Pearl

The morning finds him standing next to the Yanks, waiting in line for breakfast. The cook is doing a lot of shouting; his underlings are scurrying; and the two young Americans are roasting them in a sort of Chinese sounding pidgin. It's good-natured enough, but embarrassing nonetheless, and Ira is trying, with a noncommittal smile, to reconcile his contradictory impulses of sympathy with the staff and affinity with his fellow guests, the taller of whom, after a series of sidelong glances such as you might bestow on a co-conspirator or confidante, addressed him directly:

'Say if you mind my asking sir, only me and my buddy here, we're intrigued by your accent. We were wondering where you hail from -- I'm Steve, by the way, and this here's Dwight.'

'I'm Ira,' he replies, 'and I hail from a little island in the South-Pacific.'

Questions follow, and when their food arrives, Steve says, 'Sir, we'd be honoured to have you sit with us.' And in next to no time, they're exchanging life-stories over breakfast.

So began what was to prove a fortuitous relationship. Steve and Dwight were GIs on R&R from Vietnam and knew Taipei well. They offered to show him around. He accepted gratefully.

'First thing you've got to do, Ira, is get you a girlfriend.' Dwight says. 'Taiwanese chicks are great; they really look after you -- in every way.'

That evening, they got a taxi to a bar Steve and Dwight knew of. Inside there were maybe ten girls, gossiping among themselves and with the bar's manager. They quieted a little when the three men came in. Steve introduced Ira to Choy, who shook his hand and, wasting no time on further formalities, began introducing his girls: 'This Pearl; this one May; this one ...' and would have gone on had Ira not saved him the trouble by choosing Pearl.

Later that night, back in his hotel room, they showered together, each washing the other. Pearl soaped his back and chest, and, with two hands, washed his genitals, like it was a task of paramount importance. He was equally thorough as he soaped her breasts, her buttocks, and between her thighs.

In bed, he took his time -- kissing, sucking, stroking, gently probing. And when he went down on her she seemed momently surprised, before relaxing into it, whimpering, and pushing her pudenda up to meet his mouth. And it seemed to him that her pussy sweetened with each stroke of his tongue, and by the time she came, it was like honey dripping. And when at last he entered her, he did so gently, rightly anticipating that she would be quite small. He heard her sharp intake of breath, then a moan, and, soon after, the urgent instruction: 'Okay, you come now,' and her hands were clawing at his ass, trying to pull him deeper into her, though really, there was no farther he could go. He could tell she was coming again, neck stretched, throat taut, making these tiny sounds: 'eh, eh, eh, eh'. He needed no further inducement. A few powerful thrusts followed by a delicious pulsing, and he emptied himself into her, his seed blending with the juices which Pearl's body had so copiously provided.

Lissom and loose of limb, Pearl would, with infinite patience, permit him to arrange her body into whatever postures were pleasing to him and afforded ready access to what was -- as he joyfully discovered -- a far from passive cunt. Years later, he recalled her laughter when -- excessively aroused by one such posture -- he'd tried to achieve an apparently impossible conjunction of their genitalia. 'You can't do it like that,' she'd exclaimed breathlessly, only to add, still laughing, as he entered her, 'Oh, you can!'

They'd breakfast together in the hotel dining room. She'd order for them both, addressing the waiter in their Hokkien dialect, and checking the bill when it came. She carried out these tasks with brisk efficiency and observing her gratification at being in control, he, in turn, derived gratification from her pleasure.

At their final parting, she was brusquely courteous, extending her hand for him to shake, and he felt a pang at the thought he would never see her again, and found himself hoping there was someone in her life who really cared about her.

The Vietnam War rumbled on for another five years. He had given Steve and Dwight his address but had not gotten theirs. He never did hear from them. He hoped they were okay.