Best of Asian Erotica, Volume 2

Soft undulations of mountains and valleys he caresses with his bare hands every day. His eyes are not as privileged as his hands-though you can argue such is his privilege. More importantly, however, is his gift of subtlety. He is quite used to women who are liars-when asked if they are comfortable, they say, ‘Oh yes, perfectly’, with their arms and legs pressed tightly on the side as though they were fitting into a tube. He would then cover them over with a piece of silk and let the slippery flow of the fabric persuade them to be just as airy and slacken their rigid pose. Soft feather works beautifully, too, for the more glamorous sort who are not ticklish and enjoy the voluptuous teasing.

He communicates mainly by touching. While his fingers massage, he listens to the skin as it contracts … softens … relaxes … opens … widens

… quivers … twitches … jerks … and he responds to them appropriately, as attentive lover- devotees do. The shyest and most rigid in turn relinquish their defensive armor: unhook their bras, wiggle down their panties, untie their hair knot. Not surprisingly, they feel liberated in consequence.

Lying naked on the futon, his blindness emboldens them temporarily before they re-emerge in the outside world fully clothed and prim. Women such as these are usually his regular customers.

Desire is a thing disguised in various forms. He delights greatly in the hunt. Usually this means he needs to probe in so many ways under equally many pretexts. It is the fact that he sees with his hands that he would go beyond the border-climbing up on the mounds, delving deep into the folds-and is excused for it. He is not worried about trespassing. His main concern is the period of time he’s allowed within.

The moment he trespasses, every gesture and movement is critical. His touch needs to feign innocence (for how could he be excused otherwise?), but yet be calculated to catch it unguarded. He strives to stay, to linger, and to score. The ‘game of hide-and-seek’, he likes to call it.

A sharp intake of breath followed by a sigh, a groan-he wills and coaxes desire out of its cave. Behold the beautiful beast being exposed, reacting like a gnarling tigress, a strutting peacock, a bewildered dove, a hissing snake, a fiery lioness …

To each, he bestows a distinctive name wherein his victory is marked.

He selects these names with utmost care, for they represent that one moment of release and potential, never to be repeated. He is a proud keeper of these names-their ultimate sole guardian.

Little do the ladies of Jakarta’s most elite class know that the blind masseur they frequent regularly in one of Kemang’s exclusive spas (known and open to selected members only) is a father of three children and a respected member of his village near Malang-a man known for his quiet, elegant demure, eloquence and not insignificant contribution to the local projects (irrigation, mosques, schools) in the village and neighbouring regions.

Scene 4: Possession

Sometimes I really ask too much of you. I want to breathe you, I want to smile you, I want to linger you. It’s the sweetness of love that I lick and suck till the juices run dry. (They never do run dry, and I don’t ever get enough of you). You must be exhausted by me. I’m sorry for that.

I’m all yours completely and entirely-I like to say it though I don’t know what that means. I like the sound of it. I like the idea of it. I like the idea of you. And me. Being us.

Some days, I feel you are not quite with me and that’s when I scramble around fidgeting; what other things could you possibly have outside of me?

Outside of us-don’t really know what ‘us’ means, though I like to stress it.

There’s only us and more of us to come. It’s an ancient thing, I know you would say, but so profound, isn’t it-you and me becoming us?

I know I’m idiotic, but I really can’t stand the idea of you not thinking of me, or not having me in your thoughts. How should that be allowed? I’m all yours completely and so are you mine. Just as we are one when we make love (how you embrace and grip me inside you!), why should it be any different when we are not in bed?

I don’t like, I hate, how you lean towards a person as though at any time he can swoon you helplessly away. Don’t you see my panic, my doom? I’m frantic; I know you will say that. I know half the things you will say-don’t you see how well I know you? I am you, I am you, I am you. Now you roll your eyes and look away, and I sigh deeply for I have lost you again.

‘Let’s go to Puncak?’ No.

‘Bandung?’ No.

‘Bali, Lombok, Medan?’ No, No, No.

‘Let’s get married?’ (Two scenarios. One: you bulge your eyes at me and walk away, I run after you, pretend I haven’t said anything. Two: you laugh and say ‘Sure’, I quickly get on my knees, kneel and kiss you all over.) Only instead: ‘Let’s catch a movie at Plaza Indonesia?’ and you let me grab your hand and lead you along.

Tomorrow, surely, you will be more mine than today.

Scene 5: The Sea