The next morning at breakfast I was issued a new timetable. I studied it to find the changes. Several of my evening study periods had been changed to remedial Mandarin. Remedial classes? After a couple of weeks? Or, could it be, David owed me a night out... but this was several in a week, and rather early in the evening to be considered a night out. I'd ask him, as soon as I saw him in class. It would give me something to focus on other than, well, other than what had actually happened last "lesson" and the complex feelings which resulted.
So, I burst through the door to the Mandarin classroom ready to say "You owe me a night out. Is home by nine a night out for you?" but when I got inside I saw David was on the phone, and he motioned to me to sit down. So I sat, watching David lounge on his desk as usual, a fag in one hand and his phone in another, speaking in a language of which I couldn't pick up a single word. David seemed in no rush to end his conversation, but eventually he did so, sighed and stubbed out the last of his cigarette.
"What language was that?" I asked.
"Japanese."
"You speak Japanese?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"I-- I just didn't know that." I knew the proximity of the countries, but I had rather thought that there was some animosity between the two cultures and didn't think it was common to speak both. Oh, the crazy things I wished I could look up on Google!
"Heh. You not God, only I am."
"And, you know, the
actual
God." David just chuckled at this. I decided to continue the conversation how I'd planned on starting it.
"You owe me a night out!"
"I remember, you won our bet." His eyes twinkled and he gave me a rather impish grin which took the confidence out of my sales.
"Is that what-- you see-- on my timetable-- I mean--"
"Oh no, that's not the night out. Is that what you consider a night out? In my world, if you're home in time for breakfast you're home early."
"That's what I meant! But are we really doing remedial Mandarin classes?"
"No, massage class. You tried to give me one yesterday and you sucked." Ouch. "You will do massage classes later on, but you might benefit from a little one-on-one tuition before then."
"Oh, I see." I had a feeling the one-on-one might be more of a reason for the classes than me just being rubbish at massage, and that feeling came along with butterflies in my stomach. Nope, not going there again. I forced my mind away from that by getting back to the issue at hand.
"So... night out?"
"Someone's eager." Hopefully, my intentions weren't too obvious; a night out could be a great opportunity and I didn't want him to back out of it.
"Wouldn't you be?" I said with a shrug.
"Aye, but you're not ready yet." What did
that
mean? "Besides," he continued before I could ask, "I'm leaving the country tomorrow."
"Going where? Oh, Japan?"
"Yes." That would explain the phone conversation in Japanese.
"Oh. I've always wanted to go to Japan. I suppose, if the academy has its way I'll never go now..." Well
that
was a depressing thought.
"I wouldn't say never. Anything could happen. You might sweet-talk some rich motherfucker to take you there sometime."
"Uh-- would
you
be that rich motherfucker?" The words were out of my mouth before I thought the question through and I felt the heat beginning to rise to my face. If he noticed that, he didn't comment on it.
"Well, not this time. Why? You want
me
to bring you?" He gave me a cheeky grin.
"Um, just, you know... Japan." I said, trying not to sound like a girl with a major crush on her teacher. Because, you know, I totally did
not.
And
not this time
implied there might be a possible future time when he would consider taking me.
"Aye, of course. I'll be there for work, so not too much time for pleasure, but I plan on eating my body weight in sushi while I'm there. A chance for some decent udon too. But I'll be six days in Japan. Then South Korea for a lunch meeting, then Vietnam for a week." What business took him overseas? I was about to ask when I decided I'd rather not-- his father kidnapped young women and sold them as sex slaves. It didn't take too much imagination to dream up half-a-dozen reasons for his travel, each worse than the last. But I did wonder how complicit he was in his father's dealings. Nope, didn't want to think about that either. I needed to nudge him about taking me to Japan one time in the future. Not because I wanted to go off on holiday but because I needed to understand more about how David saw me. If spiriting me away off overseas was really something he'd consider doing, then he really could be my chance out of here.
"So... Vietnam... you going to see that young lady you like?" Is what I said instead. There was an unintended note of jealousy to my voice and I felt my cheeks grow a little warmer.
"Who? Oh, the really cute but crazy one?"
"Yeah, you showed me her picture in our first lesson. She said to look her up next time you were there."
"Sadly, no, no time for that this trip." He
did
look rather sad too, which wasn't helping with the unwanted pangs of jealousy I was experiencing. "Maybe next time." He gave me a rather sly smile. Was he teasing me?
"Maybe next time you take me to Japan?" I prompted. His phone buzzed and after a quick glance at it, he began typing away.
"Maybe when I don't have someone else thinking they can order me around," he said, still typing. He sounded rather disgruntled. "So, class," he said, putting his phone back down. I wasn't ready to end the topic yet. Someone ordering him around... had his father ordered him overseas? And had his father only just informed him he was going? That would explain why he'd altered my timetable, he would have waited to alter it after he came back if he'd known, surely.
"Wait, you're gone a fortnight, a little longer? What happens to me while you're gone?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Well, what do I do?"
"Love, you've got fingers, no? You'll have to do your own orgasms for a bit, or get someone else to--"
"OI!" I shouted. My cheeks were sure burning now. "You know what I meant! Class-- lessons, like is there a substitute or... you know!"
"Oh!" David chuckled. "I'll tell the headmaster to figure something out, that
is
his job. And our evening classes will just have to go on hold until my return, though I can do tonight; I don't leave until tomorrow evening."
Here David moved on to the lesson, and I failed to turn him back to the subject of the night out. Maybe I'd have a chance this evening, or maybe it would be better to wait until his return as it wasn't going to happen before he left from the sounds of things. This meant I had at least another two weeks in this place, provided I didn't find an escape option in his absence, which was doubtful.
The rest of the day continued as normally as a day in this place could. After tea, instead of going to the study hall, I headed to the room marked on my timetable for "remedial Mandarin." Odd that he didn't put massage on the calendar. Could it be his father wouldn't approve of that? Little fizzy feelings fluttered around my chest at that thought. If he was hiding his relationship, or whatever to call this, with me from his father, that could only be a good thing.
The door to the room was closed, and there wasn't a window to see in. Should I knock? I decided not, and opened the door.
The room was smaller than a classroom. It smelt clean in a clinical way. There were two beds, not regular beds, I assumed they were massage beds. One wall was lined with cupboards, there was a sink set in a long bench on another wall, a small table and a shower in the corner. There were no windows, and the lighting above was quite harsh. It reminded me more of a dentist's than what I'd expect from a massage or beauty parlor, though the shower seemed out of place. David was waiting for me, lent up against the bench next to the sink, backpack on the floor beside him and he looked up from his phone as I entered.
"You're here! I want to try something out!" he had a kind of nervous but excited energy to him-- just what, exactly, did he have in mind? He put his phone down on the bench and quickly undid his shirt buttons and pulled his shirt off before lying on his front on one of the beds. Could he see his phone from that position? I thought not.
"There's a bottle of oil on the bench," David said, "bring that over." Taking my eyes off the phone I saw the oil sitting behind it at the back. I had to think quickly. As I walked to the bench, I thought about my options. I could call emergency services without unlocking the phone. Surely they could pinpoint my location using technology? But there was the risk of David hearing the operator on the other end, even if the phone wasn't on speaker. The room was small and quiet. If David was not my ally then getting caught trying to contact the police could be very bad for me. Though, if he was my ally, it might still cause me to lose his trust and any future help. But, it was a chance of rescue.
I hadn't come to my decision by the time my hand was already reaching for the oil. I paused, hand hovering over his phone. It beeped. The screen lit up and the phone vibrated briefly on the counter. I jumped out of my skin. It was an alarm! I'd been caught! No, how could it be?
"Can you see who that was from?" David asked. Looking at the screen I could see a name and the first line of a message in what looked to be Vietnamese.
"Linh," I read the name out to him.
"Đụ má... Bring it over too." Well, decision made. I grabbed the phone and the small bottle of oil and brought them both over. He lifted himself up on his elbows, took his phone and brought up the message. It was long and I could almost feel the annoyance radiating off him as he read it.
"Something wrong?" I ventured.
"No." He sent a short one-sentence reply. Instantly three little dots showed up to indicate Linh, whoever that was, was typing. A while later another paragraph appeared. "Cái lồn đụ má..." David muttered before sending a one-word reply, putting his phone on mute and stuffing it into his pocket. "So, massage", He said. "That oil is... somewhat of an experiment. It's meant to enhance sensations... thought we'd give it a go."
I followed his directions and rubbed a small amount on my hands.
"It feels... tingly," I said.
"Sure, start gently rubbing it onto my upper back. Start in the centre and smooth it outwards." But as soon as I touched his back it felt weird. First like I was putting too much pressure on him, or more like his back was pressing up against me. Then my hands started to feel bombarded by sensation.
"Holy fucking shit that's weird!" David said with a bit of a yelp.
"Told you--ohhh! It's getting worse.
