Part III

The curtains had been opened and sunlight poured in through the windows. I stretched and opened my eyes and then bolted upright. It was a disorienting moment, looking down at the whole of San Francisco. It quickly came back to me. Less than 24 hours ago I was just a poor working smuck. Now, I was living the high life.

It's funny, but when you imagine winning the lottery, you imagine all of your worries disappear. Well, they don't, they just change. I was already starting to worry about things. How would I manage the money? Whom should I trust? What to do about Christine? Was she a gold digger? I rolled out of bed and went about my morning ablutions. Shaved and showered, I found some clothing in the box sent over the day before. Nothing is as comfortable as old Levis.

I wandered out to the kitchen and stopped short. A beautiful oriental woman was bustling around. She saw me and smiled. "Good morning."

"Ah, good morning," I said. "Are you Saeyong?"

She bowed and said, "I am Saeyong. I am most happy to be of service."

I half-assed bowed back. What do I know of bowing? She smiled and asked, "Would you like breakfast?"

"Sounds good." She turned and quickly started throwing together a breakfast. I watched her, fascinated. I had grown up with some Japanese families in our neighborhood. Well, not really Japanese. They had all been born here and were as American as the rest of us immigrants. And, of course, Stanford was pretty diverse. But I'd never been around a woman like Saeyong before. She was tiny. And she moved differently. I can't quite describe it and I realize I probably sound like a redneck myself, but just the way she moved seemed Oriental. I shook my head and said to myself, don't be a doofus. But the thought was there.

She had an omelet started when she turned to me and asked, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. Perfectly." I paused and then asked, "I like your accent. Where are you from?"

She looked startled and then looked away. She picked up the pan and then clunked it back down. There was something about that pan that made me realize I had screwed up. I asked. "Did the pan do something to make you mad?"

She turned toward me with her hands on her hips. Then her face softened and in a very controlled way she said, without a trace of accent, "It is okay. You wouldn't know. But Jack always used to tease me about my accent. I have worked very hard to speak without one. But when I get lazy, I fall back into bad habits."

"No, no," I said. "I liked it."

With the accent, "So, I can be your rittle Oriental slave girl."

"That's not what I meant."

She laughed, and again with out the accent said, "It's okay. That's what I am, your little Oriental slave girl. You would like a slave girl wouldn't you?"

Whoops, first thing in the morning and I was about to carry some wood. She had that same quality as Christine - she could put sex into her voice and let you know it. I didn't know what to say. She smiled, I think well aware of the effect she had just created. She turned back to the stove. "Denver omelet okay?"

I swallowed and answered, "Sure."

She glanced my way and smiled again. How is it that a woman can throw a guy for a loop so quickly?

"In answer to your question, I'm Korean. Go have a seat. Breakfast will be just a second."

I did as told. From the kitchen I heard, "Coffee?"

"Black," I said.

In a minute Saeyong appeared with plates, juice and coffee on a tray. She set them out and sat across from me.

"This looks delicious," I said. And it did. I dug in and the taste matched the appearance. She watched me shovel for a minute as she took a few bites of hers. I started to feel a little self-conscious as I had half the plate empty and she'd only eaten a few bites. I wiped my mouth and explained, "Big family." She raised her eyebrows. "In my family, if you didn't want to lose your food you ate it quickly."

"Oh," she said.

I made a deliberate effort to slow down. "This is wonderful."

"Thank you."

"Why did Uncle Jack tease you about your accent? I like it," I said.

She finished a bite and sat back. "He wasn't being mean. Jack wanted us to improve ourselves. Did Christine tell you about the schools?"

"She said all of you have massage training and cooking school."

Saeyong nodded. "Jack also paid for any college any of us want to attend, tuition, books, everything. He was a big believer in education. Many times he said, he wouldn't have been worth a dime if it wasn't for college. So when I started my program, he pushed me to be able to present a professional image." She paused and took another bite. "I'm working on a business degree and Jack said I needed to be able to fit the mold. Not that he believed in fitting the mold as a person, but in business you need to. He hired a woman to help me learn to speak without an accent. I'll finish my MBA next year. And when I start to interview, I won't have an accent to overcome."

"You're leaving next year?"

She looked wistful and then serious, "Yes, I think so. Seven years is enough. So you'll have to hire a new girl." She smiled and said, "You'll enjoy the interview process."

This made me wonder, but I wasn't sure exactly what I should be wondering. I had to wonder what I should be wondering. I wonder why women are so confusing. I asked her instead, "So where did you meet Uncle Jack?"

"I was working at Golden Empire Massage and he came in one day."

"Christine said you were all trained in massage," I offered helpfully.

Saeyong giggled, "Yes, massage."

"Massage. Oh, like a massage parlor?" picturing a dirty scary place.

In her accent, "Yes, massage parlor." Her eyes twinkled. In consternation I searched for something to say. She asked, "You look bad. What are you thinking?"

"I mean, well, those places are dirty and the women there are..." I stopped just that one moment too late. You know, that Ah Shit moment when you know you just fucked up but it's too late.

Sweetly, she asked, "Those women are what?"

"I didn't mean you. But the women in those places..."

"I was the woman in those places. Have you been to one?" she asked vehemently.

"Uncle Jack took me to the Market Street Cinema," I answered.

"Ah. That's a dirty place. The place I worked was a nice place. Very clean, very nice. We gave the men table showers before the massage," she said with hands on hips.

"I'm sorry. I thought when you said massage parlor you meant like sex," I said.

"You don't like sex?" she asked.

"Well, yes..." I started.

She interrupted, "So, nothing's wrong with sex. Of course there is sex. Sex is everywhere. Some guys just want hand release, some oral, some want full but always it is a clean place."

"Did you do bare?" remembering what Jack had said at the Cinema.

Hotly, she answered, "No. I told you, clean, safe place. Always covered. The girls that worked there were nice girls. They all came from Korea or China and had no other way to work here. Most were sending their money home or they were saving to go home and start a business. This was no ugly place." She got up from the table and walked over to the window. Shit, I thought Oriental women were supposed to be subservient to their men.

I watched her outlined against the bright morning sky, dark shiny hair, and arms crossed, looking out at San Francisco. And I tried to understand. She was a beautiful woman. She was also obviously quite intelligent and was finishing an MBA on top of being a trained chef and God knows what else. How could she work in a massage parlor selling sex? I didn't have an answer. I looked at Saeyong and could tell she was hurt. To myself, Boy, you fucked this conversation up.

I stood, walked over to Saeyong and looked out the window with her, watching out of the corner of my eye. She tightened her arms across her chest. I waited. After a minute she shifted a little and finally uncrossed her arms. "This is all really new to me," I said.

"No reason to be rude," she said.

"I apologize for that. I didn't intend to be rude. I just never met a woman who sold sex before."

She stared at me as if I was a hick, which I am, then burst into laughter. "Oh, you silly Americans. You are so funny. Women always sell sex. You've never been around women who didn't sell sex. Come here." She strode off to the library. I followed to see her sitting at a computer. A picture flashed up on the screen. "This was a favorite of Jack's." The picture was titled, World's Oldest Remote. On the left, a woman's legs were closed. On the right, a black velvet box was open with a big diamond in it and the legs were now open. I burst into laughter.

"That's funny," I said through laughter.

"Jack loved this picture. He sent it to everyone."

I nodded and then realized what she was trying to get me to see. Turning serious I said, "I bet he did. I do apologize for the way I said, well everything."

She patted my hand, "I forgive you. Me, I'm just being honest. Most women kid themselves. How many women 'punish' their men by withholding sex? Isn't that an exchange for sex? You do what I want or you don't get sex. Selling is an exchange too. Maybe it's roses, or candy, or getting the guy to write you a term paper, or a diamond ring but it's an exchange. Exchange is selling. Cash is wrong, but everything else is okay." Saeyong eyed me for a moment and then said, "Men chase and women relent in exchange for something. It is biology. It's true for animals, including man-animals. Females always get something from the male for sex. Enough for today."

Turning to the computer she said, "This is your computer." She pointed to a chair and I pulled it over. "Jack ran a T1 into the building. The five of us share it. Believe me, you won't notice if anyone else is using it. This thing is quick." She pulled up a browser window and started clicking around. Every page loaded in a flash. I had an Internet connection at work that I thought was fast but it paled compared to this. "We have dynamic IP's." I had no idea what that meant but she obviously knew. A few more clicks, every page loading in a flash. This was going to be fun. "You want to try?"

I nodded and we switched chairs. I felt like I was driving a Ferrari. I went straight to ESPN. It was baseball season. I hardly noticed Saeyong get up as I poured through the sports news.

Time flies as they say. Saeyong appeared at my elbow. "You go to the adult sites?"

"What? No. I don't know anything about them," I answered.

"Just go to Jack's. He's got them all bookmarked," she said.

"Really?" I asked.

She gave me a look, a look like a retarded child gets I think, grabbed the mouse, pulled down the favorites menu and clicked on the first one. Up popped a warning. Adult stories, only enter here if you are an adult and similar things. I glanced at Saeyong from the corner of my eye. For some reason, the idea of browsing an erotic site with her standing there was intimidating. I shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

"Go on," she said.

I entered and found the author page. I was bewildered by all of the choices. "What do you want to see?"

She smiled indulgently. "You embarrassed? Want me to go?"

"No." A pause, then, "Well, maybe a little embarrassed."

"Ah, go ahead. I read all the good stories," she said.

"You did?"

"You don't think I read English?" she asked.

"Quit it. You know that isn't what I meant," I told her.

She laughed, "You easy to make fun. Here, I like this author." She clicked on one and another page appeared.

I clicked on a story and started reading. It quickly got to the good part, the sex. It was about a runaway who is mistaken for a hooker. She decides to play the part since she needs the money. They wind up in a motel room. The sex was graphic and hot.

"Like that one, huh?" she asked. She was looking at the bulge in my pants.

I laughed, "I guess."

She pulled me up from the chair and started dragging me to the bedroom. "Come on, that was a good story. I haven't had sex in too long. I'm horny."