Beijing Cherry (Chapter 1) - Sex Stories

Beijing Cherry (Chapter 1)

... that will, alas, look equally shoddy six to eight months after completion. Though the mouth of the narrow road that leads to Renmin Park is approaching, the driver doesn’t seem to be slowing down. He’s still babbling away on his phone. “Renmin Park,” I remind him, trying not to sound too pushy. The driver keeps the phone pressed to his ear with one hand – and keeps bellowing into it - while using the other to turn the steering wheel hard. As we cut through a lane of traffic, we’re immediately treated to a chorus of beeps and toots from offended vehicles. It’s a miracle we’re in one piece when the car finally screeches to a halt. I pay the five kuai fare and hop out, holding the door for Dan as she slides her bottom over the grimy carpet that’s been laid over the back seat and emerges into the baking early afternoon sun. “You’ve still got time to change your mind,” I say, one hand shielding my eyes from the nuclear glare. Instead of responding, she pulls me into motion and we set off down the cobbled road. Fifty metres later we’re in the park, which is utterly deserted. I remember coming here with my mum and dad. That would make it almost two decades ago. Back then it was the only proper park (i.e. with grass) in the downtown area, so hundreds of families would wile away their weekends here. As we march further into the depths, I get a chance to examine the ghostly remains of my childhood – an empty swimming pool pocked with weeds; a lifeless merry-go-round that sports ...

... rusted metal rods where horses once stood; and, perhaps most depressing of all, a boat I once rode with my parents now half-sunk in an algae-covered pond. “This place is dead,” I sigh. Dan wipes the beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, then points ahead to the two-storey brick building that’s slowly revealing itself through a canopy of trees. “Not quite.” “How did you hear they were recruiting?” I wonder. “A girl on the street told me. She said I’d be perfect for it.” Despite her jolly tone, Dan’s not smiling at all now. Is she starting to have second thoughts? It wouldn’t surprise me. The structure we are currently approaching is shielded from almost all sunshine, which makes it look haunted. To be honest, I’ve rarely seen such a grim and foreboding place. Inside it’s even worse. There’s no light, artificial or otherwise, so the tunnel we find ourselves pacing down seems to extend on forever into dark nothingness. The air is suddenly old and stale, too, spiked with the twang of cheap disinfectant. I can only imagine what messes they’ve had to clean up here recently. Dan pauses next to an open door and waits for me to catch up. I stand beside her and we gaze into a small office. A man, late thirties or early forties, is sitting behind a huge wooden desk that was clearly designed for a company president. He’s running one hand through his slicked-back hair and puffing on a cigarette. He looks up from a magazine. “You ladies here for a job?” he asks. His vocal ...