by AnonYMous
‘Anyway, on a happier note I’ve just started to enjoy myself and I’m seeing someone. Kind of, well, we’ve only met briefly. It’s casual. Nearly all the communication so far has been electronic. I like the way he thinks.’
Amelia was quite traditional in relationship matters and I knew I had to tread carefully. She would have been shocked about the BDSM route I had taken. I told her that his name was Edward and he was younger than me, and that I was just toying with a little fun.
‘I’m so pleased, darling. You’re so lovely, and deserve to be happy. How much younger is he? What does he look like? Tell me about him.’
I replied airily, ‘Actually, I don’t know how old he is, but not that much younger than me, I think.’ I described, vaguely, his blond hair, green eyes and whip of a mind. I said that we were meeting up at the end of the exhibition for a couple of days, which should be fun. And then I added hastily, ‘Not ready to introduce him to anyone yet, you understand, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do,’ Amelia said and I knew she wouldn’t speak a word of it to anyone. ‘You two should go to Dali—it’s such a romantic restaurant. Or is that not appropriate?’
I laughed and said too quickly, ‘No. Romance would be out of context.’
Amelia raised her eyebrows, so I covered with, ‘Too soon.’
‘So when does the exhibition start again? I know you’ve already told me, but lately I have the memory of a sieve. Pregnancy will do that to you.’
I knew too well, but just smiled and gently touched her ‘baby’ stomach before reminding her of my plans. I had to be in Da Shan Zi by ten the next morning. The official opening started at noon, but because it was my first story for Budaya I wanted to be there at least two hours before to be prepared. ‘Do you have time to walk around the exhibition with me?’ I asked Amelia.
‘I’d love to, but I’m having my twenty-week ultrasound at eleven. At least we can drive in together—I’ll get Mr Kim to drop you there, and then he and I can go on to the hospital.’
Later that night in bed I connected to their wifi stream and Googled ‘Edward Sutton’. There was a story about an old guy shooting what he thought was a burglar but nothing else. I tapped Facebook and tried to search him there. No luck. My final search on LinkedIn resulted in the same. I was starting to like the anonymity of Edward; it made me more curious to get to know him.
Even more curious was an email with the subject line ‘Settlement’ waiting at the top of my inbox when I logged in. There was a cover note from J.H. Samson with a title under his name: Divorce Lawyer.
I opened the document and read that Henry had decided my total worth after our eight years of marriage was $150,000, except that he intended to subtract any purchases I had made on my Amex card during the two-year period we had lived in Shanghai. This meant I would receive $100,000.
I was shaking with anger, because most of the $50,000 he’d subtracted he had asked me to spend on airline tickets for our holidays together or to pay bills or for gifts he had asked me to buy for myself on the card. He also knew that I didn’t have any money to contest the settlement, given that my savings account had only a couple of thousand dollars left. Plus, I knew he would employ one of the best lawyers available, who would orchestrate a strong case against why I should receive anything more. I decided to put my emotions aside, because right now I had to be practical.
I phoned Ben, who said, ‘He’s a complete bastard, Papi. What are you going to do?’
‘Nothing. I can’t afford to fight it.’ I then explained that my first priority was to move my things out of the house, and I planned to use the same removalist who moved us into the house two years ago. Ben, as always, was only too willing to help; not only did he have a storage unit where I could leave my belongings, but he would also contact the removalist and oversee it while I was in Beijing. I sent an email to Maxie about organising access to the house to pack my old life away.
The exhibition was being held in one of the old factories in 798 Art District. This district had been slowly de-industrialised and over time transformed by the migration of artists who had gradually changed the factories into stunning art galleries and cafes.
I walked into the Xi Xi Gallery while they were still washing the floor and making sure everything was perfectly placed for the crowds of people who would be visiting over the next three days. The concrete floor had been painted in a beautiful deep blue-red and the white walls were spotlit and hung with art by both international artists and Chinese artists from throughout the country. The entrance had a large painting of a Buddha in greys and black, with gold-leaf-painted bodhi leaves scattered in the background. They were a spiritual representation of the name of the exhibition, ‘The Awakening’.
I met with the curator, Jan Gwo, a petite Chinese girl with a long thin face and eyes that sparkled with the passion of youth. Her knowledge of the artists was impressive and I was glad I’d brought my tape recorder for accuracy because she spoke quickly and I would not have been able to memorise, nor write in my notebook, at the speed of her knowledge.
The lacquer pieces from Vietnam were within my area of special expertise and I asked her if there were any pieces from the Vietnamese artist Dinh Quan, because I owned six of his paintings. She pointed me in the direction of one of the rooms off to the side at the back of the gallery. His painting style had changed. Instead of beautiful women with long thin necks, painted in lacquer on wood, as in his earlier works, there was anger and brutality in the scary faces of his recent work. I thought darkly that Henry would be a perfect client.
I picked up a copy of the program, put on my jacket and gloves, and tied my scarf around my neck; then I walked through the back door and out into the mid-afternoon winter sun. The sky was darkening and some snow clouds were approaching.
I called Amelia. ‘Hi, gorgeous girl. How did the ultrasound go?’
‘All good, thank goodness. I’ve just emailed you a copy of it. Makes it more real now, seeing a tiny baby inside me. What time should I get Mr Kim to pick you up? By the way, is it snowing there?’
‘It looks like it’s about to start. Maybe get picked up about 4.30?’
The next two days fell into the same pattern, with Mr Kim driving me to 798 Art District each morning and picking me up again late each afternoon. It would snow intermittently and occasionally there was the prospect of black ice, which would cause us to crawl along at snail’s pace.
On the last day of the exhibition I phoned Ben to check on the removal of my things from the old house.
‘Papi! How’s Beijing and the exhibition?’
‘I wish you were here, Ben, it would be more fun. It’s a constant work in progress, this place. Wonderful. Think I’ve got enough information for my story. Were you able to organise my things out of Pudong?’
‘Yes, all safe in the storage unit. By the way, there was a pile of mail for you as well.’
‘Thanks, Ben, I really appreciate it. Obviously the storage unit was big enough?’
‘Just. I can’t wait to hear about your encounter with Mr E. When are you back?’
‘On Sunday, but I’ll text you in the meantime. Talk then.’
I watched the snowflakes drift through the air before they disappeared on the ground. The temperature had dropped below zero. There was just one more day before I would see Edward for our first encounter.
I was looking forward to the heat it would create between us. And my surrender.
I am waiting for Edward in Room 363, as I have done for the past two days. It is our last day together and I am wearing the clothes he has given me as gifts: a black corset that sits tightly underneath my breasts, lace thigh-high stockings and high-heeled leather boots. Today there is no leg-spreader, but I have put my blindfold on and buckled the red ball gag around my mouth to the back of my head. I am ready to give in to his demands.
I hear the door handle turn and my heart rate increases as I hear him walk into the room and close the door. I feel his body directly beh
ind me, and he moves his hand over my stomach and up across my breasts. I shiver with lust, breathing heavily through my gag. He pulls hard on my nipples with both hands before he trails them down to my thighs and slides one finger into my wet pussy, and suddenly moves it out. This is the way we like it, that we stop every now and again, to maximise the sexual tension.
We have played our BDSM roles well over the past two days and I can tell he is enjoying it as much as I am. There is an apparent lack of emotion as he orders me into various stages of submission, but it is titillating and I find it sexually rewarding. There is also an emotional closeness when he whispers into my ear on a regular basis that I only have to mention our safe word and he will stop. I haven’t had to use the safe word yet, and doubt that I will need to, but I feel comfort knowing that it is there if required.
‘Today, we are going to do some posture training, Eve,’ he says as he swishes the cane through the air.
‘I want you to stand up straight and remain nice and still while you balance this book on your head for me. Every time it falls you get two canes, do you understand?’
I nod, knowing I don’t have a choice, but I am ready to obey. I feel him place the book carefully on my head and I stand still like a statue, willing the slight cramp in my tired calf muscles to disappear.
He tickles the inside of my upper thighs and I struggle to remain still, but the book doesn’t fall and he rewards me with a compliment.
‘Very good, Eve. Now we need to make it a little harder for you.’
I feel the nipple clamp as it tightens on my left breast and then I groan because, as he places the second clamp on my other nipple, I shift my feet slightly and the book falls to the ground. I receive two whips from the cane.
He places the book back on my head and says, ‘Now, this time I want you to make a perfect turn for me.’
I whimper and start to slowly turn 360 degrees, shuffling carefully in my boots, my tired thighs quivering from the physical demands of our three-day sexual marathon. I manage to turn the full circle without dropping the book.
‘Very good,’ Edward says as he pulls on the nipple chain, forcing me to bend forwards. I focus on keeping the book on top of my head as he runs his hand from my calf muscle up my inner thigh and expertly slides his finger inside me. I groan and my body trembles as I move my hips in unison with his hand. The book falls again and he retracts his fingers. I feel the cane again.
The chain from the nipple clamps strains as he pulls it down towards the floor. I am held in this position because he ties something between the chain and my right ankle. It is an awkward position, but I am determined to fulfil his needs and make him happy. He places the book back on my head as he says, ‘This will be more difficult. I want you to do one more turn for me. This is the last thing I want from you today and, if you do it well, I promise you will receive some pleasure.’
I whimper in disbelief and think about using the safe word. My muscles are aching and the strain from standing in my high heels and balancing the book on my head is starting to wear me down, both physically and mentally. It is close to torture, but not close enough to make me give in and stop our erotic play.
Edward taps me on my bottom and says, ‘Need some motivation?’
This rouses me to move and I begin to shuffle around in a circle once again. I finally make it, my legs shaking from exhaustion, and I moan against the mouth gag.
He picks me up and I circle his hips with my legs as he carries me to the bed. He asks me to sit, takes off my blindfold and tells me I can open my eyes. I watch his muscular biceps as they reach behind my head to unbuckle the gag. He moves in front of me, undoes the rope around my ankle, slowly releases the nipple clamps and gently sucks both nipples, giving me some long-wanted relief.
I am now lying on my back with my head on the pillow. He unzips my boots and slides them off my legs and finally unlaces my corset until I am completely naked except for the stockings.
He takes his mask off and his eyes are iridescent green, like the butterflies in the Jianfengling rainforest two years ago. He smiles at me and bends down to kiss my lips before saying, ‘Your performance has been excellent, Eve, and now I feel you have earned some pleasure.’
He pushes my thighs apart and climbs on top of my body, moving himself slowly inside me while watching my eyes the entire time. I know I have to wait for his command before giving in to an orgasm, and that will be hard to control. He starts to move at a faster pace and I am concentrating on moving my hips at the same rate as his. All of a sudden it is too difficult and, as I start to move my hips faster against his, he grips my wrists and pushes them down beside my head on the pillow.
His tongue is in my mouth and he knows I am ready, so he tells me that I am allowed to come. I feel the pleasure and pain release themselves through the tightening of my muscles, and then with the eventual shudder through my entire body.
He pulls his cock out and moves up towards the pillow, and I take him into my mouth. I know he won’t last more than a minute, and so I work hard and fast to give him his final pleasure for the day. He ejaculates to the back of my throat and I release his cock from my lips. He moves beside me and lies on his side, stroking my lips before finally telling me that I can swallow.
This is our last day in Beijing together and I close my eyes, feeling his fingers stroke the skin on my stomach. His touch is sensual and this action tells me he feels more intimate towards me, closer than the BDSM roles that we each act out together. I, too, am starting to want more intimacy between us, and I like our erotic connection although I remind myself that I’m not allowed to let my emotions influence me anymore.
Ben was home when I walked through the front door. He looked at me with a naughty smile and said, ‘And? Hmmm?’
I laughed at his cheeky reference to my sojourn and replied, ‘Hot!’
‘So, in person, what’s he like—apart from being hot?’
‘Think he’s around thirty, as he certainly has the energy for it. He has a steady gaze which I find sexy. The DS stuff is fun and I feel safe doing it with him. He’s quite tender as well which I like, but I’m trying not to like him, if you get my drift. The strange thing is that I Googled his name and nothing came up. Well, it did, but it was about an eighty-year-old guy in London who shot someone.’
Ben laughed. ‘Really? Did you try LinkedIn?’
‘Yes, nothing. Oh well, I have his mobile number and his email. It’s probably not a good idea to find out too much about him at this stage.’
‘You’re probably right. When are you seeing each other again?’
‘I told you he lives in Hong Kong, didn’t I? Anyway, he said we should get together soon either there or here in Shanghai. I can’t wait.’
When I got to my room I saw the pile of mail with an elastic band around it on my bed and sorted through it, flicking most of it into the bin beside the dresser. Then I saw an official-looking envelope addressed to Henry. It must have accidentally been included amongst mine.
I opened the envelope and unfolded a three-page document and started to read. It was dated six weeks ago. Then I started to laugh. Ben came in and took it from my hand. As he began to read it, he started to giggle and then we were both crying with laughter. It was so ridiculously funny that we couldn’t stop.
Eventually, while wiping our tears away, Ben said, ‘Herpetic Henry,’ which started us off again.
I gasped. ‘I know. It’s perfect. Who said karma doesn’t have a deadline. I bet it was Chrystal who gave it to him. Is your printer a scanner as well?’
Ben nodded and I followed him to the office. He scanned the medical report and I copied it onto the same memory stick where I had stored Henry’s email database file.
‘I’ve just thought of something brilliant,’ I told him. ‘Think I’ll call Kaz to help me as he’s a whiz at this stuff.’
Kaz had been living in New York, building his incredibly successful IP company, and had stayed with us on his way home back to Australi
a. He was a genius with technology and had helped me synchronise my email accounts.
I sat at the iMac and called him. I could hear the smile in his voice when he picked up. ‘Eve! I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. How are you?’
‘Do you want the long version? Actually, there’s too much to tell, so I’ll fill you in properly a little later. Right now, I need to break into Henry’s email account and send an email on his behalf with a couple of attachments.’
It was six weeks after my Beijing trip and I had just returned from a long run. I had lots of energy these days and had just been remembering my encounter with Edward two weeks ago, which had given me extra zest.
My mobile vibrated on the entrance table. I walked over to it and saw I had a missed call while I’d been running. There was a voicemail message from Zara to ring her and my mouth was dry and I heard panic in her tone as I listened to her message about our other sister. ‘Lori is in an induced coma, but is stable and in intensive care. A hit and run. She has serious internal injuries and her arm is broken, poor darling. She’s covered in bruises and cuts and looks like hell. Please call me as soon as you get this message. Sorry that I had to let you know on voicemail, sweetheart.’
I called her immediately and she repeated the contents of her voicemail. My mother’s voice was shaky and when my father took the phone from her he told me not to be frightened; I didn’t know what to say.
Lori was older than Zara, Lili and I and had chosen to form a more conservative approach to life. We used the eight years’ difference as the reason why we didn’t have anything in common. The fact was, she disagreed with the way I conducted my life and, for that matter, how Zara and Lili handled theirs. But in that one phone call our history became insignificant and all I could think about, regardless of the past, was that she needed our love and support.