep in touch after they have split up

Me:那样也很好啊 .我总觉得如果一对情侣分开了就不再往来是一种羞耻.

Ellen: hehe why?

Ellen:为什么 ?

Me: well... u see, if u do not keep in touch, it suggests that ALL the time u spend together was a mistake, that there were no good times at all. that's sad.

Me:你看 ,如果你们不再联系, 那就说明你们在一起是个错误, 那就没有什么快乐而言.

Ellen: but there is more easy to hv sex again because you feel so suitable in sex and not so easy to find another one in china, Brian

Ellen:那就更容易又一起上床啦 ,因为你觉得做爱很合适, 但在中国再找一个很不容易的, Brian

Me: yes, that's part of it, too.... but it is also good to find new partners for sex... i know that sounds crude, but i do think it is true. experience is important.

Me:是的 ,那也是一部分… 但是找新的伙伴做爱也很不错啊… 我知道这听起来很粗鲁,但我觉得真是这样 .经验很重要 .

Ellen: experience is important???why i heard that guys always like gril with less experience

Ellen:经验很重要 ?为什么我老是听那些男人说喜欢经验少的女孩啊?

Me: i think a lot of traditional guys like that, yes

Me:我想那些传统的男人就是这样想 .

Me: but there are 2 things to consider here

Me:但我们这里要考虑 2方面

Me: first of all, the woman has a right to explore her own sexuality. it should not be limited by what guys want her to be, and, two, more modern guys are more cool about this. in my case, for example, i would never marry a virgin. i would want a woman with experience. Guys like me feel a woman with experience is a lot more fun in bed.

Me:第一 ,女人有权利探究自己的性欲. 不能局限于那些人要她怎样. 第二,更多的现代男子对此都不介意 .就拿我来说 ,我绝对不会和一个处女结婚. 我要一个有经验的女人. 向我这样的男人就觉得有经验的女人床上工夫不错.

Ellen: but in chinese.the traditional guys are majority

Ellen:但在中国，传统的男人还是很多的。

This conversation went on for a couple of hours, and at the end we had arranged to meet for dinner a day or two later.

我们谈了几个小时，最后决定过一两天一起吃晚饭。

I was certain she was a sure thing; the flirty responsiveness in her conversation, her openness and inquisitiveness about sexuality convinced me of it. Indeed, so sure was I about it that, the morning before we met, while I was checking out the night's emule porn download, I had a stroke while looking at her picture too, saying half out loud, `Tonight I am going to fuck you.'

她肯定是我的; 从她谈话中的挑逗语气, 还有她对性的开放和求知,让我很肯定 .的确 , 在我们见面之前的早上, 我很肯定要得到她,因为我整晚用电炉下载色情电影 ,我自摸了 .同时我看到她的相片, 半大声地说出来:今晚我要操你 .

So we met and headed for dinner. My first choice, a Hunan style restaurant called Di Shui Dong ( 滴水洞), had a queue waiting, so I doubled back to another nearby place, just round the corner on Maoming Lu. I'd not chosen it at first primarily because I had planned to take Jojo there the next night and, good as it is, twice in a row is a bit much. Plus it seemed to me Di Shui Dong was more the style for Ellen with its bright, noisy cheerful and down to earth style. Le Garcon is more suitable to a slightly older, more sophisticated woman. And maybe even I could add that I was pretty sure Ellen was in the bag, so there was no need to pull out all the stops. Why go to the expense of the finer place when the cheaper Hunan place would answer just as well?

于是我们见面了, 并且讨论吃晚饭的地方. 我的第一选择是一家叫 "滴水洞 "的湖南菜馆 ,但是要排队等, 于是决定去附近别的餐馆, 就在茂名路的街角.最初我没选择这里 ,是因为我打算第二天晚上带 JOJO去, 而且一周去两次有点多。加上滴水洞更适合ELLEN ，因为那里明亮，热闹，并且够实在。Le Garcon比较适合那些成熟的女性。也许还因为我十分确定 ELLEN是我的了，所以没必要花大钱。既然湖南餐馆便宜，为什么要去那些贵价地方呢？

She was dressed cute, Shanghainese, a vest-type top, simple enough, but bare on the shoulders and arms, showing the shape of her body. We ate, chatted, flirted with eyes and then words.

她穿的很可爱，一件吊带衣，够简单，但是肩和手臂裸露，显示她的身材。我们边吃边聊，眉来眼去还用语言调情。

She told me some about herself, such as that last night she stayed up all night long singing karaoke with her friends, and about her various part time jobs at a restaurant and a Japanese run firm. She did not much like the latter and, here, I expected the usual ignorant anti-Japan tirade which marks so much of Chinese attitudes to Japan.

她跟我说了些关于她自己的事，比如昨晚她整晚没睡，和朋友一起唱 K，还有关于她在餐馆和日本公司做过的几份兼职。她并不喜欢在日本公司的工作，在此，我期待着无知的反日论，这记录着中国人对日本人的态度。

But not so – she gave the far more cogent reason that Japanese guys are just weird about women. And this, from my acquaintance with Japanese porn, and the crazy and fascinating story another friend to me about her run in with her Japanese guy, I can believe.

但并没这样- 反而她提供了更使人有同感的理由，日本男人只是怪异于女人。然而，从我朋友用日本色情，疯狂而又令人入迷的方式，告诉我关于另一个朋友与她的日本男人鬼混的情形，我相信。

She told me her boss told her she was too fat – a comment which would get him sacked in a better-run country (and a comment wholly untrue) and that they made her dance for them every lunchtime. That was just weird… this, she explained, was because her father accompanied her to the initial job interview, and at that time told her to dance for them; so now she has to do it every lunchtime. That's just fucked-up, these lecherous Japanese guys making her dance!

她告诉我她老板说她太胖— 一个可以让他在发展很好的国家就寝的评论（而且这个评论完全不真切），他们让她每天午饭时间为他们跳舞。那很怪哦… 这,她解释说是因为她父亲陪她去了首次面试 ,而那时他叫她为他们跳舞 ;所以现在她每天午饭时间都必须跳给他们看. 就这样搞糟了, 这些好色的日本人让她跳舞!

And as for her father… Well, in some ways, from what she said about him, he seems quite a reasonable one. Sure, he wants to tell her what to do with her life – in this case, since he is a government official, he thinks she should be one too.

关于她父亲… 从她提到他的某些方面, 似乎他总是有道理的.当然 ,他想告诉她怎样生活—- 这样,自从他成为政府官员 ,同样他也希望她成为政府官员 .

Ellen was not interested in such a job. 'It's so boring…' she said, then reflected a little and added, 'but it might not be so bad. He has lots of free time.. he goes to lots of places, too.. and often comes home early. In fact he has so much free time he does all the cooking at home – although he doesn't let his colleagues know that. Whenever I meet them, or they come home, he's sure to point out how my mum and I do all the housework..'

ELLEN对这样的工作不感兴趣 . "很无聊的…" 她说, 然后想了一下又说 , "也许这样也不错 .他有很多空余时间,, 他还可以去很多地方…而且经常可以早回家 .事实上他太闲了 ,在家都是他煮饭— 虽然他不让他的同事知道. 每当我和他们见面,或者他们来我家 ,他肯定会告诉他们所有的家务都是我妈和我做的 .

But even so, he does not try to corral her life, unlike so many Chinese parents. That's why she had been able to stay out all night singing the night before; and I was glad to hear it, for over-restrictive parents are a key stumbling-point when it comes to taking a girl home for the night.

就算是这样, 他没有想其他中国家长那样, 禁固她的生活. 这就是她之前可以彻夜不归来唱K 的原因; 听到这我很高兴, 带一个女孩子回家过夜对于那些要求严格的父亲来说是一个致关重要的障碍.
But, like so many young Chinese women, she is wise many years beyond the men of this society. He gives her this freedom because she handles him so well. `When I am with him I pretend to be very shy, I don ' t talk much, and I agree with everything he says. So he thinks I am still a little girl…' she told me. ' He simply could not imagine my real life, so that' s why he gives me freedom.'

可是, 像众多年轻的中国女孩一样,, 她比这社会里的男人都聪明好些年.他给她自由是因为她支配的很好 . "当我和他一起我就装得很怕羞 ,不多说话 ,而且他说什么我都同意. 所以他觉得我还是小女孩…" 她告诉我. "他想象不到我的真实生活 ,所以他给我自由 ."

In the restaurant I did not make all the running; she felt me out too, asking when I had first started chasing girls. `Sixteen,' I lied. `That's rather late..' she said, rather to my pleasure. I agreed it was, but explained that I had been to a boys' school, so girls were hard to come by. And a little later on, perhaps in reference to this, or maybe just out of the blue, she asked, 'Have you ever done anything gay?' To show her I was cool with this, I said, 'Well.. I went to a boys' school.. and you know what guys are like.. so, yes, a little…' My next question was crushingly obvious.. `And you?'

在餐馆中，我没有展开追问; 她也感觉出我, 问当我什么时候开始追女孩的。 "16岁 "我骗她 . "那么迟." 她说,不及对我的乐趣 .我同意这说法 ,但我解释我是在议价男子学校读书 ,所以很难有女孩来. 过了一小会儿, 也许关于这个,或许只是无意地 ,她问 : "那你做过同性恋做的事吗?" 为了表示我的冷静, 我说 "我去了男子学校 ,而你也知道男人像 …所以 ,是的, 有一点…" 我的下疑问显然被打破,, "那你呢 ?"

`Yes, a little..' she said. 'I'm not a les – lesbian? -- but I do think women's bodies are beautiful, sexy.' Naturally, I wanted to hear more details about this. But right then it was too early to ask. I bided my time.

"是的 ,有点…" 她说. "我不是同性恋 ?—但我觉得女人的身体很漂亮 ,很性感 ." 自然地, 我希望听得更详细些.但这样问还太早 .我付出了我的时间 .

The meal done, both of us were thinking the same thing. What next? I suggested coffee, or maybe a walk in the grounds of the Garden Hotel, for the usual purpose. She accepted.. but when we got to the main road, it was virtually impassable with people. This was because of the tourism festival parade, floats, dancers, bands and the like; and she wanted to watch this instead. This put me out a little, for I wanted to get her in the garden, since, as I mentioned below, it is the ideal spot to bring the seduction to the next level.

吃完饭, 我们都想着同一件事.下一步干什么 ?我提议喝杯咖啡 ,或许去花园酒店的平地走走, 和平常的目的一样.她同意了 ,,当我们走到主干道时 ,却不能与人们通行. 这是因为旅游节, 人们游行, 漂流物、舞者、乐团和同类 ;她想看这些. 这让我有点失望,因为我想带她进入花园 ,自从, 就像我如下提到的,它是将诱惑更进一层的理想场所 .

But we watched the parade some, and then she decided it was too crowded. She looked over at the cinema hoarding nearby.. 'A film..?' I suggested. But this was not what I at all wanted, and in any case the crowds were too thick to cross over and check out the listings. 'We could go for a coffee…' I said, '…or go back to my place and watch a film.'

但我们看了一下游行, 然后她觉得太拥挤了. 她看到了附近的电影院。 "看电影 …?"我提议. 但这根本不是我要的,而且无论如何都过不去那边看清单 ,因为人群太挤了. " 我们可以去喝杯咖啡…"我说 "…或者去我家, 看电影.".

'Have you got films with subtitles?' she asked. But she was not really saying that; she was saying, 'Yes, I'll come home with you.' She knew it. I knew it.
And so we went back to my place together….

" 你那些电影有字幕吗?" 她问. 她说的不是真的这意思; 而是" 好的, 我和你回家." 她知道, 我也知道. 后来, 我们一起去了我家…

Shanghai Girls

2006-07-01T05:30:00.000+08:00

Saturday, July 01, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by Yan.
中文由Yan翻译。感谢他的支持。

Adina thus being unavailable, I decided to put some time in chasing Ceecee instead. But she is tied up with stuff at her university this week, and so I batted off an SMS inviting Cara out to lunch.

I met her in a class six months back or so, and her bright, confident and artistic nature impressed me. So I made sure to chase her a little afterwards, and we have become friends, going to listen to music together, see art shows and the like. She is the best type of Shanghai girl.

Shanghai girls like this are usually easy to spot. I can walk into a new class, cast my eye over the desks and fairly accurately pick out the local women. There is a certain style of woman, such as Ceecee, such as Cara, who is obviously, immediately, a ‘Shanghai Girl.’ They are so easy to spot that I when I begin to talk with them I usually begin with, ‘So you’re from Shanghai, right?’

This, in passing, is a good way of warm-up wooing, because what the statement ‘You’re from Shanghai, right?’ really means is, ‘You are a fashionable, modern woman, stylish and confident, and I recognize this. I recognize your sense of individuality and self-confidence. I see you.’ And Shanghai woman is quite subtle enough to hear and remember this compliment.

China Man, generally, is not; for when I say to Shanghai Woman, ‘So, you’re a local?’ guys in the class will generally be taken aback, and ask me how I know this. This goes to show what a stolid and unimaginative fish China Man can be. But I am glad of it, for his sexual naiveté is why lechers like me do so well.

dina 艾迪娜从此不能再得手。我决定花些时间来追Ceecee代替。但是这个星期Ceecee被大学的事情栓住了，因此我立即SMS Cara 邀她出来午餐。
我在一个教室里遇到她（Cara）大概是六个月以前，她的聪明自信艺术天性给我留下深刻印象。很快我就确定追求她。我们成了朋友，一起去听音乐，看艺术展览，和一些类似的活动。她是这种最典型的上海女孩。
象这样的上海女孩通常是容易识别的。当我走进一个新班级，用我的眼睛扫过这些课桌，我能准确的挑出哪些是本地的女性。有一种确定的类型，象Ceecee ，Cara ，明显的一个“上海女孩”，她们是非常容易被识别出。当我开始和他们谈话时，我通常会先说：“你来自上海，对不对？”
这是已经验证过的好的求爱热身方法，因为这个陈述‘ 你来自上海“真的含义是。 ”你是一个非常时髦的现代女性，时尚自信。我赏识它。我看到你我就感到你的自信感个性感 ’上海女性是相当敏感的听出懂得这个恭维。
中国的男性，通常是不同。当我对上海女性说“那么你是本地人？” 。这个班的男生一般会惊住，问我怎么会知道。这说明中国男性是多么的感觉迟钝缺乏想象力的呆头鱼。但是我感到高兴，因为他们的性的幼稚。那是为什么象我这样的好色之徒能做的这么好。

But this is not to say all Shanghai women are the same, far from it; the city does have plenty of quiet, timid, ‘traditional’ women. Yet even they generally have the Shanghai attitude. If I say to women such as these, ‘Are you from Shanghai?’ most usually they will reply, ‘Of course!’ with some pep, as though to say, ‘How could I possibly be from anywhere else? Do you think I look like someone from out of town?’

The Shanghainese, in large, look down on people from outside Shanghai but look up to people from outside China – if those people are white. Expats from Africa and India in particular, I have found, do not quite have the respect of many Chinese people, and some of my more honest students (a small, small number) will admit this racism exists. Most will not admit this, and get as touchy as fuck if one says anything negative about China. This is why I have to be a little careful in class. When I talk about the issue of Shanghai snobbery, I generally say I feel it exists, but then make sure to add that people in other cities can be the same. It’s true about London, but I do not know about the other cities; the point is that one can just about offer a little criticism of China, as long as one says that other countries are the same, and preferably worse. Truthful, open criticism of China is impossible; this is not a people willing to hear truth. See, for example, this and this.

Chinese racism is perhaps more clearly shown in a saying that is sometimes used here, which imagines a celestial baker creating humanity, ‘He left the black people in the oven too long, the white people not long enough but us, the Chinese, he cooked just right.’

But anyhow.

但这不是说所有的上海女性都是这样的，太不同了，这个城市有许多文静的，羞怯的传统女性，仍然她们有种上海姿态。如果我象这样对她们说：“你来自上海？”，她们大部分会回答“当然！”语气中带有一些锐气，就象是说：“我怎么可能来自别的地方？你认为我象别的地方的人？”
上海人是自大的，看不起外地人但是尊敬从国外来的人---如果他们是白人。我已经发现，特别是从非洲印度移居的人得不到中国人的尊重。我的一些较诚实的学生（非常少的数量）愿意承认这种族歧视存在。大部分不会承认。如果有人说任何关于中国负面的事，他们会变得易怒暴躁的as fuck .这是为什么在教室里我不得不谨慎一点。但我谈论上海的势利问题，我一般说我觉得它存在，那么我确定也提出别的城市的人也是这样。伦敦是势利的没错，但是我不了解别的城市；这个要点是你可以突出对中国的一点批评，只要你说别的国家是同样的现象，而且更糟。诚实的，公开批评中国是不可能的。这个不是一个人愿意听到的事实。例如，这些这些。
中国的种族歧视可能从这里的一个谚语中显示的更清晰，设想一个天上的神仙烘焙创造人类，他把黑人留在烤炉太久，白人的烘焙时间不够长，焙制中国人的时间刚刚好。
总之。

So Cara and I met a little after midday at a sandwich bar on Nanjing Road; she was dressed vivid, bright, appealing, yellows and oranges, and with a funky new hairstyle, shots of red and curls. That, and her trim, slender body, perky breasts, effervescent smile make her an appealing package indeed.

And as we ate we chatted of this and that. She told me she had decided she’d had enough of her boyfriend, that he was too stolid, that she had set her sights overseas study and he, dull, averse to risk, was not interested in joining her. Thus, she has decided, they must part. This pleased me, for in it I see my angle; free of the guilt of a betrayal she will be easier to charm to bed – and with overseas calling her, there is no hassle of sought permanence.

Potentialities of sex aside, I do like her just for her friendship, her bright, artistic nature. And for her self-confidence. I asked her when she had developed this style of hers, for I knew it would have been wholly banned at high school. In her second year of university, she told me. She explained that she had been the first on her campus to break out of the standard schoolgirl cut, and that when she did, the Dean of her university criticized her for it, telling her she should not wear her hair so fashionable, that she should turn it back to a more uniform, standard style, that she should be just like everyone else. She refused.

And then, she told me, the Dean said, ‘Then I will ask your parents to come in and we will see what they say.’

I had to stop her at that point and just make sure I had not misunderstood –was she really talking about university, not high school? She was. Even with the many tales of university absurdity I have heard, this one still took me aback. ‘What did you say to that?’ I asked. She told me her parents always supported – even encouraged – her to be herself, and she told the Dean as much.

Good for her parents, I say, for a lot of Chinese parents give their children very little freedom, deciding what they should study, eat, do, say, think, dress; where they should work, who they should date. Hers seem that rare exception, adults who understand what loving a child really means.

正午后Cara和我在南京路上的一个三明治吧见面。她打扮的非常鲜艳，命令，吸引人，黄色和橙色，一个时髦有个性的新发型，夹杂着红色，卷曲着。她的苗条整洁的身体，自信得意的胸部，兴奋冒泡的笑的确包装的她非常迷人。
我们边吃边聊了许多。她告诉我她已经受够了她的男朋友，他太迟钝冷漠。她已经定下目标到海外去求学。但是他太漠然，不愿意去冒险，不感兴趣加入她。因此她已经决定，他们必须分手。这让我感到高兴，因为从中我看到我的诡计。免除了因为辜负产生的内疚，她会更容易被引诱上床，而且因为海外的召唤，不会有永久的麻烦。
除了潜在的性，我真的喜欢她就是为了她的友谊，她的聪明，艺术天性，还有她的自信。我问她什么时候开始发展她现在独特的风格，因为我知道在高中那会被完全的禁止。在她大学的第二年，她告诉过我。她解释她是校园中第一个违反女生的标准范围/ 她违规后大学的校长批评了她，对她说她不应该把头发弄的太。她应该把它翻回到更统一标准的样式。她应该象别的女生，她拒绝了。
那么她告诉我，这个校长提出：“我会让你的父母来见我，我们会看他们怎么说“
我不得不停止她在这点上就是确定我没有误会，她真的在谈论大学，不是高中的事情？她是在谈论大学的事，即使我有听过许多大学荒谬的故事。这个仍然惊住我。我问她怎样回答校长的。她告诉我她的父母一直支持她，甚至鼓励她做她喜欢的事，做她自己。她对校长说的同样的话。
对她父母来说那很好。我说，因为许多的中国父母给他们的孩子很少的自由，父母决定孩子应该学什么，吃什么，做什么，说什么，想什么，穿什么：他们应该在哪工作，应该和谁约会。她（Cara）的父母似乎是罕见的例外，成年人懂什么是真正关爱孩子的方法。
未完待续....
She told me another anecdote about this objectionable Dean. One student in her course stole the wallet of another, and was caught doing so. The course tutor took the student aside to ask why she had done it, saying, ‘If you need money, just ask me.’ But the student had not stolen it for money, but rather out of an obscure sense of anger over some perceived slight. The way the malefactor explained this made the grade teacher worry a little over her mental health, and so he wanted to adopt a light touch, to treat the student with care, to send her to talk to a doctor rather than publicly shame her (a doctor only; China has more or less zero mental health specialists). The victim of the pilfering agreed with this approach.

But the Dean got to hear of the matter, and weighed in. The student must be shamed, he decided, and expelled; and so she was. ‘And so that was the end of her life’ said Cara, ‘After that there is no way she could ever get a good job.’ And then she told me that the Dean had followed up this shitty act by firing the grade tutor. Astonishing.

China is in so many ways a fucked up society. Yet even with these numerous ills and absurdities, it remains an overly proud, fervently nationalistic country.

Mixed with its stiff-necked pride is a pervasive victim mentality. All China’s woes are blamed on others, from the Western countries’ invasion of China in the 19thC and the Japanese in the second world war to perceived discrimination today from ‘the West.’

But this is the logical choice. China must have someone to blame, since facing the truth of the matter would be too psychologically devastating. The truth is that China savages itself, rips and wounds itself; all China’s ills are inflicted by its government, its organizations and institutions. By its citizens, in a word, from the president on down. And how many people could face such a truth as that? How can they admit that since 1949 their own government has brought them nothing but misery, murder and death? That they and no-one else are to blame for their woes?

And so Chinese society is stuck in deep denial, and the people who know least about modern China are the Chinese themselves. Chinese people, in general, know nothing about their society and are simply not interested in finding out. For example, I have asked 50 people in the last week what is happening at Shengda University. Not one knew. They simply do not care, are not interested in finding out. Eyes shut, blindness all the way. Each country gets the government it deserves.

Cara, at least, has a wider view, a more mature perspective. The petty folly of life here is not for her, and this is why she wants to go overseas. ‘If I stayed here the only way I could get ahead is by guanxi, and I just can’t do that – can’t pretend to like people purely to get a better job, can’t flatter.’ She told me her soon-to-be-ejected boyfriend had urged her to stay in her job, since working in a state-owned concern like hers is usually a safe berth. ‘But I could just not bear it’ she told me, ‘Having to use guanxi to get anything done.’

I agreed that it was not the right job for her, adding, ‘But I guess it shows your boyfriend does care for you, because he wants you to be safe.’ I said that to show what a straight-up guy I was, and to try to make her think I was disinterested in the matter. Trashing her boyfriend for his lack of imagination would not be the right way to proceed; it would, in effect, be saying, ‘You are an idiot to stay with such a guy so long.’ So instead I showed this measure of respect for her choice, though observed, ‘But I guess it shows he does not really understand you.’ The implication here, of course, being that I did.

She continued, ‘And also I’d have to rely on my relationships with government people to get them to give us money… and of course that would mean.. you know that I would have to… when they…when the leaders..’ I don’t now recall quite how she phrased it, but her meaning was utterly clear; that her guanxi would be her body, that government guys would come on to her and if she did not fuck them or blow them they would make sure the concert hall got no money.

I cannot blame her for wanting to get out; the best and brightest leave. They have to.

It was a pleasing, promising lunch, and there was more going on than mere chat. Beneath our conversation we were sounding each other out, and her mention of dumping her boyfriend was no casual observation. Our meal concluded with her inviting me to an event next weekend; and that, I hope, can be followed by dinner and bed.

More of the Six-foot Stunner

2006-06-28T05:29:00.000+08:00

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

And indeed it turns out Adina would be a hard chase anyway, since she’s gone back to her hometown for the summer.

But I have yet to finish up that dinner I had with her, the one I’d invited her to along with Lily D., even though I was half included to chase Lily D too.

Adina and I met first, before going to dinner, and she was just stunning... Tall, elegant, dressed with great individuality, she was waiting for me in 美罗城. I made to kiss her cheek and she avoided it. This seemed a bad omen to me; but maybe I just took her by surprise, or maybe she thought I was going for her lips, since later in the evening she became more relaxed, more physical with me. I sms’d CW to tell her we’d arrived; she replied to say she was at the restaurant already, even though we’d agreed to meet at Mei Luo Cheng. That was mildly irritating, but no great matter – a brief cab ride round the corner, to Shanghai Uncle, and the evening kicked off. Lily was looking good and, sans Adina, I’d have made more effort to flirt with her.

But it likely would not have got anywhere, and indeed I think I reinforced the image she might have of me from class as a swaggering foreigner since I insisted on paying at the end. But it was a good evening for all of that, and I ordered a fine meal.

Ordering a good meal, it seems to me, is a kind of wooing. It looks good to know your way round a menu. This is a lesson I picked up from Michael Bloomberg; on a trip round NY, he said that in a business meeting showing power matters, and that one could do this anywhere. In a business dinner, for example, one way to do this was either to show you know the menu back to front, or just order what you want without even looking at it. Now business strategies leave me cold, but the lesson can be applied to the chase. It is one I have used to great success at Le Garcon Chinoise.

And in fact this restaurant anecdote reminds me of another. A few days ago I stepped over the road to get some fried rice to go with a meal. When the chef had cooked it, he called over the guy behind the counter to bring the carton out from the kitchen. The guy did this, fetching the carton from the kitchen and placing it on the work top, its lid still open, opposite. I looked at him; he returned my gaze blankly. Since I did not know this was even my rice I just waited. The rice sat there, open, cooling, the idiot guy vacant, his mind idle. After a few moments one of the servers on my side of the counter came out of the washroom, closed the lid, put an elastic band round it, bagged it and handed it to me.

This minor incident struck me quite deeply as a testament to the utter vacuous mindlessness of huge swathes of modern Chinese society. No imagination, no thought, nothing at all; just the myopic focus on one’s own task. No possible thought of stepping outside it. It is a society so cramped and conditioned, so bereft of individuality that I can imagine such people looking on as, say, a piano from above falls from a crane towards a hapless passer-by. Somebody else’s problem. Sure, sure, boxing up fried rice is a job for a robot and working in such a joint at that would snuff out what little selfhood this dolt might have had. But to not even make the tiny step of closing the lid because it was someone else’s job….

Anyhow, back at Shanghai Uncle, it was a fine meal, all the usual wow dishes, the ones that look good, taste good, make the orderer look good: the cheese-baked mandarin fish, the lamb, the veal. (The fish in particular impressed Lily D. very much, which gratified me… though writing that I also wonder if maybe she was doing a little showing off too, for the other women at the table, demonstrating her familiarity with the Western style of this dish. Cheese does not go down big in China, and Lily D. also made a point of mentioning the Italian influence in the dish. A certain familiarity with international culture is held to have cachet here.)

Though this evening was some time ago, I still very clearly how greatly Adina impressed me and how much that evening redoubled my wish to get her. At the evening’s end she said she’d catch the bus back to her campus, which was nearby and, since I had CW and Lily, I somewhat reluctantly agreed. Adina gone, CW, Lily and I taxied to the tube, CW leaving at People’s Square. Lily was heading in my direction, and we talked as we went. I said, `I get the impression I irritated you in class.. I’m really very sorry about that.’

I had hoped to hear `Not at all’ but instead she said, `What’s in the past is in the past,’ meaning `Yes, you did irritate me’; which took me aback rather. I have not seen here since then and not though of her until now. So it goes.

Back home I sent an SMS after Adina, `Great to see you.. You were stunning,’ an during the next few days she and I talked on MSN. Our chats were a little brief and I was not sure I was making any headway. But then she emailed me to invite me to stay with her family in Nanjing over the Spring Festival holidays, telling me that:-

`Today my mom talked New Year Eve with me, and i had told my mom i would like to invite you visit Nanjing (hehe. especially for real local food) before. She thought foreigners might not have chance to spend time with their famlies while other Chinese families were cheering together in Chinese special day. So, my mom really hope you can come to spend the New Year Eve with us as well. '

This was an email that pleased me greatly. But my first impulse was to make an excuse, for traveling though all the crowds and noise to a family I do not know at all would be a hassle. But I suspected it might have been her offer, and that if I did not go I would have no chance of her. But if I went it would still have to be in the terms laid out in her email – as just a friend. It was a test.

So I decided to go, my decision partly influence by the selection of photos she’d sent me. They were all chose to show her at her best, which seems to me a fine sign; and I was frank about how stunning I found her, so she knew I was thinking of her beyond just mere friendship.

Yet even at the time I felt that my attitude was something I ought curb a little. If I showed too much keenness for her, I would seem a supplicant, not a master. And no one ever gets a woman by asking too hard.

But getting a ticket to go see her was a real cunt, with the fucked up system they got here. They told me (after getting to the head of a long queue) I could not buy a ticket until within 6 days of the desired travel date. I went back on the sixth day before departure, and again me a long queue. At its head, the unsmiling clerk told me I could only get a ticket 2 days before departure. I went back 2 days before departure, queued again. The still unsmiling clerk told me I should have bought it 6 days before I planned to leave.

I lost my temper, somewhat. Generally I try not to do this, for I have seen too many foreigners, perplexed by the hard language and odd rules, shouting and screaming at the locals. This happens especially frequently at the PSB – the Public Security Bureau - where they issue passports and visas and the like. Most every time I go some foreigner will be frothing and screaming at the person behind the perspex; and while the rules here are frequently arcane, arbitrary and frustrating, shouting about it is only going to have a counterproductive effect. So in general I keep my temper, for I have no wish to come off as another intemperate white guy.

But in the face of my mild irritation and broken Chinese, grudgingly they told me I `might’ be able to buy a ticket on the day of travel. On the day, I queued up once more and this time got a ticket.

Every single one of these queues, naturally, was made longer by the incessant number of people pushing straight to the front of the queue.

Fuck me, I’m writing about the inability of Chinese people to queue. Next it will be spitting, and then, fuck, it will be bicycles, and then my blog will be the same as every other blog on China.

Sweetie Continued

2006-06-22T05:28:00.000+08:00

Thursday, June 22, 2006

The first fuck is usually the best; it is diminishing returns after that. So, with Sweetie, that first time lasted an hour or so; and, being the first fuck, it was the most exciting – and so I nearly came a couple of times before I was ready. But, champion masturbator that I am, a brief pause was enough to restore control.

This is an important point of honor, especially the first time. After all, I wish to do all I can to highlight the difference between my lovemaking and that of the average local guy; he (from what numerous women have told me) can’t last more than a few minutes. Indeed, among my various lovers, Ellen (whom I have yet to describe), as we rested together after making love, made me laugh with her tales of the over-excitable guys she’d been with.

But the first time needs some balance; it cannot last too long since, in general, the woman will become sore, not being used to the larger size Western cock. I do not mean to boast about the size of my cock (though it is vastly flattering (and pleasingly frequent) when a new woman says `Wow, it’s so big) – it’s rather that Western guys routinely are bigger than Chinese guys.

Now once I had found my rhythm, found the ideal stroke and ideal state of mind, I could have ploughed away all night. But Sweetie was getting a little pained with it, so I said that perhaps we should conclude. ‘You can control it?’ she asked, in some surprise.

She wanted me to wear a condom to come. Yeah, yeah, sure I should have been wearing one already. And I was perfectly happy to do so, though I made a joke about it – `.. you will have to put it on for me.’ And so she did, with her mouth, which was rather good.

The key reason I do not often wear a condom – apart from pure, naked selfishness and profligacy, I mean – is that Chinese condoms are just too small.

Again this is not a by-proxy boast about my cock size. For example, Mona’s other Western lover, the guy who I heard being gossiped about in a restaurant but have never met, also had this problem; indeed, I spent a jolly afternoon with Mona trying to find decent sized condoms for her to use with him. She liked him to use a condom when they fucked, but he did not like to. With fine hypocrisy I told her this meant he was a turd. (Though then I laughed and added, `But I am being hypocritical, I did not use one with you either, did I?). He told her the local condoms were too small; that was why she wanted my help to find larger ones.

So first of all we went to the medical center in the Portman; no luck there. Then a conversation with a Durex rep by the condom rack in a Watson’s, also to no luck. Mona was a little shy about this so I did all the talking (and indeed as I did so the customers in the area skulked away, embarrassed). The rep told me this was a frequent problem with Western guys, and that as far as she knew nowhere in the city sold a bigger size. But, she said, foreign guys said such and such a line of Durex was the least bad fit; and so we bought a few packets of those.

Anyhow, back to Sweetie and her mouth. The condom being too small, it first of all threatened to come off, sitting as it was on my helmet like – well – a helmet -- so I had to pull it further down me, making it yet more tight, and thus constricting me, reducing feeling and making it rather tougher to come, meaning I had to pump her pretty hard and fast, which began to exacerbate her discomfort. But come I did, covered in sweat and roaring.

Yeah, it was a pretty good fuck, and she’s a pretty good lover – though her oral technique could do with some improvement. Post-fuck rest, she asked me, `How many times do you think I came?’ I had little idea, it being hard to tell among all the various cries, some of pain, some of pleasure. But ever the vain male, I said `Three, four?’ It was two, she said - -`but then some women never come at all’ she added. So two was ok.

As it was still relatively early in the evening, she wanted to go get a drink, so we did; and as we drank she chain-smoked and played with her PS2, or Gameboy, or whatever it was.

She’s a slightly unusual woman, nervous, jumpy, twitchy; smokes too much, is, I would guess, at heart rather insecure; and given we went back to my place after the bar and fucked some more, this could have spelled a future problem. Having fucked her a couple of times I was more or less done. And while she did at that time have a boyfriend, I was a little wary lest she wanted to make that night any more than the fling it was. Certainly, given that the boyfriend was, from what she said, the dull, dependable, decent type, barely an ounce of passion but reliable, sensible, and thoroughly Chinese, this was rather a risk.

But even so, the next day I idly flirted via sms message, sexy messages at that, in part to test how far I could go. It was unwise, and might have made her think the fling could be more permanent. But I did it anyway; I did it because I could.

She wanted to know more sex talk, so I told her some. At first she misunderstood `giving head.’ Does it mean `sper on the head?’ she wondered. `I do not like that,’ she said.

I replied that no, it did not mean coming on her face, and that to do so was disrespectful to a woman; instead it meant the mouth on each other. Now coming on the face is of course a form of humiliation for the woman, a form a control, of belittling. Naturally it is also a turn on I would like to try. The fact she had an active enough mind to mistake my meaning that way was promising. There are some women I have been with who could barely even imagine such a thing. But she knew all about it, and even if she was not keen on it, it still showed she had a sexy mind.

All in all it was a pretty good, sexy fuck, with a sexy, willing woman. She had to work the day after, leaving my place around 8am, wearing, to her slight embarrassment, the same clothes she’d worn yesterday (`My Japanese bosses will notice’ she said. Yeah, I have a few horror stories to tell about the way some Japanese guys treat women).

I lent her a clean pair of my briefs and, later that day, found – to my pleasure – she’d left her panties behind. The scent on them was strong, since she was pretty highly aroused when I undressed her. Naturally, I wore them to bed the night after; and I even told her this by sms, to gauge her. She seemed to quite like it. Yeah, she had a sexy, dirty mind for sure.

Does No mean No?

2006-06-19T05:27:00.000+08:00

Monday, June 19, 2006

And so together Ceecee and I looked for a cab. The last year or so it’s been hard to find a cab in the city and in general this causes curses in me. But tonight I was grateful for it, since it meant I could linger longer. Huaihai Road was lined with ones and twos of people scanning back and forth for cabs, perking up at seeing a vacant light, only to see someone else get the cab, or a fresh passenger in it already and the flag not yet dropped. `We won’t get a cab here’ I said, and steered us off down a sidestreet, my arm round her waist. We walked for ten minutes before finding a cab, chatting easily enough but getting interrupted by messages from her supine maggot guy. When we did find a cab he switched from messages to calls, none of which she answered.

She was slightly tense now, for she had a good idea of what was coming. ‘Why are you tense?’ I said.

‘I’m not’ was her first reply.

‘You are, you’re nervous’ I said. ‘Don’t be’ and put my arm round her, pulled her to me. She lay against my side, but still uneasy. ‘What is it?’ I said. ‘Is it because you think I want to kiss you? But I do…you are so very beautiful.’ And so I leaned over to kiss her. She squirmed a little, said she did not want to kiss – but half-returned my kiss even as she spoke; her No was not a real No.

Now of course this is a dangerous way for a guy to begin to think, that No means Yes. And indeed it’s not usually that simple; No can mean Maybe, ‘Maybe, but I don’t want to appear easy,’ ‘Maybe, but my culture teaches me to be shy of sex.’

‘No means No’ is just too much of a simplification. It is more about tone, body language, implication. No in a certain style, certain tone most surely does mean No; but there are a dozen ways to say No, and a dozen shades of meaning.

Ceecee’s No was the same as Tingting’s No, Tingting whose No took an hour to turn into Yes. And when it did, what a yes! She was (as I said below) a fine lover, and she may be back in my life (or my bed at least) for she sent me a warm email the other day to tell me she has now finished her PhD studies and is about to embark on the next stage of her life, a posting to a hospital in a nearby city. I hope to see her at least once before she goes, for I have fine memories of her body, her passion. That smooth belly, lithe legs, those deep liquid eyes…

Ceecee’s No was `No, not tonight… but maybe next time.’ And her half-response to that first kiss suggested to me that her No might have become a Yes had not this clod been persistently calling; there is no way to woo when you’re sharing the cab with a whacko. The simple expedient of switching her phone off was no option, for her parents, like so many in China, are wholly unable to see her as an adult. To them, she is still 12 years old and thus must be reachable at all times. A switched-off phone just causes panic in parents such as these.

For example, Adina’s mother; to me Adina is a strong, sexy, confident woman, bold and stylish. To her mother, she’s barely more than a schoolgirl. Adina’s family home is in the city of Nanjing, a couple of hours away from Shanghai.

Now Adina used to have this wimpy whingy boyfriend, who indeed I have met (shaken his hand, looked him in the eye and thought `I’m going to take her from you’). He studies in the UK but, poor dear, cannot make a go of it there, and so from time to time comes back to China for some R&R. This, he hides from his parents, and so when he comes he stays in a hotel in the city. On one trip back he and Adina spent 24 hours together and, since she did not want to be disturbed, she shut her phone off. When she turned it back on, she told me it notified her of 40 missed calls, all from her mother, and then beeped and buzzed nonstop as the 60 messages she’d sent arrived. Not only this; the mother had also called relatives in Shanghai and implored them to go to her campus and find out where she was. Nuts.

And so Ceecee and I parted, her to her bed and me to mine. As I rode home I followed her with an sms message of my own. 'Wow.. u r the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.. Hope to see you again soon.’ And then, a little later, 'You are not toooo angry with me?..'

`一点生气' ('A little angry’)

Ohhh… 55555… Well.. maybe if u forgive me we can meet again..’ (The number 5 is pronounced `wu’ in Chinese, and thus is used in sms to express mock-misery)

`现在不生气‘ (‘Now I’m not angry’)

`So.. if I send you a goodnight kiss.. what will u say?’

不可以老师不可以这样 (‘Not good for a teacher, not this way’)

呵呵。。你太厉害。。我非常不高兴!’ (‘Oh, you’re too fierce, I’m so unhappy’)

你为什么不高兴的呀？ (‘Why are you unhappy?’)

`因为我很要吻你.. 你太漂亮!’ (‘Because I so wanted to kiss you… you’re so beautiful!’)

你一点也不像老师哪有老师说这话的呀？(‘You’re not like a teacher, would a teacher say this?’)

`I cant’ help it.. you’re just tooo sexy..’

`You kidding’

`Kidding? Not at all..you are stunningly sexy..’

`Only lovely not sexy’

`You are lovely, it’s true.. but you really are one of the most sexy women I’ve met in Shanghai... You're breathtaking....

By this time this exchange was over, I’d been home awhile. It occurred to me she did not have my MSN address, so I gave her my private one, for lovers, would-be lovers and family, and a few moments later she added me.

Me: hi

Me: well... i had a really great evening with u.. u're cool and a lot of fun...

Ceecee: really???

Me: really, yes, i do mean that... you are funny, confident, clever, and artistic!

Ceecee: I never found that!!!!

Me: well.. take it from me. it is true!

Ceecee: haha

Me: really, i was fascinated to hear u liked jazz and blues

Ceecee: why???

Ceecee: you too??

Me: because most people have rubbish taste..

Ceecee: what are you doing now???

Me: editing documents for students..

Me: and also... i'm thinking of the sexiest woman i've met in aaaages...

Ceecee: you working so hard

Me: yes, lots to do!

Ceecee: you have a lot of friends,studends........why ???mr???

Ceecee: why??me???

Me: why....

Me: i don't know

Me: all i know is that..

Me: the first moment u walked i my class...

Me: i could hardly take my eyes off u

Ceecee: I cant find that

Me: i know

Me: i tried really hard to hide it

Me: but it is true

Me: and if i showed u what i wrote in my diary after that class, u would beleive me...

Ceecee: I saw a lot of sexy lovely clever girl in your class.

Me: no. no one as fascinating as u

Ceecee: In you other classes???

Me: no.. not for a looooong time. really!

Ceecee: there are many lovely girls........

Me: u just blew me away, u really did...

Ceecee: you kiding me555555555555

Me: the 2nd time u came u had that cute little black and white skirt, and black tights...

Ceecee: that's funny

Me: oh, why?

Ceecee: you write diary????

Me: i do

Me: and you are in it

Me: several times!

Ceecee: can I see my parts?????????

Me: ha ha ha

Me: no!

Me: it's a secret

Me: but..

Ceecee: 5555555555555555555

Me: well, let me look and see what i wrote, hang on...

Ceecee: en

Me: you REALLY wanna see?

Ceecee: yes

Me: ok

Me: I got to class to find her not there. I had expected this. But half an hour into the class she turned up.. the door opening slowly and her peeking her head round, knowing I would tease her on it. But I just smiled at her lighthearted entrance and let her go to her seat with little further comment. And then spent the rest of the class, up until the break, trying not to check her out too much.

Me: As I called the break I saw her pulling on a scarf. I knew she was going to make a run for it, and I knew she would wait until I left the room so she could escape without my comment.. if I had stayed in the room she might not have had the bottle to go.

Me: there's more but that's all i'm going to show u tongiht

Ceecee: you are a fox

Me: ha ha, so now u think i am even more of a bad guy, huh?

Ceecee: en

Me: :$

Ceecee: :@

Ceecee: angry

Me: ohhhh... why?

Ceecee: you hve got the polt

Me: polt ? i do not understand...

Ceecee: Iintrigue

Me: ah, i see...

Me: r u *really* angry with me?

Ceecee: I dont known up to now

Ceecee: yes

Me: why r u angry?

Ceecee: you let me scared (I’d not expected this; but maybe I should have known better)

Me: oh.. gosh..i did not mean to do that!

Me: in fact i was jsut teasing u (so I tried to lie my way out of it)

Me: i only wrote that before i said i'd send it to u tonight!

Ceecee: I'm sorry

Me: 不里我！

Me: u r sorry?

Me: why?

Ceecee: I am sad to heat that??

Me: i really did not want to scare u

Me: but u know u i really did notice u strongly in class

Ceecee: 555555555555555555555555555555

Me: so i hope u will forgive me

Ceecee: It's really

Ceecee: a kidding??

Me: well...

Me: ok, i do really remember all that happening

Me: but i just wrote if for u tongiht to tease u a little

Me: u recall i told u the same thing over dinner!

Ceecee: Thank you for everything you did for me

Ceecee: everything you said i'll believe (and I hope she bought it )

Me: oh..

Me: that sounds like u'r saying `i'll never see you again'

Ceecee: many thanks....I like the time with you

Ceecee: It's the truth

Me: but...

Me: will u agree to see me again?

Ceecee: you want to see me again???

Me: oh i do, yes

Me: yes yes yes!

Me: but...

Me: will u agree?

Ceecee: en

Me: that makes me happy! u r great company

Me: next time i wanna take u to the great art gallery i told u about. you'll like it a lot

Ceecee: yeah

Ceecee: It's too late

Ceecee: I want to go to bed

Ceecee: today I'm so tired

Me: sleep well

Ceecee: 88

Me: i had fun tongiht!

Me: 88

And she was indeed not too angry with me, for we have met several times since. I took her to the art colony I spoke of, a wonderful collection of independent artists and galleries, meeting and chatting to various of the artists I know there; and I took her to the Armani fashion retrospective at the Art Museum; and, next week, will meet her again for dinner.

And herein lies a problem... Having seen her several times, I have begun to see beyond my own primarily sexual reaction to her, and have begun to value her for herself as well. I want to spend time with her just to enjoy her idiosyncratic, refreshing, intelligent company.

But will this deeper attraction last beyond taking her to bed?

As time shall try…

Shanghai Sexbomb continued

2006-06-16T05:26:00.000+08:00

Friday, June 16, 2006

So, getting back to Ceecee, those lovely legs, that flouncy skirt, her stunning beauty…

Her arm hooked in mine, we walked along Huaihai Road, left into Maoming Road, strolling its left hand pavement, by the side of the park of the Garden Hotel.

There is a reason for this.

The Garden Hotel has a lovely park, well tended and clean, old, spreading trees, winding paths under them.

When I wish to seduce a woman, I take her (as I have said) to a particular restauraunt around there that I know of, the finest for that purpose in the city. As I walk to the restaurant, I will walk past the garden, and point it out. After dinner, if it is a warm, clear night, I will say `Let’s have a walk in that garden I mentioned, it’s well worth a look.’

And indeed it is worth a look. For I have walked in that park on forty different evenings and have never met anyone else in it. Local people, seeing the gate of a hotel, will not go beyond it if they are not a resident of the hotel; and indeed I suspect that the gate guard would stop them if they tried. Much of China runs on one rule for white people and another for the locals. It’s highly offensive, and a curious way for China to choose to run its society.

The lack of locals in the park means it is not strewn with spit and litter, as is every other city park; means the trees and plants are able to grow and thrive, rather than being picked, poked and plucked to destruction as they are in other parks; means there are no people pissing in the bushes and hawking up phlegm; means there are no security guards in ill-fitting uniforms prowling; means there are no speakers dismally fashioned into plastic rocks and toads piping out awful, awful, awful music; means there are no bright neon lights to blare anyway any trace of mood left from those speakers’ assault; means there are no kids vandalizing the place as parents look on lovingly; means I can walk with a girl on my arm without being gazed at like some curiosity from beyond the seas, without those same insouciant parents calling to their spoiled progeny, `Look at the foreigner!’

Means, in short, with its paths and pools of darkness, with its relative quiet, with its backdrop of the elegant hotel building, that it is the ideal place for the post dinner kiss.

Dinner was good and filled me with the hope that I might bed her that night. Our eyes meeting, hands touching, plenty of laughter, easy, free conversation. And she is far from the good-time girl I assumed she was; likes jazz, dances ballet… And is self-aware, too. `People look at me and think I’m the kind of person who just like pop music,’ she said.

`I never thought that for a moment’ I lied.

Most of the other stuff we talked about I cannot recall – stuff about how she hates university (which is hardly surprising, for someone like her would find its cramped, stifling monotony unbearable) – wants to study abroad.

But toward the end of our meal, slow, leisurely, she scotched my hopes by pulling the ol’ parents number on me, Ma and Pa wanting her home by 10pm. Bah.

Even so, I was still confident.. were not we paddling hands, touching legs, locking eyes? She liked being with me, was excited, effervescent… this was not a simple brush-off.

Dinner done, the weather had changed to a fine rain; so I could not take her for that walk round the park. Instead, we went for coffee. And there again in the coffee bar we sat knee to knee, caresses, her hand on my knee, my hand on her arm...

But about this time of the evening, things went a little odd. Not between me and her. She’d been getting SMS messages all evening, but now their constant trickle became a barrage. After she’d dealt with a flurry of them, she gave me an explanation.

Since she was 7 years old she’s grown up with this guy. He ‘loves’ her. They had a relationship for a while, but she ended it. He, in the way of this culture, could not accept a No; could not even understand it, simply had no concept of her right to be unpestered. Instead, just like Lucy’s guy, just like Chris’s, he pursued her with this welter of calls and messages, keeping tabs on her every movement. (I have not mentioned Chris yet; she was 19 when I met her, making her my youngest lover to date; I will add that story to the to-do pile.)

This guy of Ceecee’s calls her every night to make sure she’s home by ten; and calls her a little later on to `say goodnight’ to her.

Sure, I let him have it. Why not? I told her how wholly unacceptable this behavior was, how she should not stand for it, how her life was her choice and so on. As I told her this there was a wash of relief and recognition over her face, as though what I said accorded with a belief she was sure was true yet that no-else seemed to share; as, maybe, when one person who thinks to have spotted a UFO, to the general amused contempt of others, meets a fellow believer.

Then the guy called her. I knew it was the guy as soon as she answered up the phone, since she blushed in embarrassment and walked over to the other side of the room to take the call. These signs pleased me; they meant she did not want our tête-à-tête interrupted by this clod, that she knew he was a crass interruption to what we had going. After the call (which she confirmed was indeed from him) she told me that he was living alone here, since his parents were in the US (where he had spent a few years), and that he felt lonely and depressed; and so he could not get to sleep unless each night he called her to say goodnight. The fucking pussy.

What he was really doing was quite obvious, so I told her. `Don’t you see? He is trying to control you. He just wants to make sure you are at home. He doesn’t want you to be out having fun, he’s worried you might meet other men. He’s trying to control you. That’s totally wrong.’ Perhaps this had not occurred to her. When I told her, its truth was immediately apparent to her. Now since by making her see what a scumbag this guy is I can incline her more toward me, I continued to let him have it. `Frankly he would not dare try this in America… women there would just not stand for it and he would not even try. You know it’s just because this is China that he does it. He’d never do it to someone in the States. It makes me pretty angry.’

And in fact my own fervent desire to fuck her until she yelps aside, this kind of shitty behavior does piss me off pretty good. Guys here can be such scumbags. Not, of course, that I am in any way morally responsible or decent when it comes to women. But at least I’m not the stalker type. Yes, a liar, a cheat, a cad; but I respect each and every woman I’m with. And maybe it was a crude step to bring race into the equation… but it is a racial thing – or, better, a cultural thing which was anyway the terms in which I framed it.

Is that a brush I can be tarred with? Possibly. After all, it is my skin color that makes me desirable, that gives me an edge; and I take advantage of that. And though I like to think I do not treat women with the contempt that so many guys here express, maybe I am indeed just as bad, albeit in a different manner. But no; no, and again no. I simply do not treat women with the scorn and cowardice of so many guys in this society.

But anyhow; Ceecee felt she had to go home. Yet she’d said she felt that way in the restaurant and had already stayed an hour beyond that. And her claims that `I must go.. let me, go, I must go’ were not much more than words, for I made no move to make her stay beyond saying `Only go if you want to go. Not because he says so. If you want go or if your parents tell you to go home, that’s ok. I’d respect your parents’ wishes, but not his. He has no right to control you like this.’ That’s all I said, and she stayed, our bodies close, her knee finding mine. And indeed in the end I decided to give her her exit --`Well, then, I guess we should go..’

Weekend Dilemma

2006-06-14T05:25:00.000+08:00

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

I saw today something I have never seen before; a parent on a bike with a kid, and the kid wearing a protective helmet. A Shanghai parent who thinks! Astonishing.

That was the new; as for the old – that was the bars and tubes and streets and coffee shops and restaurants here, which are full of people celebrating Japan’s world cup defeat at the hands of Australia. Ah, the endless ugly ignorance of Nationalism. China seems to pride itself on such stiff-necked stupidity.

But of more concern to me, Which woman to choose this weekend?

First of all there’s Ellen. Now Ellen was one of the very best fucks I’ve had here in Shanghai, hot, sexy, uncomplicated. I’ll describe that night in more detail in due course, in all its glorious and passionate detail. But it was some months ago, and, in the time since I saw her last the memory of that night has ripened and matured, and so I’ve been keen to see her again. But last weekend she was busy, the weekend before I was tied up, and I do not want to put her off much longer.

But also I want to see Feena again; I have put some work in on her already, and if I leave it too long before seeing her, that preparation will go to waste. I’ve taken her out to dinner once and had coffee twice. The last time we had coffee she needed the merest push to make her come home with me but, that night, I had other plans and so could held back.

Feena, the first time I met her in class, was an open book; bright, confident body language, her eyes on mine, that hint of blush in the cheek, the dilated-pupil response, the slight breathlessness. Lovely bright smile, sparkling eyes, cute Shanghai-girl clothes. This, the way she looked at me, and the way she lingered behind after class, made me pretty certain I could bed her. But since we were still in class, since I was still her teacher, I kept at least some outward veneer of professionalism to my response to her, even though inside my attitude was anything but teacherly.

By chance I met her a few days after that first class on the platform at Huangpi Nan Lu subway. She was heading home to People’s Square, so we talked as we rode the tube there. Her body language was, once again, very clear. She told me she was home alone at the moment, her parents on business in Beijing. Again, if she had not been a current student I’d have leapt on that, asked, `What kind of house do you live in?’ or something like that..Then I would have lightly steered that conversation so that she could say to me `Why don’t you come and look?’ and thus would have spent the night with her. But once again I kept it professional, since she was a current pupil. Even so I did put in a little groundwork, the better to seduce her after class.

This groundwork was simple, easy stuff; really, it was no more than just greeting her by name when I saw her there on the platform. Basic, sure, but effective, because the class I taught her in had a good number of students in it, and I teach many different classes. The fact that I remembered her name, then, was flattering to her, and indeed she commented on it -- `I’m really surprised you remembered my name, you must have so many students!’ I am sure she was thinking something slightly different -- `He remembered my name, I must have made a big impression on him.’

But really the matter is quite simple; at the end of each class I make a note of what I have taught so that I do not repeat myself in the next session. In this notebook I also jot down the women that catch my eye – either by name, if I know it, or by description followed by something about what we talked of, so that the next class I can say `And how was your week at X Corp.?’ (or whatever the case may be) and thus lead them to think their sparkling personality made a great impact on me.

Now Ellen is a sure thing, and she’s cute, smart and lively, a lot of fun in bed. But Feena is not a sure thing and naturally I have no idea what she’s like between the sheets. So Ellen appeals to me for a sure night of passion, and Feena appeals to me for the thrill of the chase. Now of course I could just take one to dinner Friday night and the other Saturday night. But I have early class Sunday morning, meaning firstly that some measure of early night is required Saturday night and, secondly, if I have a woman with me, the necessary 7 a.m. Sunday start will not be a graceful conclusion to our revels.

I had decided to invite Ellen out Friday, and spent the night with her, and then Feena Saturday, on the basis she might, after all, not want to come home with me.

But then Tulip messaged me, to tell me she had 5 days’ holiday and suggesting dinner.

Tulip, as I mention somewhere below, is married, and rather unhappily so. The guy in question is not right for her, and she mainly married him to please her parents. Now, sure, I would love to take her to bed, but with Tulip bed is not a priority; I am extremely fond of her, and greatly enjoy time spent with her for its own sake. And so I will have to give some thought as to how to balance these various offers.

Six-foot Stunner

2006-06-13T05:24:00.000+08:00

Tuesday, June 13, 200

In spite of the title of this blog, my whole life is not purely a quest for sex; the company of women is simply more enjoyable than that of men. It seems to me the men in this culture have, mostly, rather little to say for themselves, but the women are confident, articulate and nuanced. Each woman is different; most men are the same. That’s why 95% of my friends are women.

Though I did meet an interesting guy the other day, square-jawed, blue-eyed – from Xinjiang province, a Muslim, a Uyghur. We talked a little and then I asked, `So, should Xinjiang really be part of China?’

`Can I trust you?’ he asked, leaning forward, wanting to talk but being scared to. And rightly scared; one cannot tell the truth much in the mainland. So Xinjiang people learn to lie when they talk to mainlanders; Tibet people learn to lie; Taiwan people learn to lie; Hong Kong people learn to lie.

But anyhow. Back to vapid gossip about women.

Before I get back to Ceecee, a detour to a few weeks back when I’d arranged dinner with various friends. One of these was Linda, whose company I enjoy; she’s astute and articulate, and a good journalist (which is no mean feat given how hard it is to do that job well in this country of mostly shit journalism) but, given that she is my age or so and married, I have no interest in her beyond friendship.

But it was not just because Linda is pleasant company that I wanted to have dinner with her. It was also because she said when we met she would invite Lily D, a student who was in the same class as her.

Lily D attracted me immediately; she was strong, bold, confident and clearly skilled at her job, since she held a good position in her firm, an international film and imaging company. This is just the kind of woman I like, the one who knows what she wants, who she is, and who has little time for all the traditional shit of being good, sweet, demure and submissive. Fuck that.

But alas, galloping in, I riled her. Keen, in my pathetic way, to show her I was a knowledgeable chap, when she mentioned the firm she worked for I made a little joke of it. It so happened I’d read an article in The Economist about this firm just the day before, saying it lost US$400 million this year; I mentioned this to her and suggested that a firm that made its money in photographic film was likely doomed in an era of digital imaging.

This did not go down well, and she sulked at me the rest of the course.

Or maybe I was just staring at her breasts too obviously. That could have been it.

A couple of weeks after the course ended, Linda, at my request, had given her my MSN and told her I would quite like to hear from her, and in due course she added me to her list. We chatted, guarded at first, for clearly she thought I was after her; so I got that out of the way with (mostly false) claims of friendship only. After that she yielded a little, becoming a bit more talkative, but not too much so. Even so, this talkativeness was enough to make it clear she was single. She did not tell me this directly, but instead said she’d had a `difficult’ few months.

For a woman in China this nearly always means one thing: splitting up with a guy. Linda had previously told me Lily D. had a guy in Singapore, and later I established that my present surmise was correct. They had indeed parted.

Anyhow, I reminded Linda to invite Lily, which she did, and I also invited Tulip, who accepted but then had to change her mind. But just after Tulip said she could not come, I got an SMS from Adina, who was heading out of Shanghai the next day and wanted to know if we could meet that night.

Now, Adina has been on my catch list for some time; but the chase is not going too well, and I may not succeed. Naturally Adina too was someone I met in class, yet now it shocks me just how totally I failed to notice at the time how stunning she is. Strikingly tall, over 6 foot, and with great looks. With heels on, she'd be taller than me. Her dress sense is a little off – she tries for Shanghai-sexy but does not quite get it right (perhaps because she’s not from Shanghai, but rather a city nearby). She gets close, yes, but still only 80% of the way there, and that 20% shortfall does show. The line between elegant-sexy and cheap-sexy needs treading with some care, and sometimes she veers too much on the wrong side.

I did not want to pass up this chance to get to know Adina better before she left town, so I slotted her right in the place Tulip had just vacated (reflecting to myself as I did so on the merry-go-round nature of my social life).

Now of course given that I would quite like to chase Lily D, this was tactless. But Lily D is a little older, maybe 28, 29, and that means problems. With a woman that age, it is never fuck and run, just fuck and fun; marriage is always there in the equation. Getting her to bed would take too much legwork, as would getting out again afterward; and in any case I have fitting another woman into my already full calendar would be tough.

Thus chasing her would lead to tanglements and complications (even besides the fact that, at present, she does not quite like me). It’s a pity that we got off on the wrong foot, because I get the feeling she and I could have made firm friends. But she is a little proud and will not back down so easily. Sure, with work, I could get Lily D., and she’s certainly attractive. There’s a sort of boyishness to her, a hard, unyielding edge. It’s really rather endearing But chasing her would be too much hassle. Putting in that work would create obligations, duties that I do not wish to incur.

So I reckoned I might as well invite Adina along. She was the better prize than Lily D. But as well as that, it interested me to bring Adina along for another reason than my desire for her. Lily D., shrewd as she is, was surely aware I had some feeling for her. But what better way to throw her off guard, to toy with her, than to turn up to dinner with breathtaking Adina by my side?

More of sexy Ceecee

2006-06-11T05:24:00.000+08:00

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Shanghai… Oh, modern city of wonders, the Paris of the East, mysterious, sultry and all the other tired hyperbole that goes with such descriptions. I remember one particularly excitable piece that said the city `lived in hypertime’ (by a verbose buffoon called Patrick Cranley, I recall; and indeed a Google reveals him in all his buttock-clenching awfulness here, at the New York Times, no less). What preposterous nonsense it all is!

Shanghai is like a peasant in a shiny suit – superficially impressive, but when you get to know it, still provincial, rustic, haphazard. It’s a guy that’s spent a thousand dollars on Armani and then wears it with black shoes and white socks.

Thus for example the subway system; the city spends billions on it, filling the news with bluster about the city’s modernity and efficiency – and then closes one subway line at 10pm and the others shortly after. Now the last trains are always full – indeed sometimes so full it is almost impossible to get on board -- clearly indicating the people want to use them. But still they close at ten, ten-thirty, pushing crowds onto the street, all fighting for cabs which, at such times (and even more so in the rain) are exceedingly hard to find.

Or take the elevated highway network -- billions spent, and for a fucked up result. This is not just down to bad usage (though with Shanghai’s breathtakingly appalling drivers, that’s a large part of the problem) but also to do with utterly inept design. Each exit and entry point shares the same bit of road. This means that vehicles trying to shove their way on mix with vehicles trying to shove their way off, a chaotic foul up that starts in the inside lane and then thickens and spread so that the whole motorway lurches to a halt. The situation is so bad that at rush hour the cops have to close off junctions to keep the motorway flowing. How’s that for a billion dollars? The slab’s a handful of years old but already obsolete.

Or the maglev – another billion dollars’ worth – which can only operate at full speed for 45 seconds, since the track’s too short (indeed ending some miles out in Pudong, meaning that to get to the city center one must take the tube or a cab, thus making the journey by maglev barely faster than that by bus from the airport direct.)

Sure, the city has one or two areas that show some class; but on the whole it is a town of belching and barging, spitting and shoving, thieves and beggars… and those insane drivers. China… 1% of the world’s cars but 15% of the world’s car deaths.

But enough of this shouting. For the most part life here is ok, and so… back to burbling about women. Back to Ceecee.

I’d heard nothing from her the day or two after class, so I thought she had likely tossed my card in the bin, brushing me aside with all the other guys that (I assumed) hit on her. But no; a few days later I get this message –

This is my phone number. After the final class you have give me your name card. Ceecee.

I was deliriously glad she’d got in touch… and so of course I replied like the horny toad I am; we traded a few messages, during which she told me she was feeling sad, though she did not reply when I asked why.

Now my classes generally conclude with a mock interview a few days after lessons proper finish. Based on her lackadaisical approach to those lessons, I was pretty sure she would not turn up.

Yet turn up she did, though she came and went without doing the interview. I did not know she was there until she popped her head round the door to say she was going. This, I later found out, was because she had become tired of waiting. The way she put it suggested she thought the students were talking too much – but really that was not quite the case.

The interviews were taking a long time since I found one or two of the students quite interesting. One woman, Joan, especially so. I’d talked a little about politics in class (a waste of time since most students know zero about it and refuse to countenance any political view that does not enshrine the `China right, rest of the world wrong’ view.) She told me I ought not talk about this. Now in one way that was an expression of her rigid thinking, but in another, it was impressive. It is very rare for a student to talk back to the teacher like this, and I admired her for it.

Since that class I have got to know here a little better, and grown rather fond of her. Though I’m glad to have got to know her, back at that interview, I berated myself, reminded myself I was a cunt, since it seemed to me chatting with her at length had deprived me of Ceecee. Thus I felt I had missed a big opportunity by chasing a smaller one.

After Ceecee’s brief appearance, I interviewed one of the guy students; he was quite an engaging chap, interesting to talk to. He asked if he could record the interview-- `for Ceecee, the cute student.’ So when he turned it on I took the chance to flirt with her by proxy, speaking into the mouthpiece that she should have come to the interview.

It did occur to me that maybe this guy had a thing for her too, and that this was his way of showing it; guys here are seldom direct, but woo by proxy in this way.

Not just guys; the indirect approach pervades so much of life here. The other night, for example, I went out for dinner with Tulip, a woman I am extremely fond of. She’s stuck in a rather odd marriage (married two years and still a virgin), and when we meet I usually ask her about it and usually urge her to get divorced; doing so, I am sure, would bring her greater happiness in her life, though of course it’s much easier for me to give advice than it is for her to follow it. She told me she had begun to push this option, saying to her husband, `If you find a better woman, you should go for her.’

She was waiting for his reply to this, she told me; but in some exasperation I told her she had not asked any question at all and that her husband, if he had said nothing about the weirdness between them by now, would not start to say it unless she raised it in a far more direct manner.

But I will return to Tulip later, since I want to talk about her (and the many ways in which she fascinates me) at some length.

As for this guy at the interview (who I have now totally forgotten – name, face, what we talked about; what I am writing here is reworked from my diary) – well, if I had been him I would have simply cut out my voice from the recording, for if this was my attempt to woo her I would not want some other guy on there. But I think guys here are not quite so cynical and calculating.

It’s possible of course he was just being helpful, and at the time I also wondered if she has just asked him to do it. But when, later, I took her to dinner, I mentioned this incident, and she knew nothing about it. That leads me to think the recording was indeed his bid for her, shrouded in a typically oblique approach.

I, of course, was totally the opposite to this, and just ran at her with my usual bull-like manner. I hurried home after the interviews to look up the Chinese character for `lazy,’ so that I could tease her in Chinese, and then I texted her to say Ceecee，你太懒了！为什么你不来考试？哈哈

She said: 我怕老师
I replied: 你怕我？噢！我非常不高兴！

Then she said:是害怕考试我准备了好多天但是还是没有勇气这是我我的错对不起原谅我吧!

And again said: 老师别生气是我不好

So I: 我很生气！所以你必须见面我，喝一杯咖啡！

To which: 我不会喝酒不知道我可以喝果汁吗？

So I hit her for a date: 哈哈几天有空？

And: 下周比较空除了周一都可以的

I ended this with `Good! I wanna get to know you better.. I’ll 短信u on Tuesday'

So that Sunday I hit her up again, suggesting we meet. She said, `除了周一我都有空.’ So I grabbed her as fast as I could, for Tuesday night, but not wanting to appear too keen and thus scare her off, I said coffee or dinner were both ok, but that I preferred the latter. And she: `我们吃晚饭吧！时间地点你说罢.’

My choice was obvious, Shanghai’s finest seduction restaurant, so I set the rendezvous. She said `好的你可以写英文的我看得懂的’ and then `哈哈你欺负我手极不方便发英文短信.’

There’s no need to provide a translation for this, for it’s all obvious stuff; I reproduce it in the original Chinese just to show how desperate I was to impress her. I would imagine to a Chinese reader my attempt to do so is pretty risible.

Next evening we met… I’d half expected her to cancel, for surely a woman like her has guys ever after her and I was just one more? But not so; she even arrived a little before me.

As I walked up out of the tube, the crowds standing on the plaza above were revealed to my eyes. My eyes fastened on one pair of legs in particular, slender, shaped, clad in black stockings. The higher I rose up the steps, the more of these legs I saw, up and up a slice at a time, up to a short, short sexy, flouncy skirt.

That skirt alone was enough for me to expect it was her, even before I had come far enough up the steps to see her face; and it was. This skirt was sexy but curious – it was more of a tutu than a skirt, deep bronzy gold, ruffled and flounced. She looked like she had just come off stage. Those black stockings underneath and ah, those legs! How I imagine them clutching my back… and how I vowed to work to make that happen, how I vowed to take her home and fuck, fuck, fuck her that same night.

Lucky Dip 幸运彩票

2006-06-08T05:23:00.000+08:00

Thursday, June 08, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by herofish.
中文由herofish翻译。感谢他的支持。

When the revolution comes, they will blame the foreigners first.

At the end of every course I teach, I write up my email address on the board for the students, or ask the university staff to make it available on the website. I tell them I will be glad to chat to them on MSN, to help them with their English compositions, job applications and the like. Mostly I do this because I am aware my earning power is much greater than theirs, and I get paid 200rmb an hour for more or less talking in my native tongue. Most of them do not earn that much in a day; and even the Chinese staff doing the same job as I do, with English perfectly good enough for the task, earn less (whereas they ought of course earn more, since they are fluent in both English and Chinese, whereas I am only fluent in English). So making myself available for any student who is inclined to ask makes me feel a bit less guilty about the matter. Foreigners do get an easy deal here; and that is why if revolution ever does come (unlikely as it is with China’s placid, passive population, too supine to ever ask questions) we foreigners will get the first blame for what, truly, are the ills and evils of the government and the Chinese people’s own ignorance.

But the other reason is that it is a convenient way to hit on the female students that catch my eye without doing it too crudely; the address on the board and then the whispered word as they leave, `Keep in touch.’

当革命到来的时候，她们将先诅咒外国人。

每次我上完课，我都将email地址写在黑板上，或者请求学校职员将我的email地址放到网页上。我告诉那些学生，我将很乐意通过MSN与他们交谈，并且愿意帮助他们的英语写作，工作申请或者类似的事情。多数时候我这样做是因为我明白跟我比起来他们根本不是一个级别的，我每小时收入200RMB左右，而且我可以自己决定用我纯正的母语讲多少。他们多数一天都挣不到这么多；甚至那些中国同僚跟我做着相同的工作，并且他们的英文足够优秀去胜任他们的工作，但他们仍旧挣不到这个数（虽然理论而言他们应该挣的更多，因为他们能讲流利的英文和中文，而我只能讲英文）。所以能够让每个学生都能找到我来帮助他们让我的更心安理得一些。外国人在这个国家实在太容易得到认可了；所以这就是为什么我认为如果革命再次爆发（当然这不太可能发生，因为中国的温和、消极的大众、以及懒散的学生也可见一斑他们甚至懒的问问题）我们外国人将首当其冲被痛扁。可以确信的是，这些病垢和丑恶都是因为政.府和中国人的无知。

当然留email还有另外一个愿意，就是这方便那些被我看上的女生可以被我俘获；把email地址写板上，然后暧昧的说，“保持联系哦。”

The drawback to this situation is that after each class, a host of students will add me to their accounts, meaning that I general I cannot link pick out the women I am most keen to talk to. Is the new person who wants to chat to me a man or a woman? If a woman (and it is frequently impossible to tell by name alone, especially when written in pinyin), is it one of the ones I am interested in?

Of course I cannot straight come out with it, ask `Are you a guy or girl?’; and in general each conversation begins with the student saying, `Hi, I am your student’ – which is no help at all. But it is usually easy to find out the gender without even asking loaded questions; the fact is women in China are eloquent, talkative, opinionated, loquacious and each an individual; the guys are mostly monosyllabic, misinformed and identical. (Which is why 90% of the students who add me are women anyhow.)

The dilemma grows even greater if we begin chatting a few weeks after the classes are over, for by that time I generally have no memory at all of the women or the class, so easily are they replaced in my interest by subsequent students.

当然这样做也是有缺点的，每次课后都会有一大群学生加我到他们的MSN中，当然我无法知道哪个女生才是我一直关注而最想泡到手的。跟我聊天的新人是男的还是女的呢？我的经验是，如果是女的她通常都不会告诉我名字，尤其是用拼音的名字。
那么如果是女生，那是不是我最想泡的那个呢？当然，我不可能直接问“你是男生还是女生？”；不过通常而言，对话都是这样开始的，“Hi, I am your student。”――这根本对泡妞没有帮助；但是这通常是很容易去发现对方的性别的，同时又避免了问过度沉重的问题；实际情况是这样的，中国女生喜欢说话及辩论，并且很武断同时又喋喋不休，而且每个女生都很有特色；如果是男生呢，则总是表现的千篇一律、无知而又差不多具有相同的思想（这也就是为什么总是加我的90％是女生。）。
当我们在网上聊了几周后，困难的选择就出现了，而那时已经离课程结束一段时间了，我通常都对课和课堂上的女生没有记忆了，因此把他们都归类到后来的学生里。

The long and the short of it is, from time to time I make a coffee or dinner appointment with a woman whose face and form I cannot remember.

This is the lucky dip, and in general it is something I rather enjoy… heading for the rendezvous, wondering what she will be like, what age, what looks, what availability.

As a child I would go to an annual fair near my home. There was a lucky dip stall there, a large tub filled with bran in which was hidden a selection of gifts, some better, some worse. The image of my hand burrowing into the bran, and the feeling of anticipation that went with it; there are on my mind each time I make such a date.

Sweetie was one such dip, and a dip that came up lucky.

概括来说，有时我邀请一个我记不起长的什么样的女生共进咖啡或晚餐，这就像幸运摸奖。这时我非常喜欢的消遣方式：前往约会地点，好奇那个女生长的什么样，几岁，漂不漂亮，是不是可以泡到手。

就像在小时候我去家附近的年度展览会。那里有一个摸奖池，一个很大的盆子里装着糠，里面藏着一些礼物，有时候运气好，有时候运气差。我脑子里想象着我在糠里摸到了什么，同时我的预期也在随之而变化。每次去这样的约会，这种奇妙的感觉都会出现。

Sweetie（女生英文名字――译者）就是这个最好的奖励，并且带给我好运。

I’d been helping her online with a fairly complex paperwork problem, and (more by luck that judgment) had managed to solve it for her with some aplomb; coffee was natural after this. Heading to meet her, I still had no clear idea of who she was. But to my pleasure I found she was a woman from a class I’d taught a few weeks before.

True, I would likely never have thought about this woman again had I not met her, but in that class she was the one I wanted.

Sometimes there is more than one women I incline to in a class, but only rarely nil; for even if it is not such a good batch of women there are still gradations, ranks. And so there’s always one woman I’ll choose in each class.

And, online at least, Sweetie had a sexy personality, which seemed promising. So we had our coffee, and I asked the questions I needed to ask, married, boyfriend, and so on (whether the woman has a husband or boyfriend or not does not matter; what matters is how she talks of him. If it is with love, then I know I have no hope; if it is with brief coolness (as most generally it is) then I know I have a chance). In this case, the prognosis was good. So we had our coffee, we talked and we flirted, but no more than that; sex may be easy here but it is not quite that easy.

对于这个女生，我已经在网上帮助她相当长时间了，我帮她解决了复杂的英文文书问题，并且帮她改正了一些语法；接下来一起喝咖啡是很自然的事情了。在去见她之前，我仍旧想不起来她是谁。不过让我高兴的是，原来她是我几星期前教过的一个班上的女生。

绝对是真的，如果不是看到她我绝对不可能想起来会是她，而她正是那个班里我最想把她弄上床的女生。

绝多数时候一个班上总有几个我想泡的女生，而没有我想泡的女生的班还几乎没有出现过。即便那个班的女生看上去都不怎么样，但我仍会给她们打一下分数，最后总能找出一个我想与她上床的女生。

至少在网上，这个Sweetie有性感的个性，而且给人感觉大有希望。因此我约她喝咖啡，当然我问了我最想知道的问题：结婚了吗？有bf吗？等等等等（不管这个女生是不是结婚、或者有没有bf，这些都不重要，重要的是她如何评价他。如果女生的述说充满了爱意，那我知道我没戏了；但是如果她的反应有一点点冷淡（而且多数是这样的），那我知道我的机会来了）。在这次约会中，我感觉是有戏。因此我们慢慢的喝着咖啡，我找机会跟她调调情，但仅限于此，性也许是容易谈起的但它却不像想象中的那么容易。

But I knew I had done a good job, for, talking to Sweetie online a little later that night, I saw she had added a line of text by her sign-in name:

`He said I am cute and funny, and many guys will run after me, but I see a fat boring girl in the mirror. Mirror is honest.’

I had indeed told her she was cute and funy as we drank our coffee, and now I repeated it. She half-believed me.

I guess – no, I am sure – an objective viewer of this would see me as rather predatory, manipulative. Maybe it is so. But I liked her in class, I liked her when I met her in person; she was cute, appealing. And, sure, it is not much more that friendship and fuck for me; but as far as that goes, it is genuine.

但是我知道我找到了一个突破口，那天晚上又在网上跟Sweetie聊天，我看见她的MSN上多加了一行字在名字下面：他说我很可爱也很幽默，一定有很多男生在后面追我，但是我只在镜看到一个寂寞的胖女生。镜子从不撒谎。

我立刻告诉她你真的很可爱很讨人喜欢，就像我跟她喝咖啡是对她说的一样，现在我又重复了一遍。她开始相信我了。

我猜――不，我肯定――一个旁观者肯定认为我就是一条大尾巴狼，一个阴谋家。我也许就是这样的。但是我在给她们班上课时就喜欢她了，我也喜欢跟她单独相处；她时如此可爱，并且引人注目。当然，现在还没有超过友谊到可以和我XX的地步；但是事情正在按预料当中的那样朝那个方向发展，我有这种直觉。

A week or so later I hit her up for dinner, meeting in my usual rendezvous place for this kind of thing, the Parkson store at Shanxi Nan Lu subway. But when we met I was not quite settled as to which restaurant to go to.

Now, Shanghai’s best restaurant for a seduction is in that part of town. It always works a charm, and I have had great success with the women I have taken there. However, I knew I had already charmed Sweetie – I did not need to do any more. And frankly I like to reserve this place for women who intrigue me a little more than Sweetie did – my interest in her was purely physical, purely fuck.

But as it happened, Sweetie had her own suggestion, a Guangdong place hard by, which suited me fine. It was ok, though too brightly lit as are most purely Chinese restaurants (I mean those not catering to an international clientele) and with patchy, generic service. For the first ten or twenty minutes of our date she played her Nintendo, or maybe Gameboy; whatever it was, she was keen to take it to a point where she could save the game.

一星期后或者更晚些的时候，我邀请她共进晚餐，我把她约到我经常约人见面的地方碰面，那个地方是我经常约会泡到的MM的地方：在陕西南路地铁站出口处的Parkson店。当我们见面后，我没有立即决定去哪家饭店吃饭。

这家店是我认为在上海最好的用来泡MM的饭店，它的装修、布置和东西都很吸引人，在这家店我已经有很成功的泡到MM的经验了。当然我知道我本身就很吸引Sweetie――我不需要再多做什么额外的准备了。当然坦白的说，如果那个女生能更激起我的性欲，我会愿意为她在这里预订坐位的，而我对这样的女生，就是纯粹的身体上的欲望，纯粹的F*ck。

但是Sweetie有自己的主意，她选中了一家在附近的广东餐馆，我也同样喜欢它。这家餐馆还可以接受，就是像其他中国餐馆一样灯光太亮了（我的意思是这不符合国际客户需求（哈哈，这话怎么这么耳熟――译者注）），还有不满意的就是服务质量很一般。（一个在本国落魄的穷人，还拿国际标准来对中国饭店评头论足，要不是中国人给他200RMB/hour，他还在UK的Pizza外卖店里吃Pizza呢――译者注）。在最初我们约会的10－20分钟内，她一直在完任天堂游戏机，或者叫gameboy；无论那玩意叫什么，她终于玩到认为可以保存游戏的地方了并把游戏存了盘。

The meal done, we pondered what next – but there was not really much `we’ to it, for she was waiting for me to make a decision. The decision I wanted to make was, let’s fuck. But of course I could not deliver it so crude as that. It had to seem as much her decision as mine; so I offered that we could go for a beer. But Sweetie thought maybe it was a little early to go to a bar, so I suggested she might like to `see’ my place.

She agreed: and so back we went by tube, which she preferred to a cab (I think because she wanted to seem somewhat modest, and a cab would have been rather more intimate). But even so, we kissed a little on the tube, though mostly modestly -- unlike a little later in my bedroom, where kissed with more passion.

But even then she wanted to keep it under control, so after some passionate kisses she broke away and said `Let’s have coffee!’ While it was brewing she stood on the balcony, and I went to her there, kissing her some more, my hands roving her body, pressing her pussy through her trousers.

饭吃完了，我们考虑着接下来该干什么――但这并不是真正意义上的“我们”，她只是在等我拿主意。而我想拿的主意就是，让我操你吧。当然，我不可能这么粗鲁的表达我的想法。不过我感觉她似乎也有同样的想法。我提出我们去酒吧一醉方休，但是Sweetie认为也许现在去酒吧还太早，因此我建议她可以去我住的地方“看看”。

她同意了，因此我决定乘地铁返回住处，但她好像更愿意坐出租车（我认为她可能不想那么的被别人看到她跟老外过份亲密，所以出租车可能更私密一些）。虽然如此，我们还是在地铁里狂啵了一番，虽然非常的拘谨――不像稍后在我的床上干的那样，在床上我们带着激情狂啃。

在我的公寓里，在激情的狂啃后她虽然极力想要控制，她站起来打断了我激情的狂啃对我说，“我们喝杯咖啡吧”。然后她拿着咖啡走到了阳台上，我随后向她走去，我的手XXXX（缺少N单词，自己查――译者）她的身体，手按压着她的XXX（缺少N单词，自己查原文――译者）透过她的裤子。

The coffee never got drunk, cooling by the side of the bed as our passion rose. It was my normal routine, kisses starting on the mouth then moving to all over face, to neck, ears, to her still-clothed body, to belly, to top eased up and off over her head, and roll over, unhook her bra, and kiss breasts, nipples – her breasts a little spread, lacking definition – and she takes my top off, and I kiss her pussy through her trousers, trousers off, her just in panties and me too; and then her naked, and me following and, (as many other women have said), the `it’s much bigger than … other guys..’ There, the slight pause because she did not want to say `the other guys I’ve fucked.’ This of course this might be what women say to all men – how would I know? – but it is surely not mere flattery. The average Chinese cock ain’t up to much, as shown by no other evidence than the condoms sold in China are simply too small.

泡好的咖啡就没有喝，放在床边渐渐的冷却就像我们的激情玫瑰。我例行我的ML步骤，从嘴开始啃起，然后移到脸上，脖子，耳朵，然后传着衣服的body，然后接触衣服XXXXXXXXXXXXX（在此各位自己想象或者查英文原文，我就不翻译，为了照顾我们18岁以下的小DD小MM――译者特别注明）。（好，接下去要翻译了――译者）就好像其他女生说的那样，“it’s much bigger than…..other guys”（驴比他还大多了呢――译者）。这当然不是阿谀奉承，中国的Cock平均而言都不那么大，最有力的证据莫过于在中国出售的TT都太小。（不要听这狗瞎说，剧网友征实无论国内外超市一般都是卖52MM的――译者）。

Getting inside her was – again as with other women – not so easy. It hurt her, though, unlike Gloria, or Liping, she did not let that stop her, she bore it and, with plenty of lube, the pain subsided after a while. And as she got used to it, she got more into it, me coming from behind, from spoon position. At first, she would not go on top but anon she did; later she told me her reluctance was due to doing this with a past lover – it had hurt him she said, so she thought maybe she was doing it wrong. Some wimpy Chinese guy in her past, I guess. Rolling her over later, I quested for a bit of anal, nudging my cock against her there – and as she did not demur, I pushed on, getting in maybe an inch. Then it began to hurt, so I desisted. But she was willing, so with more lube, more preparation, it might be achieved – and frankly that would be almost half the reason for me seeing her again.

XX进去不是那么容易，其他女生也这样。XXXXXXXX（N多字，不带坏小孩子了――译者）。

The other half of my reason for seeing her again goes back to earlier conversations we have had, in the various mediums; I think it was on msn first that she mentioned she was having dinner with her wife. `Wife?’ I’d queried. She’d explained that she had a number of very close women friends, so close she called them her wives. There was a sexual tone to this, and when we talked in the coffee shop that time I referred to it again. Her response was equivocal enough to make me wonder more.

另外一个我再见她的原因是早先的时候她在MSN上提到她和她“老婆”共进晚餐。“老婆？”我奇怪道。她解释道，她有一群很要好的女性朋友，亲密到以至于她叫她们“老婆们”。我把它当做了一个性的暗示，当我在咖啡馆里再次向她提起的时候。她模棱两可的回答更勾起了我的好奇。（死老外以为中国女生提老婆这个次就是暗示Les在床上搞，驴头不对马嘴――译者）。

Making love to two women at once, and having the two women make love to each other, is of course the ultimate fantasy of many men. It is not something I have done yet, but it is naturally something I am most keen to experience.

Now Chinese women in public life are the boring, tame creatures Chinese men want them to be. But between the sheets, they come alive; clutched by passion, you can reach the raw woman, with all society’s bullshit shucked off. And so asking a woman about a sex act is best done in the middle of a sex act. Thus I let a quizzical expression play across my face and, sure enough, she asked `What are you thinking?’

跟两个女人同时XX，和两个女人相互XX，对男人来说是最终幻想。我还没有做过，但是这是我本能的想要体验的。

现在，中国女人的生活是如此无聊，都是废物的中国男人造成的。但是在床单上，这些中国女人又变得鲜活，充满激情，你会看到一个拨去了所有社会bullshit的原始中国女人。因此最好在XX半途中问女人喜欢什么XX动作。我在这样想的时候，脸上肯定表现出来奇怪的表情，以至于Sweetie问我“你在想什么？”

With a show of hesitant reluctance, I said, `I am wondering what you would do if another woman came in and kissed you.’ I’d tried something similar on Lucy (to whom I believe I said `I am imagining you with another woman..’) and she’d shown some expression of interest; and so too now Sweetie pondered it, said, `Maybe.. one of my friends might like to do that…but I’d have to think about it – I wouldn’t want to risk her friendship if she said no.’

So that’s pretty much what it comes down to – my sole reason for seeing her again would be anal or lesbian. Thus masculinity!

一阵犹豫之后，我说，“我在好奇如果现在另外一个女人进来亲你，你会怎样。” 我也同样问过Lucy（对她我记得我说的是“我在想象你和另外一个女人。。。”）不过她倒表现出了一些兴趣。现在Sweetie沉思了一下说，“也许来的是我的一个好朋友，我或许会。。。。。但是我不得不考虑，失去友谊的风险。”

因此这就是接下来我再见Sweetie时想要做的:XX asshole, or Lesbian，这才是真男人！（我Kao，那些跟黑白鬼佬XX的女人看明白了没有？？即便你不懂英文，我都翻译给你了，真TMD把我恶心坏了――译者）

――herofish 翻译，翻译的我挺恶心的，大家凑合看吧，当色情小说看吧。
(CBC 注：为难herofish了，真的很难翻译，有些标题是 Fucking XXX, 你说这怎么翻译。 Chinabounder太恶心了。)

The sexiest woman I ever saw

2006-06-06T05:22:00.000+08:00

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Ceecee turned out to be a student at one of the city’s better universities. (`Better’ is of course relative – even the best university here is still only the turd floating on top of the cesspit).

This was something of a surprise to me. See, another part of the image of Shanghai Woman is bimbo. And while in my right-on liberal way I try not to categorize so crudely, Ceecee’s late arrival to class (she had missed the first session entirely) and her good-time-girl demeanor, led me to the lazy conclusion that there was more to her exterior than her interior.

But, shallow as I am, I was still exceedingly keen to impress her, and this I tried to do, in what, to a Western woman, would likely have been amateurishly obvious. Since I know most of the universities here, I asked her `Do you study at the Songjiang or downtown campus?’ and this (which had been my sole purpose in asking) impressed her.

`Two years at each,’ she said, telling me she was studying history. `But I hate it’

`Guess what I studied as an undergrad?’ I asked.

She of course said `I don’t know.’

`History’ I told her – at which she laughed and blushed.
This was of course shameless flirting, and while I half expected she was quite astute enough to see it, it was less obvious to the two guys in her group, since guys here, on the whole, have fuck all idea about flirting, even flirting as crude as mine. As we talked I tried not to gaze at her perfect good looks too closely; but dragging my eyes away was hardly better. As she sat she leaned against the wall, sitting at right angles to the proper direction of the seat, her body full of life and movement, her legs up on the seat next to her. Because of this, I pretty much had to keep gazing directly into her eyes – otherwise I would be looking at her breasts or at her panties, since she was wearing a very short skirt which, with her legs up on the seat. This is not to say I did not look – of course I looked – and even though all I could see from my brief, furtive glance was the fabric of her black tights under the skirt, it was still quite enough to make me need to pull down my sweater after I’d done talking.

As I talked to others in the group I scored another hit or two. The other girl among them asked one of the guys how to say jinmi in English – and I supplied the translation, `calculating.’ Then a moment later the guy wondered what `zhuanye’ was -- `specialty’ I told him. Boots chick (this was how I labeled her in my mind at the time, since I did not know her name) noticed both these and I could tell she was a little bit impressed by it; for all it takes is a word or two like this to make people think one’s fluent at a language..

Now I’ve been here 5 years but I’m a lazy swine so my Chinese sucks – as does that of most foreigners here. Most of us expect the locals to know our language, rather than bothering to learn theirs; and thus there is some kudos in being able to speak it. And I was so pathetically keen to impress this woman that I wanted her to think I was one such foreigner.

Pathetic and also fickle, since the very next day, in a different class, another Shanghai Woman grabbed my attention -- Cara. She was not so cute as Ceecee, though dressed sexily; but with her it was more what she talked about with me that hooked me. She’d studied fine art at University, so I asked her to describe a show she’d been to. She chose Simon Rattle’s recent visit – something I had been very keen to go and see, but had got pickpocketed on my way there. She told me the concert was great, but also that Rattle was a bit irritated by the constant stream of latecomers. This is an irritation every artist has to put up with, since audiences here lack the common graces of back home. Indeed Shanghai audiences, like Shanghai drivers, are the rudest and most ill-mannered thoughtless oafs I have encountered.

At the end of this class Cara lingered to ask `What are you doing tomorrow night?’ I assumed she wanted to have coffee to get my advice about IELTS stuff; but not so. She wanted to offer me two tickets a concert, which she could not use due to having class. I was really most touched she offered them to me, and gladly accepted. `I can give them to you now’ she said. `They’re in my car.’ And so she took me to it, a new red shiny one. And thus she turned my head – musical, fashionable, well-heeled. Quite worth a chase… and chase her I did; and will write about that, too, later.

But to get back to Ceecee; my next class with her was a week later or so, but I did not really expect her to turn up. Her absence in the first and half attendance in the second made it fairly clear she wasn’t much interested in learning; many students are pressured into these classes by her parents and only attend grudgingly, and I assumed she was one of these (something she later confirmed.)

And indeed she was not there; but, half an hour into the class she turned up.. the door opening slowly and her peeking her head round, knowing I would tease her on it. But I just smiled at her lighthearted entrance and let her go to her seat with little further comment (normally I make the late students say why they’re late, partly to get them talking but also since it makes the others laugh, which makes them more confident to talk). And then I spent the rest of the class, up until the break, trying not to check her out too much. But as I called the break I saw her pulling on a scarf. I knew she was going to make a run for it. Not alone from her putting the scarf on, but also from the conversation she’d had on her mobile phone, whispering quietly (but not so quiet that I could not hear) to arrange meeting people. I knew she would wait until I left the room so she could escape without my comment, and I knew if I had stayed in the room she might not have had the bottle to go. So I could have kept her there just by staying put.

But I made it easy for her – out of an ulterior motive, of course. I slipped my wallet from my coat into my pocket and went out into the corridor to lurk; there I got chatting with one of the guys from the class. I heard the classroom door, out of my line of sight, open; and I heard the precise click of high heels on the tiles. I knew it was her. She was clearly hoping not to get rumbled and gave me a sheepish smile when she saw me. I smiled back, keeping it genial, fairly light, though I could not resist saying `It was hardly worth coming!’ Then I walked down the steps with her, so that, out of sight of any other student, to save her blushes and mine (for I did not want to so obviously hit on her in front of the class), I could extract from my wallet the business card I had made sure to put there before leaving home. She smiled at this, and I could not read the smile; I like to think it was a smile of surprise and pleasure at this unexpected thing; but a more objective interpretation would be that it was the smile of a woman used to getting hit on. She told me her name – this was the first time I’d heard it – and off she went. There was a car waiting for her across the road, shiny, new, other people her age in it, Shanghai’s new rich.

As the car slid off down the road into the noise and night, she turned to wave goodbye to me, smiling; my heart leapt and sighed, but I did not expect to hear from her again.

White woman and Chinese woman

2006-06-04T05:21:00.000+08:00

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Shanghai Talk, a mostly-mediocre expat magazine, has a column which deals with `the ins and outs of sex, love and commitment (or lack thereof) in the Middle Kingdom.’

There’s fresh writing for you.

Anyhow:-

I’m smart, attractive, funny, great to hang out with, and I’ve got a pretty good job to boot. In other words I’m as eligible a girl as there can be. Well, that’s what my friends say and that’s what I used to believe. Back in my hometown Melbourne, I was never short of admirers and dates. Unfortunately, things have changed since I landed in Shanghai. No member of the male species has approached me for a date in the five months I’ve been here…. It seems single expat guys are all loco for local girls! My self-esteem has definitely take a beating – I feel about as sexy as a plate of chopped liver…laced with century eggs, no less. Being rather new here, my security-blanket-cum-adopted-family comprises a small and tightly-knit group of five fellow SWF colleagues in their 30s. They’re perfect company for spa, shopping, drink and dinner expeditions as well as bitching and moaning about our datelessness. I’m not the type to hang out in a bar hoping to get picked up because that’s so sleazy. So, how do I go about meeting interesting men? I’m almost pushing 30 and would like to settle down soon.

Now of course this `problem’ has been written by the Shanghai Talk staff; it’s got the same stale style as the rest of the magazine, that same clichéd and banal journalese.

That’s the mark of most writing here, derivative and unimaginative. Calling China the middle kingdom, rinky-dink verbiage such as `good job to boot,’ breathless twaddle of `as eligible a girl as there can be’ and limp alliteration (`loco for locals.’) Being a journalist, to judge by most of the writing that’s on show here, consists of trying to sound as much like every other writer as possible – it’s all about journalese (and sub-par journalese at that) rather that individuality. There are one or two good writers in the city – a chap called Crawford Tan for example – but they’re rare.

Tracy Lee-Elrick, the columnist (and I am surprised they do not call her `our fair columnist’ or mention her `wit and wisdom’) paddles out some wholly useless tripe, about how `The Bacheloretta’ must go to the gym, Mandarin lessons and the like, but not jazz or painting classes since few guys go there and those that do are usually gay (fair shout, mind, to which she could have added dance class.)

Now that might work in London or New York, but Shanghai? Come come; wholly impossible.

White woman in Shanghai is invisible.

And white woman who’s looking for a husband! Should guys like me even notice such a woman, our reaction would be one of scorn, pity or amusement. Most likely the latter, as later we guffawed with our friends over the very idea of a relationship with a white woman.

Why ever would we want a woman from our own culture? Of course we want local women, of course we do.

It’s not just the fact Chinese woman is slender, slinky and easy, though all that is powerful. It’s not the fact that as Chinese woman grows older she still looks good (though nonetheless we will, if not too tightly married, still change her for a younger model), whereas white woman’s hips spread, tits sag, and skin sinks: it is not just that.

And it is not at all (for me, at least) to do with subservience, pliancy. I hear it said that many white guys want a woman who will cook and clean for them. Not me: I find that attitude rather offensive. That is not something I look for in a woman.

It is also -- and perhaps most importantly – the fact that Chinese woman is not from our culture and does not, in general, understand all the nuances and subtleties of our language and our behavior.

Now, sure, true love, two hearts beating as one, perfect understanding, total communication and all that stuff. Fuck that; that is not what guys want. This is pure horror to us; we most emphatically do not want a woman sharing every aspect of our lives, seeing into us, knowing us.

Dating someone from another culture gives us a safety zone, a barrier, so that we can keep our lives, our sense of self, our secrecies. Chinese woman will never be able to read us like white woman, and that is why we want her.

Now this is not purely cynical; for, yes, we can love Chinese woman, honor her and commit to her and even (some of us, at least) be faithful to her. But we still have that buffer, that exclusion zone of secrecy where she cannot enter. No matter how married we may be, how deeply we may love Chinese woman, we are still more single and more ourselves that we would be with white woman. And this is why white woman remains invisible to us. Why would we want her, with her big body and her perfect ability to see what we really are? And so our reasons for chasing Chinese woman have some depth to them.

No, fuck all that, it is just sex. Chinese woman is hotter and hornier that white woman. That’s all.

Case in point: Ceecee. Oh, Ceecee, the hottest woman I saw in all my years here.

Now hopeless whore as I am, I do even so generally try to keep some sense of decorum in class, and do not hit on students. If I am much taken by one I might say, at the end of the final class, after I have written my email on the board for all to use, `Keep in touch’; but that is generally as far as it goes. But Ceecee, Ceecce so totally captivated me that I ran down the street after her to give her my name card and urged her to keep in touch.

Attractive women are not at all rare in China, where the cuteness ratio is far above back home in the UK. There, barely one woman in 20 merited a second glance (after my years in China it would be one woman in 200). Here, it’s one woman in five. And this is particularly so in Shanghai, I have found -- go north to Beijing, go south to Hong Kong, and while there are still attractive women, they are not in such abundance as here.

But few were so outrageously, punch-in-the-face sexy as Ceecee. Part of it was just attitude – she had that Shanghai thing of confidence, of self-possession, of style that rather a lot of women lack.

I do believe passion and individuality lies within most women in this country. But the men prefer them to hide it and so, in general, they do.

But not in Shanghai, where women are the dominant sex. Shanghai Guy is a decent enough sort, but rather bland, timid; and usually he does the cooking and cleaning too. Shanghai Woman wears the trousers.

Of course one cannot truly say `Shanghai men are like this’ or `Chinese women are like that.’ One can’t even sum up ten people in such a sentence, and so using it for a city or nation is generally lazy and inaccurate.

The character of any society is not visible in its individuals. It is spread through them, like color in water. A vial of water, seen close up, is only faintly tinted - even clear; but a bucket of water is colored deep and vivid. And so this person has one hint of the group character, and that person another, but each one their individuality. Singly they are indeed individuals; as a group they have their own characteristics too.

The character of Shanghai Woman is not, in fact, restricted to Shanghai. This kind of woman is confident, bold, wants to stand out, be fashionable, sassy; is interested in her looks, in fashion, in all the whizzes and bangs of modern life. Echoes of this kind of woman can be found in most any city, but in her purest form she is only found here in Shanghai; hence she is called `Shanghai Woman.’ And indeed I have found time and again that I can spot the Shanghai girls in class – sure, I am not always right, but eight times out of ten I am. (It is the same with the Taiwan guys. They too are immediately obvious, so different a species are they from bland and pasty mainland guy.)

Ceecee was pure Shanghai, from her cute beret to her sexy white leather boots, from the casual way she walked into class to the slight air of bashful shyness she combined it with. I was utterly fascinated; she was a bright splash of color that made the rest of the room fade to sepia. Frankly I just wanted to lick her bootprints from the floor, she was so captivating. But I tried my hardest to drag my gaze from her, and worked my way round the room talking to each pupil.

One of the great advantages of teaching English is that the whole getting-to-know you routine is required. This makes it ideal for a wolvish chap like me – it’s a way of hitting on a woman without quite seeming to hit on her. I can get to know something about her, then ask her questions to get some idea of her world view, then discuss it some to see what kind of mind she’s got ; for intelligence is the sexiest attribute of all.

The group that Ceecee had sat with was as the back of the class (even that charmed me, her choice to sit at the back with the naughty pupils and not at the front with the goody-goodies), so I talked to her lot last, trying not to drool and slaver too obviously as I did so.

So I found out a little about her. She’d seemed pretty young to me, maybe 18 or 19, but I was glad to find out she was in fact a final year undergraduate.

I should say that this is not at all a sign of any hint of respectability in me. I would not hesitate to chase an 18 or 19 year old (and indeed I did so – Christine, who I will get to anatomizing later, was 19 when I first took her to bed (though 20 about a month after)). But with an 18 or 19 year old, there is not much more to do than sex; beyond sex there is so little in common between me and someone about half my age that there is nothing to do or say.

As I write, once again it is to the sound of horns blaring in the background. Fucking fucking fucking Shanghai drivers… They really are cretins, are animals. This is how it goes; a single horn will sound.. will sound again… then another joins it.. and another… and more.. until a crescendo of horns blares, blares, blares, disturbing everyone within a dozen blocks, the anger palpable behind the angry fingers jabbing the dashboard. They’re like a flock of angry geese, all copying each other, all the same thoughtless, ignorant reaction. Shanghai driver hear, Shanghai drive do. The vehicle causing the blockage will move and the chorus of anger will subside – to rise up again a few minutes later at some other trivial pause in the traffic flow as more of these pig drivers think only of their own needs and nothing of all those around them they disturb; these damn fools who seem to think that blasting, blaring, shoving their horns will have some effect. I can feel it, touch it, the coiled, pulsating anger on the road, the impatience, the selfishness. If these guys (it is always guys, never women) had guns, what carnage there would be! Day or night they do it – 3 a.m. some Yahoo slob of a driver will blast his horn, nonstop, 30, 40, seconds. No thought, no consideration, just ire, impatience, selfishness.

To the bedroom

2006-06-02T05:20:00.000+08:00

Friday, June 02, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by kikoo.
中文由kikoo翻译。感谢他的支持。

`Come to the bedroom’ I whispered.
`Won’t it be weird?’ she asked.
`It will be fine… come…’ With that, I raised her to her feet and, taking her hand, let her to the bed.
`It’s weird’ she said.
`It’s fine’ I replied, kissing her again. Slowly she got a little more responsive, and as she did so I became more bold, running my fingers under her top, over her belly and bra, and then under her bra, finding her nipple, caressing it.

我小声说：“去卧室。”
她问：“那不会很奇怪吗？”
“没事的…来吧…”我拉起她牵着她的手,带她到床上.
她说:”这很奇怪哦.”
”没事的.”我回答她,接着继续吻她.慢慢地她开始迎合我,这令我大胆起来,我的手指在她身上游移,她的肚子上,然后她的文胸上,后来在她的文胸下面寻找她的乳头并抚摩它.

So more kisses and then I wanted to undress her more, so I took the hem of her top to peel it upwards. She resisted a little, locking her arms to stop me undressing her. `It’s weird’ she said, and `What will you think of me next time we meet?’

I assured her it would be fine, that this was good, sexy.. but she was still a little shy, bashful, and so I had to cajole some more. After a few moments she yielded, letting her arms relax so I could lift the top off over her head. Then, as I kissed her again I undid the catch on her bra. It was, of course, plain, dull; Chinese women seldom wear gracious lingerie. She crossed her hands over her breasts, still shy, and so I had to cajole her once more to be less timid.

Her breasts were not the greatest, lacking some definition, and with small, small pink nipples and aureoles. I kissed, licked her there, sucking on each while I ran my hand over her pussy and slipped open the button of her jeans; and then down with her zip and off with her trousers, before pushing her back on the bed. By now I was mostly naked too, and I gave her the speech, telling her she was in total control, she did not have to do anything she did not want to, and if she said stop I would gladly stop. Now all of it was true, and I would have stopped had she asked. But that was not why I said it; I said it to show her I was a decent, trustworthy guy, so that she would be the more willing to fuck.

亲吻一会后我想脱她更多的衣服,于是我把她的上衣向上脱.她有点反抗,锁紧她的双臂阻止我脱她的衣服.
“很怪哦”她说 “下次我们见面你会怎样看我啊?”
我向她保证会没事的,因为这是多么美好,性感..但她还是有点害羞,我不得不继续引诱她.过了几分钟她屈服了,放松双手让我脱了她的衣服.然后,当我又吻她时,我把她的文胸也解开了.当然这文胸很普通很暗淡;中国女人很少穿高贵的贴身内衣.她把双手抱在胸前,还是很害羞,于是我不得不又哄她来减少她的羞却.
她的胸部不是最好的,缺少清晰的轮廓,粉红的乳头和乳晕都很小.我吻着她,舔了她那里,吮着它们,我的手慢慢移到她的生殖器,然后解开她牛仔裤扣子;在我把她压在下面前,
我拉开拉链,然后脱下她的裤子.到这时,我自己也差不多全裸了,我告诉她,一切都受控于她,她不必做她不想做的事情,如果她想我停止我乐意停止的.现在所有的都是真的,如果刚她叫我停止我就已经停止了.但是我为什么要说呢,我只是想让她知道我是一个正经的值得信赖的人,这样她会更愿意和我做爱.

She did not ask me to stop, and so I did not, kissing down her body to her sensible beige panties. It was not such a great body, with a pound or two that could be trimmed; but it was exiting enough.

She surprised me, however, by saying `It will hurt…’
`You’ve never done this before?’ I asked.
'No.’
`But.. you had a boyfriend before?’
`Yes.. I had to stop him lots of times, he wanted to.’
`Why did you stop him?’
`I don’t know…’
What I really wanted to ask was, `So why are you willing to fuck me, who you know so slightly?’

她没有叫我停止,所以我也没有停下来,向下吻着她的,吻到她敏感的杏色内裤.这身材不好,加多一两磅会平衡些;但兴奋程度足够.
然而,她令我惊奇不已,她说: “它会痛…”
“你以前没做过吗?”我问.
’没有
“但是之前你有男朋友.”
“是的,但每次他想要我都拒绝了.”
“你为什么阻止他?”
“我不知道.”
我真正想问的是
“那你为什么愿意与我一个你认识不深的人做爱呢?”

I kissed over the top of her panties, taking off my last clothing as I did so, and then moving up to kiss her mouth, kisses to which she responded with more passion. And then back down, fingers under the panties and off, to reveal a rather nondescript pussy, a little unkempt, au naturel. I ate her, and she liked that – quite a prominent clitoris. I also explored her asshole, running a finger in a little way. She flinched slightly after a moment or two, so I stopped and concentrated more on bringing her off. When she’d come I began my fiercer attack, moistening her well and bringing my cock to the point. I began to slide in more easily than I had expected, but it soon caused pain, so I reached for the lubrication. I had somewhat hoped to avoid that, since the tube of lube in the bedside drawer shows what a philanderer I am; but it was necessary. And it helped; though the pain continued she felt nothing so bad as Eve felt (but no longer does, having got used to it) and after a few minutes I was fully inside her. Mostly just missionary, after some minutes of which I withdrew to rest a moment, and to suggest she come on top. She refused. `You think it’s `weird’?’ I asked. She did. So back in missionary, only this time I pushed her legs up to change the angle. `Does it feel different?’ I asked.
`Yes’
`You see? Every different position feels good..’
Later I tried to get her to come on top again. `Why?’ she asked.
`Because it feels good.. it’s sexy..’
`Won’t it hurt?’
`No… you can control it, you do what you want.. so let’s try and if it hurts we can stop…’

我吻在她的内裤上,脱了我最后一件衣服,然后上来吻她的嘴,她有激情地迎合我.然后我的手移到她的内裤边并把它脱了,一个很难明言的生殖器露出来了,自然有点蓬乱的.我舔了她这里,她很喜欢---特别是舔她的阴蒂时.同时我也在探索她的屁眼,用手指慢慢进攻.抽动一两下后她缩开了,于是我停下来了,更专注于上她.她高潮来时我猛烈地进攻她,让她更滋润然后把我的生殖器进入了她的小穴.我抽动的比我预想的更容易,但很快觉得痛了,于是我拿来润滑油.我有点希望不要用它,因为自从那支润滑油在我的床头柜,就显得我很爱玩女人;但又很需要它.它也能起作用;虽然还是痛但她不觉得糟糕,不像EVE觉得(习惯了就不再痛),过了几分钟我完全进入她了.就像完成任务,过了几分钟我稍微休息了一下,建议她到我上面来.她拒绝了.

“你觉得这样很怪吗?”我问.她做了.只有这次我抬起她的腿换个角度.
“是不是这样觉得很不一样?”
“明白吗?每种不同的方式感觉都很棒.”
后来我又尝试让她到我上面. “为什么?” 她问.
“因为这样感觉很不错,很性感.”
“这样不会痛吗?”
“不,你可以自己控制,你想怎样就怎样,我们来试试吧,如果觉得痛我们就停止…”

Again she was reluctant, turning away from me, rolling over so her back was toward me. So I approached from that way, at which she squeaked and half rolled back, so that she was now on her side. I entered her thus, scissors-like, and she enjoyed the feel. `See? Every position feels different… do you like it?’
`Mm’ she said. But that position, the spoons, like doggy, is too much for me and I could not go long without my orgasm rising. So I withdrew and once more urged her to come on top; and this time she yielded, climbing on top, cautiously fitting me inside her.
Once I was in she saw that what I had said was true; it felt different, and good. She got quite into it, working herself up and down on me, leaning forward to press her clit harder against me, trying to bring herself to another orgasm. As she did so, I pushed back against her, and again explored her asshole, deeper this time, almost getting my finger past the sphincter. `How does that feel?’ I asked.

她又是很勉强,转过去背朝我.于是我靠近她,她尖叫并且轻摇着背,我就这样像剪刀一样地进入她,她很喜欢这种感觉.
“看,每种姿势都很不同,…你喜欢吗?” “恩.”她说.
但是那种像狗做式的姿势,我做的太多了,如果我的兴奋程度不够我就做不来了.于是我极力要求她到上面;这次她服从地爬上来,慎重地让我进入了她.
当我进入她时她明白了我所说的是真的;感觉是很不同,很不错.她沉浸于其中,自己上下抽动起来,不断地向前趋使她的阴蒂用力地压向我,尝试着将她自己带入另一种高潮.当她这样做时我也极力地迎合她,并且又开始进入她的屁眼,这次入得很深,我的手指差不多超过了括约肌.
“这感觉怎样?” 我问.

`Weird’ she said.
`But not bad?’
`I’m not sure…’
Together we worked up a rhythm that took her, I think, all the way there, for she collapsed against me, satisfied.
Several times she’d ask `Have you finished yet?’ meaning, had I come. Of course I had not, and I took her unsurety about it as consistent with her being a virgin.

Talking about it with my beloved Clarissa online the next day, she asked `Do you think she was cheating?,’ a reasonable question; but I think she was telling the truth, that she was indeed a virgin. Once more, now, she asked if I’d come. `No.. I can control it – but I will come now, if you want to finish.’

So back to missionary, a few minutes of vigorous thrusting, and I was about ready, felt it gather and prime in me, and withdrew to come on her belly, coming big, spurting some up to her hair – she squeaked – then directing it more downwards, a spurt, a second, then a pause as it gathered again and a set of longer, heavier spurts.

“很怪.” 她说.
“但也不错?”
“我不确定…”
我们一起逐步有节奏了,我想这让她一直在那里,最后她倒在我身上,十分满意.
有几次她问我: “你完成了么?”
意思是,我做完了吗.我当然还没有啦,我把她对此的不确定和她之前是一个处女看成一致.
第二天,我与心爱的CLARISSA在网上谈起了这些事,她问我:
“你觉得她在骗人吗?”
一个合理的问题;但是我想她说的是真话,她确实是一个处女.
她再一次问我是否做完了. “
不,我可以控制—不过如果你想完成我就现在射.”
回到事件中,几分钟的猛抽,我差不多准备好了,感觉它要喷发了,我把它抽出来射到她的肚子上,变得很大,然后射到她的头发上了---她尖叫起来---然后把它引向下,射一下,然后又暂停,为的是再聚集一股力量,然后一下猛地又射了好久.

After I’d done, and had leaned down to kiss her, she was a little bit piqued that I’d come on her. Again, I took this as evidence of inexperience. `I thought you were going to use a condom’ she said.
`I guess you think this was `weird’ too? But that’s they way most people do it, dear.’
Her pique did not last for long, and we talked as we lay in each others arms.
`How did you know I’d do it?’ she asked me.
I wanted to say `I could see it in your eyes. It was obvious from the moment you got in the taxi here, and was likely even before that. That’s why I wanted to see you today.’ Instead I gave the more flattering version. `I did not know… but I hoped.’
`What if I’d refused?
`Then I’d have kissed you on the cheek, given you the DVDs, and walked with you back to the tube. I would have been perfectly ok with it.’
We chatted about other stuff, such as her last boyfriend, and what between us next (I told her she should decide what she wanted to do, to carry on as friends or lovers). Then she showered (and said there was blood when she washed. There had not been when we fucked; she might have been cheating me, but still I doubt it), and prepared to get dressed. But as she did she asked me to leave the room. Even though we’d just been as intimate as it’s possible to be, she still did not want me to see her dress. And this is something I have seen in other lovers, in Eve, in Lucy. It is a little curious, and rather charming.

And then I took her in a cab home. We traded a few messages after, and I was flattering; but, in truth, one fuck with her was quite enough.

我做完后,俯下来吻她
,她对我刚刚射到她有点生气.我把这作为她没有经验的证据.
“我以为你会用避孕套.”她说.
“我想你觉得这也很
‘怪’,但是,亲爱的,这是很多人都用的方法.”
她没有生很久的气,我们互拥着谈起话来.
“你怎么知道我愿意做?”她问我.
我想说:
“我可以从你的眼里看出来.从你坐的士到这来时很明显,甚至之前.这就是我今天想见你的原因.”
但我没用这种奉承的话说,而是说
“我不知道,但是我希望你愿意.”
“如果我拒绝呢?”
“那我就会吻你的脸,给你DVD碟,然后送你到地铁站.我也不会生气.”
我们还聊了别的,比如说她的前任男友,接下来我们之间会怎样(我告诉她,她应该做自己想做的,是继续做朋友还是情人).
然后她去冲凉(告诉我当她冲洗时有血.但是我们做爱时都没有;所以我很怀疑她也许在欺骗我),当她准备穿衣服时她叫我到房外去.虽然我们刚刚是如此地亲密在一起,她仍然不想我看到她的身体.然而,这和我别的情人很相似,像EVE,LUCY.这令我很好奇,也让我觉得很挑逗.
后来我送她坐的士回家.之后我们互发了几条短信,我又奉承她;但事实上,和她做一次爱就足够了.

Seducing Jingjing

2006-06-01T05:19:00.000+08:00

Thursday, June 01, 2006

And so I was rebuffed. It was a little awkward, for she, naturally, did not know how to refuse gracefully and I, naturally, wanted to make sure her No really was a no and pressed again. There were hints, shoots of hope, my arms wrapping her from behind, a hand on her breast, questing. But her No was a real no, not a modesty no, and so that was that, and I took her down to a cab.

An SMS exchange followed:-

Her: Sorry. But I cannot. I really thank you for respect me.
Me: It’s ok. Hope I didn’t embarrass you. You’re cool, I like you a lot. We’re still friends, right?
Her: Of course. I am really glad to know you and still trust you.
Me: Ok. Sleep well, dear!
Her: And you still willing to help me. Right?
Me: I just sent you my suggestion about what you can write. It’s in your email.
Her: Thank you. Good night.

I met her once more a week or two after this, just before Spring Festival. She was on her way to her home city, K******, and dropped by for a coffee before her train. This time she was with a fellow university student who had also been in the class I taught. He was a decent sort of guy, intelligent, stylish and urbane, so I was a little more circumspect in my flirting. But Jingjing was rather giggly and shy, very different to how she was when it was just us two together. That told me plenty – she no longer saw me as a teacher, and certainly not as a lecher. I’d also been wooing her gently online and by SMS too, and could see she was weakening for sure.

But I did not see her again after that for six or eight weeks, since she spent a month in her hometown and then I went back to the UK. But a few days ago we finally met.

However, I’d spent the night before with Eve (my current regular girlfriend) and so the day I’d arranged to meet Jingjing began with Eve still in my bed. Mornings, she is a heavy sleeper, dozing on until 11. As she dozed I planned how to organize my day. I put Jingjing back to 2 pm via text message rather than the 12.30 I’d arranged, to give myself thinking space.

After Eve woke she asked me my plans, and I claimed I had a class in the afternoon. I did it a little reluctantly, too, for I like being with her and spending the rest of the day with her would have been good. I could have put Jingjing off, but there were other women I wanted to see on the following days, and so I kept to the lie, saying goodbye to Eve at one pm and sitting down at a café on the Nanjing Road half an hour later to wait for Jingjing.

She arrived a little after 2, a little nervous, as she always is at first, Every time I’ve met her she’s been a little shy to begin, blushing and bashful. It’s rather appealing, though the shyness soon passes. We had a nice enough meal, and then coffee. It was in the coffee bar that I got more to it. Soon after she arrived she returned a bunch of the DVDs I’d lent her before, so now I said that if she wanted to borrow more she could come to my flat to do so. I could not keep the real meaning of this out of my eyes -- `Come to my place and let’s fuck.’
`Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked.
`I just enjoy your company’ I lied.
She came back with me….

Of course just the coming back with me was no guarantee; but she knew what the look I’d given her meant – and, of course, last time she was here I made a pass at her. For her to come again, then, was promising… but even before I made the offer I was hoping for fuck – so much so that, as we drank coffee, I went to take a shit so that, if we did fuck, I should not fart when I came.

Having a shit in a public bog China is something generally to be avoided. Most of the toilets are the squat type, and usually are filthy and smelly, piss, shit, phlegm and cigarette butts spread everywhere. There’s never any paper, never any hot water to wash, and never any soap. And there’s never anywhere to hang your coat or jacket, frequently no doors, and usually a pile of shit-smeared newspaper by the side of the bog (though of course being smeared with shit is all the Chinese media is good for). Added to all this I find balancing on my haunches somewhat awkward, and indeed from time to time have pissed and shat on myself. All in all, a visit to a Chinese public toilet is something to be avoided. But in quest of a better (putative) fuck I sought a shit, and was lucky enough to find a sit rather than squat toilet. But no paper, soap or hot water.

The lack of soap and hot water is universal, even in toilets in big companies or glitzy shops. No matter how big the company, how wealthy the office building, there is never soap, never hot water. In fact, after six years in China there has only been one time I found hot water in the country’s toilets – during the SARS outbreak. For two weeks there was hot water! There was soap! O civilization! And then the drama passed, the government declared there was no more risk….and it was back to shitting and spitting and no soap.

Anyhow.

Back home, first of all I let her look at the DVDs in my bedroom where, luckily (and with Eve’s help) I’d made the bed already that morning. Now for Valentine’s day Eve gave me a picture she’d drawn of us, and whenever I know she is going to visit, I make sure this is on my bedside table. It usually resides in the drawer, lest I bring anyone home. And since Eve had stayed the night before, this is where it was. So, entering the bedroom first, I was able to obscure sight of it with my body at I walked towards it, and tip it over so it was face down. Then I left Jingjing to look at discs while I made sure the other rooms were basically tidy, something I had not had a chance to do that morning.

The rack of discs in my room is by my bed. When I came back in the room Jingjing was crouched in front of them, so I sat on the bed and leaned a little against her body. She seemed comfortable with it, so when she moved to the room next door to look at the other banks of discs I expanded this, standing behind her, pressing my body to hers, developing to an arm round her, a hand casually brushing her breast (stiff, rigid – the sign of the padded bra), then a finger tracing the skin across the small of her back, then again both arms locked round her holding her to me as she crouched in my study looking at the piles of discs.

When she had got to the end of the piles, I said `So.. what am I going to charge you for borrowing all these discs?’
`Charge?”
`I think I should charge you a…. kiss…’ As I said this, I lightly took hold of her chin and turned her face towards me, kissed her. She did not respond with her lips, and kept her eyes open – but did not pull away, was not tense. `It’s okay’ I told her, `It’s okay’ as I kissed her again. Still with her eyes open, unsure, she began to kiss back. Cool at first, but with slowly rising passion. As we kissed, still crouched on the floor, I caressed her a little, her belly and back and then more firmly over her breasts. When she did not flinch at that I was sure…

A new lover

2006-05-31T05:18:00.000+08:00

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Sometimes a mere moment of eye contact is enough to know a woman will be easy to charm into bed. Such a woman was Jingjing. I taught her back in December. She’s a student here. Not great looking, but still somehow rather sexy.

I’m not yet quite so unprofessional, quite such a slug (that description provided by Shutty), as to directly hit on a woman in class (well, almost never… just once in the several years I have been teaching, when a woman so captivated me that I ran down the street after her when she left the class, giving her my card. She is called Ceecee (the Shanghai fondness for idiosyncratic English names!), and, I think, I am within a dinner or two of bedding her).

Instead I just write up my email on the board, telling all the students I am happy to help check their work, advise on university applications and the like; this way I do not seem to be hitting on any individual – though from time to time I do say `Keep in touch’ to the women that catch my eye.

Jingjing did keep in touch, popping up on instant chat a day or two later. The tone of our conversation was promising, so I set up meeting for coffee. I set it up at Zhongshan Park, near her dorm. This was unwise, since that area is where Eve lives; Eve is my `proper’ girlfriend, the one I am seeing on a permanent basis. Making the rendezvous there was thus tempting getting caught. It was also shitty of me, meeting another woman in what should be sacrosanct as Eve’s romantic territory. But maybe that is part of the thrill of it, living a little dangerously and flaunting my power. And perhaps there is something attractive in sacrilege, too.

But before we could finalize the rendezvous, Jingjing went offline. This was because in the Chinese gulag university system, the electricity is often switched off at night, to make sure the students do not start to behave like students and develop an active social life. But a moment after that, I found this email:-

Actually, I want to meet you and have a chat with you ,but I'll probably be very nervous,so if I stammer again ,don't mind please. I don't dare to call you,when I pick up the phone,suddenly,blank came to my mind again,so if possible I hope you could give me a call,maybe I'll be better.my phone number is 1381*******.I don't know if it is polite,if not,please don't mind,just forget it.

..which seemed promising, so I chased her on sms and concluded the when and where.

That coffee date went fine, and ended with me promising to lend her some Australian DVDs, so that she could get used to the accent, since she had heard the oral examiner she was to get was from that country. The next time we met for coffee, I forgot these, so I suggested dinner a day or two later, whereupon I would hand them over.

She agreed to this but, at that dinner, I again forgot the discs – this time on purpose. This was so that I could suggest she came to my place to collect them. That would give her the excuse she needed to come back here, where we could fuck. A woman might be willing to fuck, but she does not like to appear too much so.

I took her to my favorite restaurant, naturally (a more perfect seduction restaurant I have not found), and then a coffee; and suggested coming back here to pick up those DVDs. As it turned out, the ruse was unnecessary, for she needed to print out another copy of some application form, and, as she had no printer on campus (such is the paltry level of facilities in China’s universities) I offered to help her that way.

As we traveled home, as, home, we printed out her forms, she knew something sexual was coming. And though she was shy of it yet… yet she knew it was coming and she let it come, too.

Now of course a guy will often say `she wanted it’ about a woman, claiming she meant `yes’ when in fact she was pinned in fear as by a snake. But it was not that.. Yes, she was nervous, true.. but no fear; and nor was I threatening but rather loose, gentle.. cajoling, sure, but with words only. I kissed her, and while she did not respond she did not pull away either. Instead, she gave me the old line – `I’m an old-fashioned person.’

Ah, `old-fashioned.’ She’d bought the virginity lie, had locked into the `good girls don’t’ bullshit. I did think she would have quite liked to, for as I tried to cajole her I had a hand on her breast and she did not murmur. So it was just that purity thing; she had the feelings, the passions – but also the conditioning. Yeah, the `not until I get married’ kneejerk. In this city, in this year! Well, what a place China is, chicks who fuck at the drop of a hat, like Erin, and chicks who can’t imagine such a life, like Jingjing. Such breadth.

So I guess I still have some way to go when it comes to reading women. This kind of mix, this will-she won’t-she stuff is sometimes hard to fathom. She is young, yes, born in late 84 (this I saw from her application forms); but no woman of any age is that young. It is not that I am saying `she came home, she knew it was a signal,’ no – but rather that my signal came earlier, over dinner, over coffee – even over the choice of venue itself; and she cannot have been blind to that. No woman is so emotionally obtuse. She knew it was a wooing; she came back with me. Sure, not to fuck, but out of curiosity, out of To find out. Out of adventure, maybe, exhilarated by having a more articulate guy than the normal sap run after her (my opinion of the romantic abilities of the majority of Chinese guys is exceedingly low). But when it came to it, all those years – centuries – of conditioning came up, beaten in by her school education, topped and rolled by her university education, and plastered and smoothed by the whole of society. A traditional person!

Stealing someone's girlfriend

2006-05-29T05:18:00.000+08:00

Monday, May 29, 2006

Gloria was a slow-burn relationship; I’d known her a long time before we became lovers. She worked at one of the German departments I used to teach at, and she was unusually efficient; switched on, capable, reliable -- head and shoulders above most I have met here. Workplace efficiency in this country is pretty abysmal, and initiative, reliability and industry are not so easy to find. Gloria had them all.

But in this country it does not matter how good you are; it matters who you know. From top to bottom, China is stuffed with incompetent and idle buffoons who hold their jobs by mere virtue of having the right friends.

China does not reward talent (which is of course a blessing for me), and this is the reason so many people leave the country. Time and again I have heard it from students (most often female students, for the connections club is mostly male) -- `I can’t get ahead in my company, I don’t have the right connections.’

Example of this enough with Gloria; by far the most capable person in the office, she lacked the right friends. And without that protection she had no defence against the spiteful backbiting, the dirty jostling and sniping, the petty viciousness and cowardice that is so much a part of the impotent and raging history of China.

What did for Gloria was a letter about her sent to head office -- but not a bold, self-respecting letter from one with a grudge, but a tattling malicious letter from seven, signed by thumbprints alone.

Thumbprints! What cowards people can be, how weak! Gloria knew where the enmity came from; her error had been to nail her allegiance to the school. A mistake, in a culture where connections are the entire grease for the engine. The way to do it here is to flatter and butter; in her case, when various staff asked her to collude in their plan to sign & draw pay for hours they had not worked, she should have agreed. She could have done so easily enough, since she was office manager. But her straight answer, her refusal, led her that crooked path, its claims and counter-claims, the denials and the whole worthless vortex of it.

She saw how it lay; she knew one of the seven signers, knew he was greased with the big boss of the university; and thus knew she was wasting her time in fighting it. And so she left, and at least left without as full as dose of bitterness as she might have, since one ex-boss of hers, seemingly as angry as I but with the avenue of a more effective response, saw her off with 3 months' pay.

Thus does China reward honesty. And how it rewards dishonesty I need not say.

So one day months ago, just after she’d got binned, we spent a long and close afternoon together. Oh, just eating, talking.. but subtle flirting, too. My arm on her back crossing the road; hers on mine to emphasise a joke. We ate in a Korean joint in a new food street near Fudan University, and then went for a long walk, along the tree-lined evening streets, the student crowds. The railings round the campus were hung with exhortative banners, urging citizens to live clean kind and pure. We took them as our texts for an impromptu lesson. It was good.

So the attraction crackled between us, but remained unspoken. I’d known her for two or three years by this point, and while we’d often teased and flirted a little, it had not been as strong as this unspoken feelings now.

Unspoken because it was complicated; she had a boyfriend already. And I knew this guy pretty well, and even liked him. I'd given them a little bit of help with their English studies, and he passed the relevant exam, she did not. And off he went overseas to study, off to Canada. A decent guy, kind and loving and strong for her. But staid, but dull, but passionless; unable to put his love into glorious actions or wild words.

I saw very clearly that night that she was lonely, and beaten down by having lost her job, unpleasantly. This was my avenue, and one which I knew I should not take… but wanted to.

That night we parted as friends; but the following day we exchanged a lot of text messages, English and Chinese, among which one from her was `U r so cute' -- which I was half amused, half touched to get. And I arranged dinner with her the next night, for she wanted to cook for me in her flat.

As I walked out my door that evening, I saw clearly where it was I likely headed.

We ate, talking easy, and flirting as we had before, a touch here, caress there. She’d prepared a careful meal, cooked it lovingly. Though the mutual attraction was obvious, I was not sure if she would act on it.

After dinner, we sat side by side on the bed watching TV for a while, until I left the room for a moment. When I returned, she was standing by the foot of the bed. I sat, put my arm round her waist as she stood in front of me, and laid my head on her waist. She murmured and stroked my hair. And then, with the gentlest of pressure from my arm, she sat on my knee. We watched TV some more. But I could feel her heightened emotion, as maybe she mine. A kiss on her cheek was easy enough. Then we locked eyes and the half-hesitant invitation therein was clear. The chastest of kisses on her lip, and still her hesitation. `Sorry...' I apologized, and `sorry’ again. But she smiled it away. I kissed her cheek, then again her lips, still soberly. `Watch TV' she admonished me, kindly, her fingers on my chin, turning my head to the screen.

Once started, not to be stopped; and so our kisses became warmer and her hands more adventurous; so her I took her lead, moving under her top, over her back, round to her breasts; and soon we were on the bed, undressed, kissing, caressing. She was sexy, seemed a promising lover… But as with other lovers, this first time wasn't so smooth. I could not get inside her without pain -- `It's like the first time' she said.

Still, we had plenty of fun, and I boosted my ego by making her come -- that took a while (and some aching in my neck, as this was all oral) with many almost-theres fading out. And her many `it's so big' comments had the effect they would have on every other male.

But the way she held on to me as we slept after made me sure that it was more than a one-night stand for her. And I might have seen this, for I knew she was lonely, knew she needed someone to hold on to. Twice the words escaped her lips, recalled as soon as spoke but not quick enough to mute them -- `I love you.' And those words rose in me, too.

She was worthy of love.

This was no one-night stand for me either, I felt at the time; for holding her filled a deep well in me, and indeed her pleasure was the more to me than mine, for I did not come -- not being able to penetrate her comfortable the only way was her hand or mine, and that seemed somewhat crude. It was fine by me; her arms were enough.

But of course it creates lies, births deception. The boyfriend’s name was mentioned just once, late, before we slept. More eloquent than this; a bookshelf, fashioned into the headboard of her bed, bore a pile of used IP phonecards, thirty, forty, rubber-band bound. Each of these used to talk to him, I am sure, and there as trophies, talismans. And before lights out, she had to check something on her pc; I did not enquire and she did not volunteer. But I have little doubt it was to do with him. So I have made a liar out of her.

Another example: I added her address into MSN when I got back home the next day, and later on she logged in. And as our messaging began, the pic on her display was of him, the boyfriend. She changed it soon enough to one of her, and again neither of us spoke of him. But he was there, in the room, unspoken.

As maybe Kay was for her. Kay was my only long-term Chinese girlfriend, with whom I had broken up a few months before this, with whom I kept in touch (and still keep in touch) but had (at that point) told nothing of this thing with Gloria. I could not clearly recall telling Gloria I’d broken up with Kay… Maybe I did, or maybe Gloria assumed I had so to ease her (and my) betrayal of her guy. Indeed, just a day or two after we’d become lovers, she told me, `I love him'; but even in those words there was a `but' -- maybe not spoken, yet there clear enough.

So what had I done? Taken advantage of a fragile woman or began after someone worth loving -- oh, worth loving as Kay was and is… But even then I could see it ending in heartbreak for Gloria, that I would fail to commit to her like I should have to Kay.

So I did not know. Did not know. But I was happy, filled.

Last time with Lucy

2006-05-28T05:16:00.000+08:00

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Lovers like Lucy, who are only temporary, I tend to keep cordoned off from my other friends. This is expediency; if I introduce one to my circle, they will assume she is my girlfriend. And then, when she disappears and is replaced, my wolvish behavior would begin to be suspected.

Naturally enough I want to retain some sort of good image in the eyes of my friends. And so while when I am with a group of these friends, laughing, drinking and relaxing over dinner, I am happy to admit to them I love to chase women, I seldom go into any detail, keeping it all light and amusing.

There are two exceptions to this; Clarissa, and Tulip. To these two women, I am more or less honest; and it is with Clarissa in particular that I have no secrets. Neither of them have been my lover, though I very much want them to be. Tulip is married, and Clarissa alas, has emigrated. In due course I will write about her; more than any other woman in China, she is the one I wanted most. Of course, the fact that she resisted me while always being willing to flirt with me just made me want her all the more – after all, it is what you cannot have that you want most.

I remember the very first time I met her, a couple of years ago; though she was not tall nor had the looks of an international model there was something instantly sexy about her. I remember the clothes she wore – that skirt, those black tights! – and how she came up at the end of the class to ask various words, how she’d had the confidence to point out, in front of the whole class, a word I’d carelessly misspelled on the board (that’s something 99% of students will never do)…. She’s married too, having got married at a young age, which is quite common here. Yet there is nothing common about her, and nothing traditional. I have spent a great deal of time thinking about her in the past couple of years, and have much more to write about her. But more of her later, and of Tulip too.

The other reason I keep my lovers away from my friends is that they simply do not mix. This is something I learned with Lucy. After one rendezvous with her, at a time I was already getting bored with her, I took her along to a meeting I’d arranged with intriguing Laura at People’s Square. I was amused by Lucy’s reaction when I mentioned this – ‘我吃醋.’ I laughed at this, and when, later, she smiled and perked up as I told her Laura was not as cute as her, I laughed a belly laugh that shook the corridor.

When we met, Lucy did not know what to make of Laura, and so it was a pretty frosty affair, the cold front mostly from Lucy. Silence hung, part because of Lucy’s mood, part because Laura is not one for endless chatter (which virtue I regard highly), and is withal coolish anyway. In my bag I had a gift for Laura, a novel by Ishiguro; but I knew if I gave it to her the weather would become Arctic. So instead we three checked out the Biennale, which was in part good and in part vapid.

But as we proceeded, Lucy thawed, her behavior becoming more lively and warm than Laura’s. It occurred to me this might have been strategy on her part. Perhaps she saw it was the wiser move, saw that being cold and irritated was a sure way to turn me off; perhaps hoped that by playing a livelier role than Laura, she could eclipse her in my regard.

I’d also arranged to meet another friend in the early evening for dinner. This was Lili, a kindergarten teacher who I chat to online from time to time; rather an ample woman, but with some interesting opinions. Laura, somewhat moodily, refused to come along (I have more to say about this later) so Lucy, Lili and I went to the Jiangxi restaurant to which Gloria introduced me a few weeks ago; the meal was good but not as good as that which Gloria, a Jiangxi native, had ordered. (Gloria is a previous lover, and one regarding whom I do feel some guilt: more of her tomorrow or so.)

But we had fun and Lucy, seeing clearly there was nothing in my feelings beyond friendship for Lili, was chirpy and cheerful. It amused me to see how totally Lucy’s character changed according to how she judged the situation – defensive with Laura, relaxed with Lili. Territorial towards me, in a word; but really she was wasting her energy, for though she did not know it, our liaison was almost over at that time.

But though I was tired of her, pussy is pussy, and so I kept her on a little longer for fuck fun. And so a week or so later we booked into a hotel again, but I got her to go in and make the booking, since the place is not foreigner friendly (partly I think because it seems to be reserved for minor party type guys – it’s in the part of town is where the city mayor and all the other government gangsters live).

Anyhow, once in the room (en route to which the hotel staff had half-heartedly tried to stop me) we got down to it. But of course nothing is as exciting as the first time, so while I remember the first time I fucked Lucy with great clarity, I recall much less about this bout.

Two things stick out from that meeting. The first is a comment she made after we’d fucked. She was talking about her life back home. She’s from a wealthy family up in the north of the country, and while she has never wanted for money (her parents bought her a house here, for example) she has been very much emotionally neglected. She’s a daughter – a most undesired gender in China. Her parents, rich, were able to ignore the one-child policy (for money here is power, just like anywhere else – though at least other countries generally acknowledge it, while China maintains the absurd fiction it is a `socialist’ society) and have a second kid. This kid was a son; and the moment he was born, they wholly forgot about Lucy. No affection, no attention, no care, no love; she was more like a member of staff than a member of the family. The son, currently 10 or 12, gets it all – and what a little monster he will no doubt turn out to be.

The perfunctory upbringing Lucy received naturally shaped her character. She told me about the family maid, and told me how cheap such maids were, and how she would spend in an hour what her parents paid this maid in a month. But the most striking remark, the remark which made me remember all the rest, was `We spend more on our dog than we do on her.’ The level of inequality in China – socialist China, worker’s paradise China, we are all equal China – is astonishing. The rural poor are becoming restive, with around 80,000 protests a year. So far they are pretty well kept in line, by baton-wielding police and brutish public security guys, conspiring with the state to keep their country and their people under control, but I see a day when the will fight back beyond containment. And then, of course, the first people to be blamed will be the foreigners in the country (or maybe the Japanese in general, a favorite target) rather than the real criminals who are, of course, other Chinese people – the government, the state apparatus, the million well-fed and watered in the cities who are too idle to ever try to understand their nation and their history.

But never mind. More sex, less politics.

The second thing I recall from this day is when my head was between Lucy’s legs and I was eating her.

Now the first time I go down on a woman is the very best time – the first look at her pussy, its unique shape, the trim of the hair, the taste. And since so many men in China are rather squeamish about oral sex, it doesn’t take much to do a good job, to drive the woman wild. Making her buck and writhe and come explosively is extremely rewarding – for the first few times. The first few times, I want the woman to feel like she has never felt before. I want her to think I am a fantastic lover. I want it to be the best.

But after that, as I begin to get used to her body, as I become an established lover, as the suspense of will-she-fuck won’t-she-fuck passes, then this desire passes too. I no longer feel the need to make such a strong impression. Sure, I still want her to come, but this is out of duty, rather than to make me feel like a champion lover. And so, with my head between her legs, sucking and licking and kissing away, and her getting close but not quite there, I began to think `Just fake it!’

That was enough of a sign – time to end the relationship. But I have never been good at breaking relationships clearly, preferring to let them drift out of focus. And that is what I did with Lucy; though we chatted a few times online after that, that was the last time I saw her.

Why I am a Scumbag

2006-05-26T05:14:00.000+08:00

Friday, May 26, 2006

People appear to be reading this. I’m taken aback – but gratified, of course.

Here, there is a minor debate on this blog. A user called eee says:-

Good thing he’s in ‘Sex and Shanghai’ and not ‘Sex and the City’, where he’d be guarantted a one-off ’ New jersey geek’, ‘Over the hill loser’, ‘Mr. Short Penis’ or any geeky undesirable roles that are joked by the girls.
There he is in Shanghai, a self-claimed ‘Mr. Big’ no shy about his serious oriental fetish.
How about this: “40 years old Virgin - Until I Made It to Shanghai”. Or “Laowai Powers - the chinese peasant girl who shagged me”

Largely a spot-on comment. And this is part of the reason I started writing – the city is full of mediocre guys with great women on their arms. But I certainly don’t see myself as Mr. Big. I’m a totally average guy, with no looks and little money, and I am astonished by just how easy it is to get girls.

Shutty says:

wow. i had a lot of issues with china when i left - predominantly related to almost every white guy there being a.) a giant giant tosser in social exile from his own country and b.) an opportunistic freak preying on very young girls with even younger ideas about life.
you can see the guy is so super proud of himself that he can’t post his name or picture.
i can’t even begin to describe how disturbing i find that site and unfortunately, how entirely true it is because i have had the misfortune of meeting people just like him in china.

She’s totally right. Of course China is full of guys like me. We’re 90% a bunch of bastards. Naturally I do not think I am a tosser (what person does?) nor would I say I am in social exile from home.

As Shutty says it’s disturbing because it’s true. What better reason is there to write about it? I think it’s important to be honest about this. I hope that some women in China at least will read this stuff and begin to be a bit more cautious. The blog is also here, since blogspot is censored in China.

I have various friends involved with foreign guys, and at the beginning of their relationships the woman has told me `This foreign guy is different.’ But he never is. We all lie and cheat and chase.

For example, a few weeks ago I was sitting in a restaurant, a place with good food but not-quite-cold-enough beer (another sign of the Shanghai’s essentially provincial soul), and there were two foreigners on the table next to me, accompanied by a local woman. The one guy doing all the talking looked to be the jobbing student type, all beard and self-satisfied attitude, and was gassing on about this and that. It was all so much white noise to which I only paid half attention until I heard him say, `I know about this guy, he's called S*** …’

The guy said that this S*** was always bragging about the number of women he has, and how he had three at the moment, and that of course they all loved him but he was perhaps getting serious about one of them, Sarah; and also said how he, S*** had come within a moment of being fired -- `They’d written the letter and it was just waiting to be stamped…’ but that he’d done something – which I did not catch – to stave off the blow.

My ears had pricked up at this because the talker began by giving S****’s full name. And I knew that name, not because I know the guy but because I happened to know one of the women he was involved with, Mona. At that time Mona had broken up with him but was unsure breaking up had been the right choice. She felt she might still be in love with him. Mona is an ex-lover of mine, but one with whom I still have a close relationship (indeed I would be prepared to mention this blog to her.)

I had already told her she likely could not trust this guy, and of course I told her about overhearing this conversation, restating the fact this was what foreign guys were like; this was what I was like.

Overhearing this guy was of course no more than random chance (though weak-minded people who believe there is purpose to the universe might see here evidence of a higher power) but as I sat there listening I reflected on how easy it is to be indiscreet, how often the person we are talking about, we think in confidence, is in earshot, or in earshot at a remove like this.

And I also reflected on the corrupt and venial nature of guys here – guys like me, too – who treat it as a playground. The speaker, if not quite inflecting approval into his voice, certainly had no criticism. I wondered what the woman with them, a local, thought behind her apparently amused countenance. I would imagine – I would hope – she had nothing but contempt for guys like this S***, for the speaker, who sort of admired him; and for guys like me, too.

And I am certainly not proud, just like I do not see myself as a Mr. Big. On the contrary, I know I behave pretty shabbily. That’s unlikely to change, but writing about it is at least a way to let others know how guys like me behave.

The reason I do not put my photo up is because I would be identifiable. If I was identifiable, the women I write about would be too. That’s the same reason I give the women fake names and do not put up their photos. I do have some respect for them, even though it may not appear that way.

I assume Shutty is a Western woman. But whether this is true or not, it’s tough to be a Western woman here. Guys like me (which is most guys) simply do not look at Western women. You are invisible to us; you are just not there.

I do not mean to condone such an attitude, but that’s the way it is. For Chinese girls, white man is good; for white man, white woman is invisible. Why would we bother? Western women are too smart and savvy to put up with our sleazy bullshit, and (more to the point) in most cases, white women can’t compare physically with Chinese women. White woman wears a slinky top in a European city, she’ll likely be well aware of the guys ogling her. White woman wears a slinky top in Shanghai and I don’t even take a look.

I do not feel quite easy writing about color and race. But the fact is this is a major issue. In China, white is better. The billboards are full of ads for whitening cream; the girls carry sunshades to keep their skin pale.

Stuart says:

How can you link to that site. Even if half the stuff this guys says is true, he’s shamelessly taking advantage of naive Chinese girls. It’s disgusting.

What should I say? Of course it’s disgusting. But it’s fun for me, and fun for the thousand other white guys just like me.

And not just white guys:-

A MIDDLE-AGED man in Nanyang, Henan Province, purchased the virginity of 17 middle school girls, arousing concerns about the education of rural area youths, a Guangdong Province newspaper reported yesterday.

Last September, parents of two girls reported to middle school officials that their daughters were wearing new dresses and had money they did not give to them.

After repeatedly asking the girls, they said the money was given to them by a man in exchange for their virginity. School officials called police.

Investigators found 10 more girls from the school who sold their virginity to the same man. The girls also gave police the mobile phone number of the man.

The victims were introduced to the man by Xiao Mei, Xiao Bao and Xiao Tong, no relation, three other girls who also sold their virginity to the man.

When they received payment for their virginity, they promised to introduce more virgins to the man.

I'd say that's a fuck sight more disgusting that anything I do. Sure, this guy is a exception; but beyond his particular sickness, the way many Chinese men treat women is wholly shabby. What this guy did was mostly a legal crime whereas I am only a moral criminal, and the two things cannot really be compared. But my point is that this incident is an echo of the sexual psyche of the average Chinese man, who fetishizes virginity.

But it really does not matter whether you believe what I write is true or not. What should matter is that this is what life is like in Shanghai. This is what we are. Look: I am not going to change. The girls are easy, and 90% of men on the planet would take advantage of that if they could. Men of any nation, any culture; we would all do it if we could.

Crazy Chinese guys

2006-05-26T05:13:00.000+08:00

Friday, May 26, 2006

As we cuddled and chatted after making love, there was a strange incident. She’d been getting a steady trickle of sms messages, which I had paid no mind to – until she visibly reacted to one. That was my cue to ask, and she told me. It was this guy who’s been after her maybe 4, 5 years, having been introduced to her once, by her cousin; and that once was enough to convince him she was the love of his life. The spineless pussy.

He wanted her to marry him, and kicked off his wooing by claiming she was already his wife, by calling up her mother and declaring his love and so on. He had thrown over his studies to leave his hometown and come to Shanghai to be near her, leading to him being disowned by his family, who are rich and powerful. And all this without having got to know her in the slightest.

In the way of the rich here, at one point this sap’s father, apparently having un-disowned him, had called her up to say if she would marry his son, he would buy her whatever she wanted, house, car, holiday and so on. Ah, China’s brash nouveau rich and their blunt, mercenary ways!

And so the grubby little worm has sent her a constant barrage of text messages, spite of her asking him to stop, spite of her asking his father to ask him to stop. She told me this rather passive, as if it was no biggie, but it made me pretty angry – it is harassment. And the fact she did not seem to mind it shows to me that women here are so used to getting a raw deal they can no longer even recognize it as such – it is just how things are, it is normality. Naturally I offered to wade in; I can just see the guy now, a timid, lily-livered yet mean, sour guy -- weak yet arrogant, a spoiled brat.

She said she’d told him she had a boyfriend but, cunt as he clearly is, he refused to believe this. So I offered to talk to him right then, in the bedroom with her, and she took me up on it. She called him, told him she was with her boyfriend, and handed over to me. And, in a mixture of very slow but firm Chinese and English, I warned him off, told him he must stop messaging her. He had little to say to me, as he would, me being another guy.

Talking to her, of course, he had no such problems. To her, a mere woman and thus to be mastered, he could show his lordliness. And he showed this arrogant attitude perfectly, by ignoring my warning – that he would do so was obvious – and texting her moments after the conversation ended to call her a whore, using the worst word Chinese for it there was, no mere `tart,’ but whore, whore.

The men in this country! That she goes from his idol to a whore in a moment. And his racial pride too; he told her the fact she was fucking a white guy meant she was a harlot. It is no wonder than women here are so unhappy. Sure, women get treated shit all over the world, but they get a special brand of shit treatment over here – that’s why China has the highest rate of female suicide in the world.

That’s also why guys like me get so much pussy – Chinese girls just want to be with a guy who treats them with passion and respect.

Respect? Well, the ease with which we Western guys chop and change our women might suggest we have no respect at all. But when we chase a woman, when we are with her, we do indeed respect her; and though soon after we may move elsewhere, we never think of her as a whore, as easy, but rather with affection and friendship. Never contempt, as is so common among guys here with their fuddy-duddy parochial attitudes, their ill-concealed fear or women.

Lucy and I fucked some more after that, as I had still not come, holding it back to make our revels last; and when I did come, it was 2am… and at 7am we were fucking again, until 9. Then to Keven café for breakfast, after which I walked with her to the tube, parting there to go to my `lesson’ – nonexistent, of course, but I had invented it as an easy excuse not to have to spend the day with her - because I had a later rendezvous with Sara, a heart surgeon at a local hospital. She is a little older, maybe coming towards 30, and thus not as trim, fresh or svelte as Lucy or Mona, but yet more to my mind than they are; more mature, more complex, more interesting. She has no lover, and I am sure I could be hers (and am sure still, for though Lucy is now in my past Sara is still in my present). But, just like it would be with Ivy, another woman I have thought of chasing, being her boyfriend could only happen on terms too hard for my selfishness; I would not cease to play around, and thus would only cause sorrow.

With women about 28 or so, love is a serious matter – marriage must be at its end; marriage is its reason. There is no sense of having a relationship just to see where it might go; marriage is the destination when the journey begins. And if sex happens, then it is even harder to get off the journey half way. But with women under 28, the relationship is usually open-ended. And this is a generation thing, not purely an age thing, for as those women now under 28 get older their attitude will not change much. For them, marriage is a maybe; for those born a few years earlier, marriage is a must.

In the days after this, as I chatted with Lucy online, our conversations became increasingly hard work. She wanted to spend much of the coming weeklong holiday together. I did not, finding her too pushy, and getting far too serious, wanting me to tell her I loved her. She asked this several times, and, seeing my hesitation, said `Just lie to me!’ – so I did.

That toad of a guy who’d been stalking her these past few years, as was obvious, couldn’t wait to ring up her folks and blab and whine and pule to them about how whorishly she was fucking a foreigner. I had told her he’d do this; of course he would, running to Mummy, busting with the urge to snitch and blab. This is how it is – a man here faced with a setback will not take it like a man but will instead plot and cheat and twist and stab, get his revenge meanly, huddled in the shadows, sniping and smirking.

So I suggested that when he did call, and when her parents subsequently rang her up to demand she divulge everything they wanted to know about her private life (an attitude typical of many parents in this country) she say she and I had been in a bar. And so she did just this when, on the eve of mid-autumn festival, her mother followed up the family greetings with enquiries as to who this foreigner she’d heard about was. I’d suggested Lucy tell her mother I was her foreign pal; but instead she said I was her foreign boyfriend. Thus:-

darling:

Just now my mother called me and sent me her good wish for me.then i firstly told her about my trouble ,then she said she just wanted to ask me about sth that the boy had told her ,and mum asked me about who you were and why stayed so late with u.i replied in a joking voice that u were my bf and i was in love with so as to i didn't want to separate with u,then we sit in a bar and had a lot of things to talk about until that time that boy called me.

my mother smiled at last and asked me to take care of myself and to enjoy my own love life.she said if she could speak in english she would like to talk to u and wish you could look after me.ha ha,she just took me as a child in her eyes.

And this, of course, of course, just shut me down, made me lose all interest, made me want to shut her down. Love? O, no, no.

So I floated a lie, that my school wanted to send me to Shenzhen to teach a special holiday course. She laid it on how sad, hopeless this would make her. This, of course, had the opposite effect to that which she intended – she wanted it to make me more keen to be with her, but of course it made me less keen. But I lied, as was required, and told her I would try to get out of the course. Of course, instead I polished the fiction, made it more real, and thus got out of seeing her.

Her second time 她的第二次

2006-05-25T05:12:00.000+08:00

Thursday, May 25, 2006
English parts quotes from ChinaBounder, Translated by kikoo.
中文由Kikoo翻译。感谢他的支持。

When we met it took a little while to warm up, and I felt a little bored; but we drank our coffee, got comfortable with each other again, and then went to do some filming around town (a film of my everyday life for my people back home), and then to book a hotel. That too a while – the Tian Ping hotel again wanted to rook me 880 for a room, and the Boxueyuan, where we fucked before, only had a triple. I had a look at another nearby one I knew of, near a flat where I used to live (and which indeed had been constructed as I lived there), with some misgiving (it being pricey and me impecunious at that time), and felt as much relief as irritation that it was `full’ too, though I got the impression it was only full because I was a foreigner and saying `no’ was simply the easiest way of dealing with me. I couldn’t find any other hotels nearby, and Lucy’s feet, got-up in heels to match her carefully chosen clothes, were hurting her. So we made do with the Boxueyuan, a hotel which part belongs to Jiao Tong University, but also in part some industrial firm, to judge from its paperwork – a convoluted and unclear ownership that is fairly typical in China.

当我们见面时我觉得很无聊，需要点时间来热热身；我们喝了咖啡，各自都觉得自在些了，于是我们在附近照了些相（为我家人准备的一些日常生活照），然后订间酒店。那天平酒店又想骗我880元一间房，而我们曾经做爱的地方博学园的价钱更是它的三倍。我只好找找附近我所熟知的地方，一个我曾经住过的公寓（在我住的时候就已经布置好了），带着某些疑虑（酒店价格那么高而我又身无分文），这间酒店也住“满”人了，这让我的愤怒减少了，虽然在我印象中他们的满人是因为我是外国人，而且对我说“不”也很容易。我找不到附近有什么旅馆了，但LUCY的脚，被鞋子刮得很痛。于是我们选择了博学圆，它属于交通大学，又属于某些工业公司，据文书来说，它的持有人身份令人费解而又模糊，这在中国相当典型。

I wanted to undress her; she did not want me to. And I got a bit shirty at that – and that was wrong of me, a bit childish and pompous. I should have read her body language better. It was not modesty that lay behind it, but fear. I’d waved her away and said `Go and change in the bathroom, then’ and she explained that when she was younger… Yes, I should have guessed... It is, after all, a wretchedly common story; she, the young girl – 8 or 10 at the time – and the guy, bigger, stronger. This guy was an uncle with whom she had been sent to live by her too-busy parents. Earlier she had already told me she did not like him. Now I found out why. But I did not ask too much about this incident, for I did not want to bring up those memories too fresh – did not, in short, to ruin my own evening.

我想脱光她的衣服，但她并不想我这样做。这让我有点恼火，不过这是我的缺点，有点孩子气和夸张，我应该先看她的身体语言。躺在后面很不谦虚，但是很害怕。我不得不挥手让她去洗手间里换，后来她解释说，当她还很小的时候……是的,我应该猜到了…….毕竟,这是很卑劣也很普遍的故事;她-那时是一个8或10
岁的小女孩,而那男人很高大强壮.这个男人是她叔叔,她父母都很忙就把她送到这叔叔家照顾.很早前她就告诉我她不喜欢他.现在我知道原因了.我没有问太多关于这事件,因为我不想向她提起这些可怕的回忆-简而言之,不想毁了我的傍晚.

And in fact this squall soon passed. Once she’d talked a little about it, how he took her clothes off and caressed her, my rightly caring, worried reaction soothed her, and the fear was charmed away; and then I did undress her and we got down to it. Kissed and caressed and it was good – but not as passionate as it had been with Mona. I wanted to eat her but, unwashed, she was uneasy with it. I moved to enter her and it was a little painful for her, so I got the lube I’d brought the day before, and that worked like a charm, and she smiled wide and fascinated as I, thus smeared, glided into her. We fucked, this position and that, picking up tempo, half an hour or so, and then she wanted a break, a shower. We washed each other then dallied some more, she reading out sections of my book, translating what I’d written back into English, reading with interest and pleasure and some self-congratulation at the fluency of her translation. It was quite charming really, since she giggled and bounced like an excited child.

事实上这痛苦的回忆很快就过去了.曾经有一次她稍微提起了一点,告诉我她叔叔是怎样脱她衣服并且抚摩她,我适当的关心和担心的反映使她很欣慰,恐惧也消失了;然后我把她衣服都脱了,我们开始做起来.亲吻和爱抚太好了—但是不够我和MONA一起那么有激情.我想亲她那里,但是她觉得没清洗很不自在.我尝试进入她,可她觉得有点痛,于是我拿了前天买的润滑剂,用起来很不错,她笑的很开朗很迷人,就连我进入她了也不知道.我们做爱了,用这样那样的方式和快速,做了大约半小时.后来她要求休息一下冲个凉.我们冲完凉后调了一下情,然后她读我文章里的一段,读得很有趣很开心,还对自己流利的翻译自夸.当她像一个兴奋的小孩跳起来和傻笑时,真的很诱人.

Then back to sex, and she began by blowing me. Did it quite well, too, sexy, passionate – but again not as hot or maddening as Mona. But I’d brought my DV, and filmed her a little as she worked me, and then later as I worked her – promising, naturally, to erase it later.. And so I have done – after copying it to my laptop, of course. Well, and so we fucked a goodly while, me placing her this way and that, missionary, her on top facing both ways, and behind, and on her side, back, belly, in my arms (that was a bit harder than with Mona, as she’s a heavier woman – Mona, slender and light is as lithe and flexible in bed as could be desired); and she got into it as before, especially when I came at her doggy. As she had been more chatty in the restaurant, so she was more talkative after we had done, but this time I enjoyed it much more. She told me each time we met she learned new things – and what man does not like to hear that? And then she told me that she had talked about me with her male friends online, and told the such detail as the size of my cock, positions, duration; much of which, she told me, they were incredulous about. More music to my ears, naturally.. as was what they had told her, how they could last 30 minutes at the utmost, and more generally just ten; and how a Chinese guy married a few years was mechanical. His wife would lie in bed, the cover thrown back; he would just climb on top, thrusting, coming and then going to sleep; and the size, the size – or lack of it! And she told me how she had described my size, how she had told them that, when holding her fingers round -- `What.. what’s the word for it?’ `The girth’ – they could not quite meet (and indeed looking at the film just now, it is so) – and this again they were most skeptical about.

回到性爱上,她开始为我口交.做的很好很性感很有激情,但还是不够MONA火热和疯狂.我把我DV拿来把她为我做的部分摄入还有后来我为她做时也摄了—向她保证等下自然会删掉的.当然,上传到我笔记本电脑里我就删了.我们又做爱了,这次十分出色,我把她这边那边摆,教她在上面有两种方法,一是后面,另一是从她的侧面,背面,肚子上,在我怀里(这比我和MONA做时困难,因为她比较重-MONA是一个苗条而又灵活的女人,在床上能任由摆布).她像之前一样陶醉,特别是当我用狗做爱的方式的时候.就像她在餐厅里爱闲聊一样,当我们做完后她更爱闲聊了,但是这一次我很喜欢.因为她说每次我们见面她都能学到新东西---还有男人不喜欢听什么?后来她又告诉我她在网上和她的男性朋友谈论我,还告诉他们我的生殖器大小,做爱姿势,持续的时间,等等,但他们都不相信.自然地,这就像音乐一般在我耳边,就是当他们告诉她,他们最久能持续30分钟,但是一般都是10分钟就完事;一个中国男人结婚几年后,就会变得很机械.他的妻子躺在床上,他就爬到她身上直接进入,完事然后就睡觉了;然而那尺寸,生殖器的尺寸-太小了!她告诉我她如何向她朋友描述我的尺寸,当她用手指来绕---“用什么词来说?””周长”---手指也不能碰到一块儿(
刚看的电影里,确实有那么粗)—而这将又是他们最不相信的.

Cybersex

2006-05-23T05:11:00.000+08:00

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Making love (and especially for the first time) was of course a bigger deal for Lucy than for me. So later the next day when we chatted online, she wanted to hear those three words, words she had said three times during our revels; and, since she directly asked for them, I supplied them. And in subsequent conversations, she began to fall -- or had fallen – in love with me. I should have discouraged it, but she was such a hot fuck that she was quite a lot in my mind too.

I guess I ought not have told her those words, since they were not true. But at the time it seemed the easiest way to proceed. What worried me more was that, fearful of pregnancy, she told me she had gone to a pharmacy, told them she ‘did not want to have a baby.’ They asked if she had made love; she said yes; and they gave her the morning after pill. I feel uncomfortable with this. I was careful not to come in her; there is no need for her to fill her body with the hormones. And I guess it was a final mark of her inexperience.. she knows so little. And what’s terrifying about that is that she is a teacher and, to judge both by what she has told me and the recommendations I have polished up on her pending university application, a good one, prize winning, working wonders in her class. And yet ignorant about the most basic functions of sex!

What kind of future does that point to..? What an emotionally blind, crippled, stunted society this can be, and how deceitful and ignorant the education the children receive! This coyness about sex is a crime, and China does not even have the inane excuse of the Christians for whom sex is, laughably, a sin. But it is such danger, it is neglect, it is a form of proxy abuse. Terrible.

Another sweet memory from our night together; she was sitting astride me, resting from the lust with which she’d been riding me, and we talked. I told her that some guys made love to two women at the same time. `And the women often make love to each other, too..’ I said. Her eyes widened in disbelief at this.. but not disgust; just disbelief, it seemed something the mere possibility of which had not even occurred to her. She shook her head at the very idea of it.. but yet I could see she was not rejecting it out of hand, that I thought maybe I could explore with her. At the time I did have an idea who might be the `other woman,’ a married friend of mine who has talked to me of interest in such things. But I got bored of Lucy before I ever tried to arrange anything like that.

Boredom set in fairly soon; by the time of a third online chat I was losing interest fast – all the more so in that case because I just wanted to eat dinner, loaf, watch a film (The Revenger’s Tragedy, which was moderately well done) maybe write some more of my book. Sometimes just sitting at home taking it easy is more agreeable than flirting and chasing. But only sometimes.

As it turned out, it was well worth passing the pleasantries with her, for she was at her cousin’s house, and he had a webcam, and, part of the way through our chat, she changed into sleepwear, a pink nightie. Her cousin was still up and around but soon went off to do his own thing… and so what came next was, I guess, obvious. First I asked her to stand, so I could see her whole body, and she was pliable enough for that. And so after a bit more increasingly suggestive chat, I asked her to take off the nightie, and she did so, so that I could see her breasts – which were bigger and fuller than those of many women I have been with.

Breast size is something a lot of Chinese women give a great deal of thought to; many of my lovers have said at some point in our lovemaking `my breasts are too small.’ It is true that on average Chinese women have petite breasts – which is something I rather like, as it happens – but I guess most guys must prefer them larger, for no matter how much I tell my lover I like her breasts fine just the way they are, she is seldom convinced.

Mona, for example, is much worried by the small size of hers. She used to be a lover, and is now close friend (and indeed I am rather proud that she is still a friend, that we have a close, non-sexual and very open relationship. It is one of the few things that gives me hope I am not a complete bastard when it comes to my relationships with women.) She had considered breast enlargement surgery (which is pretty popular here) but instead has taken the traditional Chinese medicine approach, which involves weekly massage sessions and various herbal creams. On the whole I am skeptical of TCM; all that hot and cold food stuff is so much superstition. Believing that tiger bone will give one the strength of a tiger is to misunderstand nature – it’s seeing the natural world as an allegory. TCM assumes that the order our human understanding naturally places on the world is a reflection of reality. But eating from the tortoise will not bring longevity, nor will consuming the cheetah bring speed. To believe it will is to see the world like a story, a fairly tale…

And yet….

Mona’s breasts do look a lot perkier lately, there’s no denying that.

Anyhow, on camera Lucy was shy but excited. I asked her to show me her panties, which she did; and then to take them off. And she did. So I got naked too, and now I could see the excitement on her face. She really got into it, began to touch herself, gently then more actively, standing up close to the computer, showing me her pussy as she masturbated.. until she came. It was pretty hot.

D mmm, oh, i do so wanna be with u now!
L i closed the door
D: u could take off ur nightdress agian!
L ha ha,i am safe and he fell asleep
L i have to go to washroom just a minute
L wait
D: ok, dear!
D: but....
D: i would like to watch u in the washroom!
L :-O
L ok
L oh,watch me in the washroom
L >??
L no'
L oh...:S
L +o(i will feel sick
D: oh, i can see i have to open up ur mind a lot more !
L well..
L i am conservesive
D: did u not like it when we had a shower together?
L i like having shower with you
L i like a tall man beside me
D: that's great!
L and wash for me
D: but, dear, to be honest..
D: a lot of guys do find it sexy to see a woman小便
D: oh, u r naked again, cool!
L y;es,i closed the door
L my god.....
D: o, i like that!
D: oh, yes, let me see ur panties, dear!
L it is great tonight
L panties?
L what is its meaning?
D: it means `knickers' or underwear
D: oh, cute!
D: o,wow, i wanna fuck u right now!
D: damn, u r so sexy!
L i need sex now!!!!!!!!!
D: oh, and i wanna give it to u!
L i need it now!!!
L my god,i make myself climate
D:: oh, wow, geat!
L great!
D: was it good?
D: were you noisy???
L but there is no man here!
D: oh...
L i need man,now

It was, as I say, sexy. She really let herself go, her pussy close to the camera and then her mouth as I brought my cock close to my camera. Yes, sure, as she pretended to suck and lick and kiss it could have descended into farce, could have gone cold water. But it stayed sexy. And I did want to fuck her, so I arranged to meet her the following Saturday.