Rules for Virgins (4 page)

For the very generous ones, we let him rest a bit and then brought out another stem, and he now had to call us “Master Teachers.” I would wear the ivory stem this time. For the extremely generous ones, there was a third stem, usually called “Uncle” or “Brother.” That was the request. Family was always last, the most exciting.

Some men just liked a little variety. Others were homosexuals who pretended they were not, to hide their true nature from other businessmen. They didn’t realize that some of those businessmen had the same secret. We were very discreet. We knew who fucked the pretty opera singers, because some of those singers were our lovers. The singers didn’t enjoy it, but they did it for the money, that’s all. Toward the end of my time at the Hall of Tranquillity, I had one old man who liked to use the ivory stem both ways. That’s the kind of customer a madam in a second-class house will take. I had to wear the Night Scholar clothes and apply Heavenly Showers ointment to get the man’s ancient warrior to stand up. And because he quickly burst, he wanted to draw things out by using the stem on me. He gave me an extra gift, but I still didn’t like it. Those fake stems never grow soft. It was too much work.

The only reason I am telling you this is so you will be prepared if a man asks for these things. If you know what they want, you won’t be tempted by offers of extra money once they are inside your boudoir. I don’t want you to play the role of a man. You are first-class. Your reputation is still that of a young beauty. Maybe the Genuine Confucian Scholar does that. Ha. She’s probably crazy for it. But if a man hints that he wishes to wear your robes or he brings out an ivory stem on a girdle, you should go behind the screen and ring the chimes for me. Those customers know they are supposed to make those requests to the attendants ahead of time. I will politely tell him the Night Scholar is not available but that his teacher can take care of whatever lessons he needs. If he’s urgent, he’ll accept my offer. I won’t mind doing this from time to time. A lot of the attendants who were once courtesans do the specialties no one else wants to do. I still have a girdle and different-size stems in my trunk. The bigger the tip, the bigger the stem—that’s how it usually goes. Too bad I never had a big talent for playing the Scholar. I was not genuinely enthusiastic.

On occasion, we have clients who wish to receive instruction. Most are inexperienced. Formerly devout monks, young boys whose fathers are clients of ours, or customers who wish to learn the skills of an expert lover to woo another man’s wife. If you come across these men, let me know. In fact, the initiation of young boys was a specialty of mine in my later years, and many of my former suitors would ask for me especially when they brought their sons. I am always moved to tears when these same young boys come back as grown men and say to me, “Magic Gourd, because of you, my wife and concubines are content.” Often they ask for a lesson, just for old times’ sake. So you should let me take care of any client like this. They are not as choosy about how old the courtesan is. What matters to them is gaining knowledge that will last a lifetime.

Whatever any man requests, you should never degrade him for his desires, nor should you accept being degraded. If he’s drunk and pisses on you, ring the chimes and I will come and remove him from your room. Don’t accept extra money to let him do these things. You know what happens to a woman who lets herself be degraded? She winds up with a pimp and lies on the floor of a chophouse, where rickshaw pullers and laborers fuck her, one after another, a hundred a day. She never has a chance to close her legs or her mouth until she’s pounded into raw meat and dies. I’ve always wondered why those women don’t kill themselves. Maybe they think it’s their fate and if they endure it they will have a better life in the next. I would rather kill myself and return as a fly.

* * *

Don’t let yourself become too thin. No man likes bony limbs poking them. And it’s bad business if a suitor accidentally snaps a girl’s ribs. Just before you came to the Hall of Tranquillity, that happened to one beauty. She screamed so loud that the madam, the attendant, and two menservants ran into the room, thinking the man was killing her. The servants flung the naked man onto the streets. The old bustard learned he was an official who determined the fees for business licenses. This did not end favorably for anyone.

A fat courtesan holds no appeal, either. It limits what positions she can do without breaking the man’s stem in two. Right now, you have a good shape. I think your breasts might grow to be a little larger than ideal. Large breasts were not attractive when I started my career, and those who had them would bind them up. But these days, younger men find large breasts lurid and exciting. It’s the influence of pornographic Western postcards. I still think that large flopping breasts belong on a wet nurse. Don’t do anything to grow them on purpose.

When it comes to clothes, everything about you should convey that you are a high-ranking courtesan. The best clothes should be worn in public—on carriage rides, in restaurants, at the theater. Your jacket will be so tight, everyone can see your shapeliness. The skirt will be well-fitted so that no imagination is needed to see the curves of your rump. There will be shocking Western details: buttons instead of clasps, frills and pleats. Or it could be men’s trousers, or a Western skirt. This is where you must use your imagination. As you ride around in a carriage with your suitor, think of yourself as being on stage, like an actress. All eyes are on you. Your suitors and patrons are proud to show you off. It gives them face. They enjoy seeing envy in other men.

You’ll have to share the carriage at times with another courtesan, and I’ll do my best to avoid pairing you with a beauty who might draw more attention. You are not the loveliest of the flowers, not yet, and who knows if you ever will be. And with carriage rides, loveliness and fashionable clothes are what the public will see, rather than intimate skills of enchantment. So other means are needed to attract attention when you are in public.

I have several ideas we will use over the coming months. And we’ll have to keep them a secret lest the other beauties steal them. First, I am having the tailor make a costume in the colors of the imperial family. We’ve used golden yellow in the past, but only with underwear, and for many men, this alone sent them into paroxysms of clouds and rain. Now that the emperor is gone, what laws forbid us from wearing any color, and anywhere that pleases us? Imagine what an imperial yellow jacket and kingfisher blue pantalets will do to a suitor and to every loyalist who sees you in public. We’ll have costumes made in imperial violet, the exact shade. I am hoping we are the first to flaunt these colors. What a story that will make for the mosquito press: the courtesan Violet wearing violet clothes!

I’ve also been mulling over getting you a European hat. I saw one that was quite outlandish. It was the size of a seat cushion and had a fan of baby ostrich feathers on top, dyed violet. You’d be visible from blocks away, and with the color being the same as your name, you would be the talk of the tabloids every time you wore it. It’s an expensive hat, so I may see if I can have it copied. Then again, if we wait, we run the risk that another courtesan will buy the hat and wear it first, and you can’t be seen imitating another courtesan. That would be reported in the tabloids.

The clothes at dinner parties will depend on the host and the other courtesans there. As I said, you cannot outdazzle Vermillion. But for a party in your honor, you must wear your best evening costumes. The weave of the cloth has become the fashion. It is always a pattern that only the most skilled of craftsmen can make. We’ll have to wait a bit before we can afford the one I have in mind. It looks like layers of petals. Clothes made out of fabrics like that will cost you a month’s worth of earnings at least. Never eat anything at the party. A grease stain will ruin an outfit, and that would be a costly bit of greed. Some beauties have embroidered a flowery pattern to cover a stain, but everyone knows why a branch of plum blossoms suddenly sprouts over the breasts.

In winter, the silk must be thick and as lustrous as a pearl. The collar looks best when lined with Russian shaved white fox or chinchilla. But rabbit will do the first year. In the summer, the top layer of silk weave will be delicate, tissue thin, and of a perfectly even weft, light but also crisp. You don’t want to look wilted. Every detail must be perfect, from the clasp at the throat to the frills at the hem.

Women on the streets will envy and admire your clothes for their clever details. You’ll enjoy seeing that. For many young girls, a glimpse of you will provide the greatest excitement of their lives. They’ll be talking about you until they go to their graves. Rich young girls will take note as we pass by in carriages and run to the tailors we use and ask for a costume just like that worn by the famous courtesan Violet. It is annoying that rich girls imitate us, but it is also flattery. If many girls from rich families copy your fashions, this will raise your status. Men are not the only ones who make us popular. Look at those who are the Top Ten Beauties each year. Are they the most beautiful? No. They are the ones who understand human nature, that of men and women both. They know how to attract attention and envy and bend it to their advantage.

Don’t be surprised if a few wives pay you handsomely to visit your boudoir—to see your wardrobe, your makeup, and even to learn the unusual positions their husbands enjoy. Show them. They think it is only about coupling, rather than prolonged courtship and the engorged pleasure of two lovers in conspiracy. They can no longer be courted. Their husbands make demands and they comply. So you need not worry that you are giving away your secrets and your patrons will become so satisfied with their wives that they never pay you a visit. But be sure you charge those wives a lot, at least five dollars.

Remember that envy is one of mankind’s greatest flaws. It leads to recklessness by the one who envies and possessiveness by the one who has you by his side. You can use one suitor to increase the ardor of another. Beware not to do this between brothers or with friends who are like brothers, though. If they have a falling-out, people will say that you were so strong a plow cow you pulled two brothers apart.

After you’ve been to a few parties here and at other houses, you will understand more about envy among courtesans. You may have seen it at your mother’s house. You will feel it bite you. Envy is a poisonous snake around your ankle. You may hate your competitor or your suitor. You may want to destroy her, him, and yourself. Take note of these feelings. Another courtesan may feel this way about you and will do everything to cause your downfall. But if you inspire envy from everyone, a strange thing happens. That envy eventually turns into respect, an acknowledgment of your superiority. Do not flaunt your victories, however. Your rivals may envy you one day and cheer your demise the next.

That reminds me: We must have a souvenir photograph made and decide on a nickname to set you apart from others.

If we don’t choose one ourselves, people will give you one without asking. I already heard one of the other courtesans call you “the White Day Lily.” A lot of virgins are called by that sweet name. But you don’t want to be stuck with it forever or you’ll be the butt of jokes—“No longer so white,” that sort of thing. The nickname must be unique. I know of beauties who compared themselves to birds. “The Voice of a Sparrow.” One girl chose that, even though she had a harsh voice. Besides, sparrows are so common and noisy with their chitter-chitter-chirp-chirp in the morning. Another girl I knew chose the description “As Classic As a Weeping Willow.” I think she chose it because the painted backdrop in the photo studio showed a willow and a lake. What’s so special about that? “Weeping Willow”—someone who is wooden and weeps until her eyes are red and as big as eggs? These are not traits that men cherish. I’m thinking yours might be “A Waterfall Dream.” It sounds good. A man can picture it: falling in love, swept away, torrential love. Something like that. We can come up with the exact meaning later when I decide who you really are.

You are young and inexperienced, Violet. No one will envy anything about you today. The beauties are much lovelier and trickier than you. So don’t try to compete. Just observe. Few girls receive the kind of advice I am giving you. They learn it later, as I did, through agonizing mistakes. They thought beauty, poetry, and a sweet voice would last forever. They depended on it. They did not realize that what matters the most is a mix of strategy, cunning, honesty, patience, and readiness to grab every opportunity. Above all, a girl must always be willing to do what is necessary.

* * *

Clothes are like a theater curtain. Some courtesans always keep the curtain closed until they open the curtains of the bed. They go by the old rules. No touching of hands. Everything very proper, as if they are a proper bride. How boring. The man may as well be with his wife. That kind of modesty may have been the custom twenty years ago, but these are modern times. If you provide a glimpse of the future, it won’t cheapen you. You’re still holding back. In fact, the more you let them peek, the more they will want what you are holding back. Just remember there is a difference between giving a man a glimpse and letting him examine the goods in detail.

Some of the best glimpses occur during garden strolling accidents. These must seem perfectly innocent. It might go like this: You are wearing a tight jacket, and trousers whose seam fits into the crease of your pudendum. You walk by the rockeries and pond, engaged in lively conversation. Suddenly you cry out and pretend you have stepped on the sharp stone I secretly placed there earlier. Quickly sit on a garden stool and cross your legs so you can examine your imaginary wound. The pain has caused you to forget the lewdness of this position. When you catch the man staring at your pudendum, act embarrassed at first, then coy. He will play the role of the gallant gentleman who insists on examining the wound to ensure you are not crippled for life. This ploy was once successful only with girls whose bound feet were three-inch stubs. But nowadays, even the daughters of scholar families no longer have their feet bound. So there is no shame that your feet are unbound. Of course, some men will be disappointed, especially the older ones. If you notice ahead of time that the man is aroused by tiny “golden lilies,” it’s best not to bother with the injured-foot ploy.