Part 1: Susan Wu discovers an eager recruit for her clinic
Cynthia-Dawn Yang had never been one of those Chinese students in your school whose homework was always prepared and perfect and went home to practise the piano for hours. She got by in life depending more on her good looks than on her abilities. It was rumoured that she had only graduated from high school because she shagged her Mandarin teacher in exchange for a passing grade in her final year. Cynthia-Dawn Yang was that rarest of creatures, a true Chinese bimbo.
Cynthia-Dawn Dawn had mid-Pacific beauty. Her almond eyes set off a nose that wasn't too flat and complemented her light golden skin. Cynthia-Dawn breasts were larger than most Chinese women were, even though they wouldn't be remarkable in North America. Fit and flat-stomached, Cynthia-Dawn Yang was proud of her body, even if she neglected her intellect. Because of her universal beauty, both the English and Chinese boys in the upper form wanted to get into her pants. Only her Mandarin teacher had succeeded.
When she left high school, it appeared as if her career had no bounds. She had risen from the office manager of a prominent Hong Kong psychiatrist to the post of executive assistant to the marketing director of her previous employer. Unfortunately, she was sacked over a minor scandal and now she was lucky she found a job as a waitress in the restaurant of the People's Fitness and Navigation Society (formerly the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club).
Cynthia-Dawn's downward spiral in her career was completely her boyfriend's fault. If he hadn't started fooling around with that slut in accounting, Cynthia-Dawn wouldn't have even thought of seducing her boss in revenge. It was just such damn bad luck that the cleaning staff caught her shagging the marketing director in the executive washroom after hours. Why was it always the woman who got the sack in these situations? Cynthia-Dawn found herself out of work, out of her boyfriend's apartment and definitely off her preferred career path. Cynthia-Dawn's thoughts on "Life isn't Fair" was interrupted by the restaurant manager's instructions:
"Here's our restaurant's uniform. You will wear it and follow my instructions to the letter. Despite the change in name of our establishment, our clientèle remains the same, namely the élite of Hong Kong's business and government. The only change is that the Communist officials no longer wear baggy suits and are completely indistinguishable from their capitalist colleagues, except in one respect. You must address our new comrades from the mainland in Mandarin. Therefore, young lady, you will treat everyone who dines in the Club's, I mean the Society's, restaurant with the utmost of respect. Can I count on you?"
Cynthia-Dawn reassured the manager that she could perform the job despite the fact that she really didn't understand Mandarin at all. Perhaps she should have paid attention in Mandarin class instead of indulging her teenage crush on her teacher. Her heart wasn't at all in her work as she went about delivering plates of hot, steaming food to the rich or powerful old geezers. What a servile position for such a beautiful woman as Cynthia-Dawn Yang. Cynthia-Dawn imagined herself as one of these businessman's or, if need be, commissar's mistress. That was her destiny, to have her tight pussy regularly shagged and to receive compensation commensurate with her skill in bed.
Her fantasy was interrupted as a woman with a familiar face entered the restaurant, accompanied by a tall foreigner who also seemed somehow familiar. She couldn't place the foreigner exactly. To Cynthia-Dawn Yang, as with many Chinese, all foreigners looked the same. There was no doubt in Cynthia-Dawn's mind about the identity of the woman. It was her former employer, Dr. Wu Sui-Beng, the eminent psychiatrist. The maître d'hôtel seated the couple and beckoned to Cynthia-Dawn to push her steam cart over. She couldn't contain her excitement.
"Dr. Wu, don't you remember me? I must humbly apologize for my behaviour six years ago. You were quite right to dismiss me but I now beg your forgiveness and ask you to take me back. Can you find it in your heart to take me back?"
Susan Wu couldn't understand what the waitress was babbling on about instead of taking their order. The lights came on in Susan's head when she realised that she had sacked this woman six years earlier for trying to seduce a patient. Of course, the patient had, by then, already been well seduced by Dr. Wu and was now seated at her table as her husband. Could it be that her former receptionist didn't recognize Charles Burnhamthorpe as the patient she had lusted after? Did Cynthia-Dawn realise that Susan's biggest fear was that it would become known that she had fooled around with a patient? Susan decided to give her former employee a little "test."
"Why Charles, it's Yang Kunyan! She used to run my office for me. Can you imagine? By the way, I am no longer just Dr. Wu but Dr. Wu-Burnhamthorpe. This is my husband, Charles. He understands Chinese so you don't need to use English on his behalf. So, how are you, Kunyan?"
Susan surveyed Cynthia-Dawn's face. Susan didn't detect the slightest recognition in Cynthia-Dawn's face that Charles was a former patient of Dr. Wu's psychiatric practice. No, the bimbo's face was blank and totally without intelligence, the same as it was during her employment. Cynthia-Dawn continued to babble on.
"I'm just absolutely depressed, Dr. Wu. My boyfriend threw me out on the street and I lost my job in marketing. I know we've had our differences but do you have a job for me, Dr. Wu-Burnhamthorpe? I just hate being here and the pay is terrible. I can't even afford a decent bowl of congee on what they pay me here. Can you help me? Working for you was the best job I ever had and I didn't know it."
Susan felt so ashamed as Cynthia-Dawn begged to be rehired. The woman certainly never impressed Susan as an intellectual giant and now she was showing that she had no idea how to save face. Perhaps Cynthia-Dawn had no culture but, on the other hand, she wasn't too bad looking. Cynthia-Dawn was bigger-chested than the average Chinese woman. That would certainly appeal to the foreign men who came to The Hong Kong Institute of Sex Therapy. The way Cynthia-Dawn Yang panted after Charles when he first came to Susan for help proved that Cynthia-Dawn was open to the thought of shagging a foreigner, unlike many Chinese women. If she retained that itchy slit, Cynthia-Dawn might just fit in to Susan's staff at the clinic.
"I've opened a clinic that offers hope to those who suffer from chronic penile dysfunction. I have an opening for a young talented woman like you. It's fascinating work, you'll meet many interesting people and it's very rewarding. I hope that you aren't prejudiced because 99% of my patients are foreigners. Then please report to the Hong Kong Institute of Sex Therapy at 0800 tomorrow."
"Oh, I'm so happy, Dr. Wu. Of course I want to work for you again. Oh, I almost forgot your order. May I recommend the chicken feet……"
Part 2: Cynthia-Dawn's first day of work at Susan Wu's clinic
Cynthia-Dawn Yang took the elevator to the offices of the Hong Kong Institute of Sex Therapy. Her stomach churned because of the uncertainty associated with this step in her life. There was a certain low-paid stability associated with waiting on tables. It was a big step to take on the responsibilities associated with sex therapy. What if she wasn't any good at this new job? When Cynthia-Dawn reminded herself of her destiny and how her boyfriend and manager had praised her pussy, she resolved that she would make good in her new career. The elevator rang for the 17th floor.
The glass doors of the Institute stated boldly in Reformed Characters, Classic Script and English: The Hong Kong Institute of Sexual Therapy. The receptionist directed her to the office manager. The name on the manager's door stated Yin Su-Ning in Chinese and Constantina Yin in English. The name sounded vaguely familiar but Cynthia-Dawn wasn't much better with Chinese names than she was with foreign faces. In the office manager's office, a dumpy woman with thick glasses motioned to sit down while she finished her telephone call. Cynthia-Dawn looked over the office manager and pondered why some women never took care of themselves. In Cynthia-Dawn's opinion, Ms. Yin urgently needed cosmetic surgery on her eyelids. Even her glasses couldn't hide how narrow her eyes were. Probably laser surgery could help her ditch those nerdy glasses. Cynthia-Dawn would also suggest working out and shedding a few pounds.
The only asset of Constantina Yin that Cynthia-Dawn envied was her big chest. She thought, "Wow, I've only seen tits like that on foreign women." To console herself that she didn't measure up to Constantina, Cynthia-Dawn smugly reasoned that big tits accompanied a big cunt. After all, hadn't the Chinese girls at Our Lady of the New Territories convent school taunted the white girls that "white ain't tight." No, Cynthia-Dawn's tight Chinese pussy was the reason why she was headed for a brilliant career as a therapist and Ms. Yin's pussy would keep her stuck in management.
Cynthia-Dawn's mind turned towards what kind of hair and cosmetic makeover would suit Ms. Yin when she finally realised exactly who Constantina Yin was. She was Tina Yin, Cynthia-Dawn Yang's replacement, still working as mere clerical staff to Dr. Wu. Tina Yin finished her telephone conversation and addressed Cynthia-Dawn in a pleasant and cultured voice: