Chinese Extremes Part 1

Phil turned to see who was addressing him. It was a Chinese man who was not quite as tall as Phil, but still of respectable height. He was in his fifties and quite handsome, with a charming smile and he wore an obviously expensive suit. Standing unobtrusively in the background were four men Phil realized were probably bodyguards.

The man actually looked vaguely familiar, but Phil couldn't quite place him. "I'm sorry," Phil said questioningly, "but I'm not sure we have met." The man smiled disarmingly and said: "No Mr. Green, we haven't met formally, but I watched all of your matches a few days ago." Suddenly Phil was able to place the man. He had been sitting in the best seats in the house; wearing expensive clothes like you wore a uniform and watching the fights with great interest. He had had a large group of people with him: his bodyguards, a bunch of cronies and an extremely beautiful woman sitting right behind him. Phil remembered the woman. She had been a Caucasian with snow-white hair and almost translucent skin. She had been dressed in a stunning silk dress that clung to her every fabulous curve. Everybody ogled her, men as well as women. People could hardly tear their gaze away from her, yet she never seemed to notice. Her attention seemed focused exclusively on the man who now stood talking to Phil. She had sat on the row right behind him, her back straight, her legs together and her hands clasped demurely in her lap, her posture somehow submissive.

That woman was simultaneously the reason Phil remembered the man and the reason he couldn't quite place him. He suddenly remembered someone telling him that the man was a former general, who was now some kind of super-influential powerbroker. Now that Phil did notice him, he saw that The General was a quite handsome man. Phil had for years harbored a special kind of homosexual fantasies, fantasies of being dominated by the right man, fantasies of being forced to be feminine and forced to serve sexually as a woman.