The City Lights Tour

Author's note:

This story is inspired and informed by my friendships and encounters with Chinese Americans in the tourism industry. The character of the female tour leader is a combination of two real people about whom I have heard stories but never met in person. The character of Johnny is loosely based on a man I have met several times. The story is set pre-pandemic.

Thank you for reading.

***

"Johnny Dragontours!" Ben wove between tables, his eyes still adjusting to the gloom of the basement restaurant. "I couldn't see you back here."

"Benjamin Firstbank!" Johnny rose from his seat at the bar to embrace his friend. "You need glasses, old man."

"It's as dark as a dungeon. How do you find these places?"

Johnny seated himself and gestured for Ben to do the same. "Dungeon?"

"Ah, hold on." Ben opened WeChat and typed the word into the shared chat session with Johnny.

"Dun-geon," Johnny muttered, sounding out the unfamiliar word. "I'll look it up later. How have you been?"

"Same same. You know, living the DC dream. Beautiful women, plenty of money, a shitty football team..."

"The Giants weren't any better this year," Johnny said, before shouting something in Mandarin. He gestured impatiently at a waitress hovering at the door to the kitchen. The young woman turned away expressionlessly.

"I can't get used to that," Ben said. "In my American-Boy world, we'd smile at the waitress, she'd come over, we'd say hello, then ask for tea politely. You just yell at her."

"She'll bring tea," Johnny said. "It isn't considered rude."

Ben shrugged. It was a cultural difference, albeit one that still startled him. "How do you find these places?"

"This restaurant?"

"Yes. I didn't even know this place existed, and I walk through Capitol Hill all the time."

Johnny held up a closed hand. "Three things," he began. "Has to be Chinese." He held up a finger. "Has to be a place to park the tour bus not too far away." He held up a second finger. "And it has to be cheap," he concluded, extending the third finger.

"And they have to give you a kickback, right?"

"Yes." Like the curt behavior with the waitress, kickbacks were such an ingrained part of Johnny's work they didn't merit attention. As a tour guide, he would receive a few dollars per client per meal, a lump sum for stopping the tour bus at a gift shop, and a commission if any of his clients purchased upscale jewelry or designer goods.

With a clang, the waitress planted a teapot in front of them, slapped down two cups, and left. Johnny served Ben and then himself.

"How's this group so far?"

"It's okay," Johnny shrugged. Around them, Chinese tourists devoured lunch served from family-style dishes, some of which Ben recognized, others he could only guess at.

"How many nights will you be in DC?"

"Just last night and tonight. Monuments this morning. We'll tour the Capitol this afternoon. Tomorrow we take them to Dulles to catch their flight."

"It's a shame these groups don't stay longer," Ben mused. "You never take them to Mount Vernon, the Zoo... I bet they'd like the C&O canal boat tour."

"They've never heard of those places. It's only what's on the Chinese-language website back home, and what the leader tells them about."

"Which one is the leader?"

Johnny's face darkened. "That bitch isn't here."

"Whoa, what?"

"She's trouble."

"I take it you've worked with her before?"

Johnny shook his head. "No, but she's brought other groups to Dragon Tours."

"What's wrong with her?" Ben had met Johnny years ago through an ex-girlfriend who was also in the travel business. He had never known the man to get so worked up.

"She causes the guides trouble," Johnny explained. "If we send an older guide she complains the entire time, asks for a new guide, things like that. Gives a shitty rating when the tour is over. It's bad for the company."

"And if you send someone younger?"

"She wants to fuck them."

Ben let Johnny refill his tea, a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Well, that doesn't sound so bad."

"Nah man, she's old."

Old, to Johnny, could cover a broad range. In his late twenties, with careless good looks, and a brash, sometimes smug attitude, the guide had no problem attracting lovely women his age.

"So she's what, thirty?"

"No, old! Looks forty to me."

The waitress brought them both plates of food, dropping them onto the bar with the same lack of decorum she had displayed earlier. Johnny, he knew, would have said something to the waitress about his American friend's taste in food. "You know," Ben said, picking up his chopsticks, "I don't only eat lo mein."

"You wouldn't like what we're eating," Johnny said, nodding toward the tourists.

Judging by the presence of tripe and chicken feet on Johnny's plate, that was probably a safe assessment.

"Sounds like she needs to get laid," Ben said, returning to the earlier conversation.

"Yeah," Johnny said glumly. "It's like a vacation for her. She gets away from China for a week, away from prying eyes. Wants some fresh meat."

"So she already propositioned you?" Ben asked, then, when Johnny gave him a blank look added, "She said she wants to fuck?"

"Not yet," Johnny said around a mouthful of rice. "She's dropped some hints, like inviting me for drinks. The leaders sometimes share a room with the driver, but she always gets her own. She'll ask soon."

"And if you say no she'll be difficult?"

"Complain to my boss, blame every small problem on me, write up a bad survey. It's shit, man."

Ben steered the conversation away from Johnny's dilemma into less stressful territory. The two discussed fishing, Ben's travel plans, and whether Johnny would keep renting his apartment in Flushing, New York. Johnny asked Ben if he had a girlfriend.

"Not right now. Last time you were here I was seeing that Brazilian woman, right?"

"That tall lady? You aren't dating anymore?"

"She was pretty tall, yeah. A bit of a freak, too. Fun for a while, but eventually the crazy outweighed the hot."

"You showed me her photo. She was alright."

Ben smiled. 'Alright' was the most generous praise Johnny would grant a woman even close to Ben's age. "What about you?"

The young tour guide, he learned, had a new girlfriend back in Flushing. Johnny showed Ben a photo of a pretty, young Asian woman posing demurely. "Good family back in Shanghai."

"She's beautiful, Johnny. Another reason not to mess around."

"Yeah," Johnny said, looking glum.

"Why isn't the leader here?"

"One of the clients lost his passport. They're at the embassy trying to figure something out."

Ben gobbled a mouthful of noodles. "You got a pic?"

Johnny swiped at his phone before handing it to Ben. "Far right."

The photo was one of the most commonly taken in Washington, DC. In it, several Chinese tourists were squinting into the sun with the Washington Monument in the background. Most looked to be in their fifties or sixties, dressed in loose clothing, clutching at hats and purses. To the right, a younger and more tidily dressed woman stood, an indulgent look on her face. Ben could see why Johnny would think of her as old. She was perhaps fifteen years older than his girlfriend, lacking that young woman's glow. Her clothing was practical, rather than stylish. She wasn't the type of woman who would attract interest from twenty-something men.

To Ben she was intriguing. The woman had kept her slim figure, paid attention to her appearance, and had an aura of confidence. "What's her name?"

Johnny tilted his head. "You want to do her?"

"One of the advantages of being in your fifties," Ben said, "doing a forty-year-old feels like robbing the cradle."

"Yeah, sure," Johnny laughed. "It's Ming. She doesn't dig old dudes though. Sorry, buddy." He play-slapped Ben on the back.

"I wasn't offering to solve your problem for you. Just curious."

"I wish you could, man. Save me from the shit."

***

"Okay, good meeting everyone. Sorry again that I kept you so late. Good news is you can go directly to happy hour if you're so inclined. Take care and have a great weekend!"

Ben signed out of the video meeting and pushed his chair back. It wasn't quite five yet, but on a Friday no one would blink if he left early. He was probably one of the last people in the office anyway. He mused over what he would do with his evening. His condo in DC's Penn Quarter neighborhood was surrounded by bars, restaurants, and clubs, but most nights lately Ben was more likely to go straight home than stop for a drink or to look for women.

Before he could decide whether to head home or not, Ben's phone buzzed. Johnny had sent him a message on WeChat.

Dude! Check this out!

Johnny had followed up the message with a link to a porn site. Ben chuckled, closed his office door, and clicked on the link. The video was labeled 'Asian Chick/Big White Dick'. He clicked play.

That it was a porn scene was immediately obvious. A young Asian woman walked beside a pool, dressed in a skimpy bikini. She settled into a lounger, then began rubbing oil on her lean, tanned body. Just as it became obvious that she was having trouble reaching her back, a muscular White man approached. With hardly a word he picked up the oil and started rubbing it onto her back. Predictably the encounter turned erotic. The woman unhooked her top, smiling seductively as the man's hands became increasingly bold. Soon they kissed, undressed each other, and fucked in various positions. At the very end, the porn starlet sank to her knees and encouraged her new friend to shoot his cum onto her face.

Even skipping forward through large portions of the video Ben became aroused. He adjusted his organ, helping it find a more comfortable position in his pants. Exactly why Johnny had sent him the video was a mystery, but before Ben could reply his phone buzzed again.

Shit man, this one is even better!

The video in the new link was labeled 'Asian Tight/Mature White' and had higher production values than the first. In it, an elegantly dressed Asian woman seated herself alone at a bar in a fancy hotel. At her request, the bartender poured a glass of champagne. She sipped it, her pretty eyes idly inspecting the crowd until they settled on a White man sitting across the bar. He was older, with grey at his temples, was dressed immaculately in a charcoal grey suit, and was sipping whisky. Their eyes met, and soon the man circled the bar to greet her.

This time Ben didn't jump ahead. In the script, both parties were in town on business. They spoke of the difficulty of traveling, the loneliness, the tables for one, and too much time by themselves. Soon their hands entwined, significant glances were exchanged, and the bill was paid. As the elevator door closed they embraced. Once in her room, the intimacy followed the standard script. The man, though older, was in excellent shape and had a porno-grade cock. The starlet, attired modestly, had a fantastic, lithe body once undressed. Most of the video was standard fare, but it did linger on the moments that the starlet first glimpsed the older man's cock, and the moment that he took her.

There some reason you sent me these?

Ben asked.

Dude, they're hers!

Whose?

Ming's! She had to leave her phone with the driver before they'd let her into the secure area of the Chinese embassy. Those were in her browsing history.

The implication dawned on Ben.

She likes White dick.

Yeah, dude!

And?

Johnny didn't respond immediately, leaving Ben to wonder if sending the videos had only been for a laugh. But finally, his phone buzzed with Johnny's response.

You can do her, man!

Of course that's where Johnny's mind would go.

You said she didn't like old guys.

I guess she don't like old Chinese guys, LOL.

The idea spun around in his head. Ming was attracted to White men but lived in China where few were to be found. When she took a tour group to the States she was greeted by an Asian guide and driver. Most of the hotels were places favored by budget travelers. Since any translation would have to be handled by her or the tour guide, she couldn't leave the hotel. It must be frustrating. That's why she would hit on young guys like Johnny; if she couldn't get free to hook up with a white man, she'd at least get a handsome young guide to warm her bed.

You want me to fuck her?

Yeah, save my ass.

Ben did want to fuck Ming. It had been months since he'd got laid, and regardless Ming looked plenty fuckable. Just as motivating was the challenge. Could he lure a younger woman into bed armed only with the tiny sliver of information about her preferences?

How? Where is the group staying tonight?

Hilton Capitol Hill.

Not too far at all. The idea grabbed him. Ben's odds weren't great if he was honest with himself; he was fifteen years older than Ming, of no more than average looks, and his pick-up game was beyond rusty. On the other hand, he had little to lose. At the very least he'd have a story to tell.

He messaged Johnny back.

What time?

***

Ben hustled home to wash up and change. He had decided that to the extent possible he would mimic the man in the second porn video and that doing so would require him to dress more formally than he usually would. He pulled out a conservative suit he hadn't worn for almost a year. "Thank you, gym membership," he muttered when the suit still fit him.

He paired the suit with a crisp white shirt, red tie, and black wingtips. When he wetted and combed back his thinning blond hair, the man in the mirror was as handsome as Ben had looked in longer than he could recall. He hoped it would be enough.

The short walk from Ben's condo to the hotel gave him time to review the plan. Johnny's part in the caper was simple. During the tour group's dinner he would ask Ming if she wanted to meet at the hotel bar later, an offer that she was sure to accept. Then, just before Ben arrived, Johnny would message her to say he couldn't make it after all. With luck, Ben would find Ming still seated at the bar, irritated at Johnny, and ripe for a stranger's advances. Stepping into the hotel lobby, Ben was hit by a tingle of nervousness that he hadn't felt for years.

I'm here,

Ben messaged Johnny before closing the app on his phone. Very few people in the States used WeChat except Chinese and Chinese Americans. Ming might become suspicious if she spotted it.

There was nothing cozy about the Hilton's lobby. The soaring atrium consisted of loosely connected open spaces rather than individual rooms. The restaurant bordered a bland seating area, which itself bordered reception. The bar could most politely be described as sterile, with more than ample illumination, stools bolted in place, and a bartender who doubled as the restaurant's waitress. It was as far from the warm and intimate bar featured in the porn video as could be.

At least the open design made spotting Ming easy. There was only one person seated at the bar, and if Ben needed any other confirmation, the skimpy red dress would have been sufficient. Did she pack it for exactly these moments, carrying a garment otherwise unsuited to her duties just in case she had a chance at a hookup?

Ming had at least chosen the end of the bar farthest from the restaurant, no doubt in the hope of some privacy with Johnny. Ben walked slowly, considering his approach. He had, in a previous life, been able to charm women into a conversation with at least a chance of turning it into something more. But that was decades ago and with women from his sphere. Would his personality even mesh with someone from such a radically different background?

"Evening," Ben said. He took the third stool, leaving space between them. Ming only turned her head slightly toward him, the tiniest acknowledgment. This wouldn't be easy.

Music floated across the bar, pop hits from five years ago. Ben drummed his fingers against the wood, searching for any excuse to start a conversation with Ming. She tapped listlessly at her phone and sipped a glass of white wine. When the waitress at last approached, Ben tried to leverage one of the elements from the video. "Do you have a Scotch list?"

The waitress gave him a blank stare before pointing over her shoulder at the mirrored liquor shelves. "Just what you see there."

So much for appearing knowledgeable. "I'll take the Laphroaig ten," Ben said, then had to point to the bottle for several long moments before the waitress finally spotted it. At last, she gave him a generous pour.

"This is nice," Ben said, "So civilized at the end of a busy day." He raised his glass but again Ming only nodded infinitesimally.

This is fucking impossible,

Ben thought. The woman wanted only to be left alone. Perhaps her anger at Johnny had grown to encompass all men.

At the very least he could enjoy his whisky. Ben sipped the spirit slowly, holding it on his tongue before letting it slide down to warm his throat. Usually when he drank Scotch there were other distractions but with Ming ignoring him there was little else to do but savor the peaty taste and the burn. His mind became restless, thinking back on his day. He would finish the drink, settle his bill, and return home. There he could play his music, read a book, or just turn down his lights and enjoy the city view.

But to leave without giving it at least one more try would feel like giving up. What did he care if a final attempt annoyed Ming? To not offer someone a single word of greeting was itself rude. Ben forced himself to sit as upright as possible and turned to face Ming squarely.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice firm and unmistakably directed at Ming. "Sorry if I disturbed you, but sometimes it's just nice to greet another person, to say hello. We can be surrounded by others but still be alone, can't we? I'm Ben."

Ming turned to him. She had let her hair down, and some of it was spilling across her shoulder in black waves. The tour leader had taken the time to apply makeup and was wearing a flashy watch. She assessed him coolly, first meeting his eyes and then allowing her glance to sweep over his body. She pursed her lips. "I'm Ming."

It was a start. "Nice to meet you, Ming." Again she only nodded. "Is that a Patek Philippe?" Ben asked, desperate to keep the conversation moving. This time he was rewarded.

"Yes," Ming said with obvious pride. She turned her slim wrist so Ben could admire the timepiece. "I bought this last year, in New York."

"At Tourneau?"

Her eyes went wide. "Yes, how did you know?" She looked at her watch as if it contained some clue.

"A lucky guess." In fact, Ben knew from Johnny that the Manhattan jewelry store was a staple of Asian tour groups. The sale of a luxury watch at Tourneau could earn a guide more in commission than their entire month's salary. "That's a pretty well-known store."

"I see," Ming said. "You're from New York?"

"I travel there all the time for work. Love that town." Now that they were facing each other Ben was able to more fully appreciate Ming. Her mouth was small, but her lips were full. With a touch of makeup to accentuate her high cheekbones, Ben found her quite lovely.

"What do you do for work?" Ming was taking the opportunity to inspect Ben, her eyes inspecting his suit, watch, and shoes.

"Banking," Ben said. "VP at First Bank." The title was more impressive than the actual job, but Ben loved the way it sounded.

If she was impressed, Ming hid it well. "You're staying at the hotel?"

"No," Ben said. "I don't live that far from here. If you know DC I'm in Penn Quarter."

"Why are you here? For the Scotch list?"

Ben let a smile take over his face. She

had

been listening earlier. "I was supposed to meet a friend, but he bailed on me. I passed this place walking back and decided I wasn't quite ready to head home yet."