The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

by Maxim Jakubowski

  Flattered at these remarks, Dr Iron Door nodded his approval. Then it was a sense of delicacy that made him wish to see her first? And it was her sound upbringing that decided him? That sounded sensible and argued very much in the young man’s favor. And he gave his paternal consent.

  And so on a lucky calendar day the young man was received in Dr Iron Door’s home, and with Noble Scent on the carpet beside him, made the traditional bows to heaven and earth, ancestors and father-in-law. At nightfall when he was at last alone with her in the bridal chamber and she lifted her veil, he fixed his eyes upon his bride in feverish expectation. For to the last moment a doubt had lurked in a corner of his heart; to the last moment he had thought that Mama Liu’s assurance must be slightly exaggerated, a product as it were of poetic license. But now that he was able to view her close at hand, in the full light of the lamps and candles, his heart leapt with delight. Her beauty exceeded his wildest expectations. Perhaps the best way to give an idea of her charms will be to quote a passage from a recent essay “in memory of the glorious lady of Tsin”:

  “Over her person hovers a cloud of dark mystery, a veil of unyielding reticence. Her face and every part of her body are bathed in purest beauty. When she smiles, one would like to take her charming face in both hands. But her charm becomes truly irresistible only when she pouts and knits her brows.

  “To be sure, her tender waist and the nine sensitive zones of her body seem almost unequal to the battle of wedlock. Her body seems as soft as if it were devoid of bone structure; even a soft chair offends it.”

  How shall we describe the joy of union between bridegroom and bride? Once again we leave the task to a recent essay, this one entitled “Springtime in the Tower of Jasper”:

  “From beneath half-closed lids the stars that are her eyes flash an angry message: no! Awakened from deep slumber, the peach blossom declines to open its slender calyx. But eager for the fray, the tongue forces a narrow passage between the lips of the fragrant mouth. A blissful moan—and long pent-up feelings pour forth unrestrained. The dew of desire forms into tiny beads on the silken skin of her breasts. Two pairs of eyes open slowly and gaze plunges deep into gaze. Two hearts flare up into red fire.”

  Unquestionably Noble Scent was a peerless beauty, but to her partner’s grief she was an utter failure at the “wind-and-moon game” and the hopes with which he had looked forward to his wedding night remained at least seven-tenths unfulfilled. Small wonder. Thanks to the traditional upbringing she had received from her strict, ultra-conservative parents, she wore an armor of virginal modesty and reserve, against which his tender assaults bounded off without the slightest effect. He was quite dismayed at her lack of response to his advances. If he allowed his language to become even mildly daring or frivolous, she blushed and took flight. He liked to play the “wind-and-moon game” not only at night but also in broad daylight, for it seemed to him that his pleasure was very much increased by the possibility of looking at certain secret parts of the body. On several occasions he attempted, in the morning or afternoon, to insert a bold hand beneath her clothing and to strip off her undermost coverings. The reception was not what he had bargained for. She resisted vigorously and screamed as though threatened with rape. At night, to be sure, she permitted his embraces, but quite apathetically as though merely doing her duty. He had to stick to the stodgy ancestral method, and any attempt at more modern, more refined variations met with fierce opposition. When he attempted the “fetching fire behind the hill” position, she said it was perfectly disgusting and contrary to all the rules of husbandly behavior. When he tried the “making candles by dipping the wick in tallow” position, she protested that such goings-on were utterly nasty and vulgar. It took all his powers of persuasion even to make her prop up her thighs on his shoulders. When their pleasure approached a climax, not the tiniest little cry, not the slightest moan of happiness was to be heard from her. Even when he smothered her in tender little cries of “My heart, my liver,” or “My life, my everything,” she took no more interest than if she had been deaf and dumb. It was enough to drive him to despair. He began to make fun of her and to call her his “little saint.”

  “Things can’t go on like this. I must find some way of educating her and ridding her of those awful moral inhibition – the best idea would be some stimulating reading matter.” So saying, he repaired to the booksellers’ quarter. There after a long search he procured a marvelously illustrated volume entitled Ch’un-t’ang, “The Vernal Palace.” It was a celebrated book on the art of love, written by no less a man than the Grand Secretary, Chao Tzu-ang. It included thirty-six pictures, clearly and artfully illustrating the thirty-six different “positions” of vernal dalliance, of which the poets of the T’ang period had sung. He brought the book home with him and handed it to the “little saint.” As they leafed through page after page, he whispered to her:

  “You see that I haven’t been asking you to join in any monkey business of my own invention. These are all accepted forms of married love, practiced by our venerable ancestors. The text and pictures prove it.”

  Unsuspectingly, Noble Scent took the volume and opened it. When she turned to the second page and read the big bold heading: Han-kung yi-chao, “traditional portraits from the imperial palace of the Han dynasty” (second century B.C. to second century A.D.), she thought to herself:

  “There were many noble and virtuous beauties at the court of the ancient Han rulers – the book must contain portraits of them. Very well, let us see what the venerable ladies looked like.” And eagerly she turned another page. But now came a picture that made her start back in consternation: in the midst of an artificial rock garden a man and woman in rosy nakedness, most intimately intertwined. Blushing crimson for shame and indignation, she cried out:

  “Foo! How disgusting! Where did you ever get such a thing? Why, it sullies and befouls the atmosphere of my chaste bedchamber.”

  Whereupon she called her maid and ordered her to burn the horrid thing on the spot. But he restrained her.

  “You can’t do that. The book is an ancient treasure, worth at least a hundred silver pieces. I borrowed it from a friend. If you wish to pay him a hundred silver pieces in damages, very well, burn it. If not, do me the favor of letting me keep it for two days until I have finished reading it; then I’ll return it to my friend.”

  “But why do you have to read such a thing, that offends against all human morality and order?”

  “I beg your pardon, if it were as offensive and immoral as all that, a famous painter would hardly have lent himself to illustrating it, and a publisher would hardly have been willing to defray the production costs and distribute the book. You are quite mistaken. Since the world was created, there has been nothing more natural and reasonable than the activities described in this book. That is why a master of the word joined forces with a master of color to fashion the material into a true work of art; that is why the publisher spared no costs and as you see brought the book out in a de luxe edition on expensive silk, and that is why the plates are preserved along with other literary treasures in the archives of the Han-lin Academy, in the Forest of Brush and Ink, so that future generations may draw knowledge and profit from it. Without such books love between the sexes would gradually lose all charm and ardor; husband and wife would bore one another to tears. Gone would be the pleasure of begetting children, dull indifference would take root. It is not only for my own edification that I borrowed the book, but wittingly and I think wisely for yours as well, in the hope that it would prepare you for motherhood, that your womb would be blessed and you would soon present me with a little boy or a little girl. Or do you really think that a young couple like us should espouse the ascetic ways of your ling-tsun, your ‘venerable lord,’ and condemn our youthful marriage to barrenness? Are you aware of my good intentions now? Was there anything to be indignant about?”

  Noble Scent was not entirely convinced.

  “I cannot quite believe that what the book r
epresents is really compatible with morality and reason. If that were so, why did our forebears who created our social order not teach us to carry on openly, in broad daylight, before the eyes of strangers? Why do people do it like thieves in the night, shut away in their bedchambers? Doesn’t that prove that the whole thing must be wrong and forbidden?”

  The Before Midnight Scholar replied with a hearty laugh.

  “What a comical way of looking at things! But far be it from me to find fault with my niang-tzu, my dear little woman, on that account. It’s all the fault of the preposterous way your honorable father raised you, shutting you up in the house and cutting you off from the outside world, forbidding you to associate with young girls like yourself who could have enlightened you. Why, you’ve grown up like a hermit without the slightest knowledge of the world. Of course married couples conduct their business by day as well as night; everyone does. Just think for a moment; if it had never been done in the daylight with others looking on, how would an artist have found out about all the different positions shown in this book? How could he have depicted all these forms and variations of loving union so vividly that one look at his pictures is enough to put us into a fine state of excitement?”

  “Yes, but what about my parents? Why didn’t they do it in the daytime?”

  “I beg your pardon. How do you know they didn’t?”

  “Why, I would surely have caught them at it. I am sixteen, after all, and all these years I never noticed a thing. Why, I never even heard a sound to suggest that . . .”

  Again the Before Midnight Scholar had to laugh aloud:

  “Ah, what a dear little silly you are! Such parental occupations are not intended for the eyes and ears of a child! But one of the maids is sure to have heard or seen a little something from time to time. Of course your parents would never have done anything within your sight or hearing; very wisely they did it behind closed doors, for fear that if a little girl like you were to notice anything, her mental health might be upset by all sorts of premature thoughts and daydreams.”

  After a moment of silent reflection, Noble Scent said as though to herself:

  “That’s true. I remember that they occasionally withdrew to their bedchamber in the daytime and bolted the door after them – can that be what they were doing? It’s possible. But in broad daylight! To see each other stark naked! How can it be? They must have felt so ashamed.”

  “I beg your pardon. For lovers to see each other naked in broad daylight, why, that’s the whole charm of it; it gives ten times more pleasure than doing it in the dark. And that is true of all lovers – with two exceptions.”

  “What are the two exceptions?”

  “Either he is ugly and she is beautiful, or she is ugly and he is handsome: in those two cases dealings by daylight are not advisable.”

  “Why?”

  “Dealings between the sexes give full enjoyment only when both parties feel drawn to one another body and soul, as though by a primordial force, and long for physical union with every fiber of their being. Let us suppose that she is beautiful, that with her full, soft forms and her delicate, luminous, smooth skin she resembles a well-polished jewel. Drawing her close to him, her lover will strip off layer after layer of her garments, and the more he sees of her, the more his desire will increase; his member will stiffen of its own free will and stand up big and hard and strong. But then suppose that she looks toward her partner and discovers ugly features, misshapen limbs, coarse, hairy skin, in short a veritable goblin. He may have been almost acceptable as long as he had clothes on, but now he lies there before her in all his ugliness. And the greater the contrast between his fiendish aspect and the soft radiant beauty of her own body, the more horrified and repelled will she be. Even if she was fully prepared for physical union, must her desire not turn instantly to nothing?. And he in turn, must not his javelin, which only a moment before was standing up so proud and big and strong, shrink to the most dwarfish size at the sight of her obvious revulsion and distaste? In short, there can be no joyous battle of love between a pair so unequally matched. If they should attempt it just the same, the end is sure to be a lamentable fiasco. Better let them do battle at night when they cannot see each other plainly. That is the one exception.

  “The other is the reverse: he is handsome, she is ugly. The situation is exactly the same, no reason to waste words on it.

  “And now we come to our own case: here it is equal to equal, radiant skin to radiant skin, well-formed youth to well-formed youth. And now I ask you: Have we any need to take refuge in night and darkness, to crawl under the covers and hide from one another? Should we not do better to show ourselves to one another in broad daylight and delight in the sight of our bodies in all their natural beauty? If you don’t believe me, let us make a try. Let us just try it once in the daytime.”

  By now Noble Scent was half convinced. Despite the modest “no” of her lips, she was almost willing. A slight flush came to her cheeks, revealing her mounting excitement and anticipation of things to come. This did not escape him, and in secret he thought: “She is gradually becoming interested. No doubt about it, she would like to play. But her senses have barely begun to awaken. Her hunger and thirst for love are very new to her. If I start in too brusquely, she is very likely to suffer the fate of the glutton who gobbles up everything in sight without taking time to bite or chew. She would get little enjoyment from such indigestible fare. I’d better bide my time and let her dangle a while.”

  He moved up a comfortable armchair and sat down. Drawing her to him by the sleeve, he made her sit on his lap. Then he took the picture book and leafed through it page by page and picture by picture.

  Unlike other books of a similar kind, the book was so arranged that the front of each leaf bore a picture and the back the text that went with it. The text was in two sections. The first briefly explained the position represented; the second gave a critical estimate of the picture from the standpoint of its artistic value.

  Before starting, the Before Midnight Scholar advised his pupil to examine each picture carefully for its spirit and meaning, for then it would provide an excellent model and example for future use. Then he read to her, sentence for sentence.

  “Picture No. 1. The butterfly flutters about, searching for flowery scents.”

  Accompanying text: “She sits waiting with parted legs on a rock by the shore of a garden pond. He, first carefully feeling out the terrain, takes pains to insert his nephrite proboscis into the depths of her calyx. Because the battle has only begun and the region of bliss is still far off, both still show a relatively normal expression, their eyes are wide open.”

  “Picture No. 2 shows the queen bee making honey.”

  Accompanying text: “She lies on her back, cushioned in pillows, her parted legs raised as though hanging in midair, her hands pressed against ‘the fruit,’ guiding his nephrite proboscis to the entrance of her calyx, helping it to find the right path and not to stray. At this moment her face shows an expression of hunger and thirst, while his features reveal the most intense excitement, with which the viewer becomes infected. All this is brought out by the artist with remarkable subtlety.”

  “Picture No. 3. The little bird that had gone astray finds its way back to its nest in the thicket.”

  Accompanying text: “She lies slightly to one side, dug into the thicket of cushions, one leg stretched high, and clutches his thigh with both hands as though his obedient vassal had finally found its way to the right place, to her most sensitive spot, and she feared it might go off and get lost again. This accounts for the shadow of anxiety on her otherwise happy face. Both parties are in full swing, quite preoccupied by the spasmodic thrill of the ‘flying brush’ and the ‘dancing ink.’ ”

  “Picture No. 4. The hungry steed gallops to the feed crib.”

  Accompanying text: “She, flat on her back, presses his body to her breast with both hands. Her feet propped up on his shoulders, he has sunk his yak whisk into her calyx to th
e shaft. Both of them are approaching ecstasy. The way in which the artist pictures their physical and mental state at this moment, their eyes veiled beneath half-closed lids, their tongues enlaced, reveals the master of the brush.”

  “Picture No. 5. The dragons are weary of battle.”

  Accompanying text: “Her head rests sideways on the pillow; she has let her arms droop; her limbs feel numb as though stuffed with cotton. Resting his head sideways against her cheek he presses his body to hers. He too feels as numb as cotton. The ecstasy is gone. The ‘aromatic soul’ has fled, the beautiful dream has passed the peak and evaporated into nothingness. The barest thread of life is discernible. Without it one might think the two of them were dead, two lovers in one coffin and one grave. The picture brings home to us the sublimity of bliss savored to the very end.”

  Up to this point Noble Scent had obediently studied the pictures and patiently listened to the commentary. But as he turned another page and began to show her Picture No. 6, she pushed the book away in visible agitation and stood up.

  “Enough!” she cried. “What’s the good of all these pictures? They are just upsetting. You look at them by yourself. I’m going to bed.”

  “Just a little patience, we’ll run through the rest quickly. The best is still to come. Then we’ll both go to bed.”

  “As if there weren’t time enough tomorrow for looking at books. For my part, I’ve had quite enough.”

  He embraced her and closed her mouth with a kiss. And as he kissed her, he noticed something new. They had been married for a whole month. In all that time, she had held the gates of her teeth closed tight when he kissed her. His tongue had never succeeded in forcing or wriggling its way through the solid fence. Until today he had never made contact with her tongue; he hadn’t so much as an idea what it was like. But now when he pressed his lips to hers – what a wonderful surprise – the tip of his tongue encountered the tip of her tongue. For the first time she had opened up the gate.