Primal Scream (Box Set #1, Taboo Sex + AFF) (21 page)

Xing Yi had always been self-conscious of her single eyelids and flat hair. People always complimented her on her hair, even though she’d always felt it was soooo straight.

She (and her friends) knew she could get a bit obsessed with good-looking white guys too, which made her feel insecure of her “Azn” looks all over again.

But she tried to appreciate what she had. She took care of her body and skin.

She’d considered getting her eyes done before. She knew some people who’d gone for nose jobs, chin implants, botox—the list went on. The older people tended to go for anti-aging procedures, while those closer to her age went under the knife for more aesthetic purposes.

The double eyelid surgery would only take two hours. People walked down the streets of downtown South Korea with bandages on their faces all the time.

A little snip here and another snip there and she’d be good to go. But Xing Yi couldn’t really stomach the photos of the actual surgery. Why’d she Google them online in the first place?!

Then there was Debbie Yong, Singapore’s prettiest blogger and PBG (Plastic Barbie Girl), who’d practically gone for a face transplant. Nobody knew how many surgeries the FHM cover girl had truly undergone—lips, cheeks, eyes, nose, skin lightening—she’d gone for a Caucasian look, from her tanned, bespectacled, quite-plain self during school years. Xing Yi remembered what she looked like—they’d attended the same secondary school—Debbie was two years Xing Yi’s senior. Debbie had appeared on the magazine cover two years ago, a picture of perfection.

Apparently, some of the implants had started to deteriorate, as of late. Debbie’s forehead implant was beginning to show on her cranium. The end of her nose was looking a little bit off, at certain angles. And her cam-whoring, partying photos, with all kinds of kissy, pouty, and sometimes strange poses, were getting old as well.

Xing Yi had nothing against Debbie for undergoing plastic surgery. Debbie had always had a sweet smile, and could really stand out in the crowds when she applied some makeup and false eyelashes, though her plastic surgery truly worked wonders to skyrocket her levels of attractiveness and shaggaliciousness. After all, who didn’t want to look beautiful? But then, Debbie at once condemned the very plastic surgery she seemed to love, blogging her thoughts that she did not understand “why people would go for plastic surgery.” Xing Yi remembered reading the blog post, specifically the line, “Are they not confident enough in themselves?”

That bothered Xing Yi. It made her think that Debbie and people like her, screaming “it’s what is inside that counts!!!”, were hypocrites, and that beauty wasn’t all about doing plastic surgery to become pretty.

Screw the double eyelids! At least I have EYES,
Xing Yi scrawled in her journal.

She mentioned it to her Irish friend during an online chat the next day. The friend replied:

OMG, I WISH i had single eyelids! i have always thought that single eyelids look cool. i wish i had it. but i guess we all kinda want what we don’t have, huh?

Maybe the single eyelids gave some character, and a natural look. Those who saw the same plastic surgeon for their operations tended to come out having the same look: a tweaked, manufactured look.

And Xing Yi doubted her lack of confidence was from the eyelids themselves.

She didn’t even know if it was a confidence problem. Confidence in a social and sexual sense, to be more specific.

She’d just turned 21. She had a job, family, friends (all over the world—but not in Perri…yet?), was studying for an online degree, and drew manga-esque characters on the side. She liked the flexibility of online studying, which came at a lower cost than traditional study too. Now she was kicking herself for not considering the “fun” of the whole college experience, which many of her friends were having. But partying and getting drunk, and partying and getting drunk, didn’t sound that interesting either.

It was hard to mix around with people in a small town. Everyone knew everyone already.

It was less difficult to Xing Yi to mix around with people in a city, since it was a setting she was more familiar with.

But despite her mixing around…she still hadn’t jumped into bed with anyone.

She had a high sex drive, masturbated almost on a daily basis, but had no sexual experience with another person whatsoever, apart from some nude photos, webcamming, sexting, and cybersexing.

But cybersex just didn’t seem…real. It was like trying to get off to the computer or digital device.

She no longer cared so much about coming from a conservative Christian family. She wanted to love and feel loved, but if that was too hard to find, she wanted to at least have a good sexual experience before she died. She didn’t want to die a virgin. But sometimes, she’d think there was no one who was lonelier and more sex-starved than her. A sentiment that was amped up all the more, with each new day.

She could bring herself to orgasm. That had never been a problem.

She didn’t exactly want to be “used and abused” by someone else though. She hadn’t reached that critical a state yet. She’d dated a few times, though they’d mostly turned out to be losers or self-centered jerks after a while.

She was stuck, and a little confused. Her instincts told her that sex was important in a relationship, but she also reasoned that it wasn’t the only thing in life. But it was a very powerful force that couldn’t be just shut out of mind either.

And she was aware that she contradicted herself, from time to time. She’d lose interest in the guys who only saw her as a piece of meat, and lose interest with those who were “too nice” also, who seemed to back off the more “aggressive” and vocal she got. She wasn’t opinionated because she wanted to force her views on others. She just enjoyed a good conversation that engaged her mind, while others might have been too tired to give their brains one minute of a workout anyway.

At the same time, she was dying to be
seduced.
She wanted someone to make her want it so bad, she wouldn’t even think.

She thought about being bisexual, to “expand her options.” That’s what some of her friends did. But she mostly fantasized about male bodies, and was fascinated by their cocks. She had a classic Doc Johnson realistic dildo, which she used from time to time. It was a substitute for a real, massive and powerful dong. But could any substitute be better than the real thing?

She wanted a nice boy, really. She wanted someone passionate and compassionate, someone who’d consume her…instead of a well-dressed, well-groomed individual, who could look really good, but really have a selfish, apathetic, and/or narcissistic streak, without giving a damn about another person. It was fine to take care of one’s body, but Xing Yi wanted someone who cultivated their minds too.

She’d give 100% to serve and please somebody that she liked. It’d be nice if she received something fair back, in return.

Was that too much to ask?

It was such a shallow and superficial world so many people seemed to be happy to live in. Were they really happy? Or just keeping up an appearance of being happy?

Appearances were everything. Looks were a premium. “How bad can they look?” Tessa had said. That was the criteria for Xing Yi to be able to “find somebody” in Perri.

Of course, the U.S. was much bigger than one small town of 3200 inhabitants. Sometimes, Xing Yi wished her family had more issues, and was filled with more evil people. It’d be easier to cut off all ties from them, and just get away, go wherever the wind blew.

She’d think about all this before sleeping at night. Then, to relieve the stress and tension, she’d fantasize about going down on a male, having a cock in her mouth. She’d make the guy pant and sweat and send him to paradise. She wanted to make a guy cum so hard, he’d
pass out
faint from sheer agony and supreme bliss.

It was usually random guys, and random bodies, that she fantasized about. Now she’d started envisioning the hot gardener, shirtless and in his low-rider jeans, running her hands up and down his torso, kissing his abdomen, then rubbing her breasts against his thighs and schlong, before getting on her knees, as she slowly wrapped her pink lips around the head of his hungry cock.

There was something about him. She didn’t know his name, but she knew that lean, ravenous look in his green eyes. They’d made eye contact for a split second, when he turned back, rake in one hand, to look at her through her room window. They might be of a different race, and have different hair and eye color, and have other variants, but she felt so sure that she knew that look all too well.

It was a violent, silent scream coming from him. He was sick and tired of being stuck in a small town. She’d only been here for a month, so far—how long had he been staying here? Some of the locals hadn’t ever traveled out of Perri.

He might be longing for an adventure of some sort, looking for something different, that transcended the mundane and ordinary existence he led everyday. Something that she was looking for as well.

Perhaps her single eyelids did come in handy, on occasions like this. They could be more inscrutable. They hid the unbridled sexual imagery that freely went on in her mind very well, and kept her private thoughts safe and protected from the cold, cruel world outside.

But perhaps she was jumping ahead. They had just exchanged a look, so far.

And he knew where to find her—at Crazy Wok, and now at her home too—but she didn’t know where he lived, what car he drove, or what days he worked at Taylor’s.

She didn’t care if he really was a rapist or murderer. If they had a sexual encounter, even a brief one, but one that they both enjoyed, she’d be happy with that.

Xing Yi had a general idea on how to keep a man happy: by being a cook in the kitchen, a maid in the living room, and a slut in the bedroom. Xing Yi didn’t mind all three roles. She just hoped she’d eventually end up with someone who treated her nice.

Unless she went crazy from the loneliness and confusion first.

For right now, it seemed to her that craziness was fast becoming her constant companion.

III. Take-Out

The next few days went by like any other. Jake’s fall semester classes at UMP had begun. He saw some new faces on the small campus, and in his general elective classes. But most of the time, he wondered what he’d say to “The Crazy Wok Girl.”

It was why he had no intention with going back to Crazy Wok anytime. What’d he say to her? He hadn’t heard her speak before.

Where’re you from?

Want to suck on my dick?

Do you always sleep without any clothes on?

How old are you?

The last question was probably the most important. 24 or 14, he couldn’t tell, when it came to Asian females. He wouldn’t touch her if she was too young. He wasn’t a pedophile.

He’d cast a mould of her naked body. He’d design a cool, Asian-themed, stylish bachelor pad, complete with a red Oriental Eastern dragon rug in the living room. He’d mount the white cast of her tight torso on the living room wall, and admire it intensely, all day long.

He was in a cold zone for the rest of the week. He felt like he’d violated her privacy. But he couldn’t decipher the gaze of her dark eyes. He couldn’t get it out of his head, and was drawn into a shadowy depth of unanswerable questions—why, why, why—why he wanted more than anything to lie in bed with The Crazy Girl, make her squirm and writhe around on the sheets as he explored all of her sensuous lines and curves. Her thighs were enough to hypnotize him.

Jake dragged himself to Taylor’s at the end of the week. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep. He’d been self-stimulating himself on overdrive for the past few nights, and dreaming of
serving her up some protein
cumming on the Chinese girl’s face, on her porcelain, fair skin.

Was he functioning normally?

He was checking the inventory of the bolts and nuts and screws, sold at the hardware section of the store. Some were long, big screws and nails, that went up to 13 inches. He stifled a twisted smile—the 13-inch nail was double the size of his beef bazooka.

He ran a hand through his messy short crop. He was thinking of the soft rosy hue of her nipples, when she caught him by surprise—she was in skinny black jeans, and a gorgeous nude jacket, fur-lined at the hood. She made the skinny jeans look delicious. Her long, luscious raven-black hair was down, and her smiling face was blooming like a flower in spring time.

“
Hi…” she ventured, in a soft, charming voice. It was the natural volume at which she spoke most of the time. The exhilarating slight quiver of her voice was a wild tonic. “Would these two work together?”

It was The Body, right here in front of him! She’d “entered his zone” without breaking a sweat. A little thrill ran through her, as she looked up into Jake’s beautiful green eyes. She was five foot one, and he was a good seven inches taller.