I asked Caroline for examples of violence or criminality that she had experienced in her profession. She replied that she had had an unpleasant encounter with a Japanese who insisted on having sex without a condom.
“Oh no,” Caroline said, whereupon the Japanese threatened to violate her willy-nilly, claiming that he was a gangster in order to make her more inclined to submit. Caroline exited the cubicle fast and sought the help of the receptionist. The Japanese followed her and banged his fist on the reception desk, which the two women were soon cowering behind. Eventually, they called hotel security and the man was escorted out, still threatening all and sundry with the wrath of the mafia.
Another Japanese subsequently informed Caroline that no respectable Japanese gangster would ever admit to being a gangster-at least not in such a vulgar manner. He knew this because, he modestly conceded, he was a bona fide gangster himself. His penis contained three or four hard little lumps of jade, or some such semi-precious material, inserted to give greater pleasure to the fortunate women that he deigned to copulate with. Apparently, they were also an indication of rank, so a super-gangster would be permitted up to ten. I expressed some incredulity at all this, but Caroline said that she could feel the little lumps both with her fingers and her vagina.
Caroline herself had a medium-sized tattoo, a butterfly, her trade-mark, strategically located around the upper area of her protuberant little rump. The butterfly’s abdomen thus fused with her rear cleavage and its wings spread a good six centimetres on either side. This decoration was presented as an aesthetic bonus to her customer’s gaze if he were approaching its owner from behind. I found this feature engaging; as, indeed, I found much of Caroline.
The greatest reward that Caroline had ever enjoyed came not from a member of the mafia, but from a young, indecently rich pawn-shop owner. I thought at first she was referring to a pornographer and wondered where in Singapore such an enterprise could make its owner a fortune. But this client obtained his money more ruthlessly than by peddling pictures-extracting money from the impoverished or the desperate or the improvidential by charging usurious interest, illustrating that greed is more harmful than lust.
Certainly, he had money to throw around as he gave Caroline thirteen hundred American dollars for one session. I asked Caroline if this was generosity or a form of sexual exhibitionism. She did not understand my question, but described her reaction — which was mostly alarm. She feared she might be accused of theft if such a large sum were found on her. To allay her panic or conscience, she treated all the women in the centre to a meal and gave them a share of what was left-including even the rapacious lady at the reception desk.
I myself considered the pawn-shop owner’s generosity a form of sexual showing-off. I liked to reward the massage women with tips over and above their usual fees for their specials, however. I warmed to them and their vulnerability and, if they were not greedy or pushy, which was only rarely the case, showed my appreciation of their moderation and pleasantness with some generosity.
Of course, the purchase of sex carries an inherent stimulus in itself, an addition to the idea of possession. The pawn-shop owner was doubtless indulging himself in an expression of power. He could take what he wanted and give what he wanted and enslave Caroline to his will-or so he thought.
For he subsequently offered her ten thousand American dollars to find him a virgin for his personal use. He told her how he had once purchased a maiden by putting up her entire family, mother and father included, in an expensive hotel, paying for the finest meals they could eat. The virgin was duly bedded, deflowered and returned to her family. The parents received their thousands of dollars for the single night.
Even pragmatic Caroline was shocked at this heartlessness. But wealth is power and money can make much acceptable. Doubtless, it was quite rational of the family, if poverty-stricken, to gain at least some security for the future in this time-honoured style of pandering to the sexual whims of the stinking rich. Caroline did not report this individual as cruel or repulsive, just ruthlessly opportunistic-and generous with it. Still, she made no attempt to oblige him with a second treat.
Fairly soon after I met her, Caroline moved to Malacca, initially to a centre, though she intended to leave this form of her trade and earn her living by acquiring and keeping a circle of a few favoured clients. She planned to set herself up as a small independent business, offering massage and sex in small hotels or on holiday weekends elsewhere.
I soon lost touch with Caroline as I had not visited her that often and, although warm and generous by nature, she was not sentimental about her commercial arrangements. Experience had taught her that kindness and consideration were productive and helped her in her profession, as in many services, but that feelings other than friendship were best avoided in the twilight world.
Two Men and a Plan
We are not the products of our circumstances, but we are surely the sum of all the stupid choices that our parents have inflicted on us.” Shun told me this when he took me to my first client.
“And there is nothing we can do to undo this damage — not you, not me,” he added emphatically.
Shun liked to spout pop-psychology babble like this, off the top of his head, given any opportunity. He spoke freely, without any fear of consequences, and he was not afraid of offending anyone. Least of all me.
How he derived all these sage-sounding maxims that he liked to toss around so much was well beyond me. But he did tell me once that he enjoyed reading the works of writers like Douglas Coupland and Chuck Palahniuk because, according to him, they tell truths — “dark sickening truths of our depraved times” — that other writers are incapable or unwilling to write about.
How true that was, I did not know. I hated to read. Beyond the textbooks and all the assigned reading materials given out by my lecturers and tutors each week, I barely had time for other forms of reading, nor did I read for leisure.
I considered it a waste of time. I had better things to do.
“And treat this client well, you hear? Big fish like him are hard to find, especially since he’s paying top dollar for a virgin like you,” Shun said in jest, throwing a snickering look in my direction.
“Fuck you,” I replied caustically.
“I don’t think so tonight, my dear. He-” Shun emphasised the word, while pointing to the hotel door in front of us, “will be fucking you tonight.
And do everything he says. He says fuck, you fuck. He says suck, you suck.
He wants to rim you, by all means, spread your legs wider and let him rim.
Don’t say no, don’t ever, or we’ll lose him. Remember, it’s easier to retain an existing client than scout for ten new ones.” Shun grinned at me and gestured for me to knock on the door.
I hated him when he spun out this kind of tough talk, like I was the novice and he was the professional. As if this was my first time fucking or sucking or rimming. Fucker. But on a deeper level, I knew that I did not want to disappoint him nor be angry with him for long. I hated this mixed feeling, this anger combined with an eagerness to please him and do what he said. I hated to admit it because I knew exactly why I reacted in this way. Because I knew that I had grown to like Shun a lot. Damn it, damn me.
“I’ll pick you up when you’re done, or when he’s done with you. Give me a call later,” Shun said, flashing me his killer smile and nudging me again to knock on the door.