Unwanted Attention Part 1 The Accident
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An Unwanted AliasChapter 9 free porn video
I'd been Wendy's roommate for over a full year now. We'd discussed just about every topic under the sun. However, the lone area we hadn't really touched on in great detail – the one subject that Wendy didn't relish addressing – was her association with the triad prior to our meeting. She had certainly spoken of it in passing on many an occasion, but never at length. I got the sense that she didn't care to dwell on that part of her life, so I never pressed the matter.
One evening in March, roughly two months after our memorable day trip, we were hanging out together, engaged in one of our late-night talks. I guess the stars aligned just right that night, because Wendy decided to open up and bare her soul, starting with the tale of the wayward boyfriend who'd led her down a path that would profoundly affect her life.
"I was nineteen years old when I met him," she began, "and I was very innocent then. He was handsome, and he gave me nice things, and he was good to me. Most of the time."
I raised my eyebrow slightly. "Most of the time?"
"He ... he had a temper," she stammered. "Not often, but a few times." She hesitated, not needing to elaborate any further. "But the life was very exciting. My mother and my brother, my friends too ... they told me to stay away from him. But you know me. I am stubborn." A wry expression emanated from her eyes, inducing me to crack a tight-lipped half-smile.
"He was my first," she went on, "and actually, my only one." Again, I knew exactly what she was alluding to, and I was astonished that she'd opened up to that degree. I gave her a slight nod, informing her that I got her drift.
"And then ... it happened. He was gone." Her tone became morose; it was evident that the violent murder of her first love was something that affected her deeply, even now. "After that, the people from the triad, they bothered me all the time. 'Go to the United States, ' they told me. 'Learn massage. You will make good money, and you can send money to your family.' Again, I was very innocent. I believed them."
"How did you learn massage techniques?" I wanted to know.
"They taught us here in China. After I finished with the instruction, they brought me and some other women to the United States. None of us had papers. They brought us in through Mexico ... illegally. It was a terrible trip, harder than you can imagine. When we started working, we learned that they lied about our pay. They gave us cell phones, and I could call my mother and my friends here in China as often as I liked. But in every other way, we were poor. We had money for food and some clothes, nothing else. And we couldn't go anywhere."
"You lived in that small parlor?" I asked softly, seeking confirmation of something that I knew was true but couldn't quite believe.
"I lived there. Four or five of us slept in one room. We were only allowed to buy food in the nearby supermarket. There was a room in the back that had an oven, a microwave, a washer. We had to put our clothes outside to dry." When she said that, I nodded; I'd often noticed clothes drying out back. That was the one telltale sign that the women were essentially confined to the suite.
"My co-worker said that they moved you – all the women – around, from parlor to parlor."
"That is true," she acknowledged. "In two years, I worked at eight different places. They wanted to move me often, because of the man that Sandra told you about."
"Your admirer," I said with a quick smile, but then I grew serious. "Did he bother you?"
"I wasn't afraid of him," she replied, "but he would not leave me alone. The triad got tired of that, and wanted to keep me away from him."
"Did any of the other customers ever bother you?"
"We had rules to follow, and the customers knew about them. Our bosses taught us a few English words that we might hear from the customers. One thing they warned us about was 'happy ending.' If a customer asked for that, we told them 'No.'"
"Hmm ... did any customers ever ask for that?"
"It happened many times. I always said 'No, ' and they didn't ask again. Except for one time ... there was one man who wouldn't stop asking. I told Manny, and Manny made him leave. That was the only time I felt a little bit scared."
A brief silence ensued, before Wendy resumed her tale. "I heard of two girls who were caught doing 'happy ending.' They were sent back to China. The triad was very strict about that. It's against the law in the United States, and they didn't want the police bothering them."
"I can see why," I commented, a little disturbed by this firsthand account of what Wendy's life had been like. Before I really thought about it, a question had emerged from my mouth.
"Is your life better now?"
A vague smile came across her face. "It is better. Much better." I got the impression that she was about to throw an analogous question my way, but she bit it back. She grew reflective for a moment, and then came up with an alternative query.
"Tell me about your wife."
This, to me, was very touchy ground. Erin had always been the one topic that I didn't care to dwell on. Wendy opened up to me tonight, I reminded myself. Fair is fair.
So, I took it upon myself to pour my heart out to this platonic live-in companion of mine, who right now was my closest friend on the planet. She'd heard bits and pieces of this tale before, but this time, I laid it out for her. I told her about how Erin and I had met, about our wedding, about our twelve years of marriage. I told her about our period of financial difficulty, and even the smaller details, such as our mutual interest in bicycling.
This caused a soft smile to cross Wendy's face. "When I was a girl, I used to enjoy riding a bicycle. I wish we could do it now. But the triad will never allow us to have bicycles."
"No, they won't," I laughed, remembering Choi's 'no other mode of transportation but your own two feet' directive.
Wendy grew serious. "You don't have children," she said softly. Wow, she was hitting all the delicate areas tonight. But she wasn't probing, nor was she being nosy. It wasn't in her nature. She was merely trying to get me to open up, knowing how beneficial it would be for me.
"We couldn't have children," I said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I can't create children." And I described, in bold detail, how the doctor had informed me about my low sperm count.
"Was Erin ... disappointed?" asked Wendy, appearing nonplussed.
I sighed, running my hands across my head. "We talked about it many, many times through the years. She assured me, over and over, that she loved me no matter what. At the same time, I know how much she wanted children. So did I! I can't help but wonder if, somewhere in the back of her mind, she holds a little bit of disappointment."
Wendy reserved judgment on that point, maintaining her silence. I had a question for her.
Liesl
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Unwanted Attention Part 2 The Dangers of Jumping
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Unwanted Part 10
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