Mellow Yellow

Mellow Yellow 16 – Susan Sinks Ms. Shagnasty with a Yellow Torpedo

Susan told us the following story in a number of different e-mails. I took the liberty of editing these letters to make the story easier to read.

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Ms. Yin poked her head into Susan's office.

"Dr. Wu. You don't have any patients scheduled for the rest of the day and I've caught up all the paperwork. Can I go home early?"

"Why not? I've kept you late a couple of times this week. You deserve some time off. Get out of here and have fun for a change."

Susan leaned back in her chair, relaxed and began to enjoy the moment. Her patient load had been heavy this week as well as a couple of drug ODs that had required a trip to the hospital in the dead of the night. Now she had time to think about her private life. Susan's glance passed over her fingers and the ring that Charles had placed on that finger the last weekend. She hadn't had the opportunity to think about her engagement all week. In one way, Susan wished that Charles hadn't rushed the engagement. It had been only a month since they had officially met. Would her Chinese friends think that she was a fool, rushing into marriage? Susan knew that some of them would think that she was foolish just for marrying a white guy.

On the other hand, Susan and Charles had been lovers for over six months in reality. This was more than enough time to run a range of emotions towards Charles finally concluding with love. Her first emotion for Charles had been pity for his psychological impotence. Then, Susan was curious if she was woman enough to be the one to cure Charles. When she managed to seduce Charles by pretending to be a sex therapist, Susan was alternately intimidated and fascinated by Charles' huge dick. Then, Susan experienced pride that she had raised Charles' dick from the dead and that she was the only woman who had been dealt a fucking by it. Finally, she fell in love with Charles as he confessed he had seen through Susan's sex therapist charade all the time.

It had been a dodgy few months, as their relationship remained hidden from view to save both their careers. Those few months convinced Susan that Charles was more than just another man carrying a big stick. Charles was an intelligent, sensitive man, interested in the Chinese people, their language and culture. Susan couldn't wait until she was married and could enjoy Charles every minute of the day, in or out of bed.

Yes, they should rush into marriage. Not only were they suited for each other but the time was getting short. The British were leaving in less than a year. There would be much to do in the year so Charles would not be sent home to England with all the other civil servants. Susan frowned. That meant that she had only a year to humiliate Ms. Shagnasty. Yes, she had annoyed the white bitch by dancing with her date, Charles' boss, at the New Year banquet. Annoying Ms. Shagnasty was not enough punishment for the way he had humiliated Charles.

Susan learned that Ms. Shagnasty took great delight in telling anyone who cared to listen about their drunken encounter one evening and that Charles "never got the damn thing up. Soft as pud it was, luv." She made no secret of the fact that she was fucking Charles' boss, Richard Horner just to get a promotion. To complete this picture, Ms. Shagnasty insulted Susan to her face by implying that Chinese knew nothing about sex and that Susan was ugly. Charles kept saying, "leave it alone, dear one." Charles was merely English. Only the Chinese could understand the loss of face from saying that a man has a weak willie. Susan vowed that she would bring justice to Ms. Shagnasty, but she knew so little about the enemy, other than she used sex as a weapon, she was a lazy worker and she despised the Chinese people.

Susan recalled the Chinese New Year banquet when Horny Dick had developed an interest in Susan. He had danced with Susan and she shuddered at the thought of the dirty old man's hands feeling her all over. If Susan could stimulate Horny Dick's interest in Chinese women, Susan would have the perfect conditions for Ms. Shagnasty's racial, sexual and employment downfall. She would have to find a Chinese woman for Horny Dick. It couldn't be a woman like herself. It would have to be a promiscuous Chinese woman with a taste for white dick. She would have to be so desperate for a lay, even from an old white geezer like Horny Dick, that she would have to be crazy.

Crazy. That was the missing piece to her plan. There was no shortage of crazy women in Susan's practice but nobody immediately came to Susan's mind. They were all either married, too old or even too crazy to appeal to Horny Dick. Besides, most Chinese are racially prejudiced, especially when it came to sex. Chinese women are terrified of getting stuffed by a black or white dick. Susan's mind went over every Chinese woman she knew past and present until she remembered Tang Fang. Tang Fang was perfect for Susan's purpose.

Tang Fang was a manic-depressive and as promiscuous as a bunny rabbit, a typical bipolar. Furthermore, her favourite flavour of dick was white, as a result of her student days at Berkley. Susan always thought it was the dope and the free love that had created Tang Fang's obsession with white dick. Tang Fang had come to Susan for her periodic bouts of depression but had left because she didn't believe Susan that her periods of energy, mania and promiscuity had the same cause as her depression. If she could only somehow bring together Tang Fang and Horny Dick.

Susan looked down at her slender ring finger. Yes, an engagement party would be the perfect venue to bring Tang Fang and Horny Dick together and set her plan in motion. If she could only find Tang Fang's telephone number in her files. Yes, there it was, along with her English name, Faye. That would help because the English always found Fang to be an amusing name, for some reason. She would also have to refer to Horny Dick by his real name, Richard Horner. Chinese considered the diminutive for Richard, Dick, to be just as funny.

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Faye Tang looked around her tiny apartment in despair. When she was depressed, Faye had no ambition at all. It was all she could do to drag herself to work, never mind, keep her apartment tidy. Nobody could understand how Faye's mood could suddenly plummet from the laughing, energetic, aggressive person that Faye knew was the real her to the depressed pile of clay she now was. Goodness knows, she had tried all kinds of doctors and medicines, both Chinese and Western. Acupuncturists assured Faye that she was a classic case of an imbalance of yin and yang. The acupuncturists had stuck pins into every square centimeter of her skin that Chinese etiquette permitted until she was a mass of pimples.

Faye had asked herbalists what they could do. They would always shuffle among the wooden drawers lining their shop and mix up concoctions of dried plants, tree fungus and bear gallbladders. The herbal remedies either gave Faye the shits or made her honk up her lunch. Still, she was depressed.

Faye had tried meditation, self-help techniques and mystic religions from Falun Gong to Scientology. She had listened to every feelgood guru with Hong Kong on his schedule but she only became more depressed as she realized that she could never attain whatever planes of enlightenment the guru required.

The only person who put a name to her condition was Dr. Wu. Dr. Wu said she was manic-depressive or bipolar or something like that. Faye Tang didn't believe Dr. Wu because she felt on top of the world most of the time. Faye's only problem was that she had the blues on occasion. Dr. Wu. had insinuated that when Faye felt good, she was acting just as destructively as when she was depressed. Faye resented when Dr. Wu inquired about her many affairs and tried to show her that this was part of her problem. Dr. Wu had tried to make her take lithium but all it did was make Faye thirsty and pee all the time. Faye tried other drugs but never took them for more than a week when she developed side effects. Faye thought, "Dr. Wu only looked like she was being helpful. I'm not crazy. I'm just sad sometimes."

Faye's condition had been with her for years and had alienated friends and lovers alike. Faye didn't realize that, when she was in her manic phase, what she interpreted as energy and aggressiveness others perceived as anger and attitude. Faye had never had a relationship that she could charitably call long-term. In fact, the last piece of dick she had was well over three months ago during one of her manic episodes. She had become obsessed with a co-worker, Yuk Yung, despite the fact he was 15 years younger and already married. Fay never noticed the knowing smiles as she told everyone in her office that Yung was her soul-mate. Faye had managed to seduce the fellow and he had come back repeatedly for the same treatment. Yuk Yung wasn't a bad lay, Faye thought as she reminisced about her last affair. Faye didn't realize that it was her insistence that Yung dump his wife that had broken them up.

Faye looked in the mirror. "I'm not old looking," Faye thought. "I haven't been bingeing on food and I still have a young woman's figure. A woman of 40 still has sexual needs. Why can't I get laid?" Faye thought about her student days in the United States. She didn't have any lack of dick then, 99% of it white. Faye thought of all the white guys she had left behind in the U.S., each and every one of them left yearning for more yellow pussy. If her last piece of dick was three months ago, her last white dick had to be years ago.

Faye wondered why had she returned to Hong Kong? In America, all the white guys chased her and she could have white dick by the kilometer. Here in Hong Kong, the Chinese men didn't appreciate how good their women were in bed. Faye's thoughts raced through failed relationships and one-nighters. "Maybe I've been trying men that are too young. Maybe I should look for older men?"

If she only had the money, she would emigrate to Canada before the Chinese takeover of Hong Kong. All it would take was $120,000 Canadian and a flash her winning smile to the Canadian visa clerk. Maybe, if the clerk was white and male, she would get some white dick accompanying the proper papers for Canada. Was there a shortage of escort agencies in Canada? If she could get to Canada, Faye would have a thriving profitable business that would provide her with all the white dick she needed.

The telephone interrupted Faye's thoughts. Faye thought: "Who could be calling such a sad, depressed, worthless person as Tang Fang?" Faye lifted up the receiver.

"Hi Fang! Do you remember me? It's Wu Sui-Beng, your old doctor. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"Of course, Sui-Beng, but why are you calling me? You said to never come back for treatment if I doubted your diagnosis and that I needed to take drugs. So, that's why I haven't been coming to you. Do you want me back for treatment? Nobody else seems to do me any good."

"That's up to you, Fang. I just wanted to find out how you were getting along. How are you feeling and are you still single?"

"Yes, I'm still single and no, I'm not feeling well. I've been depressed for months now over a failed love affair. Men are such pigs."

"I may have something to cheer you up. I'm engaged and I'm having a party to celebrate. I'm inviting some single guys and I need to invite some single women for balance. Are you interested?"

"Congratulations Sui-Beng. Of course I'm interested. I think that getting out would do me more good than any drugs you could prescribe. I know that I'm not bipolar. I'm depressed because I'm lonely."

The two women talked a bit more and then hung up. Faye felt her spirits soar at the prospect of getting out and meeting someone. She picked up her clothes, tidied up the futon and cleaned her apartment. Dr. Wu hadn't said she was inviting any single white guys but who cares. Faye began having fantasies about who she would meet and hopefully fuck after the party. What had she done with her diaphragm? Life wasn't depressing after all.

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Richard Horner stared out his office window looking over the bustling city. It was a clear day and he could see Kowloon across the harbour, framed by hills and mountains. He would soon have to leave his corner office for some damp, cold, barren office with grimy windows in Whitehall. How he hated London. Hong Kong had grown on him and he didn't look forward to returning to England. A civil servant of his stature would have to work in London along with all the other department heads. Here, Richard Horner was someone of importance. In London, he would be just another one of Her Majesty's civil servants, riding the train every morning, attaché case in hand and bowler on his head.

He wished he could remain in Hong Kong but there was no hope. Richard's age and zero abilities in Chinese ensured a return trip to England. Why hadn't he gone "Chinese" like that young chap, Burnhamthorpe? Not only had young Burnhamthorpe studied Chinese and sucked up to the damn Commies but he had gone out and gotten himself a Chinese woman. Richard thought about young Burnhamthorpe's woman. He had actually met her at the New Year banquet that young Burnhamthorpe had organized. What an entrance she made in her traditional Chinese dress. She was a real beauty and a good dancer as well. No wonder young Burnhamthorpe had fiddled the Governor's Daimler to show his date off. Richard actually believed Burnhamthorpe's woman was coming on to him when he took a whirl with her around the floor.

Why had young Burnhamthorpe and his date disappeared from the party so early? Did they leave for some New Year yellow-white rumpy-bumpy? In the locker room of his health club, Richard had heard rumours that Chinese women were superb in bed. It wasn't as if Charles Burnhamthorpe could take advantage of any unique talents his Chinese woman might possess. From the stories Daphne Shagnasty told him, Charles' willie wasn't in complete working order. Perhaps Charles' new woman was a good cook and she made some ginger fish at her apartment.

Ah yes, what to do about Daffy? At first, Richard was quite flattered by the young woman's attentions to an older man. It soothed Richard's ego to bed a young woman, especially after Prunella Windthrop in Excise rebuffed his advances. Lately, Daffy had turned out to be a pest, constantly badgering him to take her on as his secretary. Mrs. Noseworthy was perfectly good in the position and he saw no reason to replace her. It wasn't as if Daffy was a superb lay. In fact, she had become as demanding sexually as she was demanding about Mrs. Noseworthy's job. He had to find a way to gently disengage from the woman.

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Daphne Shagnasty finished typing the notes that Charles Burnhamthorpe had given her. They were about some boring meeting with the Mainland Chinese concerning harmonizing import tariffs between Hong Kong and the Mainland. This wasn't anything so important that Daphne Shagnasty should get her knickers in a knot. Daphne Shagnasty had real problems in her life. Her plot to get Mrs. Noseworthy's job by seducing her boss, Richard Horner, was not going well. Horny Dick hadn't screwed her ever since the New Year's banquet at the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. Horny Dick indeed. Well, maybe he had dropped by Daphne's apartment once to have his oil changed but, really, Dick hadn't paid her the kind of attention she deserved.

Daphne thought: "How can I get the old goat's ear so I can nick Mrs. Noseworthy's job for myself?" Daphne's eyes glanced over the report she had just finished typing. She picked it up and walked down the hall to Richard Horner's office. What luck! Richard was in his office staring out the window and apparently not occupied with much in particular. Daphne walked in and closed the door behind her.

"I came to bring you Charlie's latest but once I saw you sitting there, I couldn't resist. I want a quickie with that willie of yours, right here and now."

Daphne didn't give Richard any chance to answer. She dropped the report on Richard's desk, trapped Richard in the V of the corner windows, unceremoniously pulled down Richard's fly and pulled out his dick. Daphne hiked up her dress and dropped her knickers to the floor. Richard wasn't really in the mood but when a young woman has her hand on your dick and trying to stick it in her muffie, any dick will rise to the occasion. Daphne spread her legs and prostrated herself on Richard's paperwork.

Richard stepped up to Daphne's broad ass and stuck his dick into the mass of hair below her asshole. Richard shoved his dick easily into Daphne's slightly damp cunt. Richard was always amazed at how loose Daphne was and how little feeling he had when he fucked her. Richard was quite proud of the size of his dick so he was positive the lack of feel wasn't his fault. It was just that the woman was loose as a moose. Whenever one of his office colleagues asked what it was like to screw Shagnasty, he always replied: "Well, it's a bit like trying to stir a can of paint with your willie." Richard speculated that Daphne must use a vibrator the size of a cricket bat to end up that loose.

Richard started to stroke in and out, carefully trying to avoid falling out on the outstroke. Richard kept it up for a few minutes and Daphne faked an orgasm. That was Daphne's signal to Richard to shoot his load before someone knocked on the door of his office. As Daphne wiped herself with a Kleenex, she reminded Richard:

"Don't forget to put my name in for Mrs. Noseworthy's job. Then we can do this more often."

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Charles Burnhamthorpe thought about last evening. Susan had spent the evening at his apartment after supper at a nearby restaurant. Charles wished that English cooking was a matter of pride to his people so he could impress Susan with English cooking the way Susan always delighted him with Chinese food. Susan always knew "a nice little Chinese restaurant around the corner." Taking a Chinese woman to an English pub to have bangers and mash washed down with warm bitter was no way to create a good impression. Fortunately there was a good Chinese restaurant "just around the corner" from his apartment building. Susan seemed to prefer staying at his apartment, despite her not liking his style of decoration. They constantly debated whether they would live together in this apartment or Susan's and how Charles' western art would ever match Susan's oriental pieces.

Whatever were their disagreements on interior decorating, they both agreed that they were sexually compatible. Charles just adored caressing Susan's golden silky-smooth skin and playing with her firm, pert tits. By now, Charles regarded the huge floppy breasts and rough skin of white women with disgust. What pleasures Susan's tight little pussy brought his dick? Actually, Charles had nothing white to compare Susan's pussy to. He had made love to white women but he had never actually fucked one. Their attitude had always turned Charles off, with the result that any initial excitement was lost in a barrage of harping instructions given from a position flat on their back. Susan was what he had always wanted in a woman. She was so responsive that verbal communication was totally unnecessary when they made love. Charles mind wandered to their fuck of the previous night. His sexual fantasy ended when he remembered that he had promised Susan to do something today.

"Charles, can we have an engagement party? I really must show off my lover to all my friends. They will be so jealous of me."

"Susan, I can deny you absolutely nothing. Besides, that's a capital idea and I can return lots of favours I owe people when, well you know, I didn't have much social life. I still got invited to parties even if my reputation had preceded me. Still, parties are crashing bores, when women don't think it's worthwhile trying to pick you up."