Virgin Whore (2 page)

Yong glanced toward the door.  “No.  She said only you.”

Now I was even more uncomfortable.  I started to wonder if she were a police decoy.  “You’ll get your clothes all wet,” I said, hoping that she would disrobe.

She shrugged her shoulders and patted the table with her hand.  “Lie down here.”

I gingerly climbed face-down onto the slippery vinyl.  Being naked under the bright light made me feel so vulnerable.  Having my back to her helped a little.

Yong used the hand-held shower to rinse my entire backside with hot water.  Then she began to scrub my back vigorously with a soapy cloth.  She said nothing as she worked at me. Scrubbing me like a vegetable, examining me inch-by-inch in the bright light.

I was reassured by the fact that she actually was touching my nude body.  I figured that a police decoy probably wouldn’t do that.  But her silence made me uncomfortable.  What was she thinking?  Did she find me distasteful?  Did she not like white men?  Did I have pimples on my butt?  Or was she just nervous?  Was she worried that I might be a cop?  I decided to try to break the ice.

“How long have you been working here?” I asked.  She probably was tired of being asked that question, but I couldn’t think of anything more original.

“This is my first night.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I just started tonight.  You are my first customer.”

I knew it probably was just a line intended to make me think of her as a virgin of sorts.  Yet it somehow rang true.  Perhaps that explained her reticence.  Maybe it really was her first time, and she was just apprehensive about getting into this line of work.

Thinking of nothing else to ask for the moment, I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the sensation of being bathed.  After Yong finished my back, she ran the wash cloth up and down my legs several times.  Then she matter-of-factly washed between my buttocks, rubbing the soapy cloth over my anus and the back of my balls.  My cock began to twitch and swell.  I hoped I wouldn’t be erect when it came time for me to roll over.  I was trying to appear nonchalant.  Getting a hard-on at such slight stimulation would make me feel juvenile.  And I had no idea how she would react if she really was new at this.  I didn’t want to scare her off.

Yong gave me a quick rinse and instructed me to roll over.  Once again, I became self-conscious with my cock and balls exposed to her scrutiny under the bright light.  I closed my eyes, leaving them cracked open just enough to watch her surreptitiously through a screen of eyelashes.  She seemed to concentrate fully on her work, watching her own hands without expression, and never looking at my face.

She started with my chest and worked her way down.  I felt my penis stir as she guided the soapy cloth around and over my scrotum.  She seemed unfazed by my swelling as she deftly pulled back my foreskin and washed the head of my penis, just as a mother might wash her infant son.  Her grip on my cock and the soapy washcloth were more than I could resist.  My penis betrayed me and sprang to life.

Yong had no visible reaction.  I sensed nothing in her demeanor that suggested she was trying deliberately to stimulate me…or that she was surprised that she had.   Had she given it any encouragement, my penis would have become rock-hard.  But Yong remained impassive, and my hard-on subsided.

As Yong continued to scrub me, I had fleeting thoughts of reaching out and touching her.  I had no idea how she would react.  I didn’t want to scare or offend her.  I thought about slipping my hand up under her skirt and sliding it up between her thighs.  But I resisted the temptation because she was all dressed up in a long skirt and I was all wet.

Yong scrubbed her way down my legs again, and when she finished washing my feet, she used the hand-held shower to rinse me from bottom to top.   Then she instructed me to stand up.  I dismounted the slippery table and found footing on the wet tile floor.  Yong gave me a final rinse as she spun me around from front to back to front.  I noticed that she had splashed a considerable amount of water on herself and again thought it odd that she had chosen to remain fully dressed, high heels and all.  I once more had a fleeting thought that she might be a cop, but I dismissed the idea.  If she were a cop, she might have given me a quick rub-down, but she surely wouldn’t have bathed me as intimately as she did.  I put the thought out of my mind.

“Ok, finished.  I will get your towel,” Yong said.  She stepped gingerly across the wet tile floor to the shower controls, her high heels slipping with each step.  She nearly fell twice.  She managed to turn off the water.  Then she fetched the towel from a hook on the wall and took small, ungainly steps back to me.

She gave me a cursory drying, and then I took the towel and finished the cracks and crevices.  Concerned that she might fall on the slippery tile, I stepped over and hung up the towel myself.  Then I donned the robe I had worn earlier.  Yong took me by the hand and led me to the door, repeatedly cautioning me to be careful not to slip and fall.

At the door, Yong paused and cocked her head as if she were listening for something.  Then she cracked open the door and peered outside.  Apparently satisfied that no one was in the hallway, she opened the door and motioned for me to follow her.

Back in the bedroom, Yong locked the door and stepped over to the air conditioner.”  Lie down on the bed,” she said.  “I will give you oil massage.”

I checked my pants pockets and found everything intact.  I slipped a breath mint into my mouth, dropped my robe next to the bed, and lay down on my stomach.  In the darkness of the room, with the door locked, I finally felt at ease.

Yong fiddled with the air conditioner controls.  I got the impression that she was stalling.  Finally, she slipped out of her shoes.  I thought she was going to undress at last, but she didn’t.  She knelt fully-clothed next to me on the bed.  She picked up the bottle of baby oil and dribbled some on my back.  Then she began to rub it into my skin with her bare hands.  “How is that?” she asked.

“Mmm.  Feels great.”

I expected her to start asking leading questions.  She wouldn’t want to risk openly propositioning me, just in case I was a cop.  So, she needed to ask me subtly suggestive questions to try to elicit a proposition from me.  But she said nothing.  She just continued rubbing me in silence.

“So this is your first night, huh?” I asked.

“Excuse me?”  She reacted as if I had interrupted her concentration.

“This is your first night?”

“Yes.  You are my first customer.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Tonight.  Tonight is my first time.”

“No…I meant how long have you been in Hawaii?”

“Oh.  About three months.”

“Where are you from?”

“I was born in Korea.”

“Did you just come to this country?”  I had heard stories about women being brought from Asia illegally to work as sex slaves.  I wondered if Yong might be one of them.  I had no problem with buying her services if they were offered freely, but I wasn’t interested in exploiting her if she had been trafficked.

“Oh, no.  I have lived in United States for years.”

“Really?  Where?”

“Arizona.”

“Arizona, huh?”  That explained why she spoke English so well.  She might have lived there for quite some time.  I figured she probably had married an American serviceman who brought her home with him.  “So what brought you to Hawaii?”

“Divorce.  I needed a job.”

That made sense to me.  It was a common story.  American serviceman marries Asian wife and brings her to the United States.  She’s exotic; he’s a means to an end.  After a few years, they divorce.  She needs a way to support herself and maybe some kids, too.  She can’t make it on minimum wage serving fast food, and she isn’t educated for anything else.  Someone tells her of the opportunities to make good money in Hawaii, living among other people from her home country.  So she ends up working in a hostess bar or a place like this.

I decided not to ask about her marital problems.  She already was pensive.  I didn’t want her in tears.

“So you came to Hawaii three months ago?”

“Yes.”  She began rubbing oil down the backs of my legs.

“So what did you do before you started working here?”

“I worked in a bar.  Anne’s Place.”

“Hmmm…don’t think I have ever been there.”  No doubt a hostess bar.  Probably had a different name last week.

“How did you like that?” I asked.

“OK.  But I didn’t make enough money.”

I wasn’t surprised.  Hostess bars are very competitive.  With her cut of twenty-dollars-a-drink, a pretty girl can do well just drinking with her customers.  But a plain girl has to fondle her customers and grant sexual favors.  Otherwise, she spends a lot of time sitting alone at the end of the bar, singing Karaoke or watching closed-captioned television.  Yong seemed too classy to be giving blow jobs in a secluded booth.  She probably spent a lot of time sitting at the bar.

She finished rubbing the bottoms of my feet.  “Turn over,” she said.  I rolled over onto my back, and she began to rub oil into my chest, her eyes focused on her hands.  My penis was somewhat swollen but still soft.  I tried not to think of anything that would cause an uninvited erection.  I still wasn’t sure what Yong’s intentions were.  If she was worried that I might be a cop, she might just rub oil on me until my time was up.

I already had been there quite a while.  How much of my hour was left?  Out of habit, I tried to look at my wristwatch, but I had taken it off for the shower.  Then I noticed the glowing numbers of a digital clock sitting on the night stand:  12:48 a.m.  I was pretty sure I had arrived before midnight, so my time was pretty much up.

I looked at Yong.  Still fully-clothed.  Still concentrating on her hands as they slid up and down my thighs, her fingers just grazing my balls from time-to-time.  I was beginning to doubt that she was going to offer me more than a rub-down.  I wondered why.  How did she expect to make any money?  I didn’t think she got a cut of the forty dollars I had paid the house.  Surely she wouldn’t expect much of a tip for rubbing a little oil on me.  I wondered again if she found me distasteful.  If she had lived in Arizona, she probably had been married to a white man, so it probably wasn’t my race.  Was she waiting for me to make the first move, still worried that I might be a cop?  Whatever it was, I tried not to let it matter to me.  I learned long ago not to have high expectations.  I’d take her if she offered, but I didn’t have to have her.  I decided just to relax and see what happened.

“So how did you decide to work at this place?” I asked.

“Oh, one of the girls working at the bar told me about it.  She knows the owner.”

“So you thought this might be better than the bar?”

She bowed her head.  “I needed money for my children.  The owner loaned me $3,000.  Now I must stay here until I pay it back.”

Money for the children.  Likely story.  These girls’ tales of woe almost always were bullshit designed to elicit sympathy and concomitant willingness to spend money.  Yet, something about Yong made me suspect that she might be telling the truth.  Either she was genuine, or she was very clever.

“How many children do you have,” I asked.

“Three.”

I almost asked their ages.  But then I realized that I really didn’t want to know any more about them.  I didn’t want to have to imagine their sad eyes as their mother left them to come here.  I didn’t want to think about the pain and humiliation of a mother prostituting herself for them.  Most of all, I didn’t want to see myself exploiting their mother’s situation for my own sexual gratification.

After a few minutes of silence, Yong asked, “Are you married?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.  Some of these women prefer married men.  They figure that married men are less likely to carry diseases, and married men usually want nothing more than a simple business relationship.  But other women prefer unmarried men.  Unmarried men provide more money-making opportunities through more involved relationships.  And some even provide a way out.  I decided that I didn’t much care about Yong’s preference, so I took a shot.

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“How many children do you have?”

“None.”

“No children?  Why not?”

“Well, that’s a long and boring story.”

“Your wife can’t have kids?”

“Something like that.”

“How can you stay out so late?  Where does she think you are?  What do you tell her?”

“Nothing.  She’s out of town.”

“Oh, I see.”  She hesitated for a moment and then asked, “You come here often?”

“No, this is my first time.”

“First time!  Nooo!  You go somewhere else before?”

“No, no.  I just saw the PennySaver ad and thought I would give it a try.”

“First time?  So you don’t have no disease?  Married man must be careful he don’t give disease to wife.”

“Yeah.  That would be trouble.”

Yong slid her oily hands up and down my thigh a couple of times.  Then she gently cupped my balls, slowly massaging them with her oily fingers.  “Are you going to give me a tip tonight?” she asked.

I took a deep, involuntary breath.  At last, she was getting down to business.  But did we have enough time?  Or was she just expecting a tip for the oil rub-down?

I cleared my throat.  “Of course.”

“Um…How much do you want to spend?”

“Well, I don’t really know for sure.  Depends on what we do.  Seems like we don’t have much time.”

She released my balls and slid her hand up and around my now-rigid penis.  She stared at her hand as she slowly stroked me.  “What do you want me to do?”

I took another deep, shuddering breath as I felt my penis throb against her grip.  “Full service,” I said.

“Full service?”  She continued staring at her own hand as she stroked me.

I wondered if she knew what I meant.  Maybe she didn’t yet know the jargon.  I wasn’t sure what else to say.  It seemed too crude just to say I wanted to fuck her.

“I want you to do everything,” I said.

“Everything,” she repeated softly, glancing at my face and then closing her eyes.  She continued stroking my cock with one hand while she cupped and massaged my balls with the other.