Chapter 10

Over the following days and weeks, neither Wendy nor I heard any news about Sandra – not from Sandra herself, nor from any second-hand source. We began to fear the worst.

In the moments following Sandra's abduction, the two of us wandered aimlessly along the side of the road, too dazed by the awful turn of events to muster any coherent response. We were accosted by two more men, who herded us into another car and took us to Choi's office at once. Incredibly enough, Choi was holding the letter I'd written for Erin in his hands. How he'd gotten a hold of it that fast, I don't know. He ranted and raved, and threatened to harm us in all sorts of unimaginable ways. We were warned of the dire consequences that would result if we attempted to alert the authorities about Sandra's abduction, or if I made another attempt at contacting Erin. Finally, Choi made a show of running the letter through a paper shredder he just happened to have handy in his office.

All throughout his diatribe, I was seething with anger, and twice had to be physically restrained by one of Choi's thugs. Besides my obvious rage at Sandra's treatment, I expressed vehement objection to the planting of a listening device inside our place – something Choi did not deny. They'd gone ahead and done it after all! Wendy was actually the more composed of the two of us. She gave an impassioned plea for mercy towards Sandra – a plea which Choi dismissed with a sinister laugh. At that point, Wendy flipped out, and tried to throw a cup of water in Choi's face. The meeting was adjourned at that point. More explicitly, it was brought to an end by our forcible removal from Choi's office. Despite our posturing, we'd gotten no hint of what Sandra's fate might be. We were "escorted" back to our place, where we were reunited with the repugnant Mr. Kwong. He'd been drafted into duty as a chaperone once again – and now, a nearly full-time one.

For the next month, Mr. Kwong stuck to us like flypaper. He was given a key to our place, and provided our transportation to and from work each day. More problematically, he stayed with us in our apartment during the evenings; it was almost as if we had a third roommate. He typically departed the premises right before bedtime, and showed up bright and early in the morning to take us to work. This greatly inhibited any meaningful conversation between Wendy and me. Nonetheless, we did our best to keep our routines intact. Wendy and I fixed dinner every evening, but only for ourselves; we didn't give a fuck about Kwong's comfort. Kwong seemed unfazed by our lack of hospitality. He wasn't there to socialize with us, and he prepared his own meals.

This little arrangement ended with the beginning of harvest season, and my subsequent transfer back to the agricultural sector. With Wendy and I no longer working together, I guess Choi deemed it less necessary for us to have a full-time babysitter. Kwong was relieved of his duties, and Wendy and I had our little haven returned to us. We still had to be careful about what we discussed – now, we were sure that the place was bugged – but in most respects, things reverted back to normal.

Except, that is, for Sandra's absence. God, we missed her. What had they done to her? We couldn't help but dwell on the likelihood that Sandra had somehow been done in by going to great lengths to help us. Had we received even the slightest indication that she was alive and able to be rescued, we would have done everything in our power to help her out – even if it meant risking our own lives. No such indications ever popped up. Still, we kept our ears open for any news about her, although our isolation was such that word from the outside world rarely passed our way. Even the grapevine at the warehouse – where several of Wendy's co-workers knew Sandra – failed to turn up anything. Then again, everyone knew the consequences of talking in public about forbidden subjects. Any speculation that might have been out there was suppressed out of fear.

Despite the huge hole in our lives, Wendy and I still had each other to lean on. One night, less than a week prior to the two-year anniversary of my arrival in China, a critical point was reached.

It was just before bedtime; Wendy had already tucked herself in under the covers. The light in the bedroom was turned off, although the door was open and the living room light provided partial illumination. I came in to say good night and, as we often did, we got into a conversation, with me seated on the bed.

My back was bothering me a little that night. Working all those hours in the rice paddies took its toll on me physically. Wendy had given me a massage earlier – a long-standing routine we'd never abandoned. I'd taken some pain medicine, but I was still experiencing mild discomfort. So, I stretched out in a reclining position next to her on the bed while we chatted. This was nothing out of the ordinary; I'd done this before on a number of occasions. I was lying on top of the blanket, and she was underneath; a decidedly innocent configuration.

We got to talking about Sandra. In deference to the likelihood of the presence of a monitoring device in our midst, we never expressed speculation about her disappearance. At the same time, we had no qualms about reminiscing out loud about Sandra the person, whose unfailingly sunny disposition had been such a light in our lives. They couldn't hold that against us! We shared a few memories, some of which brought about sadness, and a couple of which induced wistful laughter.

Maybe it was the medication, or maybe it was the fact that I was exhausted, but I ended up drifting off to sleep during a pause in the conversation.

A very vivid dream followed, one featuring Erin in a starring role. I was back in Florida; Erin and I had just finished one of our bike rides. We had dinner, hung out in front of the TV for awhile, and then headed upstairs and made love. Erotic dreams are something I've rarely experienced, but tonight was an exception. We had hot and steamy sex there in our marital bed, ending with us snuggling up together under the covers. It was something that had transpired on a regular basis during our married life, which by now seemed like something from the distant past.

At that point, I felt myself beginning to awaken, but I didn't want the dream to end. I pulled her closer and gave her a soft kiss on the back of her head. With a start, I realized that the hair I had pressed my lips against was not Erin's fine, soft tresses, but a much thicker, silkier head of hair. In an instant, I was fully awake, although I somehow managed to remain motionless. A realization washed over me, along with a wide range of emotions.

While I was asleep, I'd unknowingly crawled under the covers, and was now spooning into Wendy's sleeping form.

Oh shit.

My face was surrounded by Wendy's deliciously thick hair. Her strong, yet fetchingly soft and warm, back was pressing against my chest. Those beautiful legs of hers were now in full contact with mine, skin to skin, from thigh to ankle. The soles of her feet were resting against the insteps of mine. My right hand had snaked its way under her right arm, and was now cupping her right breast through her T-shirt. I could feel her engorged nipple poking into the palm of my hand through the fabric. Her own right hand was resting on top of mine. In summation, we were in arousingly intimate, head-to-toe contact. And then there was the coup de grace: I was sporting a rampant hard-on, which was poking into her tush, with only my shorts and her panties in the way.

Shit, shit, shit.

I laid there, unmoving, considering my next move. Wendy's regular breathing pattern let me know that she was most likely fast asleep. I knew that I had to slip away from her, as quietly as possible, and finish the night out on the sofa.

A fierce internal conflict resulted, the likes of which I'd never before experienced. My conscience waged war against my emotions and my physical desires. It was a battle of the past versus the present. Had I acted spontaneously, the result might have been different – but it was my conscience, and the love I still had for Erin, that emerged victorious.

Very carefully, I moved to extricate myself from the clench I was sharing with the slumbering Wendy. I slid my right hand out from under hers. My index finger made incidental contact with her cotton-covered nipple as I did so, causing her to emit a soft sigh. I suffered through an anxious interval, until her breathing became regular once again. From there, it was just a matter of pulling away from her and sliding out from under the blanket. I covered her up as best I could, and then I silently withdrew from the room, closing the door behind me.

I tried to go back to sleep out on the sofa, but it just wasn't happening. Too many thoughts, emotions, and feelings were bouncing around inside my brain. I needed to think this situation through with a cool head, and there was one factor that was inhibiting that process. I decided to take care of that factor, once and for all.

I leaned over and grabbed a couple of pieces of tissue paper from a nearby table. There, under my own blanket, I proceeded to masturbate myself to a furious orgasm. Yes, masturbation, which for the past two years had been my only means of sexual release. This was in spite of the fact that I'd been co-habitating with a sweet, caring, desirable, and sexy woman for most of that time span. Tonight's events had really brought out the irony in all that, hadn't they?