Unwanted Attention Part 1 The Accident
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An Unwanted AliasEpilogue free porn video
Hong Kong
Five years later
The thick, silvery-white clouds overhead seemed on the verge of giving rise to a rain shower, but I paid them no mind as I rode contentedly through a park that was an oasis of calm and quiet in this bustling, densely populated city. It was around four in the afternoon, and school was out for the day. I was enjoying one of the true luxuries of living in close proximity to my place of employment: the ability to commute by bicycle. More often than not, that's what I do these days. I throw all of my things in a backpack, and off I go. It's a trip of about one kilometer, and it takes more than a little bad weather to break me out of that routine.
It wasn't long before my route took me out of the bucolic park and into a narrow urban side street, accompanied by a number of other pedestrians, plus a fellow bicyclist or two. As I approached the vicinity of our flat, I partook in yet another daily routine of mine. The front door of the restaurant, red with decorative gold-hued trim, beckoned. I dismounted from my bike and stored it in a small nearby enclosure I'd had installed for just this purpose. Turning toward the restaurant entrance, I seized the door handle, lined with golden-colored brass, and stepped inside. As was usually the case at this in-between hour, the dining room was almost empty. It wouldn't be long before things began to pick up in a big way. My heart lifted as I spotted my lovely wife, elegantly attired in a black dress and matching high heels. She was chatting animatedly with a group of early diners, three women who were regular customers. I couldn't help but smile inwardly. The formerly reserved Wendy, freed from the controlled existence she'd tolerated for so long, had blossomed into a vivacious people-person over the years. I occasionally took delight in watching her surreptitiously as she flitted from table to table, chatting effortlessly with diners in both English and Mandarin, clearly in her element.
I stole up behind her quietly, brushed her long hair aside before she knew it, and planted a kiss on the back of her neck. "Ooooh," the three women at the table cooed in approval, as Wendy smiled and blushed fiercely.
"Are you hungry, darling?" my wife asked me. "Why don't you go back to the kitchen and get a head start? I'll be back there in a minute. Pham just made a batch of that signature soup of his." Pham was one of the chefs we'd hired. He was from Vietnam, had graduated from a prestigious cooking school, and his signature soup – a much more locally authentic version of the hot and sour soup they serve in American Chinese restaurants – was worth dropping everything for.
I grinned and rubbed my abdomen in response. The three ladies giggled once again at my lowbrow display of exaggerated gluttony. I left the women to continue their little gabfest, and parted a pair of red curtains which led back to the kitchen.
I made a beeline for a particular pot which held the liquid ambrosia that my stomach longed for. Pham was standing nearby, and he laughed at my eagerness. "Is very good," he said in broken English. "My best work."
Taking note of the fact that he was busy chopping onions and peppers, I asked him, "Is it okay if I help myself?" He nodded enthusiastically, and I used a metallic ladle to transfer a liberal quantity of the soup into a bowl. I carried the bowl over to a small round table in one corner of the kitchen, where Wendy and I shared a late-afternoon meal together every single weekday. As I waited for her to come back and join me, I began to slurp at the spicy soup – delicious as always – and reflected for a moment on the events that had brought me to this point in life.
Six months after my marriage proposal, Wendy and I were wedded in a two-part ceremony that was both traditional and modern. The civil portion was very similar to what we'd experienced back when I was impersonating Roger Benson, but with infinitely more meaning. For obvious reasons, we chose a different locale for this part of the proceedings. Then, later in the same day, came the celebratory part. We had a festive ceremony at the luxurious residence of Wendy's supervisor. The guest list was of modest size, consisting mostly of Wendy's friends and co-workers, along with some of my colleagues and acquaintances from the school. Also present were a few of my friends at the consulate; Rick Yeung showed up to wish us much happiness. Sandra and Michael served as witnesses, and we made sure that Wendy's mother was given a prominent role in the day's events.
In the weeks leading up to the wedding, Wendy lamented the fact that I would have no family members in attendance. With her blessing, I reached out to Erin's mother and father, even offering to pay their travel expenses if they wanted to attend. Although they wished us all the happiness in the world, they respectfully declined the offer. "That's very generous of you, Jake," said Erin's dad, before explaining that it was simply too generous and that they couldn't accept it. I, of course, realized how bittersweet of an experience it would have been for them, fraught with sad memories, and I understood. I didn't push the issue.
In return for the support they'd given me in the past, I made a similar offer to Odalys and Jose, telling them I'd spring for two round-trip tickets to China if they wanted to attend the wedding. "You asked me to invite you, remember?" I told Odalys over the phone. They accepted the invite gratefully, and served as my representatives from the States. After the wedding, they stayed in China for a week, doing some traveling and sightseeing.
On a whim, we also extended an invitation to Steve Robertson, my old buddy from the insurance office. He surprised us by actually showing up. Like Odalys and Jose, Steve decided to make a short vacation out of it. After watching us get hitched, he headed straight for Chengdu, and spent a few days sampling the nightlife. He told me later about a few of the underground establishments he'd visited, obviously having done some research beforehand. When I ran the names of the businesses past Wendy, she just rolled her eyes and giggled.
"You call those places 'titty bars, '" she explained. "Everyone knows that most of the girls who work there are very willing to provide ... extra services."
I just shook my head and laughed. "Same old Steve," I cracked.
My new bride and I took off for our own vacation following the ceremony, sampling wedded bliss for the first time. Thanks to the proceeds from the sale of the house in Florida, I was able to splurge on our honeymoon. We spent a week in Seychelles, spending a few hours each day exploring that tropical Indian Ocean paradise; but the greater allotment of our time was spent in our own private rented bungalow.
Upon our return, we finally moved in together, putting down roots in a small but comfortable house that was roughly equidistant from our respective places of employment. Many newlyweds – at least those who wait until after marriage to live together – have difficulty adjusting to each other. Not so for Wendy and me; we'd already spent an appreciable amount of time as roommates, albeit platonic ones.
By the time our second anniversary rolled around, Wendy was awarded her business degree. Her employer rewarded her with a promotion into a management position.
Michael and Sandra, meanwhile, did in fact begin to date each other. However, their transition from 'just dating' to 'relationship' proceeded at a pace that could only be described as glacial. Wendy and I found their situation highly amusing; although we were very happy for them, we often joked about whether they'd get together before the next ice age set in. But they did, eventually, grow closer. Around the time Wendy was finishing up her university experience, Michael and Sandra traveled back to the UK together, presumably to touch base with some friends, and rekindle old memories.
When they returned to China, we were floored to learn that they were now husband and wife. While in England, they'd eloped like a couple of teenagers. "We decided to do it this way," explained Michael, "since neither one of us likes being the center of attention. Large, extravagant ceremonies just aren't our thing." I'll allow that both Wendy and me were a little disappointed that we couldn't be present at their wedding, but we understood. We knew them well enough to realize that they needed to do it their way.
It was six months later when a far-reaching development came about, one which would bring about great change in our lives. Michael was offered a promotion of sorts, one that he would have been extremely foolish to turn down. The position was based at the British consulate in Hong Kong, requiring him to spend nine months out of each year in Hong Kong, and the balance in the United Kingdom. This, of course, required him to be based in Hong Kong. Sandra, as a result, decided to retire from her professional life. Both she and Michael had been quite wealthy even before they joined together in matrimony; there was no pressing need for her to continue to work.
Michael and Sandra invited us over to their place one evening to break the news to us. Before we had time to feel sad about their upcoming departure, Michael instantly lifted our spirits with a proposal. His idea centered on Wendy's long-standing dream of owning and operating a restaurant. He suggested that the four of us open a restaurant in Hong Kong, with each couple nominally having fifty percent ownership. Michael and Sandra, of course, were much more able to afford a venture like this than we were. They put up quite a bit more than fifty percent initially; we paid them back over time. They worked with us to choose a location, to arrange for renovation of the facility we'd settled upon, and to staff the restaurant initially. However, it was Wendy and me who oversaw the day-to-day operations once the business was up and running; neither Michael nor Sandra cared to get too involved in that aspect. I focus on the bookkeeping duties – that's more my speed – while Wendy handles the public relations, marketing, and staffing aspects. Every day, she spends a good deal of time in the dining room, greeting and socializing with the diners.
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