Honey Flava Page 12

  “Ngari, far to the west.” Pasang leaned against the wall and folded her tawny arms across her chest.

  “You climbed all the way up to these mountains?”

  “It isn’t such a feat,” she teased. “Your oldest monks do it.”

  “They do it because they have to. Few others come this way. Either they travel the lowlands, or they climb the mountain. We are too in-between.”

  “Soon, only the foolhardy will take the journey on foot at all.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because now the train comes all the way to Lhasa.” As Pasang spoke, Chokyi’s eyes grew wide. “You didn’t know? It goes over the northern mountains. It is so steep that the trains provide oxygen tanks for the passengers, otherwise they get sick.” She pantomined putting an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

  Chokyi could hardly believe her words. “All the way to Lhasa? But that is not even as far as Yangpachen. So close. Have you ridden it?”

  “Not yet. It has not been running long.” Her dark eyes studied him. “But I can see you would like to.”

  “Yes.” Chokyi blushed and covered his smile with his hand.

  Pasang stifled a yawn, hugging the shawl closer around her tiny shoulders.

  Chokyi apologized, “You must be exhausted. Please, choose any of the rooms you like. I do not think this rain will dissipate tonight.” As if to prove his point, thunder rolled across the sky, shaking the beams of the monastery roof.

  “Bhikshu, Chokyi,” Pasang said, pressing her hands together and bowing. As she rose, she locked her eyes with his, the dark line of her lashes scooping the air like a bird’s wings. This time she did not smile.

  Chokyi let Pasang take the lantern, then shuffled to his bedchamber, which was so familiar that he could pick his way onto his sleeping roll in the darkness. He lay down and closed his eyes, chanting, “Om mani padme hung,” softly as he drifted to sleep.

  Pasang lingered at the end of the hall, lowering the lantern’s flame until it guttered and nearly went out. Silently she waited until she heard the soft sound of Chokyi’s snores before tiptoeing down the hall to the doorway of his bedchamber. She hesitated there, savoring his breathing, letting him dream.

  Calmly she stripped away her damp stockings and trousers and the red shawl so dark it was nearly black. Then she crept into Chokyi’s room, crawling on hands and knees until she was kneeling at his sleeping side.

  She lay a finger on his breast, feeling it rise and fall, and began to sing. Hers was a keening melody, wild and low in the night, waking him like a vision.

  With both hands Pasang smoothed the cloth of Chokyi’s robe away from his chest, baring his flesh. She ran her flat palms across it, raising gooseflesh and nipples. Lightning flashed, illuminating her face for the briefest moment with silver-blue light. Her eyes were heavy as her mouth formed the vowels of her wordless song. Chokyi, half-asleep, did not think to stop her.

  Still singing, Pasang lifted Chokyi’s hands to her breasts. She made him cup them in his work-worn palms, letting his calluses catch on her smooth skin. She knew he had probably not touched a woman’s breasts since his mother weaned him. Chokyi’s breath grew deeper and louder as he held her. Pasang’s song died away into stillness.

  She pressed her mouth to his, seeking his tongue. Pasang was surprised that Chokyi did not resist, did not clench his teeth against her. With one hand she untied the cord that held his robe and pulled the fabric away, exposing the lower half of his body.

  Pasang sought his organ and found it firm, the tip still sheathed. In a slow motion she drew back the foreskin, then dipped down to take the head between her lips and suckle it, first gently, then firmly. She smiled as she heard Chokyi’s breathing change again, this time to a broken staccato. His fingertips kissed her cheeks, her hair, her shoulders. Pasang resumed her song, vibrating the jewel of Chokyi’s flesh as she rolled it across her tongue.

  Pasang pulled back and raised Chokyi into a lotus position on the mat. She lowered herself slowly onto his organ and folded her legs around his waist, wrapping her arms behind his shoulders. “Hold me,” she said. His arms locked around her like a harness. She sat motionless, working only the muscles of her lotus, rippling up and down the length of Chokyi’s jade stalk. Still he was silent.

  “I was no passing traveler tonight, my Chokyi,” Pasang whispered. “I have watched you for many months from my perch in the trees near the monastery. I have spied on you as you swept floors, cooked rice, drunk tea, and laid flowers before the Buddha. I know the flying squirrel who comes to you for nuts each day, and I know how you love to sneak fruits into your mouth when the other monks aren’t looking. I have listened in the nighttime as you whispered your samaya, your secret name. I have longed for you, sung for you, wept for you, dreamed of your body in my body. Like this.” She reached down and stroked the place where his treasure entered hers.

  She let herself move against him now, a slow undulation spreading from her hips to her shoulders. Chokyi moved, too, first timidly, then with increasing grace and ardor.

  Pasang kissed him again, touching their tongues to complete the circuit of energy. She thought of the statues she had studied in other lands. Shakti and Shiva locked in embrace, their stone limbs conjoined for eternity, their lovemaking witnessed by millions of curious eyes. As the storm howled outside, Pasang wondered if the lightning would strike her for seducing this young monk. Perhaps, as punishment, they would both turn to stone. She hoped so.

  They remained in yab-yum as the night deepened. The rain tapered off. In its wake the low breeze of their breathing stirred the chimes that hung at the corners of the temple. Pasang returned to her melody. This time Chokyi joined her, his low tones anchoring her wailing voice. She climbed the ladder of his chant and clung to his body as a vine wraps itself around a tree, twining her way higher into his branches as his ecstasy rolled across the sky.

  Pleasure took them both. It pulsed in slow waves from the place where Chokyi and Pasang were joined and rippled across the floor of the monastery, through the walls, along the rooftops. It shook the trees, the mountains, the valleys. It summoned the wind, which swept the storm clouds from the heavens, leaving only glittering black sky in its wake.

  Just before dawn, Pasang rose, fetched her satchel, and packed a bag for Chokyi. She woke him with a kiss. “Come now. Come away with me.”

  “Where are we going?” Chokyi rubbed his sleepy eyes.

  “To Lhasa.” Mischief returned to her smile. “Let’s go.”

  Chokyi could not believe how fast the train sped across the grassy Tibetan plain while he sat in a cushioned seat with Pasang curled by his side. He looked out the window at the steep mountains all around them, a landscape he had not seen in many years, never at this speed.

  Warily he looked around at the other travelers, wondering if he was conspicuous in his loose gray trousers decorated with a confusion of zippers, his puffy black sneakers, or his bright orange anorak. Pasang had picked them out in a too bright, noisy store in Lhasa. The clothes felt strange to him, but nobody else took notice of the monk in new street clothes.

  On the journey to Lhasa, Chokyi had told Pasang about his life, his family, his childhood fascination with railways. Now, Pasang laid her head on his shoulder and pulled a large fleece blanket over them. Chokyi startled when she tugged at his zipper and reached inside, then cupped his lingam in her small hand.

  “In all your dreams, did you ever dream of making love on a train?” Pasang whispered.

  Chokyi grinned. This time he did not hide his smile.

  The Mistress Charisma Treatment

  JOCELYN BRINGAS

  AFTER APPLYING HER RED lipstick, Shirley looked at herself in the mirror one last time and smiled. It fascinated her that a curly black wig and a few layers of makeup could transform her from boring Shirley Villanueva to tantalizing Mistress Charisma.

  When she was satisfied, Shirley said a farewell to her fellow employees and left the makeup room. The he
els of her stilettos tapped loudly against the floor as she walked down the hall to her client’s room.

  For almost two years, Shirley had been working at Asian Sensation Enterprises, a company designed for wealthy men who desired to explore their sexuality and fantasies with Asian women. She enjoyed her job a lot because it gave her the chance to have sex with the hottest men in the world.

  Through word of mouth, her alter ego, Mistress Charisma, had created a good reputation in the company. Out of twenty employees, she was the most requested, and it was very competitive to become a client of hers.

  Once Shirley reached her destination, she took a moment to flatten her skirt and put herself into a Mistress Charisma state of mind. When she entered the room, it was dim with a few candles flickering. A tall male figure stepped forward, but she couldn’t see his face.

  “Mistress Charisma, it’s so nice to finally be graced with your presence,” the man said.

  “Likewise. What’s your name?”

  “Please call me Brody.”

  “Brody?” Her voice squeaked as she said the name.

  Moving closer to him, she finally caught a little light on his face. Her heart started to pitter-patter faster when she realized exactly who he was.

  “Yes, I’m Brody. I’ve heard so much about you, Mistress Charisma. A few of my business partners have been clients of yours in the past. They all rave about how great a fuck you are and that you’re hotter than Lucy Liu, Kelly Hu, and Nicole Scherzinger combined.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  Shirley shivered when Brody’s cold hands touched her elbows. Looking up into his eyes, she reverted back to her high school years…

  “Nerdy Shirley, Nerdy Shirley, look at how nerdy Shirley is,” the Manthis High School football team chanted as they surrounded Shirley.

  “Does your mommy buy your clothes or does she make them at the sweatshop in China?” Brody Orsino teased as he flicked off the baseball cap she was wearing.

  Tears threatened to flood out of her eyes, but she fought hard to keep them in. She hated that out of all the students in the school, she had to be the one teased by the whole football team.

  “I didn’t know flower-print shirts were in style. Look at this shit, why the fuck would someone wear this?” Brody taunted.

  “Not even my grandma would wear that crap,” Brody’s teammate Jeff said.

  “Ju-ju-ju-just leave me alone!” Shirley stuttered as she tried to walk away, but they all blocked her.

  “Oh, wow, she speaks. Did you guys hear her speak? I didn’t know she could speak English. Ready, boys?” Brody asked as he looked at his teammates.

  Shirley closed her eyes as the spurts of Silly String struck her body. The sounds of deep laughter surrounded her, and all she could do was fall to her knees. She’d never felt so humiliated in her life. That day earned her a new nickname. Not only was she Nerdy Shirley, but she was branded Silly String Shirl.

  Every day in high school, Shirley was the butt of everyone’s jokes. The worst teasing came from Brody Orsino and his football teammates. They never got in trouble for harassing her because they were treated like royalty.

  When Shirley graduated high school she was so thrilled. She made sure to attend a college that was hundreds of miles away from Manthis so that she would never see any of her classmates, especially Brody Orsino, ever again.

  Yet here she was, staring into his eyes, eight years after he’d tortured her in high school. From what she could see, he hadn’t changed much. He still looked like the young jock he was back in high school, and he still had an arrogant aura.

  His warm breath brushed her face as he leaned closer to her. Snapping back into her Mistress Charisma role, she quickly dodged his lips and walked away from him.

  “Where you going, baby?”

  Ignoring his question, she asked, “What exactly brings you here, Brody?”

  “I’ll be honest. I want some hard-core fucking.”

  “Everybody wants that.”

  “Look, Mistress Charisma, I didn’t come here for a freaking interview. I need some pussy right now.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well then…” Mistress Charisma reached for her riding crop, stashed beneath the bed.

  Walking toward Brody, she grabbed his hair and pulled his head down to her height. She dragged her tongue along the side of his neck, making him moan. He responded by grabbing her ass and pushing his crotch against her. She was actually impressed with his level of arousal. He was definitely packing major heat in his pants.

  “Na-uh,” she warned, and with the flick of her wrist Mistress Charisma slapped the riding crop on Brody’s ass.

  “Ow!” he exclaimed as he jumped up in surprise.

  “Don’t touch me,” Mistress Charisma said firmly.

  “Fuck this, I didn’t come all this way for this shit,” Brody huffed as he began to walk away.

  Mistress Charisma kept her cool, and before he could even take two steps, she placed her hand on his cock.

  “Did you really think all I did to your friends was fuck them?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I guess they didn’t elaborate on exactly what my specialty is. Sex is more than fucking, Mr. Brody Orsino.”

  Brody’s facial expression changed when Mistress Charisma got down onto her knees.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said.

  “I love to fuck against walls, do you?” Mistress Charisma asked while petting his cock through his pants.

  “I’d fuck in a filthy Dumpster if I had to,” he grunted, and quickly reached for his zipper.

  “Take off your clothes and follow me,” Mistress Charisma said as she walked to her favorite wall.

  Leaning against it, she lifted her skirt and slid her hand between her legs. She gently fiddled her clit with her manicured fingers. She couldn’t wait to start her time with Brody. It made her smile knowing now she had power over him. She never thought she would ever run into him again.

  As Brody walked toward her bare naked, her eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of his hard cock standing proudly at attention. She had seen a lot of cock in her life, but, damn, this one was a big pole of a cock that would make porn stars jealous.

  “Want to give it a taste? It’s lonely and could use a mouth to keep it company,” Brody said as he caught her staring at his cock.

  “First come closer,” she beckoned.

  Removing her hand from her pussy, Mistress Charisma scraped her wet fingers across his nose. Brody grabbed her hand and diligently suckled her sweet juices off her fingers. He then let go of her hand, and just as she expected, he pressed his palm onto the wall.

  With a simple click, his hand was secured against the wall. His facial expression changed when he realized his hand was stuck.

  “What’s wrong, Brody?” she asked while tweaking his nipple.

  “My hand, it won’t move,” he said as he tried to yank his hand off the wall.

  “Really? Here, let me help you, give me your other hand.”

  Once she got ahold of Brody’s other hand, instead of helping him she secured the other shackle to his wrist. He was so absorbed with the thought of fucking her that he’d failed to notice she had shackles hanging from the wall.

  “What the hell? Now both my hands are stuck,” he said as he struggled to break free.

  Slipping away from Brody, Mistress Charisma walked over to the light switch and flicked it on. She had to admit, he had a wonderful physique. He obviously took good care of his body and went to the gym religiously. As she scratched her nails down his back, his muscles flexed beautifully.

  “Tell me if the name Nerdy Shirley sounds familiar to you,” she said.

  “What?!”

  “Nerdy Shirley, do you remember calling someone Nerdy Shirley?”

  “Back in high school, there was some stupid chick I called that. Why are you asking about her?” he asked as he frantically moved his hands, wanting to escape.


  “Oh.”

  Shirley felt her blood pressure escalating, but it quickly went down when Mistress Charisma took over her. It was time to have some fun. Reaching for his cock, she stroked him roughly. He stopped struggling against the restraints and allowed the pleasure to go through his body.

  “I know Shirley, actually. She told me all about how much of an asshole you are,” Mistress Charisma said as she squeezed his cock hard.

  “Fuck! That hurts!” Brody groaned in agony.

  “It’s a small world, Brody. I never thought I’d ever see you again.”

  “This is fucking nuts. Just let me go. I’ll go find another whore somewhere else.”

  Tired of hearing Brody’s voice, Mistress Charisma dropped his cock and went over to her toy chest. She grabbed a gag and stuffed it into his mouth. He unsuccessfully tried to scream and shout for help.

  After watching him struggle for a few moments, she slipped out of her blouse and smashed her bare breasts onto his muscular back. Her dark nipples immediately hardened once they slid against his skin.

  “I have a confession to make, Brody,” she whispered while dragging her nails along his thighs. “I’m Shirley.”

  Brody mumbled against the gag and turned his head to the side, wanting to get a better look at her.

  “You really ruined my high school life. However, now that I think about it, without you, I wouldn’t be the person I am right now. I think it’s so wonderful how you would insult an Asian woman like me years ago and would make fun of my mom working in a sweatshop and be here now paying to get fucked by me. I guess I have to thank you properly for giving me so much inspiration.”

  Moving her hands to his buttocks, she spread his cheeks apart and knelt down to look at his puckered asshole. She gently traced her tongue on his opening. He tried to resist, so she took hold of his cock to calm him down. As the seconds passed, she managed to insert some of her tongue into his succulent ass. She felt him relax and he began to moan in pleasure.

  “See, it’s not so bad,” she murmured.