Seducing Tingting

She knew what this was, made the usual remarks of No, I’m married, I can’t and Don’t; yet did not turn away from me. I felt sure her life was a desert dry of passion, and that she wanted this to happen, but feared it too. So I pressed on, more and more sure. She would not let me kiss her, yet held me to her tight, her arm around my waist, pulling me close to her. She half-stepped ahead, as if she wanted to walk on, yet since my arm was still around I stopped again.

It was when she had said No again, and turned from me, that the first kiss happened. She had turned, but not walked away. Gently, I took her by the shoulder, just stopped her. Instead of pulling way, she pressed back against me, her back to my chest, pressing her body into mine, a finger in my beard. .. and as I moved my head down to her, she turned her lips up…then, at the last moment, moved so that the kiss landed on her cheek. But I chased it to her lips and she let me – briefly, briefly. And that’s how it was for a while, stop, start, chase, refuse, each play ending with a more lingering kiss after it. And her protests changed, from ‘No’ to ‘It’s in the street’ to ‘I am a traditional woman.’

She was yielding, melting…. I saw success ahead.

But then it seemed to swing the other way – ‘I want to go home now’ she said, and ‘You go to your home, and I’ll go to mine.’

But citing a code of gentlemanliness which I do not really believe, I said ‘I can’t let you go home alone, I’ll just see you to your place and then take the cab on to the subway.’ She allowed that, and we kissed more in the taxi. She was again hot, cold; I’d pull her towards me, she’d lie in my arms, we’d kiss, and passionately too, and then she’d say ‘We’re in a taxi’ and pull away from me, her body language more defensive, her gaze firmly out of the window. And so I was more or less going to leave it there, let her go, and hope to the future.

But when the cab arrived she paid the fare, meaning the cabbie put his flag up and wanted to be on his way, giving me the perfect excuse to get out. And so I did, and so we walked, and kissed more.

‘No.. it’s too near my hospital’ she said; but I moved us into a shadowy spot and we kissed more. Passionate again, and she clung to me, murmured into my mouth.

‘Take me home with you’ I asked – cajoled, wheedled. But she would not. So we kissed more, and through her clothes I quested a hand over her breasts, pussy… which she’d accepted for a few seconds before moving my hand away with a ‘Not in the street.’ We went around like this for some time, and it seemed settled she would not take me home. More than that, she did not want me to know where she lived, for she said several times, ‘Go home, you go home then when you’re in the taxi I’ll go home.’

I didn’t want to force her too hard, so eventually I acquiesced. ‘I hope I’ll see you again?’ I said.

‘I’ll never see you again’ she replied, but lightly, with a laugh in her voice, to show I had not alienated her.

And so I left, but only to the end of the street, where I stepped into a recessed doorway, to see what she’d do. She sat on the pavement, just sat.. I watched for five minutes or so as she sat there unmoving, becoming a little worried about her safety. And, thus worried, slowly walked back to her. She had her head in her hands, so, quiet, I just sat on a low piece of wall behind her, watching, waiting.

Her body language showed her turbulence, her fingers quick and busy, active, beating her head with her hands, in what I assume was an attempt to clear and calm her mind, settle her tempest – though it looked more like extreme distraction. After doing this a couple of times, she rose, turned – shrieked -- `你吓死我了’—and came over to me, mock anger that was in fact excitement, gladness, on her face; and indeed we were straight away in each other’s arms. This time I tried what ought have been the obvious strategy from the start – ‘Come to my place.’ Because of course not only was I asking her to betray her husband, I was asking her to do it in her own flat. And that was obviously too much for one leap.

‘No.. no, I’m a married woman, I’m traditional, I cannot come home with you.’

Yet breaking from kisses, she seemed inclined to come home with me, and this just as a taxi drove by…but the driver did not see my wave, drove on, leaving the streets again empty. I cursed at this, for I knew I needed to keep her hot, get her into a cab soon before she cooled, changed her mind. As time was important, we walked to a larger road just nearby, but there were no taxis there and, it being better lit, she was too shy to kiss. Again I cursed, for I could feel her passion ebbing. But perhaps she was more determined than I thought, for when a taxi came she did get in with me. In this taxi it was as before, now hot now cold; and at my flat, the reality of what she was contemplating hit her. She stood on the balcony, looking across the city, thinking it over, as I partly held her from behind and partly, hurriedly, tidied up my room – and replied to SMSs from another woman, messages of love which I batted back brief and cynical with a ‘Me too’ and ‘About to run out of credit’ (a lie to stop more messages or, worse, a call)

But it all turned out smooth; she made her decision, came into the bedroom.. had a minor qualm – ‘I won’t lie down, I’ll only sit’ – but lie down she did, pushed gently to it by me; and from there it was just a matter of keeping her stoked, growing her passion with kisses and caresses so she’d let me undress her. It took a few minutes, and at first she did not want me to take off her top; but kisses and still more kisses yielded her, and slowly I eased up her top, and, before she had time quite to stop me, slipped down her bra and kissed her nipple. She arched her back up against me in pleasure at that… then insisted ‘Put out the light put out the light, I am shy, I am traditional’; and so I did; and so she yielded fully, allowing me to slip off her top, deftly unhook her bra, to see in the moonlight her petite, firm breasts, exactly as I like them, sexy, sweet; and, of course, a bother to her, ‘They are too small’; which I have found many Chinese women feel.

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