Massage

by Bi Feiyu

  ‘Go on home,’ she said.

  And he did. After he left, the other girls teased Xiaoman as usual.

  ‘Get lost,’ she said, looking somewhat weary.

  But he returned the following day at noon. This time he was more violent than before; pressing her shoulders with his hands, he threatened, ‘You can only do it with me.’

  ‘What did you say?’ She wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Suddenly deflated, his hands slid down her arms to find her hands.

  ‘I want you to be nice to me only,’ he said softly, holding her hands.

  Xiaoman froze. She’d had a two-year relationship that had torn her insides to shreds, after which she’d taken up the profession. The relationship had ended when she said, ‘I want you to be nice to me only.’

  ‘Sure,’ her boyfriend had said, curling his lip, a smirk that stuck on his face and revealed to her how unrealistic her wish was. How could her playboy of a boyfriend be nice to her only? She had never expected, not in her lifetime, to hear that same phrase from someone, a client, no less. A client wanted her to be nice to him only.

  ‘No problem,’ she was panting. ‘You’ll have to support me, though.’

  She arched her pelvis as she said this, a superfluous move that got him to respond with his own violent thrusts, creating the extraordinary situation of two bodies moving in precise synchronisation, as if by command. Rhythmically, they formed a perfect match, the remarkable rhythm seeming to be probing the internal potential of both bodies, an irresistible force. Xiaoman began to sense pleasure, an intoxicating feeling that promised an orgasm, an incredible and enchanting yet terrifying sign. Her job was to give men orgasms; she didn’t want one for herself. That hadn’t happened for a very long time. Now she wanted one. That was it. She wanted one. Matching his movements, her body began to rock; she wanted an orgasm. She wanted one. Moving faster and faster, she pushed upwards until she was close, a millimetre away. She was about to hit that damned wall. She knew what would happen if she did – she would disintegrate. ‘Let me die!’ she said to herself savagely. ‘Let me die now.’ She hit the wall, and her body was waiting, waiting to disintegrate. Once a solid crystal object, her body blew apart in a flash of light, shattering not into pieces, but thousands upon thousands of threads, innumerable threads spreading out in her body. All of a sudden, she stretched out her fingers and toes, which had become twenty mysterious channels to which the silken threads swarmed and were pulled out, determined not to return. They vanished as fast as they appeared, forever out of reach. Wrapping her arms around her client, she hugged him tightly. My God. My God. My God. What were you doing, you harlot? Damn it, you made love.

  She could hear herself breathing hard; him too. Their heavy breathing shared the awesome quality of a mare and a stallion snorting loudly as they rested after galloping through mountains and crossing rivers, overcoming hardships and challenges. They were breathing hot, burning air into each other’s face, scented with a smell of green grass and entrails. ‘You really are Xiao Ma, a horse.’

  He grabbed her hair and called out, ‘Sao-zi.’

  In fact the words were caught at his lips before he blurted them out, but the sudden thought made him feel hollow inside. She was not Sao-zi. What about him? Who was he? He was nothing but what was left after the ejaculation. Unaware that tears were filling his eye sockets, he focused his non-existent gaze, through the tears, on the woman in his arms; he was looking at her, eyes glued to her.

  She saw his tears; she did. Lifting a drop with her fingertip, she stretched out her arm to look at it under the light. Like a crystal object, the teardrop gave off brilliant, prism-like refractions. One angled beam was especially long. This was the first time she’d seen something like that on a client’s face; its radiant light lit up her bed. She smiled, pressing her lips into a thin line; she could not see the expression on her face, but her smile was sweet and yet mocking.

  Then something ill-fated occurred. His tear fell upon her breast, near her nipple, on the areola, to be precise. She never knew that a woman’s breast could have such an unusual capability as she heard a sizzle rising from it; like a parched desert it absorbed his tear straight into her heart.

  It can’t be, she said to herself. It just can’t be.

  Before she knew it, she took aim at his lips and, raising her head, she pressed hers squarely onto his, stuck her tongue into his mouth. His surprised tongue didn’t move, for he was at a loss as to what to do next.

  ‘I should head back,’ he said.

  A chilling sensation overtook him as soon as he returned to the tuina centre, as if he were wearing nothing but a thin condom. Xiao Ma was cold.

  At the door to the lounge, he nearly bumped into Du Hong, who grabbed his hands and smiled without saying a word. He stood still, his ears pricked up and extending their detecting power through several turns to listen into every room, looking for Sao-zi. She was working, speaking nicely to her client, though he could not make out what she was saying. An unidentifiable scent, mixed with her body warmth, wafted in his direction; he looked around blankly, feeling empty inside, though the emptiness imbued him with a false sense of grandeur. Certain kinds of emptiness can be unforgettable.

  Du Hong expected him to say something but he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, like a lost soul.

  ‘Did I just bump into you, Xiao Ma?’ Du Hong asked.

  Still nothing from him. Embarrassed, she let go of his hands and walked into the lounge alone.

  He could hear that Sao-zi was finished with her client, who was about to leave. Groping his way over, he brushed shoulders with the departing client before reaching her doorway. Without an overture, he called out, ‘Sao-zi.’ Then, in a pained voice, he said, ‘I’m very sorry.’

  Getting to her feet, Xiao Kong was baffled by his comment, before concluding that it must have been about ‘that matter’. It has to be. It was so long ago, what’s the point of bringing it up again? Xiao Ma, you’re taking it too seriously. Then she realised that he was afraid, worried that she would tell someone. He was suffering from the fear of discovery. But why in the world would she tell Wang Daifu? He hadn’t really done anything to her but act somewhat impulsively. He just liked her a little too much. Xiao Kong bore him no grudge.

  Walking up to him, she placed her left hand on his shoulder and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, Xiao Ma. Hey, it’s all in the past, long forgotten.’ Patting him a couple of times, she said, ‘I didn’t say a word to anyone.’ Then she added, ‘Not even to him.’

  To her great surprise, he wordlessly brushed her hand off his shoulder, then grabbed it and slapped himself with it as hard as he could. Then he walked off. He had put everything he had into that slap, which was incredibly loud, louder than the slaps of foot massage.

  Left behind in the massage room, Xiao Kong was stunned and dazed. What are you doing, Xiao Ma? Was that really necessary? Now she was upset, not just that, but sad, disappointed, and distressed. She felt like crying, but had no time to probe her own reactions; his slap was so loud that everyone at the centre must have heard it. What would she say if someone asked about it? How would she explain it? With no time to spare for her own sorrow, she slapped her palms together and said in a feigned cheerful tone, ‘One slap from you, one slap from me, a kid sits on a plane happily.’ Two more slaps followed, and she continued with her delighted shouts. ‘Two slaps from you, two slaps from me, we fear no wind or rain.’ She walked cheerfully back to the lounge, where Wang Daifu turned to her in surprise and asked with a big smile, ‘What have you been eating? Why are you so happy?’

  Xiao Kong was sizing up Xiao Ma with her ears, but heard nothing from him. Is he gone? He should still be around. She wished she could take him outside, find a secluded spot, and reassure him, ‘Everything’s fine, Xiao Ma. I didn’t say a word to anyone. It’s okay. I was never angry with you. I’m just spoken for, understand?’ He ought to get the picture.

  ‘Three slaps from you, three slaps from me, tonight we’ll both
eat congee,’ she shouted out her response to Wang.

  A week later Xiao Ma showed up at the hair salon again. Having just finished with a client, Xiaoman was tired, depressed and lethargic. She was somewhat distant as she took him to a back room, acting quite cold. They sat down on the edge of a bed, neither saying a word, giving the room a formal feel.

  Tugging at her hair, finally Xiaoman spoke up. ‘You went somewhere else, didn’t you?’

  He didn’t understand what she meant.

  ‘I’m not jealous,’ she added. ‘There’s no need.’

  This time he understood, which helped him with her first question.

  ‘I didn’t,’ he said.

  ‘It’s no concern of mine.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  That was followed by complete silence, a prolonged silence. She ran out of patience. ‘Well, let’s do it.’

  Still seated, he didn’t look ready for anything. He raised his head, faced her and said, ‘I’ve let you down. I’ve deceived you.’

  Now that’s an amusing statement, fascinating. She crossed her arms under her breasts. What’s he saying? What’s this all about? How can anyone let anyone down with what we do? No way! Who could deceive someone at a place like this? Everything is done with a clearly marked price. This was the first time she’d ever heard a client say something so odd, downright incongruous, like attaching a mule’s head to a horse. Irrelevant, incoherent, inappropriate.

  ‘I’ve really let you down,’ he repeated.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You don’t understand?’

  He lost his cool even before she could respond. Pressing his hands down on the edge of the bed, the veins on his hands popping, he said, ‘You don’t understand!’

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said, ‘whether I understand or not, as long as you pay me.’

  He began pulling the fingers on his left hand with his right hand, once, twice, three times.

  ‘I’m not going to give you any more money,’ he said, deadly earnest.

  Xiaoman knew exactly what he was saying, but it had come too abruptly and was too extreme for someone who was used to flirtatious, lewd and teasing language that did not usually represent genuine feelings. The weighty, serious tone had caught her completely off guard. His absence over the past few days, honestly speaking, had worried her a bit, though that was more like a fleeting thought. He came, he left, he came back, he left again, and then he didn’t show. That was what her life was like, wasn’t it? So she didn’t give it much thought. It didn’t matter. Just a minor transaction. The world might be lacking many things, but men are not one of them.

  Yet Xiaoman remained vigilant, conscious of the changes in herself, for she knew that she was at risk, feeling a sense of regret. Fuck, the bastard actually stole my heart. And he got off easy. The old man up there is wrong; he should never have given this line of work to women. Men are the ones who should be doing it, it’s their kind of job. Not women, no way.

  After he finished playing with his fingers, he reached out to find her. She quietly evaded his groping hands, neither playing hard to get nor flirting with him; she simply did not want him to touch her. Self-awareness told her that she would lose everything if he grabbed hold of her, and there would be no end to her troubles.

  She evaded his groping hands, again and again, but he was undaunted, he kept at it. He stood up, looking ridiculously clumsy and cautious. She felt like laughing, but didn’t. He showed such fortitude in his clumsy caution, but it did him no good, since she was the one with eyes. All he could do was stare blankly into meaningless space as he carefully got on with what he had in mind. His hands were right in front of her. She saw everything; his forehead was soon beaded with sweat, as, finally exhausted, he found a wall. Resting his arms on the wall for support, he looked like a giant, blind gecko. But, unwilling to give up, he turned his head from side to side. Wearing a stiff look, he searched with useless eyes. At one moment, their eyes actually met; they were staring right at each other, but he was unaware of it. His gaze passed across her pupils; she slowly closed her eyes, and when she did, a warmth filled the sockets. She walked over quietly, stood behind him and weakly put her arms around him.

  ‘My karmic enemy!’ She tightened her arms and cried out, ‘You’re my karmic enemy.’

  Xiao Ma cocked his head, an endearing smile on his face. He was panting softly. ‘I knew you were still here,’ he said with a little laugh.

  They kissed. This damned karmic enemy is a lousy kisser. But he works hard at it, like gobbling up food. He put everything into it. Xiaoman did not want to make love with him here, not in this room. Yet her body betrayed an astonishing hunger in his arms; she had been hungry for longer than she could remember. Tossing the bedsheets and mattress off to reveal the bare bed boards, she took his wrist and urged, ‘Come in, and make it quick.’

  She was selfish this time; with only self-interest in mind, she focused all her attention and every sensation on herself. There was no thought of caring about the man, nor did she cry out as she moved, not even a simple moan. She pressed her lips together and held her breath. She was spoiling herself, and she found that touching. You have to be nice to me, you son of a bitch.

  They were so focused on their enjoyment that they had turned a deaf ear to the tiny movements in the shop; they were oblivious of the policemen standing by the bed.

  ‘Still going at it? Really? Enough already.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Du Hong

  WHEN RETICENT PEOPLE decide to be cool, they are usually cooler than anyone. That describes Xiao Ma. Without even packing up his things, he simply left, cool and carefree. In private, the centre therapists said he must have been disappointed in the place; otherwise, he wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. Sha Fuming tried phoning a few times, but there was no answer; he must have turned off his phone. He was impossibly cool.

  During a critical period, everything at a place is often so interconnected that one occurrence will lead to another. Shortly after Xiao Ma left, Ji Tinging said she’d be leaving soon, which seemed sudden, but not really when they thought about it. Blind therapists at tuina centres are old hands at moving around, each carefully watching out for their own interest. With the changed situation at the centre, everyone knew that something bad would happen, and it was perfectly normal that someone would want to leave at a moment like that. The only surprise was that the person who led the parade was Ji da-jie.

  She was one of the most senior therapists at the Sha Zongqi tuina centre. Among the first group hired after the centre opened for business, she had been the mainstay of the place ever since. Salary is the criterion for judging whether someone is a mainstay; high pay indicates that a therapist has more clients, and the more clients you have, the greater the benefits you reap. Not surprisingly, the bosses treat those with higher pay differently for two reasons: one, no matter how much a therapist earns, the bosses are still the ones who benefit most, and they suffer the greatest loss if such a therapist leaves. Second, clients can be irrational; they usually ask for the same therapist, and will not return once a familiar therapist leaves.

  Ji da-jie was not the most skilful therapist, though she was at the top among the women. This line of work is highly unpredictable; a therapist’s skill is most important to some clients, but others place greater importance on the person. Ji da-jie was thick-set and unattractive, with a slightly hoarse voice, and yet she was well liked by every client she worked on. Before Wang Daifu came along, she had more return clients than anyone else. Obviously, her personality was the main attraction; she was kind, with an endearing roughness, making her less feminine, and yet this very unfeminine woman was the one the clients preferred. Many clients frequented Sha Zongqing tuina centre specifically because of Ji Tingting.

  Ji da-jie announced her planned departure after lunch. When she finished eating, she placed her spoon in her lunch box, pushed it away, cleared her throat and said loudly, ‘Comrades, friends, ladies an
d gentlemen, I want to call a meeting. Let us welcome Comrade Ji Tingting, who will give an important speech.’

  The mood during lunch had been glum up to that point; her action, coming as a surprise, seemed like a joke but portended something serious. Not knowing what she was about to say, everyone stopped chewing and turned their heads towards her.

  She began: ‘Comrades, friends. As the saying goes, after reaching a certain age, a man must find a wife and a woman needs a husband. Yours truly is not young any more, and I am going back home to get married. Life is beautiful. Why is that? Because it’s not every day that I find someone who wants to marry a woman like me. The young man is a real treasure, and that is wonderful. We have been communicating by phone for over a month, and through our frank but nauseatingly sappy talks we have come to the conclusion that we love each other and can establish a long and amicable partnership. We will eat together and sleep together. In two days we will be paid, and yours truly will leave after that. I hope you will all stay on here, striving diligently to construct a moderately affluent society on a large scale. Let’s have a round of applause, after which the meeting will be adjourned.’

  No one applauded, as they were all caught off guard. She had expected them to clap and to wish her well. Instead, the lounge was plunged into an unexpected silence, unnervingly quiet. Now everyone knew that Ji Tingting was following in Xiao Ma’s footsteps.

  ‘How about a little applause – didn’t you hear me?’

  Finally they clapped, but reluctantly. With neither any rhythm nor sufficient ardour, it was sparse, like the sesame seeds left around the mouth after eating a fried cake.

  That kind of applause could mean only one thing: they believed that Ji Tingting was leaving, but suspected that her wedding was an excuse to keep the bosses from talking her into staying. How could a boss try to talk her around when she was going home to get married?