Chapter 34

Plots and Agendas and my Declaration

Jiks had a successful trip.  Not that he said anything about it, but I saw it in his expression and felt it in his kisses.  That first night I chose not to say anything about leaving for America.  Good thing.  Our time in the bedroom was magic.  The man had a manual.  I swear.  I clung to him all night, one happy woman.

It was the second night I had the talk.  I started by showing him my new passport.

“Jiks, I love you.  But I don’t want to spend my life like this.  I want a husband.  A family.  I haven’t found it in China, so I am going back to America.”

“No you won’t.”

We were in bed.  Lying close.  And yes, I was hot for him.  I’m telling him I’m leaving at the same time I am pulling him over me.  Talk about mixed signals.  He had his own signals.  He went for position twelve.  Used a pillowcase to bind my wrists, then pulled my nightgown down below my breasts.  I love this position.  The man had a fabulous tongue.  I thought my breasts might explode.  I practically melted under him, and then he was in me, rocking my world.  The man I was leaving.  I could barely get two words together, but I tried.

“I want to go.”

“You can’t.”

Right at that moment I could barely breathe, much less leave China.  And, in truth, I didn’t want to leave him.  But, well, he knew what I wanted.

“I want a family, Jiks.”

“You can’t leave China.  The government won’t let you.  They are afraid of what you might say about Yangtse Motors.  Something you did.  They say you sold secrets to Yangtse Motors.  You were paid a million Yuan.  It sits in your account in the Chinese National Bank branch here in Shanghai.”

“I know nothing about any such account.”

“You use it monthly.  You receive deposits from the studio, and you continue to get payments from Yangtse Motors.  I was required to set that up.  It will be used in your trial, if a trial is required.”

“My trial?”

“If you try to leave China.”

I should say he is telling me this while lying on me, and still in me, his arms holding me, his face almost touching mine.  Intimate.  As intimate as two lovers can be.  And he is telling me about a trial.

“Are you done fucking me?”

With my wrists bound and his weight on me, I wasn’t going anywhere.  But it felt like the time to go get a cup of coffee, or maybe a large glass of wine.

“Mary, you will be safe with me.  No arrest.  We will be together.  You will act in the films I give you.  You will be my companion.  We will love each other.  I will not marry you, but I will love you.  I will treat you well, better than most men treat their wives.  You will see that.  You will feel that.  You will be my woman.”

“Get off me.”

“No.”

He kissed me, then played with my hair.  Gentle touches around my face, then slow strokes down the side of my face, then down to my breasts.  Slowly, gently.  He took his time.  He watched my eyes.  He knew what he was doing.  His hands were skilled.  Wow, were they skilled.  I felt my eyes slowly close.  The pleasure was overwhelming.  He waited.  He watched.  His hand kept stroking my hair and my breasts.  I think he would have done that all night.  I was already moaning when he started whispering.

“We will be together, Mary.  You and I.”

I was in no position to argue, but I tried. 

“Prove it.  Marry me.”

“There will be no ceremony, but our love will be real.  People will look at the two of us together and know we are partners in life.”

“Children?”

“No.”

“Please, Jiks.  Give me one child and I will be at your side forever.”

“It would interfere with your career and complicate my life.  There will be no children, but there will be love.”

He kissed me.  Soft, gentle, kind.  I was crying.  He wiped away my tears, then kissed me again.

“Mary, I will be your lover.  I will care for you, protect you, and be your life companion.  I promise you a life of love and success.  I will be faithful to you.”

It sounded true.  It felt true.  I was his.  His to take, his to keep.  His.  I felt his warmth, as I felt his arms, as I felt his kisses.  I accepted him.  My lover.  My partner.  I cried once in the night, but only briefly.  I had a husband.  Mostly.  Somehow.  I pressed close to him that night and the nights that followed.  I would be his woman.  I would stay with him.  I would live in China.

I confirmed that in the morning.  He got out of bed and came back with my new passport and my old one.  He got back into bed and lay on me.

“You will never leave China.”

“I know that.”

“Then you will not need these.  Tear out the pages.”

He freed my wrists, and I tore out one page at a time while looking up into his face.  I was looking to see triumph or satisfaction.  What I saw was certainty.  He had me.  I would do as he wished.  He was certain of it.

With the passports destroyed, he pulled me into the shower.  We washed each other.  Slowly.  Each of us knew where and how to please.  We held each other.  We kissed often.  I felt him harden.  I rose up on my toes and slipped onto him, then wrapped my legs tight around his waist.  He hesitated.  No condom.  Time to pull himself free.  I wrapped my arms around his neck, held myself tight to him and moved my hips.  He did what men do.  Natural.  Automatic.  I kissed him while he climaxed.

China had control of me.  My country had an agenda for me.  Jiks had an agenda for me.  I had my own agenda.  I held my face close, looked him in the eyes, and made my declaration.

“You say you are my partner.  You are my husband.  You will give me a child.  Then another.  And another.  We will be a family.  My future is in China.  Your future is to lead our family.  You will fuck me every day.  You will plant your seed.  Three beautiful children will grow from us.”

I kissed him and stayed tight against him, my legs and arms holding us together.  I was strong.  There was no escaping me.  No escaping my desire.

“I’m too old.”

“You are the perfect age.  You will be a great father.  I promise to be the best mother.”

“The children here are all spoiled.”

“Ours won’t be.”

He didn’t push me off.  Not that day.  There were others.  Not many.  Mornings I wrapped my arms around his neck, held him tight and whispered in his ear as the shower poured water over us.

“I love you so.  I will love your sons.”

He never answered.  Not in words.  Often he pulled himself free of me.  But there were mornings where his hand grabbed my ass and pulled me tight.  He wanted me.  He wanted children.  I loved those mornings.  I wrapped my legs around him tight and held on until every sperm had a chance to make us parents.  I kissed him and told him of my love.  We would be a family.  Of that I was certain.