Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 2

This was cold beauty in its purest, coldest form. I finally started thinking of them as just lovely works of art brought in to jack up the Chateau’s property values. Actually embracing one, I thought, would be like fondling a priceless statue or scratching on a painting in some museum.

Fortunately, this permafrost demeanour was only common among the sleek, polished women of my own class, mainly Chinese Singaporeans like myself. There was one group of attractive young women at the Chateau who were anything but cold; in fact, these ladies grew warmer and warmer after a few casual meetings and then regularly greeted me with a giggly friendliness.

And in contrast to the cold, stiff beauty of the career women, these girls exuded an earthy sensuality that filled the air when you passed by them. I’m talking here about the maids.

Not only did the maids always return my greetings, before long they would initiate them, even move into casual conversation when the situation allowed. Which usually meant when their employers were not around. With the employers there, they’d revert to shy, conspiratorial smiles.

And I have to admit, I found many of these maids cute, some of them very cute. More importantly, for my tastes anyway, they were alluring in a thoroughly unpretentious way. Unlike the Chateau’s career ladies, these

“domestic workers” were not shrewdly wrapped in the latest expensive fashions with a heavy measure of makeup fine-tuning their features. These maids were more down-to-earth-more real, to put it plainly. No makeup I could detect. And their standard uniform consisted of short pants which only made their way down the top third of their thighs topped by tight tee-shirts or breezy blouses. Simple, straight to the point. Which, in my view, made these ladies much more sensual and alluring than the pampered lovelies of my class and race. If the latter were cold works of art, the maids were rich folk art made flesh.

I always exchanged greetings with the various maids I ran across, and there were a lot to run across in my complex. I sometimes got the impression I might be the only one without one. At the beginning, I convinced myself that my socializing with the maids was a byproduct of my liberal education: I wasn’t going to treat them as mere servants or act like they were invisible because they weren’t off in active pursuit of the five Cs.

But after awhile, I realised that it was not just my democratic instincts at work. I was actually pretty interested, sexually, in some of them. Just seeing them approach, I started to get horny. And finally, I had to admit to myself what should have been obvious: some of the appeal sprang from the fact that several reminded me very much of Hasniya. In about the second month at my new home, I started to imagine the unthinkable: having a little sexual dalliance with some of the maids. Okay, I imagined it a lot; I spun it in my head several times a day.

Actually, it was one maid in particular that sparked my fantasies-Liana.

Liana, what a great name, a sweet blend of Mediterranean mellow and sultry Sulawesi swing. She had-and you’ll soon learn that I had sufficient opportunity to observe-these lovely dark eyes, accentuated by thick, sensual brows. Her lips were full, dreamy, moist, with a pronounced tendency to spill into a smile. Her breasts were … well, I’ll get to that part later. Suffice it to say she had a fucktastic compact figure that cried out for closer inspection.

Except that there was, of course, no chance to carry out this inspection anywhere in the common areas of our condo complex.

And this wasn’t just a one-sided infatuation either. Liana had, right from the start, been the most forward of all the maids. She obviously had her eye on me. “I never see you with your wife, Sir. Does she spending all her time with the children? Or is it her job?” I told her I wasn’t married. Her smile seemed to brighten up about 100 watts when she heard that. “Oh. Well then, Sir must have many girlfriends then. So handsome, and with that beautiful car.” So, she’d noticed my wheels. Good, that’s what they were there for, right? And while handsome might be stretching it a few categories, I am sort of cute … in a subtle way.

“Well, no steady girlfriend at the moment. I’m sort of keeping my options open.” This phrase seemed to puzzle her, so I swung back to straightforward.

“No, I don’t have any regular girlfriend at the moment. Still looking for the right lady.” Again, that smile lit up like a fireworks display.