Memoirs of a Courtesan

by Mingmei Yip

  Therefore, to my surprise, as I was about to unbutton my dress, Gao waved for me to stop. Then, with his trembling hands, he began to do my job for me. Slowly he peeled off my clothes, his gaze wandering over my gradually exposed body like a hungry wolf searching for prey. Then he unhooked my bra and let it slither to the floor like a mischievous animal. Abruptly, the bodyguard pulled me to him, buried his head between my breasts, and sobbed.

  ‘Miss Camilla, excuse my imprudence. I can’t help it any more. I’m madly in love with you. Just tell me, and I’ll do anything for you …’

  I touched his head, willing myself to keep my calm and focus, since he’d lost his. ‘Gao, please. You know you really shouldn’t …’

  ‘Let Master Lung kill me for my sin. I don’t care. I’d rather die a happy sinner than live without your love.’

  It took me a few seconds to absorb this unexpected, shocking declaration. Gently I pushed him away and wiped the tears streaking his square-jawed face. ‘Gao, sober up. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Miss Camilla, have you not heard of the saying, “The truth comes out when a person is drunk”? Don’t you believe that I love you?’

  Feeling my heart almost jumping out from my throat, I said gently, ‘Gao, please, gather yourself up. We’re right next to a tiger.’

  Oblivious of what I said, Gao cupped my breast, kissing it as tenderly as he would a newborn, then sucking on my nipple as if he were the baby. Then his hand, like a giant spider, pulled down my panties with as much urgency as if they had just caught fire. With the same eager hands, he tore off his tie, shirt, unleashed his gun holster, then pulled down his pants and underpants.

  I was shocked to see that his naked, muscular torso was covered with scars from old knife wounds and even bullets. If I thought my sufferings were as deep as the Huangpu River, then his must be as unfathomable as the Pacific Ocean. How could one man’s body withstand all these brutal assaults?

  I felt an urge to give this man something, if not love, then at least warmth and affection. These feelings, unbeknownst to me before, surged inside me as my lips began to kiss his wounds.

  The bodyguard touched my head and his manly voice rose in the air softly. ‘Don’t worry about me, Camilla, I’m fine, really. My only worry is you.’

  Hearing this, the Chinese saying flashed in my mind: ‘Two forlorn people meet at the far corners of the earth.’

  In a time of peace, maybe we would be happy lovers.

  But unfortunately fate had its own inscrutable plans for us mortals.

  As my lips glided over his scars I noticed that his yang instrument, big, powerful and hardened like a stone tablet, seemed to stare at me, pleading with such aching desire that my hand involuntarily reached to relieve its suffering. Now its master moaned as if inflicted by extreme tortures – burned by cigarettes, pressed by smouldering coals, slashed by a nail-filled whip.

  Eyes closed, I let his hands roam all over my body like horses galloping on a meadow, his tongue slide into my mouth like a snake slithering in the bush, his yang instrument swelling inside my small hand like a big fish struggling for water. Our tongues and limbs became entangled, groans escaping our kissing and sucking mouths.

  ‘Oh, Camilla, please just take my life away …’

  I didn’t respond but focussed on feeling the pleasure from this tough bodyguard’s unquenchable desire and impossible love. I forgot all my training so I could relish this tough man’s big hands and big chest, feeling so powerful yet vulnerable against my delicate body. Gently, he lifted me onto the sink, spread my legs like scissors, and slid his ballooning ‘fish’ inside my watery gate.

  Once inside, he engaged in a relentless game of digging until I felt my whole body on fire like a bomb about to explode. In ‘revenge,’ my long fingernails dug deeply into his thick, sweaty back as my teeth bit into his muscular shoulder. But that didn’t stop the hammering, only encouraged it.

  ‘Ahhhhh!’ A loud scream shot out involuntarily from between my lips.

  Gao immediately moved his hand to cover my mouth.

  I couldn’t decide, didn’t care, if I was feeling pain, pleasure or a mixture of the two. But then I heard, or at least I thought I heard, a sound from the master suite. Struck by a sudden rush of fear, I tried to push Gao away. But he must have thought the push was but a seduction in disguise, for he locked my arms with his and continued to thrust against me. From the mirror’s reflection, I was alarmed to see that he was no longer the calm, alert head bodyguard I knew but a beast hungrily devouring his helpless prey. Finally, his body shook more violently and the thrusting ceased. His eyes closed, and he seemed now far, far away. I used all my strength to slap him hard on his face. It worked. He lifted his head to stare at me with his sad, puzzling eyes.

  ‘Why, Camilla?’ Before I could reply, he added, ‘You … don’t like this? Did I … hurt you?’

  I said in a heated whisper, ‘Gao, I heard something …’

  Now he listened intently. ‘You mean …’

  I nodded.

  It was the first time I had ever seen fear in this tough man’s face.

  I already knew what he was going to say next, so I said it first. ‘Gao, don’t worry. I’ll never tell anyone about this.’

  ‘Miss Camilla … I … I …’

  I put a finger across his lips. ‘Shh … just don’t say anything.’

  Next, we began to pull on our clothes. I was surprised that after our devilish lovemaking, and his having seen my body more times that I could count, now the bodyguard looked away to let me put on my dress.

  When we had our clothes back on, he said, ‘Forgive me, Miss Camilla. Please go to Master Lung now.’

  Of course he was not going to search me, for I had already bared myself to the last stitch. And if I’d hidden something inside my vagina, his little brother would have noticed or even been hurt.

  Just then Lung’s alcohol-slurred voice streamed from the bedroom. ‘Camilla, what’s happening? You want me to wait till my balls drop off?!’

  ‘Be right there, Master Lung!’ I yelled back, smoothing my hair as I got out of the bathroom, leaving a completely crushed-looking Gao behind.

  With a heavy heart and an exhausted body, I wiped as best I could between my sore legs and dragged myself into the master bedroom. Inside, I quickly took my clothes back off and crawled into bed and into the arms of my contortionist-sex-addicted patron.

  The last thing I wanted right now was another man, especially Lung. But I was terrified lest he suspect something, and so when Lung was doing all sorts of gymnastics with my body, I screamed and moaned as loudly as I could. Aware that Gao was right outside in the same room, I could not help but imagine Gao’s tortured expression and his heart breaking into a thousand pieces for a love he’d die for but that had no future.

  I felt a little ashamed that I actually did feel perversely satisfied after my encounters with the two men. But when the excitement was over, I had to think again about why I was here. I was starting to worry there would not be any opportunity to kill Lung, that this vacation would soon be over and Lung would still be alive. But in the meantime I might as well enjoy the trip – movies, massage, dancing, gourmet food – and the admiration of both Lung’s bodyguard and his son. I had to admit that I had enjoyed Gao’s lovemaking even more than Jinying’s. It was more thrilling to see a tough, big, muscular man breaking down in front of a fragile woman like myself. As the Chinese say, tiehan rouqing, an iron man with tender sentiments.

  Thus thinking, I screamed and moaned more.

  18

  False Alarm

  The next morning, while the gang members were still sleeping, I went up to the deck to gaze at the sea, hoping the deep blue waves would clear my mind and calm my spirit. Yet the scene with Gao kept coming back to me. As I was thus preoccupied with my thoughts, a man walked towards me, then bumped his elbow into my purse.

  I was about to say something, when I noticed my purse was
open with a slip of paper visible inside. Making sure that nobody was close enough to notice, I took it out and read:

  You’ve not been paying attention. From now on,

  stay alert, and try better to communicate with us.

  My heart sank. Big Brother Wang had put another person on the ship whom he hadn’t told me about. And this man was not happy with what I’d done so far or, to be exact, failed to do. Did my boss imagine I could just tell the assassin to break into Lung’s room in the middle of the night? That was quite out of the question because Gao and his team, all armed, were always alternating their vigil outside Lung’s door. Yes, Gao had been distracted by me briefly, but now I was sure he’d be extra alert.

  Moments later, from the corner of my eye I saw the Japanese couple approaching the rail and, like me, looking out over the sea. They whispered into each other’s ears and touched each other’s faces and hands intimately. As expected, they acted like a newlywed couple seemingly completely oblivious of those around them. Soon they were hugging each other, and a lipstick dropped from the woman’s purse. Making sure that no one was watching me, I took out a small piece of paper, scribbled quickly on it, then walked towards the stairs leading back to the lower deck. As I passed the couple, I picked up the lipstick and handed it to the woman – with the small piece of paper. She pocketed both, then thanked me profusely in heavily accented Mandarin.

  The third evening, inside the ship’s packed ballroom, Lung and I were tapping our expensive shoes on the polished parquet floor. Jazz music from a Filipino band invigorated the passengers’ feet so that they bounced energetically on the shiny floor. Lung looked very happy, swaying and twirling me this way and that and making me dizzy, not with happiness, but with anxiety. Mr Zhu, Jinying, Gao and one bodyguard sat at the front table, chatting casually, their eyes glued on us like snails on the ground. The two other bodyguards discreetly strolled, alert for anything suspicious. While Jinying and Gao’s faces held sour expressions, Zhu and the bodyguard next to him were happily drinking, snacking, visually molesting the beautiful women and generally having a wonderful time, paid for by their boss.

  The band played waltzes, foxtrots, Charlestons, tangos and jitterbugs. The more skillful their playing, the more Lung wanted to show off his skill and his mistress – me. Perhaps because of my patron’s threatening, don’t-try-to-beat-me look and his slick moves, couples began to drift back to their seats to watch us. Oohs and aahs shot from their mouths as they clapped fervently whenever Lung lifted me up to heaven, then eased me down to earth. Some of the Chinese probably recognised who we were, but I doubted the foreigners had any clue as to the identity of this small, powerful man and his fragile skeleton woman.

  Looking extremely pleased with himself and his admirers, Lung let his shoes scratch the floor ever harder, as if it were suddenly festering with a rash. He twisted his small, lean body in all four directions so vigorously that sometimes he looked as if he were having a seizure or as if hundred of ants were crawling up his pants. Again, people laughed and clapped, but I wondered if they realised that this amusing man would slice them into pieces if it served his purposes.

  As Lung was smiling on the outside, I did the same inside. Because I expected that soon our dancing would be complemented by another act, carried out, I hoped, with impeccable skill like Lung’s dancing, though not likely to make him smile. In my peripheral vision, I saw the Japanese man whisper something to his ‘wife,’ plant a kiss on her cheek, then stand up and leave the ballroom. No one but me seemed to notice.

  Besides the Japanese wife, I was the only one in the ballroom who knew what was going to happen. I prayed that my heart, beating like the drummer in the band, would not be heard by Lung. As I forced the smile to stay on my face and my feet on the floor, to my surprise, Jinying abruptly stood up from his chair and walked into the dancing area. Oh, heaven, I thought, let him not spoil my mission yet again!

  When the young master was in front of us, he said, ‘Father, you two look so wonderful together. But you must be tired now, so why don’t you let me dance with Camilla so you can take a break?’

  Lung stopped and took out a handkerchief to wipe his perspiring forehead. ‘All right, I do feel tired. Here’s my Camilla. Treat her well.’

  ‘I will, Father.’

  I cursed inside as I watched the gangster head walk back to his table to join his right-hand man and bodyguards.

  ‘Jinying, I think your father is really enjoying this, so why didn’t you let him continue?’

  ‘Because I also want to dance with you. And I can’t bear to see you dancing with him. Haven’t you heard the expression “a fresh flower stuck in a pile of dung”?’

  Of course I knew the phrase. But what was I supposed to say? So I put on a faint smile and whispered softly, ‘Let’s dance, Young Master.’

  Needless to say, the son was a much more pleasurable dance partner than his father. Not only because he was tall, lean, elegant and young, but also because he was a gentleman. Lung was skillful only in a crude, clownish, showy way. Anyone could tell his partner was merely his rag doll, or puppet, so he could show off his absolute domination. But Jinying led me in a protective way, careful not to hurt my delicate frame and conscious to make sure I’d enjoy the swing, the twirl, the glide. I felt like I was dancing with a loving person, not a powerful machine running at full speed. Then there was Gao. I was sure he was dying to dance with me, but would he have the guts to cut in on his boss’s son? I peeked at the bodyguard and met his sad eyes. Good. He looked too lost in his own troubles to sense anything between me and the young master.

  But why was I analysing all of this? I needed to prepare for what was going to happen, maybe in minutes, not ruminate on who was a better dancer, lover, or who looked sad.

  Jinying’s voice rose next to my ear, breaking up my thoughts. ‘Camilla, what are you thinking? Are you enjoying this?’

  I looked up and found the young master’s face forlorn and unbearably sad, just like Gao’s, and equally poignant. From the corner of my eye I saw Gao help the staggering Lung towards the exit. Seconds later, the fire alarm sounded Riiiing … Riiiing … Riiiing! loud and clear in the packed ballroom like a newborn baby’s life-entering cries. The orchestra abruptly stopped.

  ‘What’s that?’ a male voice blurted out, followed by several other people asking similar questions. ‘What happened?’ ‘Is something wrong?’

  A tuxedoed man dashed to the small stage of the dancing area and grabbed the microphone. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I’m the manager of this dance hall. Please stay calm. That is our fire alarm, and I believe it’s a mistake. A mechanic has been sent to check, and everything should be okay. Sometimes we have false alarms. So please don’t worry, and continue to enjoy yourselves.’ After that, he turned to signal the Filipino band to resume playing. But no sooner had he stepped down from the stage than someone yelled, ‘Fire! Fire!’

  The players stopped again to stare at one another questioningly. The manager dashed back onstage, reiterating in his booming voice, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, trust me, it’s a false alarm. Please stay calm, and don’t cause chaos by rushing out of the ballroom.’

  Contrary to his advice, people began to head towards the exit as they whispered heatedly, ‘Fire! It’s a fire! I can smell smoke!’

  Jinying put his arm around my shoulders protectively. ‘Camilla, I think I smell smoke. Do you?’

  My head nodded vigorously to match my pounding heart.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  He half pushed me onto the small stage, then led me through a back exit into a long, dim corridor. We groped in the dark for a while before we finally found our way to the main deck. People, some of whom I recognised from the ballroom, were milling around, looking frightened and helpless. Listlessly they either stared at the boundless sea or looked at one another, desperate for reassurance.

  I was frightened as well, because I had no idea that starting a fire was part of the plan. I’d thought that the Japanese would
just set off the alarm to create confusion and provide a chance to kill Lung, a strategy called hunshui moyu, stir the water to catch the fish. But the idea was certainly not to have ourselves killed to accompany the gangster head on his trip to hell!

  Jinying and I squeezed our way through the other passengers till we reached the rail. As people pressed against my back, I stared at the dark sea and felt a sense of hopelessness.

  ‘Jinying, if the whole ship is on fire, where can we go?’

  ‘I don’t see any other way out except the sea,’ he said, taking off his suit jacket and draping it over my shoulders. But this kind act hardly gave me any comfort.

  Just then another mob of passengers, probably from the ballroom and its neighbouring casino and restaurant, rushed onto the deck for fresh air. The adults looked alarmed and worried; the children had mixed expressions, some oblivious, others happy, probably thinking this was a much more exciting game than those played at home.

  In the distance, a little girl cried hysterically for her parents. ‘Baba, Mama, where are you?’

  ‘Jinying, where do you think your father is now?’ I asked, secretly hoping that the old man’s soul was already on its way to where it deserved to go.

  He pointed to the milling, agonised mob around us. ‘Possibly in the front of the ship …’

  ‘What makes you think he’s in the front?’

  He scoffed, ‘Because he has to be ahead in everything!’

  I nodded, wondering what to do next.

  ‘Anyway, I don’t think we can get through this crowd to find him. But I’m sure he’ll be safe as long as he’s with Gao.’