Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Seducing Jingjing

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 respecting 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 I 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, Lianyungang, 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.

But I did not see her again after that for six or eight weeks, since she spent a month in her hometown, after which I was out of the country. But a few days ago we finally met.

However, I’d spent the night before with Sara (my current regular girlfriend) and so the day I’d arranged to meet Jingjing began with Sara 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 Sara 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 Sara 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, 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.


Back home, first of all I let her look at the DVDs in my bedroom where, luckily (and with Sara’s help) I’d made the bed already that morning. Now for Valentine’s day she 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 Sara 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?’


’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…

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