White-Collar Ladies Series

page views:1 Publication date:2022-09-28

Many years ago, one evening at the University of Southern California, the afterglow of the setting sun painted half the sky crimson.
On the first floor of the biochemistry lab, Raja, a doctoral student from India, was strolling down the corridor towards the main entrance. The door opened automatically, and a beautiful young woman rushed in. She was dressed entirely in white: white sneakers, white athletic socks, a white tennis skirt, and a white tennis racket in her hand. Raja immediately stopped, frozen in place, staring longingly. Behind the girl, the door was still open, and the brilliant sunset streamed in unobstructed. The beautiful girl was enveloped in a halo of divine light.
"Raja, hello there! Leaving so early, going home to take care of your baby?" the girl greeted cheerfully as she approached, but showed no sign of stopping.
"Huh? Ah! No, no, I finished my experiment." The doctoral student from India woke up with a start and stopped the girl. "Hey, Eileen, you look so beautiful today. Did you go play tennis?"
"Yes, I played all afternoon. A senior from the Department of Electronic Engineering insisted on teaching me and even treated me to ice cream." The girl had to stop. "
That's great, someone always treats you." The doctoral student, Raja, seemed a little disappointed, but quickly cheered up and put on a relaxed look, asking, "Eileen, when can I treat you to a meal? There's a new Indian restaurant that just opened. They have curry vegetables, curry chicken, curry lamb, and curry fish. I'm sure you'll like it."
"Curry? I don't like it. It smells awful! But thank you anyway!" The girl smiled and answered readily.
“No,” the Indian boy persisted, squinting as he scrutinized the girl from head to toe, finally stopping at the bottom of her skirt. “Eileen, how about we grab some coffee together?”
“I don’t have time, we’ll talk about it later!” The girl glanced at her watch, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Raja, I have to go. I need to finish compiling the experimental data by 6:30; my boss needs it for a report next week. Do you have anything else to do?”
“Nothing much, but… but don’t rush off like this!” The PhD student, Raja, suddenly mustered his courage, grinning as he reached out to grab the girl. “Eileen, your white athletic socks look really nice today.”
“Raja, you’re so observant. If you were this meticulous in your experiments, you would have graduated long ago, wouldn’t you? Hehe, don’t be angry.” The girl sidestepped the Indian PhD student. “We can talk about coffee next week. I really have to go. Qi is waiting for me in the lab. Goodbye, Raja!”
"Well then, goodbye."
Outside, the fiery red sunset was so brilliant.
Chapter 1
In late October, Southern California finally welcomed a touch of autumn. In this sunny place, the seasons are not distinct. Autumn always comes quietly and goes silently. It was an autumn morning, everything was as ordinary as could be. The sky was azure, without a single cloud, as if it had been washed clean. In a small town in Silicon Valley, as usual, the air was dry and cool. The rush hour had passed, and the street scene seemed somewhat monotonous. The bustling traffic had disappeared, and the low-rise buildings seemed rather lonely. Along the main street bordering the bay, tall goldenrain trees were planted, and among the dense branches and leaves, clusters of tender yellow flowers and red pods were inadvertently revealed. Occasionally, a few red maples and ginkgo trees could be seen among the goldenrain trees, their fiery red and golden autumn leaves, though not dazzlingly brilliant, were still intense and unrestrained. There were some office buildings along the street, none of them very tall, only four or five stories high. Beside the building, at the corner of the wall, clusters of wisteria still clung, their flowers faded, but their lush green leaves remained vibrant. Along the fences of the low houses, red soil, along with some dry grass, branches, and withered leaves, were exposed. Geraniums were still in bloom, white, pink, red, and purple—a beautiful sight. On the beach, a gentle breeze rustled the tall palm trees.
The sun rose higher, and the sea shimmered, startling a flock of seabirds. They became excited, circling low and calling out joyfully.
The Sheraton Hotel stood on the main street, the tallest building in the small town, overlooking the low houses and office buildings. In a luxurious room on the eighteenth floor, a woman stood before a large floor-to-ceiling window, gazing intently at the sea. This woman was beautiful, tall and full-figured, with fair and delicate skin. Her long, jet-black hair was meticulously combed back and styled into a bun, exuding elegance and maturity. A pair of frameless glasses and bright eyes added to her serene and intellectual air. Her attire was simple yet sophisticated: a light blue silk blouse, a dark gray striped suit skirt, flesh-colored stockings, and black mid-heeled shoes. All of this subtly revealed her identity: a female executive at a multinational corporation. This woman was Eileen, the research and development director of a local pharmaceutical company. She was thirty-five years old. In a country relatively lenient on age, this was only the beginning of middle age, perhaps even the tail end of youth. Americans often misjudge the age of East Asian women, especially beautiful, elegant, well-maintained, and impeccably made-up professional women like Eileen. On several occasions, when Eileen visited clients, the receptionist even mistook her for a management student doing an internship. In reality, Eileen was not only married but also a mother of two.
Autumn in the Bay Area is warm, with little frost, yet Eileen felt a chill from time to time. Gazing at the surging sea in the distance, she instinctively hugged her arms tighter.
Eileen came from the other side of the ocean, a former top student at Tianjin Medical College. The year Hong Kong returned to China, she crossed the ocean to the University of Southern California, earning her PhD in biochemistry in four years. Her graduation coincided with the 9/11 attacks. Because her doctoral dissertation involved anthrax, she was fortunate enough to land a job at a biopharmaceutical company, working in its headquarters' research center. Eileen was academically strong, but not a bookworm. She quickly adapted to American corporate culture and realistically realized that technical work offered limited career prospects; to climb the ladder, one had to take the management route. Through a special opportunity, Eileen persuaded her supervisor, the head of the research center, to fund her part-time Master of Business Administration at Stanford University. Her supervisor at the time was Pierre, a man in his fifties, a European immigrant, an old-school technocrat, who had always admired and supported Eileen. Eileen's choice was right. Two years later, she became a project manager, sitting in a private office, while the older PhDs who joined around the same time were still struggling in their small cubicles. Later, Pierre was promoted to Senior Vice President of Technology, and Eileen succeeded her boss, climbing to the position of head of the R&D center. Many colleagues had reservations, thinking Eileen had climbed too fast, but they were powerless to stop her; after all, she had powerful connections and had chosen the right person to associate with.
Dong, dong, dong!
The old-fashioned wall clock struck ten.
Eileen slowly turned her gaze away—the waves, the beach, the palm trees, the houses—finally, it stopped on a gray building across the street. It was a five-story office building, one that Eileen knew all too well, having spent thirteen years there. The basement served as a rest area for large equipment and blue-collar workers; the first floor housed a large conference hall, general laboratories, and offices for technicians; the second floor contained small conference rooms, precision laboratories, and offices for general researchers; the third floor housed high-precision laboratories and offices for senior researchers; the fourth floor was for general administrative staff at headquarters and heads of the R&D center; and the top floor, of course, belonged to senior administrative executives at headquarters. Eileen remembered hearing many R&D staff complain when she first joined the company, saying that R&D and administration shouldn't be placed together at all. They were especially dissatisfied that the floors for general administrative staff were above those for researchers. Eileen didn't join the chorus of complaints; she simply kept striving, constantly adjusting, climbing from the second floor to the third, and then from the third to the fourth. Just as she was making her final push towards the top floor, the financial crisis erupted, and everything beautiful came to an abrupt end.
*Splash, splash, splash!*
The sound of running water came from behind her; someone was clearly showering in the bathroom. The sound interrupted Eileen's thoughts, and she couldn't help but frown slightly.
Eileen's team once numbered over 300, but after the financial crisis, performance declined, and the team shrank to less than 100 people. Worse still, last year a new CEO was appointed, a headstrong older woman named Megan. Her first act was to eliminate special benefits for female employees, such as three months of extra maternity leave. Then, she drastically cut R&D funding, replacing it with acquiring existing technology and formulas from smaller companies, arguing that developing new drugs was too risky and required too much investment. This second decision met with strong opposition from many, including veterans with technical backgrounds. Megan, in a fit of rage during her menopause, didn't hesitate to use her trump card: a reshuffling of the management team, ousting the veterans one by one and replacing them with obedient cronies. These changes presented a rare opportunity for reshuffling for many, but for Eileen, it was a major blow, as Pierre was also embroiled in the conflict and forced into early retirement. Eileen often felt perplexed: how could America, a supposedly democratic society, be so autocratic in its corporate world? Although her patron had fallen, the sky wasn't about to collapse all at once. For the past year, Erin had been updating her resume, preparing for her escape route, while actively seeking new support. As the saying goes, when a wall falls, everyone pushes it; when a drum is broken, everyone beats it. Erin's self-rescue efforts weren't going smoothly. Recently, rumors even circulated that higher authorities were planning further cuts to research funding, potentially downgrading the research center to a technology center. This was a drastic measure, affecting dozens of people, including Erin herself and her husband, whose livelihoods were hanging by a thread. Erin dared not underestimate it. She used every trick in the book, traveling far and wide, lobbying everywhere, and finally managed to connect with a rising force—the Indian group she had once looked down upon.
Erin's advisor at the University of Southern California was very famous, with numerous projects, ample funding, and naturally, a large team. Erin's research group was particularly large, with ten people—master's students, doctoral students, and postdocs—two of whom were known as "weird uncles," often talked about behind their backs by their classmates. Those two so-called weird uncles were one Chinese and one Indian. The Chinese uncle, actually quite young, graduated from the University of Science and Technology of China's gifted youth program. He had a solid foundation and his academic achievements were outstanding, but he couldn't find a job and had to work as a postdoctoral researcher. His classmates said he was too clever for his own good, too aloof, and a bit pedantic, unwilling to lower himself and adapt to society. For example, his surname was Qi, and his given name was Xiaoxian—a very meaningful name, but foreigners couldn't pronounce it. Other Chinese classmates adapted to local customs and changed their names to Zhang John Li Tom, which was convenient for job interviews, but Dr. Qi insisted on being different, saying that one's name is given by one's parents and cannot be changed arbitrarily. The Indian uncle, named Raja, was also young, but completely different from Dr. Qi. He had an undergraduate degree from the Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), had no academic foundation, and his experiments were a mess. He spent seven years pursuing his doctorate, and only barely passed his defense by borrowing some data from Dr. Qi. If a Chinese student acted like that, they would have been fired long ago, but the Indian had his own methods. This Raja was eloquent, adept at currying favor, and his flattery was phenomenal. Eileen's tutor loved steak, and Raja, a devout Hindu, would accompany his boss to the steakhouse every weekend to savor that bloody, sacred beef, a routine he maintained for years without fail.
Sometimes, fate is truly capricious; both of these eccentric men eventually intersected with Eileen's career and life: the year she graduated, Lao Qi became Eileen's husband, while Raja, right there in the bathroom behind her, was preparing for intimate contact.
The sound of running water abruptly stopped.
Eileen involuntarily shivered.
Chapter Two
Raja stepped out of the bathtub, stood on the white foot mat, and carefully dried himself from head to toe with a large towel. His penis was erect; his heart pounded.
Raja was born in the suburbs of Mumbai; his family belonged to the third caste, not wealthy but able to afford his schooling. It should be said that the undergraduate education at the Indian Institutes of Technology (IITs) is successful, at least in terms of rote learning and exams. After graduating, Raja, as arranged by his family, married a distant cousin. His cousin's family was from Goa, also a third-caste family, but much wealthier; her dowry alone filled three small carts. Although Raja didn't like his cousin, he admired her family's wealth. After the wedding, relying on his wife's family's financial resources, Raja went to the United States to continue his studies. Up to this point, Raja's life trajectory was not much different from that of thousands of other international students. But later, Raja's uniqueness began to emerge. Indians value education no less than the Chinese. Generally speaking, Indian students like medicine, computer programming, and business management. Raja had no interest in biochemistry and was indifferent to any other popular majors. He longed to be successful but was unwilling to endure hardship and always hoped to take shortcuts. Although opportunism is the essence of Indian culture, few people are as obsessed and persistent with their own culture as Raja.
There are few true shortcuts in the world. Raja's journey was arduous. Firstly, he was indeed unsuitable for scientific research, and secondly, his cousin's exceptionally high fertility, with her having children one after another, consumed much of his energy. Raja's doctoral dissertation dragged on year after year, until finally, he had no choice but to ask Lao Qi for help. Lao Qi was a good man, unable to bear seeing others in distress, even though he himself was in a pitiful state. Lao Qi provided Raja with some data and helped him with some work. The supervisor turned a blind eye, letting Raja graduate and leave, around the same time as Eileen. One would expect Raja, Lao Qi, and Eileen to have a good relationship, but the reality was quite the opposite. This wasn't Raja's fault; Lao Qi was the instigator. After the defense, Raja invited Lao Qi and his wife to his home for dinner that weekend. The invitation was sincere, and Lao Qi accepted on the spot. However, when Lao Qi returned home and told Eileen, trouble ensued. Eileen was three months pregnant and experiencing morning sickness; upon hearing that it was Indian food, she repeatedly shook her head. Like most Chinese people, Eileen disliked Indians and anything related to India, including their food and eating habits. Old Qi was in a dilemma; he felt it would be embarrassing, but he didn't want to put his young wife in a difficult position. Old Qi made two mistakes: First, instead of immediately informing them of the change in circumstances and asking for their forgiveness, he procrastinated until Friday afternoon before hesitantly telling Raja. Second, instead of making up a reason, he told the truth: Eileen felt nauseous at the smell of curry. Raja was angry; he felt that Old Qi and Eileen were deliberately insulting him and his culture. Thus, a good thing turned into a bad thing.
Raja and the Qi couple became enemies, and this enmity deepened. Both Eileen and Raja defended their theses in the fall of 2001. Because of the anthrax incident, Eileen found a job at the end of the year—her current job at the biochemical company. At the time, the company was eager to hire someone and didn't even notice Eileen's pregnancy. Raja's journey wasn't so smooth. As required by the dissertation committee, he stayed at the university and spent over three months revising his thesis. After the New Year, he guessed that Eileen's company might need more staff, so he asked Eileen to help him submit his resume internally, thinking it would greatly increase his chances. Eileen naturally refused, because she looked down on Indians, believing they were not only incompetent but also particularly fond of taking credit, and would be more trouble than they were worth. Later, Raja, with his smooth talk and impressive resume, managed to get a job at a fledgling pharmaceutical company in Santiago. Indians are unparalleled in the world at using their silver tongues and crafting resumes; Chinese students would definitely be envious. Two years later, that small company in Santiago was acquired by Eileen's large company, along with its employees and pharmaceuticals. At that time, with Eileen's help, Lao Qi also joined the company, working in research and development under his wife. Raja, Lao Qi, and Eileen became colleagues again—truly, life is unpredictable. What's even more disheartening is that, with the increasing hollowing out and bubble-like growth of the American economy, corporate profits no longer depend on science and technology, but rather on stock market speculation, industry breakups and mergers, outsourcing, and layoffs. In this environment, those who do real work in companies are finding it increasingly difficult to succeed, while those who are good at talking find their niche. Raja, this once nearly dropped out of school, finally saw his luck turn around and embarked on a meteoric rise.
Raja finally dried himself off. He threw away the towel, raised his left arm, sniffed it—thankfully, no body odor—and lowered it. He raised his right arm, sniffed it—no body odor either—and lowered it again. Then, he picked up the Indian perfume from the sink and sprayed some into his armpits and groin. Normally, Raja wouldn't be so particular about personal hygiene, but today was different. Today, he was going to accomplish something important here: have sexual relations with Eileen, or more directly, Raja's sexual organ was about to enter Eileen's body, thrusting, pushing, achieving pleasure, reaching orgasm, and then ejaculating.
Back in his USC days, Raja had harbored feelings for Eileen. Raja, from southern India, had a darker complexion and a natural attraction to women with fair skin. He tried asking Eileen out several times, but to no avail. Raja wasn't angry, because many men wanted to date Eileen, and many were rejected outright. Besides, everyone knew Raja was married. When Eileen married Old Qi, Raja, like many other men, was genuinely disappointed. Later, everyone went their separate ways, and Raja gradually forgot about those feelings. Who would have thought that things would turn out differently? Raja and Eileen became colleagues again, working in the same building and seeing each other every day. By then, Eileen had become a project manager and a mother of two. Time had faded her youthful naiveté, replacing it with the mature charm of a young woman and the unique allure of a professional manager. Back home, looking at his wife's dark, rough skin and increasingly plump figure, Raja suffered from insomnia. Indians also believe in fate; the Chinese word for "fate" actually originates from Indian Buddhist scriptures. Raja believed that he, Eileen, and Lao Qi were all connected by fate. Raja tried to let go of past grievances, greeting Eileen or Lao Qi every day when he saw them, and even cracking jokes like Americans. Lao Qi was alright, responding with a few words, as a courtesy. Eileen, however, was different. Relying on her connections, she completely disregarded Raja. Once, at a meeting, Raja proposed that the R&D department should also implement Six Sigma and Black Belt certifications. While others remained silent, Eileen bluntly told him to shut up. Raja even heard that Eileen had intentionally or unintentionally revealed his near-failure to graduate to many colleagues.
Raja felt lost and furious, combining old and new grudges into motivation to climb the corporate ladder. While other Indian professional managers often left after three years, Raja stayed. He fawned over his superiors, subtly planting his cronies in various departments. Over the years, he gained considerable influence; the building was teeming with Indians, and even the local whites were becoming a minority, let alone the Chinese. Raja himself climbed step by step from the second floor to the third, from the third to the fourth, and finally to the top, trampling Eileen on the fourth floor and Old Qi on the third. Since the financial crisis, while others were worried, Raja remained remarkably calm. Ancient Indian philosophy aptly describes this: crisis is opportunity. Last year, Raja finally ousted Pierre and became Eileen's direct superior. Only then did Eileen's attitude towards Raja begin to change, showing at least a semblance of respect. But it was too late, far too late. Raja was no longer content with trampling Eileen; now he wanted to possess this beautiful woman. Countless times, Raja would bump into Lao Qi in the elevator, exchanging polite greetings while viciously swearing: "You wait, one day I'll pull down your wife's pants, spread her legs, and fuck her hard!" And countless times, in the conference room, Raja would greedily stare at Eileen's alluring figure, fantasizing and pondering: Should he fuck her naked, or with her clothes on? And should he fuck her mouth, or her vagina?
Raja would fix his hair in front of the bathroom mirror until he was completely satisfied. Making love to Eileen was, in Raja's eyes, a matter of utmost importance, not to be taken lightly. Two weeks prior, Raja had begun preparations: stopping eating curry and other spicy foods to avoid bad breath and body odor, and sleeping in separate rooms from his wife to conserve his energy for a full-fledged sexual encounter with Eileen. In Hinduism, sexual intercourse is not merely about pleasure, but an ancient and solemn ritual: through physical union, the soul achieves transcendence and purification. Today, Raja was about to complete this ritual: to have a passionate and unrestrained sexual encounter with Old Qi's wife, to wash away the inferiority complex that had accumulated deep within his heart for many years.
Raja was quite confident in his physique and stamina. Furthermore, he had been a devoted follower of Indian classical culture since childhood, well-versed in various versions of sexual scriptures, and had always practiced what he preached. Although Raja was from South India, he was not short or stocky. Over the years, in order to climb into high society, Raja had been imitating mainstream lifestyles. He regularly went to the gym, played golf, played beach volleyball, and had even learned to surf. Compared to the bookish Old Qi, Raja was, of course, much stronger. Moreover, the sexual prowess of men from South India, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh was renowned throughout Asia; many wealthy Japanese women would travel there annually specifically to solicit sex.
Raja was certain he was ready. He took a towel from the shelf, wrapped it around his waist, tied a slipknot, and then pushed open the bathroom door.
Suddenly, Raja's vision went dark. He stopped, his eyes wide, and it took him a while to adjust to his new surroundings. Inside the room, heavy, dark brown floor-length curtains blocked out the sunlight and everything outside: the waves, the beach, the palm trees, the houses, and the office building across the street. A large, soft bed stood against the wall in the center of the room, its soft, pure white bedspread radiating a faint warmth. On either side of the bed, a small yellow wall lamp cast a dim, soft, and ambiguous glow. At the foot of the bed, a woman sat sideways: full breasts, a strong waist, ample hips, and long legs. She was Old Qi's wife, Eileen, Raja's former classmate, now her colleague and subordinate. She turned her head shyly, her expression calm and serene. Her hair was loose, her long, black hair cascading down, obscuring half her face, and her alluring body was only partially concealed: a purple lace bra and panties, flesh-colored sheer stockings, and black mid-heeled shoes. Raja's heart pounded. He held his breath, slowly moving his gaze along the woman's graceful curves, scrutinizing Eileen's body before finally settling on the bedside table. There, casually placed, was a light blue silk blouse, a dark gray striped suit skirt, and a pair of frameless glasses.
Raja had a similar light blue blouse and dark gray suit at home, though both were larger sizes. Over the years, as Raja's position in the company had risen, his libido and tastes had also increased. He grew tired of the languid saris of Indian women and disliked the overly revealing tank tops and short skirts of Caucasian women. Eileen, this white-collar beauty from China, had become the embodiment of beauty, elegance, maturity, sexiness, and all other wonderful feelings in Raja's mind. He silently memorized Eileen's daily attire and bought his wife the same business suit. Every so often, Raja would order his wife to dress up as Eileen, kneel before the desk in the study, legs spread wide, buttocks raised high, underwear pulled down, while he himself stood behind her, one hand on his hip, the other on his buttocks, thrusting hard, savagely pounding, roaring wildly.
Oh, Eileen!
Oh, Old Qi's wife!
The bath towel fell silently to the floor.
Chapter Three
Across the street, the office building on the third floor, the large office hall, was divided into low cubicles. Senior researchers each had their own cubicle, supposedly larger than those on the second floor. The location of the cubicles was significant: those by the window belonged to senior employees or the boss's favorites, while those by the corridor were for junior or unpopular employees. The cubicles were sparsely furnished: a desk, a chair, a computer, and one person. The partitions were low; looking up, the entire hall was unobstructed, offering no privacy whatsoever. This was supposedly called an open-plan office, designed to improve efficiency.
In a cubicle by the window, a middle-aged man sat intently, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. This was Erin's husband, Lao Qi. Lao Qi was over forty, with a receding hairline. His childhood poverty had affected his development, making him appear somewhat thin, but it also accentuated his large, intelligent head. Last weekend, Lao Qi had written a program to batch process gene sequence data, which would greatly improve work efficiency. Now, he was doing the final debugging.
Born in Huaibei, Lao Qi lost both parents at a young age and survived on his sister-in-law's milk. He only managed to finish junior high school thanks to the help of his older brother, sister-in-law, and other poor relatives. Lao Qi didn't disappoint his fellow villagers; after graduating from junior high, he was admitted to the University of Science and Technology of China's Junior Class. Later, he went to the United States on a government scholarship to complete his doctoral studies. Instead of returning to China on time, Lao Qi stayed behind and, taking advantage of the political turmoil in China, obtained a green card in 1992—a so-called "blood card." Lao Qi always considered this the first and greatest debt he owed in his life. From then on, Lao Qi's life took a turn for the worse, with everything going wrong. Lao Qi's research was excellent, and his advisor greatly appreciated him, writing him letters of recommendation. However, he couldn't find a job, whether in academia or industry. Left with no other option, he took one postdoctoral position after another. Thus, young Lao Qi became Lao Qi, and the way his classmates looked at him changed from envy and admiration to pity and sympathy. Old Qi had a girlfriend at USTC, a senior from Tongcheng, Anhui, who greatly admired the young talent. When Old Qi went abroad, he swore to the heavens he would never betray her. However, things didn't go as planned. Later, Old Qi obtained a blood visa and dared not easily return to China, while his senior couldn't leave the country. Thus, he broke his vow. Today, this is just a trivial matter, but Old Qi, clinging to old traditions, considered it his second major transgression.
After going abroad, Old Qi remained single until he met Eileen. Eileen was picked up from the airport by Old Qi. Old Qi was a veteran in the lab, and with a car, he was responsible for picking up all the newcomers from China and arranging their accommodations for the first few days. Old Qi took better care of Eileen than other students; he helped her with registration, renting an apartment, and choosing courses. The school was in the suburbs, quite remote and inconvenient. Later, when Eileen did her experiments at night, Lao Qi accompanied her, or even did them for her, not to mention taking a ride into town to buy groceries. It wouldn't be accurate to say Lao Qi had no ulterior motives. From their first meeting at the airport, Lao Qi felt Eileen resembled someone—his sister-in-law who had once fed him. Of course, Lao Qi never told Eileen, because he knew his wife wouldn't think he had anything in common with a village woman. It must be said with certainty that Lao Qi had no improper thoughts about his junior colleague; he was self-aware. However, fate sometimes takes unexpected turns. Lao Qi would never forget that spring night in 2001, with willows swaying and the moonlight soft, he was walking with Eileen to the parking lot when the girl suddenly stopped and started crying. Lao Qi was immediately at a loss, asking and comforting her. After a long while, Eileen finally choked out her heartbreak. It turned out that the young woman had sent out many resumes without receiving any responses. Thinking about her age and the fact that she didn't even have a boyfriend, she became sad.
Old Qi understood that his junior colleague was worried about her residency and future. He then spent over half an hour comforting Eileen, sharing his own experience, explaining that as long as she completed a postdoctoral fellowship, her visa could be extended—the vast majority of Chinese women had gone through this process. As for marriage, he said there was no need to rush, as the new obstetrics textbook had revised the definition of advanced maternal age for first-time mothers from 32 to 35. Unexpectedly, the junior colleague cried even harder, eventually collapsing into Old Qi's arms.
A month later, Old Qi and Eileen went to the city hall to get their marriage certificate.
(Eileen, now a new wife, in a white wedding dress, with a vibrant bouquet and a sweet smile.)
Although Old Qi was old-fashioned, he wasn't stupid; he knew his junior colleague was shrewd. He didn't know how Eileen was doing back home, but he knew a lot about her after she went abroad. This junior colleague had high aspirations, but was also very realistic. Over the years, she's dated no fewer than a dozen boyfriends, including Black, White, and Asian men, and often gives brief updates to her senior, Qi. The local white guy comes from a decent family, is good-looking, and has a striking appearance, but he's only interested in having fun; marriage is unlikely within five years. The business student from Shanghai is terrible; he talked all night about how rich his family is, owning three properties in Luwan District, but in the end, they each paid their own bill. Hong Kong men are boring; their Mandarin is incomprehensible, their English is a mess, and they think they're superior to mainlanders—screw them! Ugh, Taiwanese guys are so effeminate; they even say that in Taiwan, wives live with their mothers-in-law—it's terrifying! Now, Eileen needs to resolve two major issues simultaneously: residency and marriage. In this rush, her choices are indeed limited. Eileen needs a man with a similar cultural background, an equal level of education, and who must be submissive at home, because Eileen has a strong desire for control. This further narrows down her options. Similar cultural backgrounds and equal levels of education narrowed the pool to mainland Chinese students or former students studying abroad. Most of these men with green cards were already married, while the single men generally didn't have green cards. After much deliberation, Eileen concluded she was targeting Lao Qi. This seemed unexpected, but upon reflection, it made perfect sense. Sometimes, Lao Qi felt his marriage was a bit ridiculous, like a transaction. However, in today's world, what doesn't involve an exchange of benefits?
After marriage, Lao Qi was an exceptionally good husband, and Eileen tried her best to be a good wife. Because her husband was only 1.68 meters tall, Eileen threw away all her high heels and switched to mid-heels or flats. Their luck suddenly improved, as the old folks said, a stroke of good fortune. Eileen quickly became pregnant, putting Lao Qi at ease. Then, Eileen found a job—in research and development at a well-known local company, a job perfectly suited to her expertise, with good pay. The baby was born—a boy—and Lao Qi became the happiest man in the world. When their child turned two, Eileen was promoted to team leader, and Lao Qi finished his postdoctoral studies and found a job as a researcher at Eileen's company. Lao Qi quipped, "Half of it is because I was born with talent, and the other half is because when one person succeeds, even their relatives and friends benefit." First becoming a father, then leaving academia, Lao Qi became much more realistic and tried hard to adapt to the harsh realities of the workplace. He even took his wife's advice and gave himself an English name: Tom. However, this incredibly common name never came in handy. A Chinese colleague at the company, Lao Yuan, a Beijing native, liked to joke. While drinking coffee, he told a foreigner that Lao Qi's "Qi" was actually pronounced very simply—it sounded like a tire letting out air. The foreigner burst out laughing, almost choking, and within 24 hours, the joke had spread throughout the entire building. Lao Yuan was terrified and quickly apologized to Lao Qi. He wasn't afraid of Lao Qi, but rather worried that Eileen would find fault with him later. Old Qi laughed heartily, saying, "Old Yuan, you've done me a huge favor! I hate two things most in my life: Chinese men with foreign names and Chinese women marrying foreign men." Later, the two grew closer and became good friends.
A year later, Eileen gave birth to her second child, a daughter. There's an old saying in Old Qi's hometown: "A daughter is her mother's nemesis." This was true; just a month after the baby's birth, Eileen developed postpartum depression. At first, Old Qi thought his wife was just bored at home and would get better once she went back to work. Unexpectedly, after Eileen returned to work, the situation became more complicated: suddenly, she completely lost interest in her professional studies. Eileen discussed it with her husband, saying that business administration was a popular major and she wanted to try it out, perhaps studying it while working. Old Qi was hesitant. He felt it was a waste for Chinese people to lose their technical skills, and besides, the tuition was very expensive. They already had a large mortgage, and now they had another mouth to feed. However, Old Qi never completely rejected his wife's ideas. He suggested that since they didn't have the money for tuition, if the company was willing to pay, he, Old Qi, would fully support his wife. Old Qi thought that with the economic situation so bad, the company certainly wouldn't be willing to spend the extra money. Unexpectedly, Eileen was very persuasive and managed to convince Pierre, the head of the R&D center, to pay for her advanced administrative training program, a full-time, year-long course. Old Qi's plan failed, and he was very frustrated, so he went to Old Yuan to complain. Old Yuan comforted him, saying that if Eileen could get over her depression quickly, it would be a good thing. Besides, in today's world, being a tech person really isn't very meaningful; why not try another path? Old Qi had no choice but to keep his promise, thinking it might be fate, and since there was no financial loss involved.
Stanford wasn't too far, near Palo Alto, and the scenery was quite nice. At first, Erin commuted by car, leaving early and returning late, but she found it too tiring and had to live near the university, returning home on weekends. Because she hadn't mentioned accommodation to her company beforehand, she now had to pay for her own accommodation in a motel. Soon, more than half a year passed. Old Qi had been observing his wife closely and noticed that Erin's depression hadn't improved, and she was even less talkative at home. Just as Old Qi was deeply worried and considering seeking help from a psychologist, the situation suddenly took a turn for the better. One day after get off work, Old Qi went to pick up his two children from kindergarten as usual, only to be told that their mother had already taken them. Old Qi was terrified. It wasn't Friday; how could Erin have come back? Could it be another woman impersonating her? Or had Erin really lost her mind? Old Qi ran two red lights and rushed home to find his wife sitting at the dining table, playing with puzzles with the two children, while on the stove, beef soup was bubbling and emitting a fragrant aroma. Eileen's face was flushed, slightly shy, radiating happiness and contentment.
Heaven had mercy; Eileen's depression was cured!
After returning from her studies, Eileen completely abandoned her technical work and officially embarked on the path of a professional manager. Although Lao Qi thought it was inappropriate for a woman, especially a bespectacled, educated woman, to do this, he was helpless. Lao Qi's family life underwent a huge change. Eileen was much busier than before, with virtually no fixed working hours, and frequently traveled for work. Moreover, she would unconsciously bring her social roles home, bossing around her husband and children. Lao Qi understood his wife's hard work and took on all the housework, acting as both father and mother. Like all traditional Chinese men, Lao Qi was responsible, hardworking, and willing to shoulder burdens, but he always felt somewhat uncomfortable that his wife's income was far higher than his. Furthermore, Lao Qi noticed that Eileen sometimes acted strangely. For example, Eileen's work pressure was high, and she basically neglected housework and childcare, which was normal and he completely understood. However, every now and then, Eileen would suddenly be exceptionally gentle with her husband and children, as if she owed them something. As an adult man, Lao Qi was very sensitive. Instinct told him that his wife seemed to be having an affair. Lao Qi wanted to confirm this, yet he was also afraid to. He began to pay attention to his wife's words and actions, and he paid special attention to her every business trip, where she went, how many people accompanied her, who they were, and so on. After all that, Lao Qi couldn't find anything, and his wife didn't seem to be having any problems. Eileen was a recognized serious woman in the company. She had a strong technical background, didn't need to be anyone's pretty face, and had powerful backers, so most people wouldn't dare to mess with her. There's nothing inherently wrong; it's just that fools make trouble for themselves. Lao Qi thought, after all, we work in the same building and come home together. If something were really going on, how long could it be kept secret? In this way, Lao Qi relaxed and wholeheartedly took care of his family and supported his wife's career.
Old Qi had oversimplified matters between men and women.
Chapter Four
Autumn in the Bay Area is crisp and pleasant, but this hotel room was damp and stuffy. On the soft, comfortable bed, Old Qi's wife, Eileen, and her boss, Raja, were making their final preparations before intercourse. Raja's skin was dark brown, smooth and elastic; his belly wasn't large, and his pectoral muscles were still full, much more muscular than Eileen's husband's. It seemed that his seven years at the University of Southern California, with their bloody steaks, hadn't been in vain. Eileen had a round, full figure and fair, delicate skin. Her clothes, however, were disheveled: her purple bra was loose, draped diagonally over her bare shoulder; her lace panties had slipped down to her knees, rolled up in a haphazard ball; her flesh-colored stockings were still relatively intact; and one of her black mid-heeled shoes was hanging on her foot, while the other lay tucked over on the edge of the bed. Raja leaned against the headboard, his legs naturally parted, revealing his purplish-black penis, which stood erect and proud, exuding the air of a big boss. Eileen knelt between his legs, her usual domineering demeanor gone, yet still composed and dignified. Her left hand cradled his large scrotum, while her right hand grasped his thick, long penis, slowly stroking it up and down.
A faint scent of body odor and incense quietly filled the room.
Raja and his female subordinate had been engaged in foreplay for quite some time. Both were adults, experienced in their own right, and showed little nervousness or awkwardness. They began with embraces and kisses, progressing to caresses and teasing, constantly testing each other's reactions. Now, they were familiar with each other's bodies. As the boss, Raja was both uninhibited and meticulous in his pursuit of his female subordinate. He fondled her full breasts, stroked her round buttocks, and even explored her hidden vulva. Eileen didn't back down or hesitate. She not only loosened her bra clasp and pulled her panties down to her knees, but also took the initiative to give her boss a full-body French kiss. When both of them started to pant, the boss made a request: the female subordinate had to perform oral sex on him.
Eileen skillfully masturbated, slowly and deliberately, occasionally switching hands. Gusts seeped from the head of the boss's penis, dripping onto her hands, gradually covering his penis and scrotum. With friction and sliding, fine white foam rose, sticking to the woman's wedding ring, gleaming under the dim wall lamp. Eileen had lived abroad for many years and knew that oral sex was nothing unusual overseas. As a professional woman, she had seen the world, understood the ways of the world, knew how to advance and retreat, and knew how to make choices. Regarding the current situation, Eileen had no psychological barriers, nor did she feel much shame or remorse. Flirting, hugging, kissing, caressing, and even having sex with a man other than her husband was not her first, nor would it be her only time. If she couldn't even handle these things, Eileen wouldn't have given up her technical skills to become a full-time administrative manager.
Squeak, squeak.
Smooth, smooth.
Eileen's worldview was formed during her middle school years. At that time in China, the gap between rich and poor was already vast, and a privileged class was beginning to take shape. Ordinary people had lost the courage to resist, only hoping to join the ranks of the corrupt, to get a share of the spoils, or to hide under the wings of the privileged class and beg for scraps. Eileen's parents were both employees of a medical school affiliated hospital. Decades ago, her father was the hospital's most outstanding surgeon, and her mother was the most beautiful and gentle nurse. Eileen's family was once the envy of many, but by the late 1980s, things had changed. At that time, Tianjin's urban construction was improving; the Middle Ring Road was built, and high-rise residential buildings were becoming increasingly common, but Eileen's family still lived in a simple two-bedroom apartment without a living room, and without property rights. Watching their old neighbors and colleagues move into new homes one by one, the smiles on her parents' faces grew fewer and fewer. Sometimes, Eileen would overhear them arguing. The gist was that her mother wanted her father to give gifts to the hospital director, but her father was too embarrassed to do so. Eileen knew her father disliked the director; they had been classmates, joined the same hospital together, and both had pursued her mother. Because her father was skilled, handsome, and played the accordion, her mother chose him, and afterwards, the two families rarely interacted.
Her parents argued for three years, then suddenly stopped. Eileen remembered it clearly; it was the summer of 1992, the last time the hospital allocated subsidized housing. One day, Eileen suddenly felt unwell, and her teacher let her go home early. Eileen would never forget that it was a hot afternoon. When she got home and opened the door, she smelled a strange odor, unsure if it was sweat or something else, along with a jumble of noises: the bed creaking, her mother moaning, and someone else breathing heavily. The door to the inner room was ajar. Eileen went over and gently pushed it open a crack, then froze in shock: Good heavens, her mother was with a bald man—yes, it was the hospital director! Her once dignified and virtuous mother was completely transformed: she was leaning against the bed, bent over, on tiptoe, her hands gripping the bed frame tightly. Her white nurse's skirt was rolled up around her waist, her flesh-colored panties were pulled down to her knees, and her pale buttocks were sticking up high. Behind her stood the hospital director, his naked, obese body gripping her waist, thrusting hard into her buttocks with each arching motion.
That night, Eileen wandered the streets for a long time before returning home, much to her parents' dismay. Less than a month later, Eileen's family moved into a new apartment—a spacious, bright, south-facing, fifth-floor unit with over 150 square meters of usable space. Eileen's inner world underwent a significant change, but outwardly, she remained a cheerful and optimistic girl. Later, Eileen was admitted to university, and although it was close to home, she resolutely moved into the student dormitory. Later still, Eileen went abroad, got married, and had her own family and children. With increasing life experience, she began to understand and forgive her mother. In reality, if men cannot uphold their beliefs, how can they expect women to maintain their chastity? Eileen always felt strange; she seemed completely uninterested in worldly questions, such as how many times her mother and the dean had slept together, and whether her father knew. Sometimes, Eileen even thought, since her mother was going to give herself away sooner or later, why didn't she do it sooner? That way, the whole family could have moved into the new apartment sooner, and her parents wouldn't have had to argue for years.
Squeak, squeak.
It became increasingly smooth and pleasurable.
Eileen gradually increased her speed and intensity. She had switched hands several times and was getting tired; the boss's penis was becoming harder and larger. Feeling the time was right, Eileen released her grip, bent down, turned her face, and licked the base of his penis with the tip of her tongue. A faint, fishy smell wafted towards her, but she could tolerate it. Eileen had initially had some reservations. She worried about the Indian man's body odor and was even more afraid of his rough behavior. After all, India was a world-renowned country for rape, where women had virtually no status. Now it seemed that Old Qi's wife's worries were unnecessary; the boss was very serious about this interaction, not only maintaining personal hygiene but also showing no signs of violence. Every nation has good and bad men; the key is whether the one you encounter is good or bad. Eileen thought that perhaps she was being too harsh on people; this Raja didn't seem too repulsive. Eileen raised her head, tossed her long hair, and then buried it again. She held the base of his penis with one hand while licking its side, moving it up and down, left and right, back and forth, her tongue never stopping, constantly circling, enveloping, sliding, and sucking his penis. At the same time, she occasionally used her fingertips to gently caress his scrotum.
The boss began to lose control; his breathing became increasingly heavy.
Eileen began to perform oral sex. She kissed his swollen glans, her tongue circling and licking the urethral opening, then slowly took the entire glans into her mouth, released it, tossed her long hair, leaned forward, grasped the base of his penis with one hand, opened her mouth, and deeply inserted it.
Suddenly, Raja's breathing seemed to stop.
(Eileen knelt between the boss's legs, her buttocks raised high, her mouth open, deeply penetrating him.)
Eileen's married life was relatively harmonious, but lacked passion. After childbirth, the child becomes the center of the family, leaving only affection and responsibility between husband and wife. When Eileen had her second child, she suffered from postpartum depression, a common occurrence abroad and hardly considered a misfortune. She lost interest in her work, became distant from her newborn, and felt burdened by her family and children. Eileen knew this was wrong and saw a psychologist, but she couldn't shake it off. Finally, the doctor suggested a change of environment, hoping it would help, so Eileen chose to go for training. Living away from home at the school didn't improve Eileen's mood; she remained depressed and felt increasingly lonely. These in-service management programs were essentially a revenue-generating tool for the school. The participants were all mid-level managers from various companies, using company funds to enhance their resumes and expand their networks for future career advancement. No one genuinely wanted to learn anything, nor could they possibly learn anything. In their free time, they would go out to restaurants and bars. Initially, Eileen didn't want to go, but later, having nothing else to do, she joined in.
Upscale Americans are usually very respectable, but they can't drink; once drunk, their true colors are revealed. Eileen's classmates are all married, but after a few drinks, the single men and women start flirting, then hugging and kissing, and eventually sleeping together. Eileen doesn't consider these one-night stands; at most, they're just casual sex, because there's no real emotional element involved. Several white male classmates also try to seduce Eileen, one of whom, in his late twenties, is tall, handsome, and very attentive. Eileen knows that American men don't have the concept of female confidantes; their only goal is to seduce women into bed. Frankly, Eileen doesn't dislike this guy; she even has a slight attraction to him. Most East Asian women like white men, especially those from developed countries, and Eileen is no exception. The young white man repeatedly invites Eileen on dates. On the first day, Eileen tells him she's married and has a husband. The man shrugs and asks, "So what?" The next day, Eileen told him that she was not only married but also a mother of two. The boy shrugged again and asked, "So what?" Eileen was still considering how to refuse on the third day, but it was unnecessary. On the third day, the young man was seen arm-in-arm with a blonde woman from her class.
Eileen was extremely disappointed and
stopped going to bars. That afternoon, after class, Eileen walked out of the classroom and saw Pierre. It turned out that Pierre was on a business trip to San Francisco and had stopped by. Eileen was very happy and took her boss to her place for tea and conversation. They talked a lot, especially about some anecdotes that had happened at the company since Eileen left. After they had talked about everything, they fell silent. Later, it's unclear who made the first move, but Eileen and her boss ended up in bed together. Pierre was of French descent and, it was said, had been a womanizer in his youth. He was unhurried, murmuring sweet nothings as he began to undress his female subordinate. Eileen was nervous and scared. She knew she should resist, but she couldn't control her body. And so, Eileen's shirt, skirt, bra, and panties were thrown off the bed one by one. Then, they embraced, kissed, and caressed. Eileen trembled all over, her breasts swelled, and her legs involuntarily twisted. Then, a tingling sensation began in her uterus, a continuous tingling that traveled along her vagina to her labia majora and minora. Pierre parted Eileen's legs, knelt between them, and freed his hands to hold the woman's feet. He took off her flat shoes and, through her stockings, greedily smelled and kissed them, first one, then the other. Eileen completely gave up; she felt like a snowman slowly melting in a warm spring breeze. The boss finally knelt down, taking his female subordinate's thick labia into his mouth and gently sucking on them, so tenderly, so considerately. Eileen began to moan loudly, arching her legs to allow the boss's tongue to penetrate deeper, probing her clitoris. Finally, Eileen felt her uterus suddenly tighten, and a surge of pent-up emotion erupted forth.
"Oh my god, so this is the climax!"
Eileen couldn't help but cry out.
Eileen fainted.
Chapter Five
Life is so wonderful. Before power, everyone is equal. Even the proudest woman will yield.
Raja felt wonderful. He leaned against the headboard, his arms supporting his body, legs spread wide, thrusting his penis forward as far as possible, his eyes half-closed, looking down at his female subordinate beneath him: her cheeks were flushed red, unable to close, and a few pubic hairs clung to her lips, while a white, sticky fluid, whether semen or saliva, was dripping down. Shiva, is this Eileen, Old Qi's wife, the mother of two children, the goddess who was once unattainable and looked down on him? Raja could hardly believe it. He suddenly felt a wonderful sensation, like sunlight, emanating from his scrotum, flowing into his lower abdomen, and spreading outwards. Raja closed his eyes, silently feeling the warmth slowly flowing through his body, then he suddenly opened his eyes and looked down again.
*Pfft, pfft.
* A huge penis, half in the mouth, hesitantly swallowed, half in the palm, moving in and out.
This is real!
This is not an illusion!
Raja was captivated. He admired his female subordinate with a touch of pity: her nimble tongue, sometimes lightly teasing, sometimes heavily pressing, tightly encircling the glans; her full lips, sometimes swallowing, sometimes licking, always encompassing the penis; and her slender fingers, sometimes gently stroking, sometimes kneading, lingering on the scrotum. Eileen, after all, was a married woman of many years and a mother of two; her skills were adept, her movements practiced, her licking, sucking, scraping, holding, and nibbling all perfectly timed, not to mention the professionalism and focus characteristic of a career woman. Raja closed his eyes again, savoring the experience, enjoying it, and lost in thought.
Raja preferred women with fair skin, because in India, the fairer the skin, the higher the caste. He had once gone to bars and hooked up with local white female college students—the kind who would try to get some pocket money from sugar daddies. At first, Raja was quite pleased with himself, but after a few times, he grew tired of it, even finding it increasingly uninteresting. While white girls were often attractive and sexy, their skin was rough, covered in sunspots, and they matured too early—losing their virginity at fifteen or sixteen, and by their early twenties, their bodies were already sagging. Raja felt no sense of conquest with them, only a feeling of being used. Eileen, on the other hand, wasn't white, but her skin was fairer and smoother. She was already beautiful, and with age, she had gained a dignified and composed air, exuding the mature charm of a professional woman. Eileen's confidence, independence, and self-love were, in Raja's eyes, a unique allure and challenge. After all, conquering a respectable woman was far better than toying with a dozen prostitutes. Countless times, in hallways, elevators, and conference rooms, Raja greedily gazed at Eileen's beautiful figure, unable to forget her. And countless times, unable to suppress his lust, he would hide in a secluded bathroom, unzip his pants, take out his penis, and masturbate wildly until he was exhausted, then ejaculate.
People often assume that sexual harassment is a serious issue in the United States, but in so-called mainstream society, it's not a big deal, and the higher you go, the more decadent it becomes. As a mid-to-high-level manager, you'd better not harass a receptionist, because her status is low and her salary is meager. If she takes legal action, she might get a huge sum of money, equivalent to decades of her income, so she's very likely to sue you. However, you can harass interns, or other senior executives at similar levels. Interns aren't full-time employees, so there are many legal ambiguities, and senior executives are keen on exchanging favors and are even less willing to fall out over sex, because that would be tantamount to cutting themselves off from the entire circle and killing their careers. The proposal to downgrade the R&D center was put forward by the older woman Megan, unrelated to Raja, but Raja also benefited. After the news spread, Raja kept an eye on Eileen's actions, but he wasn't in a hurry to take action. Finally, after hitting countless walls, Eileen had no choice but to ask him for help. Raja readily agreed to help Eileen, persuade the older woman, and save the R&D center. Eileen was a sensible woman; she knew there was no such thing as a free lunch, and immediately demanded that Raja state his conditions. Raja shook his head, saying he had no conditions; preserving the research and development meant preserving the company, and preserving the company meant preserving everyone's livelihood, including his own. Finally, Raja proposed that since everyone had put aside past grievances and were working together, there should be a ceremony. Seeing that Eileen didn't object, he continued to suggest a Hindu ritual of union between a man and a woman to demonstrate their unity and harmony. Eileen considered it for a few days and then agreed, setting a time and place. Perhaps Eileen had figured it out: the Hindu ritual of union was like the ancient Chinese practice of marriage alliances—humiliating as it was, it was better than a complete breakdown in relations and total defeat.
Raja closed his eyes. His attention gradually focused on his glans. He was losing control; his body trembled spasmodically at times, and then seemed to return to calm.
In Indian society, women were also a commodity. Based on age, appearance, temperament, and background, every woman had a price. Caste, power, and wealth are the bargaining chips men use to buy women. With enough chips, and a little patience and skill, any woman can be won over. Back in university, Raja shamelessly asked Eileen out, only to be repeatedly rejected. Later, at work, he was often humiliated. Why? Because Raja's bargaining chips weren't enough. Now, Raja has succeeded, climbing to the top, and naturally, he won't let Eileen go easily. India is a class society, and even more so, a caste society, with strict hierarchies and layers of oppression. To most Indians, servility to masters, deceit among peers, and extortion of subordinates are as natural and eternal as the Ganges River. Raja is considered relatively good among Indians; at least his feelings for Eileen are devoted. When Raja loved Eileen, he wanted to have sex with her, and when he resented her, he still wanted to have sex with her. After years of forbearance and scheming, the harvest season had finally arrived. Raja had finally achieved his wish, obtaining the woman he had longed for and beginning to enjoy her alluring body. How could he not be incredibly excited? Raja knew that he wasn't the only one interested in Eileen in the company; several high-ranking executives, those with real power, had also tried to probe, but ultimately could only shake their heads and shrug. Some even suspected that Eileen and her backer, Pierre, had an unusual relationship, but it was merely suspicion. Everyone speculated for a long time but couldn't find any flaws. For a time, Eileen seemed to have become a moral exemplar among the company's upper echelons, admired and envied by many. Unexpectedly, the former goddess and moral exemplar was now kneeling at Raja's feet. The tingling pleasure on his glans was irresistible!
Raja became increasingly smug, his thoughts wandering even more wildly. He seemed to have returned to a few years ago, to that meeting where Raja proposed that the R&D department should also implement Six Sigma and Black Belt certifications. Everyone remained silent, except for Eileen, who suddenly stood up and sternly reprimanded Raja, ordering him to shut up. This time, Raja didn't slump down as he had in real life; instead, he bravely stood up and shouted back, "You bitch, you've gone too far! Get up on the platform, take off your pants, stick your ass out, and see how I deal with you!" Raja vaguely saw Eileen looking at everyone with a pitiful expression, as if pleading for help. Everyone remained silent. Silence. After a long while, Eileen reluctantly lowered her head, gently lifted her short skirt, slowly pulled down her underwear, spread her long legs, and helplessly leaned on the conference table. Then, she slowly rolled her skirt up to her waist, slightly bent her knees, her waist slumped, and her snow-white, round buttocks were raised high. Everyone was stunned, and they all stood up, gathering around Eileen and Raja in the center. Some whispered, some pointed, and most were dumbfounded. *Slap!* A heavy slap landed on Eileen's snow-white buttocks, leaving a red handprint. Then, *smack!* Another heavy slap, followed by another. Raja swung his arm, brutally striking the woman while sternly berating her: "You filthy bitch, going against me is destroying the company's long-term competitiveness! Tell me, don't you deserve this?" "Yes! Yes!" everyone cheered. Raja waved his hand, his gaze sweeping around. The conference room fell silent. With a whoosh, Raja unbuckled his belt, pulled down his pants, and pulled out his enormous penis, which stood erect and throbbing with fury. "Good!" another cheer erupted.
Raja was ecstatic; the deafening shouts echoed in his ears: "Insert it! Insert it!" Raja seemed to see himself walking confidently towards Eileen, leaning against her, standing proudly, ready to strike. “You filthy bitch, tell me, shouldn’t I, Raja, fuck you hard?” The entire room was silent. Eileen struggled to lift her head, looking around as if begging. No one came to her aid. The poor woman turned back, glanced at the thick penis, and nodded helplessly. “Yes, I, Eileen, deserve to be fucked hard.” Raja laughed triumphantly. He parted Old Qi’s wife’s snow-white buttocks, revealing a hairy, wet vulva, the two dark red labia majora already slightly parted. Raja’s heart surged, his blood rushed. He extended his thumb, pressed it against the full labia, and spread them apart. A pair of tender labia minora automatically parted, revealing a pearly clitoris. Insert it! Insert it! The cheers echoed through the air. Raja raised his raging penis and pressed it against Eileen’s wet vulva. Looking at the woman’s tender clitoris, it contracted and expanded, as if shyly waiting for something. The cheers gradually subsided. Silence fell. *Thud!* The glistening glans went in! All the way in! All the way in! The cheers erupted again. It was midday, and the curtains in the conference room were open, letting in unobstructed, bright sunlight. Everyone held their breath, completely focused. Look, Raja's penis is so big and long! It's penetrating, one inch, two inches, three inches, slowly being swallowed by Eileen's pubic hair. Good, almost there, give it your all!
Oh no, something's wrong! Raja suddenly convulsed, his spinal cord felt like it was burning, getting hotter and hotter, he could barely breathe, and his testicles were also contracting in sudden, sharp spasms. Oh no, the orgasm came too fast, he's going to ejaculate! What to do? Raja knew he was about to climax; he had a feeling of his soul leaving his body. He wanted to ejaculate, he had to ejaculate, he absolutely had to ejaculate, but no, he couldn't! He hadn't penetrated all the way in yet. Wait, wait! Raja was unwilling to give up; he didn't want to ejaculate prematurely, he had to persevere, he had to keep going. Ah! Raja cried out, his eyes snapping open.
Between his legs, Eileen was still sucking, from the base to the glans, and then back to the base. Realizing her boss's climax was imminent, she spat out the penis from her mouth, looked up at Raja, and seemed to smile. Then, she leaned down, turned her head, and tightly took his testicles into her mouth, her tongue slippery and sucking them. At the same time, her right hand gripped the base of the penis, moving it back and forth rapidly. It was wonderful! Raja arched his back, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. He wanted this wonderful moment to last forever, but his dream was quickly shattered. Eileen released her lips, spat out the shrunken testicles, stopped, and held the erect penis at an angle. Then, her nimble tongue pressed against the base of the penis, gently licking along the vas deferens—once, twice, three times. The poor testicles, suddenly released, were momentarily disoriented and involuntarily spasmed. Raja felt a heat in his lower abdomen, and his vas deferens swelled. No, no! Raja could no longer control himself. A thick stream of semen gushed out, flying diagonally, tracing an elegant arc, and splashing onto the carpet a meter away. "Ah!" Raja roared in despair. Eileen's tongue continued to lick, four times, five times, six times. Raja's lower abdomen was still burning hot. His body shuddered, and ah, another thick stream of semen erupted violently, flying out with all its might, landing again on the carpet beside the bed, quite a distance. Raja was experiencing both pain and pleasure; his body felt completely drained, yet the woman still wouldn't let him go. Seven times, eight times, nine times. Raja groaned in pain, his body suddenly jolted, lifted up, and then fell heavily back onto the bed. The last spurt of semen flew out, without regret, tracing a beautiful arc once more, and then, with a splash, landed somewhere unknown. "
Shiva!
It's over."
Chapter Six
Old Qi stared intently at the computer screen, motionless. Numbers and symbols danced merrily on the screen, like a waterfall.
Old Qi had gone abroad relatively early. At that time, China was still experiencing a scientific spring, albeit a late one. Old Qi's philosophy was simple: master mathematics, physics, and chemistry, and you'll be able to go anywhere in the world without fear. He believed that children from poor families, regardless of race or religion, could eventually enter mainstream society through education and examinations—the ancient saying, "From peasant in the morning to official in the evening." Dr. Qi firmly believed this to this day. Deep down, Old Qi also believed something else, but he never voiced it: "Of all professions, only studying is noble." In Old Qi's view, science, engineering, agriculture, and medicine were true knowledge; social sciences, humanities, and management were all pseudoscience, mere empty talk. Holding these beliefs, Old Qi wasn't popular at the company because he didn't know how to promote himself, nor did he bother to. Many colleagues said behind his back that if it weren't for his high-ranking wife, Old Qi would have been ousted long ago.
Eileen successfully climbed to the fourth floor. Everyone envied or was jealous of Lao Qi, but Lao Qi himself felt no joy. This even became a knot in his heart. Although Lao Qi had received the highest level of education, he was, after all, from a rural area in Anhui, and the ingrained patriarchal values were deeply rooted in his heart. Lao Qi often told his other Chinese colleagues that he would rather have a junior colleague who fawned over him than a strong woman who was used to giving orders. Society generally believes that a man's success depends on the power and resources he possesses, but from a biological perspective, it depends on whether a man is admired by women. A tech guy obviously wouldn't be admired by a female executive, even if that executive was his junior colleague and wife. Over the years, Lao Qi couldn't have been completely oblivious to the gossip about Eileen and Pierre. He silently observed his wife's words and actions, paid attention to the details of her every business trip, and even checked her credit card spending every month, but found no clues. Perhaps it really was just hearsay? Lao Qi was puzzled. He observed Pierre carefully again but found nothing suspicious. Considering Pierre's age, he was nearing retirement; his sexual desires probably weren't too strong. But that wasn't necessarily true; he'd heard that Westerners ate a lot of meat and their peak libido was between sixteen and sixty. However, Eileen was a very proud person; she probably wouldn't be interested in an old man.
And so, Old Qi often suffered.
The numbers and symbols jumping on the screen finally stopped.
Old Qi looked up at the ceiling and stretched languidly. He looked left and right; everyone was busy, or pretending to be busy. Feeling a bit bored, Old Qi picked up the phone, dialed an extension number, and simply said into the receiver, "Old Yuan, come over here, that's it."
Most Chinese students in Silicon Valley either studied electrical engineering or software programming. Back at USC, everyone advised Old Qi to change careers, take a dozen computer courses, get some certifications, and he could at least find a coding job and earn a hundred thousand or so. Old Qi hesitated for a long time, unable to make up his mind. Old Qi didn't look down on the computer science major itself; he mainly looked down on the Chinese who switched careers to study computers. Many of those Chinese originally studied civil engineering, chemical engineering, mechanical engineering, or even humanities and social sciences—majors that nobody wanted to apply to in the national college entrance examination. Old Qi genuinely believed he should be different from them. However, he still kept an eye out and audited a few software programming classes. With his strong math skills, he quickly started helping civil engineering, chemical engineering, mechanical engineering, humanities, and social science students with their assignments. Old Qi ultimately didn't give up his original major because his wife helped him find a job. After joining the company, Old Qi worked diligently and conscientiously, not only doing his own job well but also helping any colleagues who asked for his help, almost always obliging. For the first few years at the company, Old Qi was quite happy. He saw capable colleagues every day, and research funding was relatively sufficient. Later, things went downhill. The old-school researchers retired one by one or sought better opportunities, and the newcomers were increasingly less competent, sharing almost nothing in common with Lao Qi. Also, starting sometime during the day, the number of Indians increased dramatically—first one or two, then groups, and finally a large population. Lao Qi wasn't racist; on the contrary, he greatly admired ancient Indian philosophy. In his view, India and China had many similarities: both were ancient civilizations, vast in territory, large in population, ambitious, experiencing rapid economic development, and exhibiting uneven social development, among others. However, the reality of Indians and Chinese people was absolutely different. In the United States, Indian immigrants didn't arrive earlier than Chinese immigrants, yet their development was far faster. While the vast majority of Chinese were still working as programmers, Indians were becoming high-level executives, CEOs, and so on. Lao Qi had always been puzzled by this. Indian students weren't unintelligent, and they studied fairly hard, but they weren't particularly intelligent or diligent, certainly not as much as Chinese students. How did they thrive in the United States?
Old Qi is very efficient at work, so he has a lot of free time. In his spare time, he likes to go online, specifically looking for posts comparing Chinese and Indian cultures. After repeated summarization and analysis, Old Qi has identified several key characteristics of Indians living abroad. First, Indians' English proficiency is far superior to that of Chinese. Indian English has a heavy accent, but it's their official language, so they speak it fluently. While Chinese people might pass the TOEFL and read prepared speeches, they're often out of practice when it comes to casual phone conversations. The fact that Indian English is their official language was imposed by their British masters, which is inherently shameful. If it were a Chinese person, they would be mortified, but Indians don't care. This has become a blessing in disguise, turning into a natural language advantage that benefits them in software programming, service outsourcing, and many other areas. Second, Indians not only speak good English, but their personalities are also very appealing to Americans. They are eloquent and boastful. This might be considered a disadvantage in Confucian cultural circles, but Americans don't recognize Confucius, so they listen to what you say and see how you promote yourself. Most of the Chinese who study abroad were obedient children of their teachers from a young age, introverted, somewhat insecure, not good at speaking, and even less skilled at networking. They wanted to speak but didn't know how, and after a few setbacks, they simply stopped talking altogether. Indians, on the other hand, are the opposite: thick-skinned, boastful, and good at flattery. Such people climb the ladder quickly wherever they go. Secondly, the mindset of Indians and Chinese differs. Old-fashioned Chinese like Lao Qi don't have much ambition; they're content with their small skill set, taking things as they come, and have no desire to climb higher, finding it too tiring. Indians are different. India is a caste society, and those capable of higher education are generally of high caste. The desire to control others is in their nature, so they are all ambitious and desperately try to climb the social ladder. Finally, the national conditions of China and India are different. In today's world, the US is the leader, and China is the second, and no one can argue with that. Being second has always been difficult, because the leader is always on guard, and the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth are envious. In the US, Chinese people are often treated like thieves and spies, and one or two are imprisoned. Survival is difficult enough, but advancement is out of the question; people are wary of you. Indians, of course, don't have this problem. They can't even intimidate Pakistan,
so who can they threaten? Although Lao Qi had summarized many things, he still couldn't convince himself. In Southern California, there were quite a few companies with Indian CEOs, but their performance was getting worse and worse. It was obvious: Indians were best at fattening themselves up and ruining companies. Americans were so shrewd, how could they not see that?
Lao Qi was still pondering when footsteps approached. A Chinese man wearing glasses hurried over and stopped behind Lao Qi.
"Lao Yuan, you're here? Look, I tested it three times, no bedbugs." Lao Qi turned around and pointed to the screen.
The Chinese man named Lao Yuan stared at the computer for a while and said, "Lao Qi, copy the program to the public hard drive, to my subdirectory. I happen to have a batch of data that I've already processed. I'll install your program this afternoon and verify it."
"Why wait until the afternoon? I'll install it for you now, it'll be quick." Lao Qi was impatient and stood up eagerly.
"Lao Qi, don't be in such a hurry, a little while won't hurt." Lao Yuan pressed Lao Qi down. "Come on, let's go downstairs for a drink, rest your eyes. I have something else to ask you."
Chapter Seven
On the large bed in the hotel, the storm had subsided. Lao Qi's wife and her boss lay quietly side by side. They were both exhausted and had been lying there for quite some time. The bedside lamp cast a soft light on the couple, illuminating their limp penises, their half-covered breasts, and their open vulvas.
Eileen's breathing was calm and peaceful. She hadn't pulled up her underwear or fastened her bra. Eileen liked reliefs and murals and knew a little about Indian sexual culture. She believed that oral sex and masturbation, in the so-called dual cultivation of men and women, were at most the prelude, definitely not the main event. Eileen didn't care much about what would happen next; wasn't that all there was to it between men and women? She had more important things to think about now. A few days ago, Eileen and Raja, along with other senior executives, submitted a detailed plan for R&D reform to Megan. First, they fully agreed with the CEO's decision to reduce staff and increase efficiency, and were determined to implement it resolutely. They also proposed some minor adjustments, such as keeping the R&D center's name and level unchanged, but temporarily reducing funding by 20%, changing some employees from lifetime contracts to contracts, and outsourcing some projects to India. Although the older woman hadn't given a clear answer yet, it seemed like there wouldn't be any major problems. Next, how to implement it specifically?
Raja, with his hands behind his head and his body flat, was also thinking, but completely differently from Eileen. He felt like he had just tasted a delicious meal; overall, it tasted good, but something about the seasoning seemed off. What was it? Raja turned to the side, reached out, and slipped his hand inside the woman's loosened bra, placing it on one breast. Eileen's breasts were neither too big nor too small, smooth and delicate, and felt very comfortable to touch. Her areolas didn't seem very large. Raja began to knead them, first one, then the other.
The woman reacted, her body shifting slightly.
Raja continued kneading, gently asking, "Eileen, I have a question for you, and you must tell me the truth. Are you Pierre's lover?"
"No!" came the crisp reply.
“But everyone in the company thinks so. It’s been almost ten years, and Pierre has helped you and protected you in every way. That’s a fact, you can’t deny it, right?” Raja stopped, looking at Eileen. His hand moved away from her breasts, past her lower abdomen, and down. “There are no saints in our company. Pierre must have something in mind, right?”
“Pierre is about the same age as my father. We can only be colleagues and superiors/subordinates.” Eileen shifted slightly, her expression blank. “Rajaa, don’t overthink it. Listen to me, you’re the first man I’ve had outside of my marriage.”
“That can’t be right?” Raja’s hand stopped at his female subordinate’s private parts, hairy, sticky, and wet. “Eileen, we’ve all been there. You can’t fool me about some things. Your skills in bed are so good, your hands, and your mouth… tsk tsk, you dare say you haven’t had a lover?”
“Raja, you know when I got married.” Eileen turned her head to look at the boss and smiled. “You’re an expert in bed too. There are countless variations, but the truly practical ones are only three or five positions and seven or eight movements, right? I’ve already had two children. I’m already familiar with those things. Do I need to learn from my lover?”
It was flawless.
Raja couldn’t say yes, nor could he say no. He could only continue to caress her, one finger after another, moving through her vulva. Oh, these are labia, so big, so plump, so thick. Hmm, what’s that? A small, round bump. Yes, it’s the clitoris. That’s right, soft and warm, it must be the clitoris.
Actually, Eileen lied.
That day at the motel, when Eileen woke up, the boss was long gone. The room was quiet. She sat up, looked out the window. It was already dark. Then she looked at herself. The boss had covered her with a thin blanket. Eileen felt a warmth in her heart. She got up, took a shower, ate something light, and went back to bed. She felt completely refreshed and relaxed, but couldn't fall asleep again. In the following days, Eileen wasn't as depressed, but she was still very irritable. Finally, one day, Eileen couldn't bear it any longer. She got up early, dressed, and drove straight back to the small town. She entered the company parking lot, then, realizing something was amiss, turned around and parked at the Sheraton Hotel across the street, booking a room. Eileen had Pierre's phone number, of course, but she only wanted to call the boss's office. American companies were rife with meetings and paperwork; executives rarely sat in their offices. After hesitating for a long time, Eileen decided to only call three times within half an hour. If fate wanted to stop her, she would prevent the call from going through. Eileen dialed the first time with trembling hands. Thankfully, it didn't go through. Five minutes later, she dialed again. Still no one answered. Eileen breathed a sigh of relief, but was also somewhat disappointed. Five minutes later, Eileen tried one last time. She didn't know whether she wanted the call to go through or not. And then, thank God, the call connected.
Ten minutes later, Pierre arrived at the hotel. The two met, said nothing, and simultaneously rushed to each other, embracing tightly. They kissed and caressed, their silence speaking volumes! In her haste to leave, Eileen had hastily thrown on a white dress, without even putting on stockings, and wore white mid-heeled shoes. Pierre skillfully lifted Eileen's dress, stroking her thighs up to her rounded buttocks, then stopped and asked, "Eileen, aren't you wearing underwear?" "What's the point of those useless things? I took them off before leaving this morning." The boss said nothing more, picked up his female subordinate, threw her onto the bed, then unbuckled his belt, kicked off his pants, climbed onto the bed, straddled Eileen's head, and forcefully shoved his semi-erect penis into her half-open mouth, beginning to masturbate. All of this was done smoothly and seamlessly. Before Eileen could even react, her boss's wrinkled scrotum was already hanging in front of her, swaying rhythmically. Pierre, though over fifty, was still quite robust, and within minutes his penis was seven or eight tenths erect. Eileen only remembered the penis in her mouth suddenly disappearing, and in her dazed state, her legs were spread apart and placed on her boss's shoulders. Eileen wanted to say something, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. Then, something hard pressed against her lower body, and then—plop! Good heavens, that thing had entered!
And just like that, Eileen and Pierre had actual sexual intercourse.
Eileen's breathing became rapid, her legs tensed, clamping down on the two fingers probing her vagina. Raja had to pull his hands away, reluctantly pulling the woman's shoulders to turn her around, so the female subordinate and her boss were forced to face each other and kiss. Raja's thick tongue licked back and forth across Eileen's lips, occasionally exploring and teasing her teeth. Eileen expertly returned the kiss, slightly opening her mouth and extending her tongue to entwine with her boss's thick tongue, as if they were intertwining, or perhaps sucking. Her right hand gently caressed her boss's pectoral muscles; the wedding ring on his ring finger gleamed under the light. This Indian man was strong; those seven years of steak at USC hadn't been wasted. His skin was smooth and elastic, his belly wasn't large, and his pectoral muscles were still full, much more robust than Eileen's husband and former lovers. Every nation has good and bad men. It's worth noting that India is a world-renowned rape hotspot, where women have virtually no status. Compared to the rapists roaming the streets of India, Raja wasn't too repulsive. With this tender thought in her heart, Eileen's body involuntarily softened. Her tongue darted around in her boss's mouth like a nimble little fish. Raja was burning with desire. He tried to bite the woman, but each time he missed just a little, only managing to gasp and swallow. Eileen smiled, as if bestowing a favor, and stopped the movement of her tongue. Raja quickly took Eileen's tongue into his mouth, greedily sucking on it, while his right hand naturally slid down, caressing the woman's plump buttocks. Eileen cooperated by lifting one leg, freeing it from her underwear, and straddling her boss's waist. Raja's hand continued down the hairy cleft of her buttocks, stopping at her anus.
Eileen and Pierre became office lovers, but they both respected each other's families. They were very careful, avoiding solo business trips and never showing any ambiguity in the company. Each time they met, they went out separately, booked rooms under aliases, paid only in cash, and left no trace. In this way, over the years, every time Pierre was promoted, Eileen would follow suit. The company was full of gossips, so naturally people would think in that direction. Some even noticed some clues, but speculation was just speculation, and no one could produce any concrete evidence. As the saying goes, you have to catch someone in the act to catch them cheating. Since they couldn't catch them in the act, people gradually stopped discussing it. After all, there were many other gossipy things going on in the company.
The man's breathing grew heavier; the woman's moans became more urgent.
Eileen felt her boss's penis quietly harden again, and her anus was being stroked by a warm finger. She remained calm, subtly tightening her buttocks, preventing her boss's finger from penetrating any further.
"Raja, you want to do it again, don't you?" Eileen spoke first.
"Of course, Eileen, you're not satisfied yet, how can it be considered dual cultivation?"
"How do you want to do it?" Eileen continued, "My, my body is waiting."
"What do you say?" Raja became happy.
“Hmm, you want me to lie face down and stick my head out, then you can do it from behind. You men all like that, don’t you?”
Raja’s face darkened, and silently withdrew his finger from his female subordinate’s anus. He suddenly felt discouraged because Eileen always seemed to know what he was thinking.
Chapter Eight
What Raja desired was to conquer Eileen both mentally and physically, not just simple sex, but so far, every step he took seemed to be under Eileen’s control.
Over the years, Raja had been coveting Eileen, eyeing her power, and also craving her body. After the news of the research and development center being shut down came out, Raja couldn’t contain his elation; the opportunity he had been waiting for for so many years had finally arrived! He imagined again and again that Eileen would lower herself, humbly beg him for help, and he would generously extend a helping hand, while simultaneously making sexual demands. Eileen should first be grateful, then panicked, begging desperately, and perhaps even kneeling down to beg for mercy. At this point, I, Raja, must stick to my principles and never back down. That proud woman, utterly helpless, will ultimately have no choice but to submit. Once in bed, she'll likely hesitate, her face full of shame and reluctance to undress. Hmm, I, Raja, won't fall for that. Don't let her innocent and helpless appearance fool you; when she's in control, she's ruthless. I must stand firm, using both threats and inducements. Perhaps, in the end, I'll have to personally pull down her pants, spread her legs, and thrust myself in hard.
(Rajaa fantasizes repeatedly about stripping Eileen naked and thrusting himself into her.)
These fantasies of Raja's are, in fact, quite reasonable. However, the reality is entirely the opposite. Eileen sought help from the Indian gang, humbling herself, but not groveling. Instead, she remained composed, explaining the principle of mutual dependence. When the boss took advantage of her vulnerability and made unreasonable demands, although she had no choice but to submit, she didn't panic or beg. Undressing, getting into bed, embracing, kissing, caressing, even masturbation and oral sex—Eileen did it all naturally and gracefully, with composure. The tension, the speed, the thrusts—she controlled every move, manipulating the process as if completing a project step by step. Even the boss's physical reactions, the timing of his climax, and the destination were all under Eileen's strict control. And then, at the very moment of Raja's climax, she calmly looked up and even smiled slightly. What did that mean? Eileen's smile was so natural, without a trace of affectation or flattery. Why was she smiling?
It was mockery, yes, it must be mockery!
Raja suddenly understood what was wrong: he was the boss, the powerful one, who should have been in control, but now he had been relegated to a supporting role! No, this absolutely wouldn't do! Every ingredient in this grand feast had to be prepared according to Raja's wishes. Eileen didn't like curry? Okay, let's start with the spicy stuff! Raja was unwilling to accept defeat; he wanted to fight back and regain the initiative. Raja couldn't believe that someone from a country notorious for rape could be no match for a woman in bed!
Raja suddenly flipped over, pinning Old Qi's wife beneath him. He panted heavily, staring fiercely at her soft, white breasts. Eileen was somewhat surprised. She relaxed and quickly calmed herself. She didn't know why Raja had suddenly become so emotional, but she knew what she had to do. Eileen curled her legs up, spread them, wrapped them around her boss's waist, and squeezed them tightly. Then she smiled and said, "Sorry, I guessed wrong. This position is a bit conservative, but it's fine too. Raja, relax. Don't you want to kiss me again?"
"No, right now I just want to fuck you hard!" Raja refused his female subordinate's advances. "Do you remember that time I suggested getting a Six Sigma Black Belt? You yelled and screamed at me, making me lose face?"
"Six Sigma? Black Belt?" Eileen looked confused. "Oh, I remember now. Raja, it happened so many years ago. We were colleagues, so it's inevitable that we'd have our disagreements. I'd almost forgotten about it. How come you still remember?"
"Of course I haven't forgotten." Raja freed one hand, ripped off Eileen's bra, and threw it aside. "There were so many people here, all the leaders were there, and you didn't even give me any face!"
“I’m sorry, Raja, everyone makes mistakes.” Eileen gently stroked her boss’s back, trying to soothe his tense and agitated emotions. “Now, am I not repaying you?”
Raja ignored his female subordinate and continued speaking to himself, “I was so angry, but there was nothing I could do. You’re my boss, and a higher rank can crush you! I wanted to jump up, pin you to the table, pull down your pants, and fuck you hard!” Raja became more and more agitated as he spoke. He suddenly straightened up and yelled at his female subordinate, “You still want me to kiss you? Do you think I’ll let you have that much pleasure? Turn over, stick your ass out, and hurry up!”
Eileen was speechless. She sat up, helplessly turned over, knelt down, spread her legs, and raised her buttocks. Eileen was very familiar with this position. Back then, wasn’t her mother doing this, using her buttocks to get a new house of more than 150 square meters? Actually, this position was also very good. The shame came from behind, so the woman didn’t have to face the man’s ugly face.
Raj watched as Eileen's fair, full buttocks slowly arched in front of him. Her chrysanthemum-like anus, the lush, dense slit, and her swollen, full vulva were all laid bare before him. Raj smiled. He moved closer, pressing himself against Eileen's back, and inserted a finger into her wet vagina, pumping it in and out a few times. Then, dipped in her vaginal fluid, he gently poked it into her tight anus. Eileen tensed. Oh no, could Indians have that kind of fetish? Eileen was certainly not a virgin, but she was definitely not a harlot either. While she had extensive experience in bed, both marital and extramarital, her anus had never been touched. What to do? It seemed there was no escaping it today. She had to endure it; she couldn't let all her efforts be in vain. Eileen thought anxiously. Huh? What's going on? Raj withdrew his finger. Just as Eileen was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the boss grabbed her long hair, and at the same time, his hard penis pressed against her anus.
Eileen was pulled forcefully, helplessly tilting her face back, her fair buttocks protruding even higher. This was a situation Eileen hadn't anticipated; she couldn't escape, she could only wait, wait for her delicate virgin anus to be deflowered by the boss's ugly penis.
Eileen waited, but nothing happened.
"Eileen, your asshole is so tight, hasn't Old Qi ever used it?" Raja spoke up.
"No, really no." Eileen told the truth, there was nothing to hide.
"Pierre hasn't used it either?"
"No, of course not, I haven't let Pierre use anything."
"Then now, boss, can you use it?" Raja became smug.
“You’re the boss, of course you have the right to make demands.” Eileen hadn’t lost her composure yet; she suddenly saw a glimmer of hope. “But… I have hemorrhoids. Besides, I have no experience. I’m afraid it will be difficult to do it well the first time, which will spoil your fun and affect the effectiveness of our dual cultivation, Raja, don’t you think?”
Raja laughed heartily upon hearing this. After laughing, he suddenly released his grip, withdrew his penis, and magnanimously said to the woman, “Well said, that makes sense. Okay, get up, put your clothes on properly!”
Eileen lay on the bed, not daring to move. A sense of bewilderment washed over her: Could there really be a miracle in this world?
Raja stood by the bed and began to put on his clothes. He looked at his female subordinate, who was bent over on the bed, and softened his tone, patiently explaining, "Eileen, get up and get dressed. Let's go back to that day, the one when you told me to shut up in front of everyone. Let's do a case study. Now imagine that day, it wasn't a management meeting, but an all-staff meeting. See that desk by the bed? Let's move it to the window and use it as a podium. Outside the window, all the employees in our building are sitting, including your husband, Lao Qi. You, dressed neatly, stood on the podium and thoroughly humiliated me. I didn't back down; instead, I rushed up and debated with you. In the end, you lost, and you lost badly. If you lose, you have to accept the punishment, right? How? You bend over, take off your underwear, stick your butt out, and lie face down on the table, your white buttocks exposed. I stand behind you, waiting to punish you, which means I'll fuck you hard. Everyone is watching with wide eyes, including your husband Lao Qi and your boss Pierre; no one dares to utter a sound." "How about it, interesting, isn't it?"
Raja got more and more excited as he spoke, drool dripping from his mouth: "Imagine, in broad daylight, in the large conference hall on the first floor, a young woman is leaning over the stage, her hands gripping the edge of the table, bent over, her buttocks sticking out—that's you, Dr. Eileen. Your shirt is half-open, your bra is loose, revealing half of your breasts, snow-white, and you're only wearing stockings and leather shoes. The heels of your shoes aren't high enough, so you have to stand on tiptoe to stick your buttocks out at the right height, also snow-white. How about it, this type?" "Pretty well arranged, right? And me? Of course, I'm standing behind you, facing your bare butt. My shirt is on, which is important. Even though I was a lower-ranking manager back then, I still had to maintain appearances. As for my lower body, my shoes and socks are still on, but my pants are another story—probably piled up on my feet. Where's my penis? I can't see it!" "Oh, of course you can't see it, because it's inside your vagina, slurping and slurping away!"
Eileen understood.
What is revenge? This is revenge!
Raja continued rambling on; the imagination of Indians is truly terrifying.
Eileen sat up, speechless, picked up her bra and panties, silently put them on, then her shirt and skirt.
Chapter Nine
Across the street, in the small restaurant on the first floor of the office building, there were only a few people scattered around. At a round table by the window, Lao Qi and Lao Yuan sat facing each other, their coffees half-finished. This table has a great location; through the glass window and two tall Chinese tallow trees lining the street, you can see the Sheraton Hotel across the street. The coffee here is free, all you can refill—one of the few remaining employee perks. Ten years ago, the company provided various soft drinks, sandwiches, snacks, and fruit for free; these were gradually phased out, and now only cheap coffee, diluted with excessive water, remains. Many long-time employees fondly recall those prosperous days when everyone would gather in small groups, eating and drinking for free, arguing heatedly about technical issues. After 9/11, things declined year after year, and then the 2008 financial crisis wiped everything out.
"Old Qi, my left eye's been twitching lately. Do you have any inside information? Are we going to lay off people again?"
"How would I know? These are decisions made by higher-ups, they don't consult me."
"I know they won't consult you, but your wife is practically part of that system, you have to consult her, right? Can you give me a hint? Is this a group-based layoff or a layoff based on seniority?"
"I really don't know. Eileen and I rarely talk about work. You know, management and technical people have different ways of thinking, and conversations often fall apart, affecting our mood."
"That's true." Old Yuan nodded, picked up his coffee, and then, a little unwilling to give up, said, "Old Qi, let me ask you again, I heard your Eileen made peace with the Indian gang, does that make our future a little brighter?"
"That's true." Old Qi nodded, "Even you know, things really don't stay quiet in this building. But our future isn't necessarily bright. Think about it, layoffs aren't decided by one or two people, it's determined by the overall economic environment. What do you think of the current economic environment?"
"I understand." Old Yuan sighed and put down his cup. "We can't just touch the Americans. The Indians have so much power. If we cut them off, the Chinese will be the first to suffer."
"Yeah." Old Qi also sighed. "Old Yuan, I just don't understand how the Indians have so much power?"
He didn't answer.
Old Qi pulled his chair forward and continued, "I've been thinking about this for years. It boils down to this: Indians speak good English, they're ambitious and cunning, they're shameless and obsequious, and the US is wary of China but not India. But that's not enough. Old Yuan, look at the Bay Area, how many companies have been ruined by Indians? Are Americans all fools? And us Chinese—"
"Alright, alright, you're not getting to the point at all," Old Yuan said impatiently. "It's not that Americans admire Indian ways, it's that Americans themselves are now focused on abstract concepts rather than practical ones. Indian characteristics perfectly align with the current trend in America. What's the current trend in America? Nobody wants to work hard, everyone wants to make quick money. How do you make money quickly? Isn't it through capital operations and speculation? And what does speculation rely on? Bookworms like you and me? It relies on people like Indians, who can hype things up."
Old Qi remained silent.
Old Yuan continued, "Besides, are all Chinese people bad at English? Don't Chinese people cheat and swindle? Don't Chinese people flatter and fawn? Look at this Harvard sweetheart Xia Jiantong, the gene queen Chen Xiaoning, the working emperor Tang Jun, and what about Li Kaifu, Wu Zheng, and Yang Lan? Which one of them has a thinner skin than an Indian? The key is how well China's reform and opening up has developed!"
"What? What's the logical connection between this and China's reform and opening up?"
"Of course it does. Think about it, India is just like that anyway, dirty and chaotic with no future. So, when the Indians go to America, they don't think about anything else, they just focus on scheming. We Chinese are different, we have a way out, or we think we have a way out. You, Lao Qi, don't you always talk about the Yangtze River Scholars and the Thousand Talents Program? Now look, the Chinese who can cause trouble, the Harvard sweetheart, the gene queen, the working emperor, and Li Kaifu, Wu Zheng, and Yang Lan I mentioned earlier, have all gone back to China to cheat and swindle. All that's left abroad are the two of us useless trash, understand?"
"I think I understand a little now." Old Qi thought for a while, nodded, and said sincerely, "Old Yuan, your Peking University is indeed stronger than our USTC. You always see the deeper aspects of a problem, while I always stay on the surface."
Old Yuan waved his hand and continued, "It's not a matter of how deeply you see a problem, but rather that your starting point is wrong. You're always thinking about doing things, but in today's society, it's not about doing things, it's about being a good person, being someone the boss likes, being someone the boss needs. The Indians understand this principle, so they climb the ladder quickly; the Chinese don't understand this principle, so they're not well-liked, it's that simple."
"But if this continues, the company will be finished, and if the company is finished, everyone will be finished!"
"Sigh, you bookworm, you're so clueless! We're definitely doomed here, it's just a matter of time. I hope I can hold out until I retire. Back when the Americans were starting out, they were so hardworking, look at Edison. Now it's different, living off past glories, playing the financial game, relying on some short-term, quick, and speculative money. Who has the patience and mindset to invest in technology? We R&D personnel are, frankly, just a burden. The higher-ups don't want to do any more R&D. In short, don't be fooled by our strong foundation, our soul is dead."
"Sigh, what a pity, what a pity." Old Qi shook his head repeatedly.
"What's the use of pity? We should think more about how to protect ourselves." Old Yuan also shook his head frequently, "You, Old Qi, are different from us, you don't have to worry."
"Old Yuan, what do you mean? My wife may be my boss, but I'm not a gigolo. In what way am I worse than others?" Old Qi suddenly jumped up. Over the years, Old Qi had a knot in his heart: Eileen was doing better than him. He knew others would have opinions, so he was particularly sensitive.
"Old Qi, relax, relax, you misunderstood, I meant something else." Old Yuan quickly stood up and patted his old friend's shoulder. "I mean, these past few years, we've become indifferent to things, we haven't had much ambition in our work, we spend our days playing cards, fishing, and eating barbecue. Only you, Old Qi, are still clinging to academia, publishing several papers every year. Don't underestimate the number of papers, the country values them. If all else fails, you have a backup plan, you can go back to China and become a member of the Thousand Talents Program. I'm not flattering you, but you're not just as good as Rao Yishi, you're actually a level above them. Your knowledge is much more practical than theirs, the country needs it! We're finished, stuck in the middle."
A smile appeared on Old Qi's face.
“What you said is true. We all know that in America, real knowledge resides in companies. Those lousy academic papers from universities are only read by reviewers and editors.”
“Old Qi, we're good brothers, aren’t we?” Seeing that Old Qi’s mood had improved, Old Yuan seized the opportunity to bring the topic back to the beginning. “If there really are layoffs, you must put in a good word for me with Eileen. My wife was fired last year and hasn’t had a proper job since. My child just started college, and you know the tuition at the University of California goes up every year. Actually, I think going to a state university wouldn’t be a bad idea; the tuition is much lower. But my child is ambitious and got in on his own, so I can’t stop him from going, right? I’m done for in this life, useless, just drifting along, but my child can’t be neglected!”
Old Qi listened silently to his old friend’s rambling. The little bit of joy he felt had vanished without a trace. Old Qi had to sadly admit that in other people’s eyes, his value lay only in having a powerful wife, and had nothing to do with his own knowledge or character.
Chapter Ten
In the hotel room, the curtains were open, and all the windows that could be drawn were also open. It was truly a bright and sunny day. The azure sky was cloudless. The warm sea breeze from the Pacific Ocean, carrying the cheerful chirping of birds, blew freely into the room, bringing freshness and a faint salty dampness. The
midday sun was at its brightest, shining directly in without any obstruction, illuminating the desk by the window, and also the middle-aged couple sitting beside it. The woman was Old Qi's wife, Eileen, and the man was Raja, her former subordinate, now her boss. Eileen wore a light blue silk blouse, a dark gray suit skirt, flesh-colored stockings, and black mid-heeled shoes. Her long, black hair was combed back and carefully styled into a bun. This was the most conservative attire for a high-level female white-collar worker, but in the eyes of the Indian Raja, it possessed a special charm and meaning. Eileen gazed intently out the window at the distant sea, the beach, and the palm trees. Her expression was resolute yet serene, revealing neither sorrow nor indignation; perhaps this was the composure and calm of a professional woman. Raja, too, was impeccably dressed—shirt, tie, trousers, leather shoes—everything was in place. He looked down at the woman, his expression unreadable: greed, desire, smug satisfaction, perhaps even a hint of pity?
“Eileen, you have offended your colleague Raja. According to the employee handbook, you will be disciplined. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Rajaa has the right to propose the method of discipline, and you have the right to object. If you disagree, you can complain to the company's human resources department. Do you need to complain?”
“No.”
“The company promotes multiculturalism. Raja demands that you be subjected to sexual punishment in the Indian style, which means publicly raping you. You will, according to Raja's instructions, perform intercourse with him in a standing, rear-entry position to satisfy his intense sexual desire. Do you agree?”
“I…I agree.”
“Alright, the punishment begins. All employees, open your eyes wide; everyone should take this as a warning.”
It was lunchtime, the time for office workers. People emerged from office buildings in twos and threes, gathering in the restaurants lining the main street. Some restaurants even set up tables and chairs outside, adding a touch of noise to the street, audible even from the eighteenth floor with the windows open.
The desks in the luxury hotel were relatively large. The desks were cluttered: a striped suit skirt, a lace-trimmed panty, and men's shorts and trousers, piled haphazardly together. Eileen leaned over the desk, facing the window, her back arched, her hands gripping the edge. Her blouse was open, her bra loose, half-covering her breasts, leaving her in only stockings and shoes. The heels weren't very high, so Eileen had to stand on tiptoe to meet the man's demands and raise her buttocks high enough. Her snow-white buttocks, bathed in the midday sun and accentuated by flesh-colored stockings, exuded the allure of a mature woman. Behind Eileen stood Raja, as was expected. From the waist up, he was still reasonably well-dressed, maintaining a professional's dignity. But looking further down, a problem arose: his shoes and socks were still there, but his trousers and shorts were gone, revealing hairy legs, a bare bottom, a shrunken scrotum, and a stiff, erect penis. Raja hunched slightly, one hand reaching out to grasp her soft breasts, the other slightly withdrawing to caress her pale buttocks. His mouth, of course, wasn't idle either, constantly issuing commands: "Bend your knees a little, lower your waist, that way your buttocks will stick out higher, right? Spread your legs, spread them a little wider, wiggle your buttocks towards me, good, like that!"
Eileen's eyes were tightly closed, her long eyelashes trembling slightly. Her mind was a mess. On one hand, she understood her situation, that she had no choice; on the other hand, she was unwilling to be manipulated. In Eileen's career, she had always strived to be proactive; this passive situation was truly a first for her. Eileen's mind was filled with the Indian man's instructions. She desperately wanted to shake off those unpleasant things, but the more she tried, the clearer they seemed: "Dr. Eileen, take off your underwear, slowly, I want the process. Don't throw it away, put it on the table so everyone can see. Skirt, and skirt too, take it off. Yes, just like that. Unbutton your shirt, no, no, just unbutton the top two buttons. Loosen your bra, push it up a little, let half of your breasts show. Ass, and ass too? Stick it out, stick it out higher. Good, just like that, get it in shape, open it up, and wait." Eileen knew that Raja now had the upper hand, both psychologically and physically, having completed all the preparations before penetration. She could even feel that thick Indian penis not far behind her, directly facing her vulva, the hot, pungent smell hitting her. It wasn't hard to imagine the man's tense, impatient demeanor. "Sigh, there's nothing I can do. I'm at their mercy; sometimes it's unavoidable in the workplace."
Raja was in high spirits because this time, he was in control. Playing with another man's wife was every man's dream, and Raja was no exception. Many years had passed; so much loss, so much humiliation, so much expectation, so much struggle—now, it was finally time to settle the score. Raja looked down at the woman submissive before him: black mid-heeled leather shoes, flesh-colored stockings, a fair buttock, a hairy cleft, a wet vulva, and dark red labia. Her beautiful body, usually tightly wrapped in her business attire, was now completely exposed, both alluring and veiled, both welcoming and resisting. This was Eileen, once so unattainable, the youthful and lively junior colleague, the beautiful wife of his old classmate, the dignified mother of two children, his former boss and now his subordinate. Raja was filled with emotion. He slightly bent his knees, making his erect penis rise even higher, then reached out and embraced the woman's waist, giving her a gentle pull. Raja, well-versed in Indian sexual practices, positioned his erect penis precisely against Eileen's vulva. He paused for a moment, then exerted a little more force, and with a soft "plop," the dark purple glans parted the labia and slid inside. "
Shiva!"
Raja stopped, his heart pounding, his blood rushing.
"Eileen, is my penis big? How does it compare to your husband, Old Qi?"
"Big, very big." Eileen hesitated, deciding to tell the truth, but added, "However, Raja, please don't mention my husband; he has nothing to do with this."
Eileen wasn't lying; she had already experienced the size and firmness of Indian organs during masturbation and oral sex. Eileen's husband, Old Qi, was a scholar, and somewhat malnourished as a child—needless to say more. Her former boss, Pierre, though French and raised on steak, was, after all, quite old. He and Eileen didn't sleep together often, and the quality was only so-so; it was more of an emotional exchange and mutual comfort. More than six months ago, Pierre was forced to retire early. He invited Eileen to a hotel for a final farewell. The old man was completely broken; he couldn't get an erection no matter what he did, even after taking two Viagra pills. Finally, the poor old man climbed out of bed and shakily walked to the bathroom because of frequent urination. Eileen clearly remembered sitting on the bed, sadly watching her former boss's back. She suddenly realized how loose the old man's buttocks were, frighteningly loose, and she hadn't even noticed!
While Eileen was still reminiscing, Raja spoke again: "Dr. Eileen, Raja's penis will be inserted into your vagina. No matter how he pushes, pulls, thrusts, or rubs, you will accept him, embrace him, and tighten around him, allowing him to experience pleasure and reach orgasm, and then ejaculate inside you. Are you willing?"
"I...I'm willing."
With her vagina already penetrated by the man, what choice did Eileen have?
"Alright, all staff, pay attention! Dr. Eileen and Dr. Raja will be having intercourse in a standing rear-entry position. If anyone has any objections, please raise them now." Raja paused. "What? No objections? I'll reiterate: either raise them now, or never raise them. Dr. Qi, you are Dr. Eileen's husband, do you have any objections? What? No objections either? Okay. Now I declare that Dr. Eileen and Dr. Raja's standing rear-entry intercourse officially begins! First item: insertion!"
Winter has come, but can spring be far behind?
Eileen took a deep breath. An emptiness was washing over her, and she waited. A moment later, the Indian man behind her moved, as if he was also taking a deep breath. It's in, that thing is in! Eileen felt a jolt in her body as the hard, hot thing began to slowly advance, little by little, inch by inch. So thick! The same thing felt different in her hand, in her mouth, and inside her vagina. Eileen couldn't help but gasp. She had to stand on her tiptoes even higher to position her high, rounded buttocks better to meet the new challenge from behind. Men are really different! A heartfelt sigh escaped Eileen's lips. She carefully savored the sticky, slippery, rough, and swollen sensation. Eileen had to admit that Raja, in his prime, did indeed have many advantages, especially physiologically. Finally, with another "plop," the woman's full buttocks collided with the man's strong lower abdomen, pressing tightly together. "I'm all the way in!" Well, the sooner it started, the sooner it would end. Eileen struggled to lift her head, staring blankly out the window. She seemed to see countless eyes watching her, some sorrowful, some numb, but most filled with excitement. Yes, in a sense, who doesn't have a voyeuristic streak? Eileen could even recognize that the sorrowful black eyes belonged to her husband, Old Qi, and the melancholy blue eyes belonged to her former lover, Pierre. My loved ones, I'm so sorry!
"Second item, thrusting!"
Silence.
Waiting.
It started moving, that thing finally moved!
*Pop, pop*.
Oh my god, so good, how could this feel?
Chapter Eleven
Raja had everything he desired, both physically and psychologically: a long-time secret lover, an elegant career woman, who was also someone else's beautiful wife and a dignified mother of two children. Inexperienced? No! Weary? No! Between her fair, rounded buttocks, in her full, swollen vulva, two plump labia majora, parted to the left and right, tightly embraced a dark penis. Was that Old Qi's? No, not at all! Pierre's? No, not at all! That was my, Raja's, penis, large, thick, and unmistakably real! Look at it, deeply inserted, completely swallowed in the dark vagina, soft, tender, wet, slippery, warm, sticky, and greasy. The woman's two pairs of labia majora tightly gripped the base of the penis, while layers of unseen tender flesh enveloped the glans, as if sucking, as if breathing in and out. Look again, it slowly withdraws, parting the tender labia minora to reveal the pearly clitoris, while a white, milky fluid—whether vaginal fluid or semen, it's hard to tell—mixed with a few pubic hairs, lubricating the union of their genitals. A soft, suggestive sound, ambiguous and alluring, comes from friction, or from lubrication?
Raja is deeply intoxicated. He holds the professional woman's strong waist, slowly thrusting in and out, arching his upper body to see the lace trim at the top of her thin stockings on her rounded thighs. His dark, robust penis contrasts with her fair, soft buttocks. What a perfect woman, what perfect buttocks—full but not protruding, round but not exaggerated, soft but not loose. What a night this is, to meet such a wonderful woman, to have my wish fulfilled! Raja is filled with emotion: "Shiva, give me a fulcrum, and I can move any woman. The fulcrum is power, and the lever is my large, thick penis!" The woman beneath him, once so aloof and disdainful of him, now obediently bends over, letting him play with her as he pleases. Raja grew even more excited. He gripped Eileen's buttocks tightly, pulling her closer, thrusting in, pushing her away, contracting his abdomen, pulling her closer again, thrusting in again, pushing her away again, contracting his abdomen again. Raja enjoyed it, and sighed: This woman is truly different! He had been a womanizer, sleeping with all sorts of women—white girls, Latina girls, and of course, Indian girls—but none of them could compare to half of the woman beneath him. Other women were either loose in the mouth and tight inside, or tight in the mouth and loose inside, or completely loose in the mouth and inside. But Eileen was different; she was tight inside and out, front and back, enveloping a man's penis, each thrust stimulating and ecstatic. It was such a waste that only the bookish old Qi and the immortal Pierre enjoyed her.
The man's lower abdomen and the woman's buttocks pounded rhythmically, clearly and melodiously.
Raja looked at his dark, ugly penis, thrusting hard into the bookish old Qi's beautiful wife. Tiny white bubbles rose at their wet, joined bodies, moistening the friction and cushioning the impact. As the Chinese saying goes, you reap what you sow. Years of hard work and endurance had finally paid off; he was now tasting the sweet fruit. The only regret was that this day had come a little too late. Raja was intoxicated, savoring, enjoying, reminiscing, and fantasizing. He saw Eileen in her student days, in her white tennis skirt, white athletic socks, and white tennis shoes—so youthful, so beautiful. He also saw Eileen as a newlywed, in her white wedding dress, with her vibrant bouquet, her sweet smile brimming with longing and anticipation for happiness. He also saw Eileen, a professional elite, dressed in a shirt, skirt, stockings, and leather shoes, impeccably poised, mature, capable, elegant, and captivating, yet never smiling. He also saw Eileen succumbing to his lewdness, her shirt, skirt, bra, and panties falling away one by one, revealing her breasts, thighs, buttocks, and vulva—an endless display of shame and allure.
Wet, their organs rubbed together, their bodies colliding.
*Plop, plop!
* "Eileen, I'm fucking you hard, is it good? How does it compare to your husband? How does it compare to that old bastard Pierre?" "
Mmm!"
"Eileen, you know, back in school, I had my eye on you. I knew that one day, you would be mine. So many times, I saw you in the hallway, wishing I could drag you into the next classroom, pin you down on the desk, pull down your pants, and thrust into you hard, fucking you until you screamed!"
*Mmm, ah!*
The woman moaned, intermittently, trying to hide her discomfort.
Raja moved unhurriedly, following the teachings of the Indian sex scriptures, from shallow to deep, from the surface to the core.
*Plop, plop!*
"Eileen, do you remember? Your wedding was held at that old professor's house in the Electronic Engineering department. He and his wife went back to Taiwan, and the house was empty. Remember? You were singing and dancing in the garden, and I was hiding upstairs, only able to watch you through the window. Do you know how lonely and lost I was? I was hoping that you would get tired, want to rest for a while, and come upstairs alone. I wouldn't let that last chance slip by. I would grab you, drag you to the window, and let you see the groom and everyone downstairs. I would kneel down, kiss your white shoes, kiss your white stockings, and kiss your white panties, then suck on them and gently pull them down, revealing your snow-white buttocks. I would be very gentle; you wouldn't scream, because you Chinese are particularly concerned about face, right? I would conquer you, in front of the groom and everyone. I would fuck you from behind, just like now. Your legs are so long, perfect for fucking from behind. I would fuck you until you were dying, while they were singing and dancing downstairs, completely oblivious."
Mmm, ah, oh!
The woman continued to moan, no longer concealing or suppressing her desires.
(Raja's mind wandered; at the wedding, he had conquered Eileen from behind, in front of everyone.)
As Raj moved, he spoke, all the while observing Eileen's reaction. She was a lamb to the slaughter; he wanted to watch her struggle, her helplessness, her submission, her succumb, her intoxication, her inability to extricate herself. Eileen's moans, initially suppressed, were now dreamlike and natural, an expression of genuine emotion, a manifestation of instinct, both exhilarating and invigorating. Raj's movements grew faster, harder, and deeper, the pace perfect, the strength and gentleness balanced, layer upon layer, endlessly flowing. This poor woman, where has your restraint gone? Where has your pride gone?
*Pfft, pfft!*
"Eileen, are you comfortable? You don't want me to do it, but your body enjoys it, right? Do you know that now that you're married, other men have all stepped aside, but I crave you even more? I wanted to join your company, but you wouldn't help me. But Shiva has eyes, and we ended up as colleagues. You're above me, I'm below you. You look down on me, but I respect you. I know that one day, the world will turn around, and I'll be above you, just like now. You make things difficult for me at every turn, embarrass me, but I don't care. Even in the most difficult times, I'm always there for you." I was plotting how to get you under my control and fuck you hard. Sometimes I thought, why not just barge into your office? You have that big leather sofa, right? I'd pin you down on it, twist your arms behind your back, make you kneel, unable to move. Then I'd rip off your skirt, tear open your panties, and without a word, thrust in. Someone's knocking outside, maybe your husband Lao Qi, maybe your boss Pierre, we don't care, let's just fuck you to our hearts' content! Oh, Eileen, you've had two kids and you're still so tight, ah, so good! "
Mmm, ah, oh, no!"
The woman gasped, moaning, her breath becoming smoother and faster.
Raja was also panting. His glans was tingling and numb, already starting to lose control. Thrusts, thrusts, faster and faster. The man's heavy breathing, the woman's dreamlike moans, mixed with moisture and ambiguity, drowned out the noise outside the window, echoing in the room.
Thud, thud!
"Eileen, you've had your way with me, you've tasted the sweetness, and you can't live without me, right? You invited me to a hotel, like today, and you even paid for the room. We'll do all sorts of things: front sex, back sex, side sex, breast sex, oral sex, anal sex, we'll do them one by one. Oral sex is your specialty, you did a really good job just now, especially that circular licking, a real skill. But you can't fool me anymore, you have to make me ejaculate in your mouth, swallow it all, not like before, where you tried to trick me at the end and made me ejaculate outside. Oh, so good, Eileen, squeeze tighter! Also, you have to wear a white-collar uniform to give me oral sex, black or dark blue, I like it. Of course, you can take your lower body off, what about stockings? Take one off, leave one on, dark-colored, black or gray. Didn't you always say you wanted a comparative experiment? Ah, so good, Eileen, you're going to kill me."
The woman was panting heavily, her body limp, as if she was about to collapse.
"Mmm, ah, oh, no, don't!
" ("Eileen, you have to wear your white-collar uniform to give me oral sex. You can take your lower body off, but what about your stockings? Take one off and leave the other on.")
Chapter Twelve
Lunchtime had passed.
The brief hustle and bustle on the street disappeared, and the small town returned to tranquility.
Old Qi sat in his cubicle, gazing out the window, motionless.
It was an ordinary day, yet also a beautiful one. The sky was a clear, deep blue, the sea breeze brought a refreshing coolness, there was no smog, no noise, no heat; the small town was so peaceful and serene. Old Qi thought of his childhood and adolescence, in the countryside of Huaibei, where the land was so barren and life so insignificant. He saw his sister-in-law, that simple, motherly village woman, her face, once youthful, now etched with wrinkles from years of hard work. He also saw his senior, his unforgettable first love, her clothes soaked with bitter tears. Old Qi's eyes welled up with tears. Many years ago, he came here with only a few hundred dollars in his pocket, crossing mountains and rivers to study, get married, have children, and work a typical nine-to-five job—wasn't it all for this peace and tranquility?
The sea breeze rustles the palm trees.
Day after day, year after year, it's like a still, stagnant pool.
This is why Chinese people linger overseas, and also why they yearn to return to their homeland.
In the past, Lao Qi still kept in touch with his classmates who remained in China, but over the years, the contact has become increasingly rare. It's not that he didn't want to, but rather that he increasingly felt he had nothing to say. Back when Lao Qi went abroad, the young teachers at USTC earned less than two hundred yuan a month. Everyone lived in a dormitory-style apartment building, with stoves lining the dark corridors. Lao Qi showed his passport to everyone, almost wearing it out. Lao Qi will never forget the way people looked at him—a mixture of envy and jealousy. Lao Qi got his degree, obtained a green card, found a job, got married, had children, and bought a house—everything went relatively smoothly. He clearly remembered sending many photos back home when he first bought the house. The front yard had a garage, the backyard a lawn, which attracted countless envious and jealous glances. Over the years, he'd acquired a hat, a car, a house, money, and a son—a complete package of five things. Could there be a better path in life? Old Qi couldn't imagine it, and neither could his Chinese colleagues.
Then, one day, the Chinese in the lab, the library, and their cubicles suddenly all looked up, gazing towards the distant East. They were astonished to find that their homeland across the ocean had changed beyond recognition. The Grand Theatre was completed, the Qinghai-Tibet Railway opened, and the whole of China was accelerating—first bullet trains, then high-speed rail. Old Qi couldn't believe that it would only take four or five hours to travel from his hometown, Hefei, to Beijing by train. The high-speed rail from San Francisco to Los Angeles had been under discussion for at least a decade with no progress. While Old Qi was still in a state of doubt, a series of bittersweet news followed. A USC alumnus, Zhang San, who used to live next door, gave up his villa to serve his country and is now rumored to be the general manager of a multinational corporation in Shanghai. And that's not all; there's also Li Si, that old postdoctoral researcher who couldn't find a job, who somehow got a spot in the Thousand Talents Program for Foreign Experts. Rumor has it he's had a dozen mistresses already! Last summer, Lao Yuan and his family returned to China for a visit. Upon their return, Lao Yuan was silent and sullen. Lao Qi had to ask him a lot before he finally understood that he'd been through something traumatic. Lao Yuan's wife was a beauty queen in her department at Peking University, with a whole line of suitors. According to Lao Yuan, half of them were good-for-nothings, the kind of campus hooligans who didn't study and spent their days tinkering with videotapes. The problem is, when he saw these hooligans back in China, they were all CEOs, their phones constantly ringing at banquets, talking about projects worth hundreds of millions or even billions. Lao Yuan couldn't get a word in edgewise; his face was filled with disappointment. Then look at his ex-girlfriend, the most beautiful girl in his department, her eyes filled with tenderness as she stared at those successful hooligans!
After this disappointment, Lao Yuan began to ponder, Lao Qi began to ponder, and all the Chinese men around him began to ponder. Like Xianglin's wife, they incessantly questioned themselves and others: Do you want to go back? When? The Yangtze River Scholar or the Thousand Talents Program?
Lao Qi had expressed his desire to return to China to develop his career to Eileen. Eileen was understanding and calm, neither enthusiastically supporting nor strongly opposing. She simply told her husband that having more opportunities in life is never a bad thing; one can listen, observe, and connect more, but decisions must be made carefully, and technical and commercial secrets must never be discussed carelessly. Lao Qi had to admit that his wife was indeed a professional manager; her words and actions were indeed generous and appropriate. Since ancient times, scholars have rarely achieved great things. Calming down, Lao Qi hesitated again: he'd heard things were chaotic in China, the wealth gap was huge, and it was becoming increasingly unsafe. The Huai River back home had turned black, and online sources said adults were barely managing, but kids were truly struggling, unable to finish homework, failing exams, and some had already drowned. Lao Qi murmured, doubting his own existence. He thought about how exciting life was for Zhang San and Li Si in China, then about how relatively stable he was abroad. After much analysis, Lao Qi concluded: the excitement in China was because there was no end in sight, making it alluring, but also unpredictable, making it frightening. Abroad, on the other hand, was stable, with a clear bottom line, making it feel secure, but also with a definite limit, so it wasn't as appealing. And so, day after day, year after year, Lao Qi remained stuck in his cubicle.
"What's wrong with you? You've been working on something so simple for a week! Do you even want to keep your job here?!" came
an exaggerated South Indian accent.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, manager, I'm working on it now. I'll definitely finish it for you today. I won't leave until it's done," came
a timid Chinese Jiangzhe accent.
Old Qi woke up with a start. He looked up and saw, three rows away, an Indian junior manager reprimanding a senior Chinese employee. The other Chinese employees around him were busy with their work, pretending nothing was happening. This kind of thing was becoming increasingly common; they were used to it and no longer surprised. Chinese people tend to be competitive and avoid suspicion. Abroad, Chinese bosses are often the most demanding of their employees. Indians, on the other hand, are the opposite; they stick together and are keen to recruit friends and relatives to expand their teams. After a few years, all the positions, big and small, were held by Indians, while the poor Chinese remained stagnant. The Chinese were considered unambitious and lacking in drive, looking down on each other and often siding with outsiders. For example, two years ago, Eileen hired a guy from Peking Union Medical College who was incredibly arrogant. He stupidly told Pierre that Eileen's Tianjin Medical College diploma was worthless, forcing Eileen to fire him.
Old Qi shook his head helplessly. He felt fortunate that Eileen was the R&D director; otherwise, he might be the one getting scolded. Old Qi thought of Old Yuan's words, "You, Old Qi, are different from us. You don't have to worry about anything." Old Qi laughed. Actually, that was true. Old Yuan was envious, not sarcastic. Why was he so sensitive earlier? Eileen is the head of R&D, and I'm the head's man. If there are layoffs, I'll be the last one to be laid off. That's my ability, Old Qi. I'll just ride this donkey, waiting it out, and see if there are any good horses in China. When the donkey stops working, I'll switch to a better horse. What's so great about that? Can you Indians do it? No, you have nowhere else to go! The day before yesterday, I saw a recruitment ad at a pharmaceutical factory in Guangzhou. With my qualifications, getting a thousand people would be a piece of cake. One million from the Organization Department of the Central Committee, one million from Guangdong Province, and another million from Guangzhou City. Damn it, I'll never put up with that kind of humiliation!
Life is actually very simple. You need to figure out what you need and when you need it. If it's needed now, then do it now. If it's not urgent, or the conditions aren't ripe yet, then it's better to wait. Old Qi isn't in a dire situation yet; he can wait. This isn't about being anxious or afraid of challenges. Old Qi is just temporarily holding back, waiting for the children to grow up a bit more. Once the situation here changes and conditions are right back home, he'll set sail and start a second spring in his life.
Thinking of this, Old Qi felt a sense of relief.
Chapter Thirteen
In the hotel room, Old Qi's wife wasn't so relaxed. She leaned on the table by the window, tiptoeing, her buttocks raised high, struggling to hold onto the edge of the table, resisting the waves of fierce attacks from behind. Eileen felt like she was about to collapse; she had never felt so weak and helpless. Eileen wasn't some virtuous woman; she had seen the world and had a lover, but being so open and defenseless, being frantically possessed by a foreign man, was truly a first. Chinese women don't reject men from other ethnic groups, but they usually only accept men from developed countries, especially white men from developed countries, and Eileen is no exception. In Eileen's view, India is not a pleasant country; it's poor, backward, and filthy, and the men there are dark-skinned and have almost no skills other than boasting and flattery. Now, it is precisely such a man who is smugly raping her, using the position she hates most. Eileen dislikes the rear-entry position, whether kneeling or standing. Old Qi never asks for it, and Pierre only suggested it once, but after being refused, he never mentioned it again. The rear-entry position not only reminds Eileen of animal mating but also brings to mind that shameful scene from many years ago: behind the half-open door, her dignified and virtuous mother was humiliated and violated by the headmaster.
Thud, thud, thud—her lower abdomen and buttocks are colliding!
Plop, plop, plop—the penis and vagina are rubbing!
Eileen feels like she has a high fever; her whole body is hot, her limbs are weak, her breasts are burning, and her lower body is numb. This was an experience she had never had before: mentally humiliated, yet physically pleasurable. Eileen knew she was forced into this situation, that she should appear passive and indifferent, ideally unmoved, but her physiological instincts betrayed her. Her body writhed, clenched, contracted, and yielded uncontrollably. And the man's incoherent ramblings in her ears were a constant psychological suggestion, as if Eileen had truly been conquered by this man time and again since her student days.
No, this can't be! Eileen bit her lip and shook her head violently. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Eileen was a mature woman, mature both physically and mentally. She disliked negativity and always tried to face adversity positively. Eileen shook her head vigorously to banish the images imposed on her mind: a girl in a white tennis dress, a sweet bride at a wedding, a white-collar worker in a suit in the office, and a young woman in only one stocking on a hotel bed. She succeeded! Eileen succeeded! She began to forget her current predicament, even managing to think about unrelated, happy things: everything at home was alright, her daughter, though still a little one, had made great progress in piano and would be able to take her Grade 8 exam after the New Year, but she was too shy—that wouldn't do, it would be a disadvantage in the future. She'd have to send her to a speech school, and ideally, she'd learn some Taekwondo too. Sigh, there were so many things to learn, and there just wasn't enough time.
The frequency of the impacts was increasing!
The friction hadn't lessened!
Oh, that felt good! No, forget about all that, the children's affairs were the most important! Her son was good at tennis, considered one of the top players in the club; if he continued, it might give him an advantage on his college entrance exams. In a few years, when he entered high school, he'd need community service experience; academic performance alone wouldn't guarantee him a good university. It was getting harder and harder for Asian students now; she heard they were going to introduce some kind of affirmative action bill to limit the proportion of Asian students admitted—wasn't that just disguised racial discrimination? Those black and Hispanic people, they only cared about having children but not raising them, getting the benefits and then complaining. Forget it, she'd worry about that for now. What kind of community service should I choose? Ideally, something with some technical skill, not just manual labor that wastes time. Or maybe I should just let him decide. Boys shouldn't always be protected by their parents.
The frequency of the impacts increased!
The friction intensified!
Eileen began to sweat profusely; she couldn't continue thinking about the children. Eileen's will was strong, but first and foremost, she was a healthy woman with normal physiological functions. Her warm, moist vagina was enveloping a strong penis—an undeniable fact. The friction, the thrusting, were intoxicating, almost ecstatic. Oh God, how humiliating, yet how exhilarating! No, I can't do this, I can't stop, I'm doomed! Oh, this Raja isn't entirely useless; he's reached the core, he's reached it, he really has! Oh, so good, ah, I'm doomed, I'm really doomed!
And so, Eileen was tormented by humiliation and instinct, panting, moaning, in pain, in pleasure, and yet lost. She was hallucinating. Her
mother appeared, floating in, dressed in a pristine white nurse's uniform, looking exactly the same as she had over a decade ago, unchanged in age.
"Mom, why are you here? What brings you here?"
"Child, I know you're having a hard time. I came to talk to you, to make you feel better."
"Mom, I can't help myself, how can you? Besides, I can't feel any better in my current state."
"Child, I've been through this. I've been through all of this. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Life is like that. Many times, you can't resist it, you can only accept it. Since you can only accept it, why not be proactive? Treat it as a learning experience, or even something to enjoy." "
Be proactive? Treat it as something to enjoy? Mom, I understand all this, but what if my family finds out? Like Dad, and Lao Qi."
“Silly child, how many things in life can satisfy everyone? Just do your best and be true to your conscience. Back then, my top priority was getting a subsidized apartment. What’s your top priority now? Keeping this high-paying job! Your expenses are so high, both children are in private schools. It’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back. Child, in this world, you have to bow your head when necessary. We women have it even harder; just bowing our heads isn’t enough, sometimes we have to stick our backsides out too.”
“No!” Eileen shook her head painfully.
A gentle breeze, and her mother was gone.
Thud, thud, thud, the impact grew more and more intense!
Thud, thud, thud, the friction grew stronger and stronger!
Eileen regained her senses. While enduring the attacks from behind, she repeatedly pondered her mother's words: "It's easy to go from frugality to extravagance, but difficult to go from extravagance to frugality. In this world, one must bow one's head when necessary. Women suffer even more; bowing isn't enough, sometimes they have to stick their butts out too." Yes, these years of high income and high consumption were indeed difficult to change all at once. Besides, the mortgage wasn't paid off, and her retirement fund was a complete disaster. The principle of sticking out one's butts—rough in words, but true in principle. Ancient and modern times, China and foreign countries—isn't this how things are? For survival, women often have to sell their bodies, and for advancement, they often have to sell not only their bodies but also their souls. There's nothing to feel guilty about. The penis inside her now, thick and powerful, like a piston, is quite good. It doesn't belong to her husband, nor to her lover, but to her boss, but what's the big deal? Although her boss was sometimes repulsive, he could give her what she wanted, something her husband and lover couldn't provide. It was that simple—just a transaction.
The flower of desire was quietly blooming!
Eileen felt relieved, suddenly feeling incredibly relaxed. Her psychological resistance vanished, and her body naturally became much more compliant. Since it was a transaction, and it had already happened, why not be more proactive? Besides, she and Pierre had already crossed the line of morality; adding Raja along didn't matter much. Thinking this, Eileen unconsciously lowered herself: her head buried even lower; her buttocks protruded even higher; the angle was more suitable; the thrusts were more coordinated; the friction was more intense. What was wrong with being penetrated from behind by a man? This was even better; she couldn't see his face, and could mistake him for anyone else. Back in Stanford, that young, handsome guy who pursued me was quite something. Tall, well-built, muscular, and with a strong sex drive, he was probably pretty good in bed too. Too bad I didn't sleep with him then; he was definitely much more interesting than Pierre. Yes, even if I were to pretend I was having sex with that guy now, it wouldn't be shameful.
Passion erupted in the rapid thrusts!
Pleasure arose from the intense friction!
Eileen was intoxicated; she moved freely, swaying left and right, inhaling and exhaling, perfectly in sync with the man. So this was what the ancients meant by the unity of heaven and man—that love and desire could be completely separated! At this moment, the innocent girl, the sweet bride, the elegant wife, the dignified mother, the capable white-collar woman—all vanished without a trace, leaving only a passionate, sexually charged, and healthy woman.
"Raja, harder, don't stop! Deeper, deeper!"
Chapter Fourteen
O Shiva, don't stop, deeper—is that voice really coming from beneath me, from that noble and reserved Eileen? Yes, it's her, it's Eileen begging, begging me, Raja, to fuck her hard! Raja is full of vigor and high spirits. Deeper, deeper, I can't stop, I absolutely can't stop. He no longer cares about the intercourse techniques in the sex manuals, the gentle rhythm, the moderate force—to hell with all that! Now, I, Raja, just want pleasure! Raja begins his sprint! Faster, faster! More powerful, more powerful! Deeper, deeper!
“You filthy bitch, tell me, is it good?”
“Good, so good, no, don’t slow down!”
“You filthy bitch, do you want me to fuck you often?”
“Yes, I want it!”
“Too soft, I can’t hear you, say it louder!”
“Yes, I want it, I want Boss Raja to fuck me often!”
Raja threw his head back and laughed loudly. Shiva, if he had known it would be like this, he should have forced himself on this woman years ago and taken her long ago, why wait until today! In Raja’s ears, the earth-shattering cheers echoed: Raja, go for it! Raja, go for it! He saw that in the conference room, people stood up and gathered around. The women at the front were whispering, and it seemed that there was a southern Chinese accent mixed in. Raja slowed down a little and listened carefully to see what they were saying?
"My God, Dr. Raja is really amazing."
"Yeah, he almost made Dr. Eileen pass out."
"Really, look, Dr. Eileen's vaginal fluids are flowing so much, they've soaked her stockings."
"That's right, I saw it clearly too. Dr. Eileen looks like she's suffering, but she's actually enjoying it. Look at her, her face is flushed, she can barely breathe."
"Sigh, really, no matter what, it must be tough on Dr. Qi."
"That's right, his wife is having sex with his boss, and he can't do anything to help, he has to stand by and watch."
As Raja thrust, he searched around, and finally, he found Pierre and Old Qi in the crowd. Pierre's face was uncertain, but his crotch was bulging. As for Old Qi, he was huddled in the crowd, silently watching his wife bend over and moan under his boss, but he was helpless and powerless.
Raja was extremely pleased.
“Brother Pierre, how about it? I did a better job than you, right?” Raja asked, looking at Pierre.
“Pretty much, pretty much, but when I was young, I wasn’t any worse than you.” Pierre lowered his head.
“Hahaha!” Raja laughed. “Pierre, you admit you’re having an affair with Eileen, don’t you?”
Without answering, Pierre silently nodded.
“Ah, I told you long ago, Dr. Eileen definitely has an affair with someone higher up. See? I was right!”
“Hmph, no wonder she climbed so fast, turns out she got into bed by taking off her pants. I thought she was so capable!”
“Really, I never expected that her serious demeanor was all an act. She’s actually more slutty than anyone else!”
The gossiping women in front of him became even more aggressive, their voices growing louder.
Raja’s thrusts became more and more urgent, faster and faster. He turned his head, his eyes gleaming, staring directly at Old Qi, the husband of the woman beneath him.
"Hey, Dr. Qi, lift your head!"
Old Qi hunched his shoulders, glanced at Raja and his wife, then lowered his head again, saying nothing.
"Dr. Qi, don't be shy, lift your head and take a good look, see how I fuck your wife!" Raja wanted nothing more than to shove his testicles into the woman's body. "Your wife is really something, she's had two kids and she's still so tight, look how much foam I've made her foam!"
Old Qi lifted his head, glanced at her again, and still didn't speak.
Raja, as if showing off, was full of fighting spirit, striving hard, accelerating, sprinting! Accelerating, sprinting again! For a man, the most wonderful thing in the world is to publicly possess another man's beautiful wife in front of him.
Slap, slap, slap!
Puff, puff, puff!
Faster, fiercer, stronger!
"Old Qi, you're such a coward, you don't even dare to say a word. Isn't your wife suffering because of you? Tell me, your wife is so beautiful, shouldn't she be offered up for a successful man like Raja to enjoy?"
Old Qi still didn't speak. He raised his head, looked at his wife, at the commotion in the crowd, and then at his boss's vigorously moving penis. Finally, he nodded helplessly.
Accelerate! Accelerate again!
Sprint! Sprint again!
Raja completely lost control. The rapid thrusting, intense friction, verbal stimulation, and hallucinations sent him to the heavens. A burning heat surged within him, the urge to ejaculate growing stronger and stronger, starting at the base of his penis and spreading throughout his body via his lower abdomen. Oh no! The woman beneath him convulsed, her wet vagina contracting violently; her warm uterus greedily sucking. Raja went mad. He thrust, he pounded, he roared. His long-held desire was about to be fulfilled; his hot, thick semen was about to ejaculate inside Old Qi's wife!
He straightened up, thrust, stopped abruptly.
He lifted his hips, clenched, and sucked wildly.
The climax arrived!
Shoot inside! Shoot inside! Shoot inside!
Cheers resounded through the sky!
Old Qi's tears flowed silently.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun was setting.
Old Qi sat at his desk, intently writing something on the computer. His cubicle faced north, so although it was near a window, he didn't enjoy the bright sunlight. Old Qi is already quite satisfied. In truth, how many people in this world truly bask in the sunlight? Old Qi is very busy now, but not with work; he's busy preparing extra homework for his two children. Because his wife is very busy with work, Old Qi is basically in charge of the children. He's very strict with them, adding various sports classes and piano lessons to intensive reading, arithmetic, and of course, Chinese. There's no other way; the basic education in the US is really poor. Even private schools are far inferior to second-rate schools in China. Without extra tutoring, the children will definitely fall behind in their studies once they return to China. Old Qi once sent his children to a prep school, but he found that the best teachers for children are still their parents. So every day in his spare time, Old Qi prepares arithmetic problems and reading materials for his children, printing them out before leaving get off work to take home. Most of the problems and materials are found online and modified according to the children's characteristics. Sometimes, Old Qi also creates his own arithmetic problems to address specific needs. To this day, Old Qi still believes that, firstly, only math, physics, and chemistry are true skills, and secondly, his children will need real skills to make a living in the future.
Old Qi was tired. He looked up and stared blankly out the window.
(Epilogue)
One evening in March of the following year, in Raja's office.
Outside the wide, tall French windows, the afterglow of the setting sun painted half the sky red. All afternoon, Eileen and Raja had been sitting together, discussing the R&D budget for the new fiscal year. They had been haggling for a long time and were about to end the discussion.
"Raja, that's it. We must convince Megan and not give in any more. As for further expanding outsourcing, especially to the Mumbai area, I have no objection. The cost can be covered by me." Eileen stood up, tidying up the documents on her desk as she gave her concluding remarks. She was dressed formally today: a navy blue suit skirt, a light blue shirt with the collar turned out, black stockings, black mid-heeled shoes, and her hair, as usual, was tied up in a bun.
Raja also stood up, but he didn't give a direct answer. Instead, he squinted and scrutinized Eileen, from head to toe, finally stopping at the bottom of her skirt. He said ambiguously, "Eileen, you look stunning today. Are you free next Wednesday morning? There are some details I'd like to finalize with you privately, but not here. Let's go to the hotel; it's quiet there. Wear the same outfit you're wearing today, okay?"
"Raja, didn't I accompany you during the year-end review? I remember wearing this outfit, and you even got it all over my mouth." Eileen smiled noncommittally, picking up her briefcase to leave.
"No, no, last time it was grey stockings, this time they're black, it's different." Raja quickly stopped his female subordinate. "Eileen, how about next Wednesday? Don't tell me you don't have time."
"Grey stockings, black stockings, what's the difference?" Eileen glanced at her watch, slightly impatient. "Raja, I have to go. I have to get to school by 6:30; my son has a tennis match tonight."
"Black stockings are sexier." Raja replied with a grin, reaching out to lift Eileen's suit skirt.

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