Mellow Yellow

As I checked the new e-mail, there was one with a strange address I had never seen before. I opened it up and started to read it.

To: "Tran Mei-Ling"

From: "WonderNerd Cafe"

Subject: We took your advice

Date sent: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dear Mei-Ling:

I am writing from an internet café in Hawaii so that should explain the strange e-mail address. I will explain why but I have such exciting news that I have to tell you right away. Remember how hopeless I thought my situation was? Now I believe this will all work out. Let me explain. After I got your last e-mail, I decided to retrieve Charles' file as soon as I went to work the next day. When I went to my records and I was quite perplexed that it wasn't in its proper place in the filing cabinet. So, I asked Ms. Yang (in Cantonese of course. I am trying to put this in English the best way I can):

"Ms. Yang. I want to add some material to Mr. Burnhamthorpe's file and I can't seem to find it here. Is your filing up to date?"

"Yes, well maybe. Mr. Burnhamthorpe's file is here." With that bit of backtracking, the little sneak brought Charles' file out of her desk drawer.

"May I ask what you are doing with a patient's file in your desk?"

"I just wanted his telephone number so I could call him up and maybe we could get together. I never get to meet any eligible men on this job. They're all too old or else they're complete head cases. Mr. Burnhamthorpe is the only man who has passed my desk that I would ever go out with."

"Don't you realize that there is more than telephone numbers in that file, you idiot? A doctor's office respects its patients' confidentiality, Ms. Yang." (OK, I was being a hypocrite but the situation required a verbal caning)

"I thought he wasn't a patient anymore, since you said not to make any more appointments for Mr. Burnhamthorpe. Wasn't it all right?"

"Yes he is no longer a patient. No, it is not all right to look up confidential information in medical records. I suggest that you leave and find a job where you can meet men, if that's all you want out of work." With that, I grabbed the file out of her hands and showed her the door.

So I laid it on a bit thick but you were absolutely right about Ms. Yang, Mei-Ling. I don't know how you figured out from your home on the other side of our planet that she was a snake. After all, I'm the psychiatrist with all the answers and the human insight and I couldn't see what she was up to. Ms. Yang was harbouring thoughts about screwing Charles herself. Can you imagine what a disaster that would be? I am positive that Ms. Yang is as inept in bed as any white woman. Charles would be back in the same pitiful impotent state if she ever got her hands on his gorgeous willie. What would I ever be able to do for Charles if another Chinese woman destroyed the image of yellow women I was building up with him? One thing I was sure of was that, because she wanted Charles' telephone number, she hadn't read the file completely and she didn't know about his willie problems.

I don't feel bad about firing Ms. Yang because it worked out well for both of us. When she came for her final cheque, she said that she had a job in marketing and there were plenty of men in her office to chase. I guess she'll end up screwing, in her own incompetent way, a guy who wears a polyester suit to work and dreams of brand loyalty in his sleep. I found a replacement, Ms. Yin, and she is the complete opposite of Ms. Yang. She is kind to my patients, respectful to me and she loves her job. Anyway, my first problem, that of my secretary, was solved.

I took the file home with me that evening. So nobody would ask what I was doing, I burned it in my hibachi when widow Chang was burning her hell money in the alley. Widow Chang was keeping our apartment safe from the evil spirits and I was keeping my career safe from exposure and disgrace. We both had noble objectives with our fires that evening. My second problem was solved.

You were wondering how to handle Dr. Leung? As luck would have it, a few days later I met him at the hospital while he was doing his rounds. Normally, I don't visit hospitals but one of my patients had gone off his meds and had slashed his wrists. I had to run down to the hospital and advise the staff on what to give him to keep him stable. I met Dr. Leung in the hall making the rounds of his willie patients and asked him if we could meet for tea when he was finished.

At tea, I tried to subtly discover whether he kept duplicate records and if he got a lot of English patients. He said that he didn't keep duplicates and he hated records and files. In any case, he wouldn't need to worry about files any more as he would be taking a teaching post in Singapore in a month. Dr. Wang would take his patients and all his files off his hands. A funny thought came to my head. Dr. Leung will be making all the willies of Singapore long and leaving the wangs of Hong Kong in Dr. Wang's hands. I know that I shouldn't be making fun of my urologist colleagues' names. After all, if they found out that I had an affair with one of their referrals, they would call me Dr. Fook.

Forget my playing with names. Isn't that great, Mei-Ling? Dr. Leung will never be able to turn me in from Singapore and Dr. Wang has no record of Charles Burnhamthorpe. In one month, nobody will be able to connect Charles and me as patient and doctor.

Charles and I agree with you that Chinese New Year will be the best time to go public. It's only a few months away and there are all kinds of parties where we can meet. Charles says that there is a trade exhibition of medical equipment in January a couple of weeks before the New Year. Charles says that this is a perfectly proper place for a doctor to "meet". a trade attaché. Being English, he wants us to be properly introduced. He has even told me how long we should exchange pleasantries before I ask him or he asks me to a New Year's party. After that, we become a number in Hong Kong society. These few months will be so hard to take.

So, what do we do as "underground" lovers. Well, we talk to each other every night on the telephone. I wish I could say that our conversations are worthy of two professionals who consider themselves above average intellectually. I am ashamed to say that most of our conversation is phone sex. Charles tells me in the most graphic terms and in great detail what he would do if he was with me in person.

"Susan, my hand is moving up the smooth inside of your soaking wet thighs to your tight, hairless little muffie. My index finger is on one lip and my ring finger is on the other. I am parting your lips and my middle finger....."

Then I tell him what I would do with him and his willie if I we were in the same room.

"Charles, I am drawing that hard white pole between your legs towards my mouth. Charles help me. It's so big that I can't get my fingers all around it. I don't know if it will fit in my mouth. I am opening wide...."

While we are fantasizing to each other, we play with ourselves and make love over the telephone. I hope that the Communists aren't tapping the telephones of Hong Kong citizens yet. Mei-Ling, I have always thought that, when a patient disclosed to me that he or she engaged in telephone sex, there was something very perverted about them. Now, I am doing the same thing with a white guy on the other side of Hong Kong. This love affair with Charles is making me a total hypocrite!

Still, telephone sex isn't the real thing. Charles' words can never substitute for his physical presence, how he makes me crazy with his caresses, his techniques. Yes, I missed Charles' gentle hands caressing my breasts and pulsating my clitoris. Most of all, I missed playing with Charles' willie and seeing it grow out of my clenched hand, turning from white to a brownish red colour. There is nothing like a willie, whether it's in the mouth or between the legs.

I was getting very restless for the Chinese New Year to arrive and I was so horny that it was interfering with my work. Then your letter came and that was a capital suggestion, to take a holiday together. I called Charles as soon as I got your letter and he agreed. During the period when his willie wasn't working, Charles tried to forget his misery by throwing himself into his work. He hadn't taken very much of his vacation allotment. He agreed that, now that I made him feel like a real man, he should take some time off. We both thought that an interracial couple wouldn't be noticed in Hawaii and it would be a nice change from the cool Hong Kong winter.

We made our arrangements at different travel agents and made sure that we stayed at different hotels. Charles took a flight a day earlier than me so that nobody would see us leave together. I had told Charles where to meet me and which hotel but he got this idea that he should make a surprise out of it. Is that typical of white guys, Mei-Ling? Do they like their surprises as much as they like their sex clandestine? Well, on my way to Hawaii, I experienced my typical two emotions. One was fear that Charles wouldn't find me when I arrived and I would be as lonely and sexually frustrated in Hawaii as I was in Hong Kong.

My second emotion was extreme horniness. I fantasized in my airplane seat, thinking of how, when I got to Hawaii, Charles and I would make love, try different positions and have all this time to ourselves without fear of being recognized. My fantasies made me so horny that once or twice I had to stop myself from putting my hand under my skirt. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to be discovered playing with myself in an airplane economy seat? I could just imagine the headlines in both the English and Chinese newspapers: "Local Psychiatrist Caught Doing Herself 10,000 Meters in the Air. New Way to Fly!"

I managed to keep my hands in view until we got to Honolulu. After collecting my luggage, and clearing Customs and Immigration, I took a taxi to the hotel, disappointed that Charles had not met me at the airport. Didn't that man realize how eager I was to be in his arms, to have his willie between my legs raising me to greater and greater heights of passion? Despite my anger at Charles, I could feel my panties become damp at my fantasies about our meeting.

The hotel is wonderful. I have a luxurious room with a view of Waikiki. I enjoyed the view for a few minutes, thinking of how Charles and I would spend hours in the surf, playing like children. My skin would turn brown from the sun, but what about Charles? I hoped that he had remembered his sunscreen so he could be as brown as me, not as red as a raspberry. Where was Charles? I began to be anxious because I had been in Honolulu for two hours and I was still without my beloved.

I decided to go for a walk and see if I could spot Charles on the street or at his hotel. I started to walk to Charles' hotel but I didn't realize how hot and humid Honolulu can be. I was dressed for winter in Hong Kong and I had stayed in my heels instead of changing to walking shoes. Well, I wanted to look my best for Charles, but where was that man? I decided to return to my hotel and wait there for Charles to get in contact with me. My back started to hurt as I wasn't used to walking in heels. I was totally uncomfortable now, tired, sore, thirsty, hot and horny.

When I got back to the hotel, I was so thirsty that I headed for the coolness of the lounge. I ordered a soft drink and listened to the elevator music. The lounge wasn't busy and my waiter decided to chat me up. Manuel was a Filipino who was studying at the University and only waited on tables in his spare time. He had beautiful brown skin and Malay good looks. Most Filipinos smile all the time but Manuel's smile was more than enjoying life. I think that he liked me and how I looked as much as I was enjoying him. Manuel knew how to talk to a lady and his conversation was so intelligent. In fact, Manuel was such a delicious morsel of chocolate that I began to seriously consider picking him up, if Charles didn't find me tonight. I was addicted to Charles' white willie but I had never sampled Pinoy penis. What if I was missing something? I know that he was too young for any kind of long term relationship but I wouldn't mind at all a one- or two-nighter with this guy. That's how desperate I was for a good lay.

I started to turn over in my mind how to get Manuel into my pants. I didn'y know much about Filipino men but I did know a little about Filipinas from the ones I treated in my psychiatry practice. To a woman, they are all hung up on sex. Filipinas are taught to regard a woman's beaver as a dirty thing and that sex is an equally dirty act. They are furthermore instructed to guard their virginity all their lives the same way Ferdinand Marcos guarded his money. It made me ponder, why there are so many people in the Philippines if the women want to stay a virgin all their lives?

I was sure that my handsome Filipino, Manuel, was equally virginal as his countrywomen. He would have never found a woman in his own country to part her legs for him and American women would never give him a second look, as he was shorter than most American men. He may have been a virgin but, being male, he would be a frustrated virgin. My diagnosis was that he was about twenty years old with a psychological problem know as acute sexual frustration. Conclusion? Would there be anyone better than Dr. Wu Sui-Beng, the best psychiatrist in Hong Kong, to cure his problem?

I was just about to steer the conversation towards what his plans were after work when he was called away to the bar. I noticed that my dear Manuel had a frown on his face when he returned with another soft drink in his hand.

"I didn't order another soda. Can you take that back and we'll continue our conversation?"

"I can't take it back. It's been paid for by that gentleman with the moustache at the end of the bar. He wants to know if you want his company. Look, he sounds English to me and you know what they're supposed to be like. (At this, the waiter gave me a couple of winks and a limp wrist) Shall I tell him that you're not interested and call the bouncer?"

I turned to see who my soda pop benefactor might be and there was Charles with a big smile on his face. "No, I know him. Please tell Mr. Burnhamthorpe to join me."

My waiter was now even more disappointed looking as Charles got up and walked over to my table holding a glass of foul-coloured, foul-tasting liquid, which I later learned is called stout. I want to tell you, Mei-Ling, the English taste in drinks is as bizarre as their taste in food. I asked the first question:

"Charles, where have you been? I've been getting frantic because I couldn't find you."

"I came to your hotel to surprise you after I found that you had checked in. When I got her, they told me you had gone out for a walk. So, I sat down to have a stout and then you walked in. Since you obviously didn't notice me, I decided to have a little fun and try and pick you up. But, you seemed to be having so much fun talking to the waiter that I didn't want to interrupt. I only intervened when I could tell from your body language that you were getting a little too interested in our young friend."

So, Charles had caught me flirting. Well, I went on the offensive and berated Charles for spying on me, which he realized was total blarney on my part. He didn't seem to be too put out by my little indiscretion. Charles said that he wouldn't have any woman that no other man showed any interest in. Don't think we were really angry with each other. We were both playing games. I was feigning anger and Charles was having his fun by keeping me waiting.

Once we finished our games, we talked for about an hour. Can I tell you something strange about us, Mei-Ling? When we can't be together, we both think just about sex and that's all we talk about on the telephone. When we are together, we are normal people, discussing just about anything and having a perfectly normal relationship. Finally, we had solved all the problems confronting Asian countries and Charles wanted my opinion on all the European crises. I couldn't stand it any more and whispered in Charles ear:

"Your place or mine, big English stud-muffin?"

I think that Charles was startled by my lack of subtlety, especially the way I had first seduced him with my sex therapist story. He hesitated only a second:

"Your place, of course. It's closer and we'll be fucking sooner, Chinese pick-up."

As we left the bar, I noticed that Manuel looked completely miserable. I was sorry to leave him frustrated. If I was only in Hong Kong, I could have found lots of Chinese women to take care of his problem. None of them would have the personal touch that Wu Sui-Beng would provide, of course. Sometimes, I wish I could cure all the sexual problems of the world. I would bring to life all the world's willies the way I had brought Charles back to life. I could even teach the white bitches how to make love to their men like a Chinese woman. If only I had the time. At the moment, Charles was my personal project and I had my hands full, literally, curing him of his sexual hangups.

We entered my room and we embraced passionately. Charles enfolded me in his strong arms and began undressing me.

"Charles, my back is sore from walking on heels all evening. I will enjoy our lovemaking so much more if you could massage my back first."

I went and turned down the sheets on the bed and lay sideways, face down. The fresh sheet smell wafted up my nose. The smell seemed to say: "make love on us and we will gently enfold you and your lover with comfort." The linen encouraged my thoughts towards an evening of lovemaking as soon as the healing touch of my lover's hands restored my back to health. My beaver began to feel as wet as a rice paddy when I sensed Charles kneeling on the edge of the bed. Obviously Charles had quickly undressed because, as he crawled towards my back, I was thrilled as Charles willie caressed my heels. Yes, Charles' willie was growing in anticipation of its further journey between my legs.

Charles placed his hands on my back and gently worked them up and down my back, restoring each vertebra to its proper position. I thought that Japanese women were the world's leading experts on massage therapy. Tonight, Charles changed my mind about the supremacy of the Japanese. I mentally awarded Charles a black belt in the art of sexy massage. As he pressed my upper back, my breasts pressed into the bed. The pressure on my breasts were a small taste of what Charles' hands would soon perform. His hands worked gently up and down, back and forth smoothing away the tension from my body. I no longer was worried that Charles would find me. Now he was here and stroking my body into a sexual fury.

By now, Charles' willie was erect and standing straight out from his body like the lance of one of the knights of old. I would be the one impaled on the length of this weapon instead of one of the enemy. As Charles leaned forward and moved up my body to massage my neck, my white knight's lance rested on the crack of my bum. I was both thrilled and fearful at the same time. I had forgotten how long my knight's weapon was when ready for war and I was sure that it extended over my bum all the way to my waist. Well, the only action this weapon had seen was attacking the interior of Wu Sui-Beng. I was determined that the only flag that would be draped along its length would be the one bearing the Chinese characters forming my name.

Charles breathing accelerated and now his hands caressed the sides of my body, glided over my smooth golden skin, touching my shoulders, sliding past the edges of my breasts pressing into the bed and over my slim hips. My breathing matched Charles' in frequency and volume as he bent over to kiss my back. I thought, "The man is deliberately torturing me for flirting tonight. My back is cured. I must return the love that Charles shows me and atone for my slight indiscretion with Manuel."