Shirlee's Captivity
by (Chad Barker)


INTRODUCTION 

No living being is as bull-headed and steely nerved as a female competing in 
a male world, struggling to get out from behind the receptionist's 
switchboard and clacking typewriters to build a career for herself. Hazards 
raise their heads at every turn . . . and sometimes the threats are more 
serious than an offensive pinch on the buttocks or a salacious glint in the 
eye. That's precisely what Chad Barker, head of the Hong Kong Border 
Investigation had in mind when he tried to dissuade his baby-faced secretary 
from accepting the assignment as informer on the twenty-three-year-old Bu 
Manchu jade smuggling case. 

 The mysterious Orient with its infamous white slave trade and opium dens 
and smuggling, is a city where caution is a pass word . . . a place where 
anything can be bought for a price. Sometimes in flesh . . . Paying that 
price is where Shirlee Canan, our twenty-two year old heroine drew the line 
on her career. 

 Captive in Hong Kong is the final drama of these fragments woven together 
in a fast-paced adventure written by Edward Mitchell, a true master at 
interpreting the mental machinations of a female in distress. 

 -The Publishers 


Chapter One 

"You have a talent for stumbling on to things, but listen to somebody who's 
been in this business since you were born. No matter how honorable your 
intentions, you're not immortal," Chad Barker grunted, rocking back in his 
chair and touching his fingertips together, squinting out the window at the 
congested Hong Kong streets below where the perpetual shuffle of feet and 
high voiced chatter sifted up to his third floor office. Deliberately, he 
kept his Australian blue eyes off of the magnificent body sitting across the 
room from him; those sleek stockinged legs had a definite clouding effect on 
his brain. 

"You were saying . . ?" Shirlee Canan prompted, her pale amber eyes riveted 
on her superior. "Yes . . . I want you to stay on an imposter basis until 
you get used to the hazards of investigation. It's a cruel, dirty world out 
there and with your enthusiasm, you're likely to land yourself in some 
abominably bloody situation and get yourself killed," he said sternly. 
"You're a bright girl, inquisitive and strong, but you've got one drawback." 

"Yes. . . ?" Shirlee cocked her pretty head and held her breath for a 
minute, frightened Chad Barker would take her off the investigation team and 
send her back behind the secretary's desk. 

"You're too dramatic. You have to see the world as it is-you can't fluff 
facts out of imagination." He sucked in his breath. "However, you have one 
very definite asset . . . your appearance. You look innocent . . . few 
smugglers would take you seriously." 

"But I am serious! I'm dead serious!" Chad winced at that word, cursing 
himself for sending this brown-eyed twenty-two year old child out on the 
bawdy streets of Hong Kong. Christ, she'd be eaten alive by the opium 
dealers, the white slave market . . . anybody with an eye for innocence. But 
she'd begged for a chance to prove her assets to the Hong Kong-based Border 
Investigation. It was only fair. 

He wagged a finger at her. "You're to play model for Bu Manchu and that's 
all! No messing around for facts . . . just keep those brown eyes open to 
see who frequents his jewelry showing. Remember, you're not a policeman." 

"That doesn't mean I don't have eyes and ears!" 

"Listen . . . you're a model and that's it . . . or you'll end up in the 
Aberdeen Harbor with a hunk of cement around those gorg-. . . those ankles." 
Chad swallowed dryly. How could he play boss to this supple bodied beauty 
when he couldn't keep from mentally seducing her? "That's what the police 
are for." 

"Look, Mr. Barker," she said snippily. "If I'm not mistaken, I am a woman 
and who could be a better investigator than somebody who works with him?" 
She threw up her delicate hands in frustration. "All I'm asking for is the 
file on Bu Manchu to get a feeling for the man. If Manchu's been smuggling 
jade for the past twenty-three years, certainly you must have some facts on 
him." 

"Okay, okay . . . you win." Out of the corner of his eye, Chad Barker looked 
at the secretary turned police informant. "One more thing . . . I don't want 
you sleeping around to get facts," he snapped back at her. An awkward 
silence hushed between them while Chad Barker asked himself how he could 
have made a snide remark like that. Just because Shirlee Canan was well 
blessed, didn't mean she had an overactive libido. Damn it, though, he just 
wanted to protect this naive girl, and with thirty-seven years of 
investigatory experience to his credit, he was certain Shirlee was better 
off at the typewriter. How female liberation had hit China's white 
population, he'd never figure out. 

Still, his remark was inexcusable. Shirlee Canan, with her baby soft blonde 
curls and luscious pale amber eyes looked every bit the model role, but once 
she came face to face with a sultry womanizer like Bu Manchu, there had to 
be trouble. 

Shirlee sucked in her breath and her red-lipped mouth puckered angrily. "Mr. 
Barker, I would never sleep with a man for the measly purpose of getting 
facts!" She sat up stiffly, her soft whispery voice turned hard as jadeite 
rock. 

The investigator spun around in his swivel chair, facing the offended girl. 
"I . . . guess you wouldn't, would you?" He recalled the numerous times 
she'd declined his luncheon invitations. "At least it's out in the open now, 
Shirlee," he said, struggling to gain control. "But when you interview for 
the modeling job for his next jade jewelry opening, you must be aware of 
these possibilities. He's only human, you know . . . and part satyr." 

"If he thinks he's going to force me to sleep with him for a crumby job, so 
what? At least I'll get next to him. But that doesn't mean I will!" she 
blasted coldly, then blushed at her own audacity. 

Chad Barker had the unmistakable feeling that he was losing on the defensive 
lines with this headstrong girl. "I guess you're right." For a silent moment 
he appraised her, trying to decide what her chances for surviving Bu Manchu 
might be. She was sharp as a tack, a tall leggy blonde with full womanly 
hips, a deliciously narrow waist and a heavy high-set pair of breasts . . . 
a real show stopper on the dark streets of Hong Kong. Barker scratched his 
balding head and asked himself if his decision was a wise one. Perhaps 
unconsciously he was sending Shirlee out into the crime-infested streets of 
Hong Kong for the sake of his mental well being. Working around Shirlee was 
like trying to diet at a smorgasbord. 

"Bu Manchu employs an army of Chinese thugs who use one karate chop to slice 
you in half, you know," the investigator informed her. "He's been known to 
amputate woman's breasts with machetes." 

Shirlee didn't flinch . . . outwardly. 

"And his assistant is a raving lesbian who picks out the models and tests 
them out in her own nasty way first.. ." 

"That's so, huh?" She didn't blink an eye. "I've been a model, Mr. Barker . 
. . but they said I wasn't very symmetrical . . ." Shirlee looked askance 
for a moment while Chad wondered what could be wrong with this girl's 
symmetry. She was all bumps and curves to his eyes. 

To his surprise, she was blushing. "Horizontally, that is . . . I'm a little 
top heavy," she put in meekly, her amber eyes glancing down over her full 
breasts that ballooned out a full thirty-eight inches from her twenty-two 
inch waist. 

Somehow, seeing this girl blush with modesty, rekindled Chad Barker's 
confidence in his decision and he sat up erect and cleared his throat in a 
judicial manner. "Okay, Shirlee, I'll give you permission to pursue the Bu 
Manchu file . . . if only to let you know what you're getting into. But no 
getting dramatic if he . . . if he comes on to you. All you have to do is 
quit. We'll understand." 

"That's fair," Shirley agreed sincerely. "All I want is to get out behind 
the secretary's desk and get into investigation. I think I have a talent for 
it. Now back to Bu Manchu . . . If he's a jade smuggler, why does he bother 
with owning a shop? Is it a hobby with him?" 

Barker lumbered to his feet and pulled open a metal file drawer from which 
he withdrew a dossier fat as the New York telephone directory, puppy-eared 
and ink marked. 

"No . . . I have the idea that he's an egomaniac who has to be in the 
limelight. That's why the extravagant showings aboard his yacht." 

"And that's where I'll be modeling his jewelry?" 

Barker looked serious. "Yes . . . and I'd be cautious, if I were you . . . 
I'd give it some thought before I committed myself to this job. There'll be 
other assignments coming up. Take this out into the outer office and scan it 
. . . then decide." 

Shirlee's heart pounded triple time as she gathered up the file and tripped 
in her high heels out of Chad Barker's office and settled at her desk. 
Finally, she'd got her break! Secretarial work was nowhere. The darned 
telephones were always ringing and nobody took you seriously unless you 
missed a day of work. What she craved was the real world of adventure, the 
underworld of shady characters who sparked the imagination like Chinese 
firecrackers. What better place to fulfill that fantasy than in Hong Kong, 
the trade center of the Orient. When her parents had first moved there from 
Blackpool, England she'd found it a strangely intriguing place and now that 
she felt comfortable here, her ambition to know it grew hotter. For years 
she'd read Bu Manchu's name in the paper. Ever since jade smuggling had 
replaced opium as the prize contraband of the Golden Triangle of Burma, 
Laos, and Thailand, Bu Manchu was the most colorful criminal in Hong Kong. 

Thumbing through the file, she gazed at his photograph before her and 
scanned his life history. Born in Bangkok, the son of an artisan, he worked 
for an exporter and started designing jewelry. From there, reported 
connections with the chieftains of eastern Burma's independent Shan state, 
in particular, the Chinese warlords left over from Kuomintang forces now in 
control of jade smuggling in the Orient. 

Shirlee studied the photograph of Bu Manchu, appraising it as only a woman 
can, while Chad's comment on his man's sexual habits rattled in her brain. 

He was posed on a beach in Bali with a gorgeous, tawny, leggy woman sitting 
on his lap. The girl . . . one of his models, perhaps . . . was wearing a 
fashionable string bikini, but it was the male's body Shirlee was looking 
at. He had a strong muscle-bound Bruce Lee body, despite his fifty years and 
his cheek bones were high and his nose less broad than most Mongolians. He 
appeared demonically smug and arrogant, and Shirlee wondered if that lithe 
brown body sitting on his lap counted amongst his murder victims. Or had she 
lost a breast in a temper tantrum? 

Instantly, Shirlee found herself shuddering, and she drew in a few deep 
breaths to cool the hot flash which had swept over her body without warning. 
This half-giddy sensation had been overcoming her often of late, and she 
knew what it meant. She was a normal adult female who had been driving 
herself too hard for the past two years, thinking about her career and 
leaving no time to satisfy her physical desires. Somehow, the photograph of 
a lustful character like Bu Manchu had sparked an automatic physical 
reaction, that dark animal need within her. 

She stood up, nervous and trembling, wishing she could turn off that portion 
of herself that was female and deprived, at least long enough to advance in 
the investigation business. Why her sexual desires were so strong and 
demanding, baffled her. Women with no self respect were supposed to run 
around looking for cheap thrills, but she was a career woman, the 
cold-blooded investigator who should not have these distracting, irritating 
passions! She sucked in her breath, remembering what Chad Barker had said 
about her sleeping around for facts. Had he seen something in her, a certain 
suppressed weakness she wasn't aware of? The picture of tawny bodied Bu 
Manchu flicked in her mind. Suppose Barker was right . . . suppose she'd 
have to sleep with him to get the modeling job. Would she succumb to it? 
Maybe the Mata Hari story was nothing unusual; maybe all female spies got 
their information in bed! 

Manchu would laugh you right out of bed, she thought, so sack that thought. 
What you don't know about sex would fill a book and Manchu looks like a 
demanding man who wouldn't settle for a whimper and a whine. 

Shirlee's lack of sexual experience was no exaggeration, despite her 
baby-doll looks that drove every man in Hong Kong wild. Her parents were 
staunch English Episcopalians who didn't take kindly to late night dates and 
pimply faced teenage boys knocking at their door. Of course, she had gone 
parking a few times with her boyfriend Larry, back in Blackpool, but it was 
the thing to do and everybody thought you a bit weird if you didn't try it. 
Still, it bothered her when Larry got too enthusiastic, necking with her, 
sticking his tongue in her mouth and running his hungry hands all over her 
fully mature teenage breasts. The touch of his fluttery hands had never 
failed to arouse her, no matter how she tried to ignore it, and each parking 
spree brought her a bit closer to doing it. Sometimes she'd gone so far as 
to let him slide his fingers beneath her blouse and undo her brassiere and 
massage the nakedness of her succulent young breasts. Most of the time Larry 
would bring a bottle along, and Shirlee had begun to associate the stinging 
taste of alcohol with backseat grope sessions in the dark. Drinking helped, 
dulling her overactive conscience and making her not responsible for what 
they were doing. The memory of their last date together, before she moved to 
Hong Kong, floated into her mind and refused to be driven away. How many 
times had she remembered every humiliating moment of that last date? 

They had killed half a bottle of cheap whiskey together before they fluffed 
up the pillows in the backseat and started to neck, and she had not even 
made her usual objection when his inching hand roamed into the forbidden 
territory up between her legs, caressing the sensitive inner flesh of her 
thighs. But Larry was not satisfied with stroking her legs, and she had 
tried to resist when he began jabbing his outstretched middle finger lewdly 
beneath the tight leg band of her panties and into the softly curling pubic 
hair surrounding her pussy. His fluttery touch had sent that strange 
tingling sensation charging throughout her entire body, the first time she 
had ever felt it, and the young girl had found it difficult to sit still in 
ladylike fashion as Larry probed deeper into her moist secret flesh. 

"No, Larry," she had whispered into his ear, thinking he would stop short 
the way he had always stopped in the past when she had screamed a halt. But 
this time he hadn't listened to her, none at all, and the next thing she 
heard was the metallic whine of a zipper opening. With a shock, she had 
realized that his pants were open and in the dim light of the streetlight, 
she had been able to see his long hard penis fully erected and throbbing 
with lustful energy. Before she could react, he had seized her shaking fist 
and wrapped her fingers around his hot, solid flesh. She would have let go 
immediately, but at that same instant, Larry had pushed his fingers boldly 
into the tight warmth of her quivering young cunt. This sudden invasion sent 
an electric shock of rippling, almost unbearable pleasure up her backbone, 
pinning her, gasping, back against the seat. Then she was squeezing his 
warmly pulsating cock, her feminine instincts taking over and telling her 
what to do next. Within seconds the two of them were manipulating each 
other's genitals in unison with their lewd groans of delight. 

Shirlee hadn't realized that her sixteen year old boyfriend's penis could 
swell that big, and without thinking, she began to stroke his long hard cock 
in wonderment, moving the leathery foreskin up and down over the bulging tip 
of his glans, feeling all woman as she heard her boyfriend's moaning 
pleasure. 

And all the pleasure was not all Larry's. A part of her brain was screaming 
that this was sinful, but her over-stimulated young body was answering back, 
telling her that nothing else in her entire life, not birthday cake or 
reading a good book, had ever felt so good. Instinctively, she had opened 
her inner thighs, giving her boyfriend even greater access to the moist 
playground of her virginal cunt, squeezing his wildly throbbing cock as hard 
as she could as their arms criss-crossed and they worked at each other. 
Suddenly, Larry gasped, trying to roll on top of her, and she had fought him 
with all her strength she had left in her whiskey-weakened body, despairing 
as she realized he was ten times stronger than she. In seconds he had 
flattened her on the seat, one hand ripping her panties off her loins and 
leaving them dangling from one slender ankle. She begged him to stop. 

Too late . . . with a snarl, he had flicked his hips forward powerfully, 
stabbing blindly with his blood-fed cock and trying to penetrate the 
defenselessly open slit of her vagina while she wiggled desperately to 
off-set his aim. 

"No, Larry, Lar-ry, we can't!" she had begged, thrashing wildly back and 
forth and clamping her hot thighs together as tightly as she could with his 
pulsating manhood trapped wildly between them. Then, without warning, his 
penis exploded with hot juices and Shirlee had groaned as she felt his warm 
hardness begin to jerk out of control against her naked legs. Larry gasped 
and sent a thick hot stream spurting powerfully from his jerking, 
ejaculating penis, drenching her blonde pubic hair and dripping wetly down 
her cuntal furrow and the insides of her thighs . . . 

That was the last she saw of Larry. Her father's promotion sent him to the 
Orient and perhaps just as well. The last Shirlee heard of her Blackpool 
friends, included the news that Larry had married another girl. In Hong 
Kong, too, there were other necking sessions and more dark corners, but 
Shirlee had remained frightened of her own sexuality, scared of the power 
this feeling possessed. Any minute it could strike without warning, 
precisely the way it had when she had glanced at the photograph of Bu 
Manchu. 

What about Manchu set her off? He was just a Chinese thug, a smuggler, a 
murderer. 

 Chapter Two 

"Christ, it's been too damned long!" Tom Bailey threw down his short stick 
and glared at the sand-drawn map of the Golden Triangle with an umbilical 
cord line connecting its craggy outline with the smooth one of North 
America. He couldn't count how many times he had drawn that same map in the 
sand outside of his dirt floored thatch but on the Pai River, and drawn the 
same mental blank. The tall American rose from his haunches, despondently 
realizing that perhaps he was forcing something from a brain that had long 
since atrophied from lack of human contact. Seven . . . eight years had 
passed since his American spy plane had been shot down in the last stages of 
the Viet Nam conflict and he'd escaped from the burning wreckage in the 
Burmese forests near the Thai border. His leg, once splintered and mangled, 
had long since healed and he walked now with only a slight limp. 

Insanely, he wished he had somebody there sharing his gloomy existence to 
get him out of this dank hell hole on the wrong side of the world . . . if 
only for one passionate minute. A few giggling, bucktoothed Burmese girls 
from the village were his sole contact with the world . . . that and a few 
chattering gibbons hanging from his teak branches outside his hut. But he 
hated anybody with brown skin, for it was those bastards who'd shot his 
plane down. Killed his crew and left him bleeding on a river bank with the 
snakes and blood-thirsty Karenni smugglers for company. 

Aimlessly, Tom Bailey sauntered into his rustic hut and stared at his 
remaining touch with the Western world: a crumpled up snapshot, wrinkled 
from humidity, of his girl friend Julie back in Dayton, Ohio sitting on a 
sofa in a playful cheesecake Harlow pose. That photograph had been his good 
luck charm during those disastrous missions into Communist territory. Luck? 
What a bitter joke that was! 

Feeling slightly dizzy from the mental agony of loneliness, he staggered to 
the broken shaving mirror from his first-aid emergency plane kit and 
inspected himself, turning his head this way and that. Would Julie still 
find him attractive? There were few women in these godforsaken wilds who 
could give him an answer, save for the aging whore who'd worked the streets 
of Da Nang during the war and had made it her business to learn a few 
English phrases. Tom squinted through the dim light and wondered if Julie 
would recognize him now. He was thin and wiry and his hair was long and 
wild. Once he'd been combed and clipped, a bit overweight. 

"You're getting old," he mumbled, hearing his own voice for the first time 
in days. Before he was shot down in that last spy mission, he'd planned to 
marry Julie and have kids and dogs and a big back yard back there in Dayton. 
Where was she now. . . ? Making peanut butter sandwiches for another man's 
children? Groaning out her orgasm under the man taking his place? 

Somewhere out there was a means of getting back to the States, but something 
inside of Tom had long since withered up all hope of seeing Dayton, Ohio and 
Julie. Anyway, she probably wouldn't want him any more. 

Bailey felt faint again from the emotional exhaustion of memories and he 
plopped down on his straw mat and slept while the gibbons chattered high 
over head, chasing after ultramarine birds. 

 Chapter Three 

Considering Bu Manchu's vast empire, it was difficult to believe he kept his 
design studio in this tawdry, fishy-smelling section of Hong Kong. There 
should have been a bronze door, at least a plaque to announce the entrance 
to Bu Manchu's Oriental Jade Designs, but instead, there hung only a simple 
sign. Shirlee toyed with the idea of knocking on the door and introducing 
herself as an applicant, but that might be too risky. What if they slammed 
the door in her face? 

Choosing a covert strategy, she took to the alleyway skirting Manchu's 
building, wondering if this might be the warehouse for his contraband which 
he sold to other jewelers for 500 percent of what he paid for it by 
smuggling it by truck, mule and boat through Thailand. 

An open doorway leading inside the building is where she ducked inside, 
knowing that she had to seize the chance before somebody ambled along and 
started asking questions she couldn't answer. Inside the somewhat garish 
interior she could hear people talking excitedly, and a few steps down the 
Persian carpeted hallway brought her to a central office. Nobody paid any 
attention to her so she paused a moment to look around. 

Almost immediately her detective instincts clamored like a fire engine and 
her inquisitive eyes took in the lushly furnished office manned by a 
semi-circle of muscle bound black belts standing with their arms crossed 
over their chests. These were no artisans, no jade carvers: they resembled a 
series of Bruce Lee statues. Shirlee sucked in her breath, pondering their 
obvious intent while three gorgeous models slithered in, all loaded down 
with jade jewelry that sparkled around their necks, fingers and ears. 

"Do they want you for the showing?" asked the British reception speaking 
crisply from behind her desk. 

"He said he wanted a minute to decide," replied the model nervously, 
flipping her mane of straight raven hair over her shoulder to show off an 
orange gold earring laden with a pale pink Buddha carved gem that dangled 
down to her elegant swan-like neck. "I don't know what more he could want of 
me," she complained. 

The grey haired reception raised an eyebrow. "I think I do." She leaned over 
her desk and whispered, "Let me give you a bit of advice. Please him." 

Shirlee pretended to admire a case of Buddha statuary carved from a variety 
of jade hues as she digested this information, while out of the corner of 
her eye she took in the sex-bomb body of this luscious Thai girl. The three 
models disappeared up the steps, chattering to each other excitedly. 
Obviously Bu Manchu was handpicking his models, and Shirlee shuddered at 
what would happen to her career if he didn't take kindly to her blonde 
Western looks. 

The grey haired reception caught sight of the misplaced blonde then, and for 
a moment she looked stern, as if intruders were a common inconvenience 
around Manchu's gallery. "Miss, could 1 help you?" she asked in her cockney 
accent. 

"Me? Oh, yes. I've come to interview for the modeling job?" 

The woman perused Shirlee's innocent looks and drew in a deep breath as if 
irked, then directed her to be seated. "Mr. Manchu is very busy today, but 1 
hope you have time to wait." 

"Oh, yes." Shirlee sat in the velvet gilded chair and glanced around 
impatiently, feeling herself getting nowhere fast. This waiting was a waste 
of time. "Madame, have you a ladies room, please? I'd like to freshen up 
before I meet Mr. Manchu." 

The woman cast her a burning glance, but conceded. "Yes, upstairs and to 
your right. But don't get in the models' way!" she cautioned starchily. 

Every footstep brought Shirlee closer to the kingpin of the Orient's jade 
smuggling operation and her heart pounded in her temples as she took to the 
steps and found herself at the top of the stairs, facing the ladies room 
door. Brazenly, she stepped inside, opening the door onto the three primping 
models. 

Time to take control of the situation . . . 

"Mr. Manchu is waiting for you, girls," ordered Shirlee authoritatively, 
standing back to allow the three slinky-hipped beauties to pass her. None of 
the three girls bothered to question the stranger's order and they pressed 
past her in a rush of high-pitched Chinese chatter. Shirlee let the door 
close gently, drew in a few deep breaths, then opened it a peek to watch the 
supple-bodied women head for Manchu's show room. She was fast on their 
heels. 

This was the critical moment. Holding her breath, Shirlee nudged open the 
heavy door and glanced covertly into the dimly lit room to see the three 
models shuffle towards a center stage. A man and a woman were sitting on a 
couch, their backs to Shirlee, barking orders to the swiftly moving models. 
Moving quickly herself, before courage dissipated, Shirlee slipped into the 
room and hid behind a dressing room curtain. 

She was in the same room with Bu Manchu! Getting out again might be the 
scary part, and Shirlee remembered what Chad Barker had said about Manchu 
being a murderer. Did he kill models for snooping around? Too late now . . . 

"Come on, girls. Step to it!" snapped Manchu in Raj English as the three 
models balked at the edge of the platform and looked at each other for 
courage. "Get up there and let me see what you do for my designs." Manchu's 
voice was deep and commanding with machete-sharp impatience, and she 
strained her eyes to make out his features in the darkness. The three 
obviously petrified models spun under the stage lights, showing off their 
bodies glittering with orange gold and jade. Shirlee bit her lip, wondering 
if she would ever be able to afford a Manchu masterpiece. 

"Fantastic," rasped the hoarse voiced woman sitting beside Manchu on the 
couch. "This will be a dynamite show!" 

"Yeah, Kim, they're okay, but we need something unusual for the end. It's 
repetitious," he barked tiredly, rubbing his forehead. He's a dissatisfied, 
impatient man who's used to getting his own way, Shirlee thought, storing 
that information in her memory bank. And that woman beside him was the 
infamous Kim-the lesbian! 

"Let's use Hiro in the body jewelry . . . with those legs she'll knock them 
dead." 

"But she'd have to be topless to show it off properly." 

Manchu threw back his head and laughed. "Since when did naked bodies shock 
you, Kim? Come on, Hiro, slink into that chain of body jewelry hanging in 
the case and let's see how you look!" 

With baby-rabbit footsteps, the Thai beauty darted off stage, pulling off 
her dress as she went. Expedience was obviously an asset in Manchu's empire. 
The other two models were dismissed, fleeing the studio while somewhere 
behind a curtain Hiro disrobed and the tinkling of jewelry sounded as she 
donned her naked body with pounds of 22 karat Thai gold and Burma jade. 

A moment of tension hung in the air as Hiro appeared. Shirlee took a deep, 
quick breath, understanding immediately why Manchu had chosen Hiro to show 
off his chains of body jewelry on this manikin body. Hiro moved on the stage 
with all the poise of a female panther, a cool, tantalizing smile playing 
across her heavily glossed full lips. Despite the fact that she was totally 
nude, minus the jewelry, the girl moved with self confidence, utterly 
unconcerned about what portions of her magnificent body were covered with 
the garish trinkets and what were not. Around her neck she wore a series of 
heavy gold chains with fist-sized jade carvings interspersed every six 
inches: her puffy brown berry nipples peeked out around the wealth of 
minerals, while her waist was laden with a slender gold chain. About her 
hips, slinky and firm, draped another chain of gold and jade. With each 
pirouette, the jewels tinkled magically, the perfect compliment to her sloe 
eyed, red lipped geisha beauty. 

"The perfect outfit for a Bali beach, Bu?" smirked Kim while Shirlee 
silently acquiesced. 

"The bare ass will blow their bloody minds!" chuckled Manchu, standing up 
and nearing the stage, his hands on his hips. 

"Nobody would dare wear it," Kim reminded her boss, standing by his side now 
and staring up at Hiro's lush, slimly curved body. The lesbian woman had 
none of the sadistic butch-qualities Shirlee had learned to associate with 
women of her nature. She was willowy and well proportioned and her skin and 
features hinted at a European crossbreeding that combined the best of the 
East with the best of the West. Her long black hair hung down over her 
shoulders. 

"Nonsense, in a place called California they wear nothing at all on the 
beaches. To be almost dressed is better than naked. Anyone can be naked, but 
few can afford to be deliciously naked. We want our customers to see the 
beauty of our jewels and the border patrol will drool at the sight of one 
this lovely." 

What was that supposed to mean? Didn't he care if anybody bought his 
jewelry? Mentally, Shirlee stuck that fact away in the pile of questionable 
facts. Both Bu and Kim were standing next to Hiro on the platform and for 
the first time, Shirlee got a full profile view of the man whose picture had 
rattled her mercilessly earlier that day. Even in his casual dress, he 
seemed graceful and self assured. 

"Will the jewelry get in the way?" asked Kim simply, and the hidden police 
informer watched as Manchu smiled slowly in consent. Hiro appeared 
unconcerned about being nude in front of this cocksman and she didn't flinch 
when Manchu stepped closer, nearly touching her; and she didn't shrink away 
when he slinked his hands under the chain of jewelry and cupped the small 
mounds of her budding breasts. Hiro seemed to purr like a cat, standing with 
her back slightly arched and her pelvis thrust towards Manchu's meaty loins. 
Shirlee could see the girl's black pussy hair, thick as a rain forest, 
inches away from the growing bulge in Manchu's slacks which testified to his 
approval of her tawny naked beauty. 

"You are a panther, the sleekest of cats," he told her in his soft, clear 
voice. "After this showing you will be famous . . . on the cover of Vogue. 
Does that please you?" 

The girl blinked her spidery eyelashes just once and nodded, casting a 
quizzical look at Kim as if silently asking for directions. 

"Then please your master," Manchu instructed her calmly, placing his brown 
hands on her soft shoulders and gently forcing her to her knees. Both women 
seemed to know what was expected of them in this electrified moment, even if 
Shirlee was perplexed. Kim crouched down next to the bejeweled model 
ceremoniously, her small hands reaching out confidently to undo the zipper 
of Manchu's pants with practiced ease as if it were step number one in a 
long procedure yet to unravel. Shirlee shivered with emotion as she realized 
that the three people had forgotten the jewelry showing and were about to 
enact a sex act, ignorant of the spy hiding behind the curtain. Shirlee bit 
her lip, knowing what happened in the next few minutes would certainly upset 
her, but unfortunately, she was stuck. In their silent passion they would 
certainly hear her opening the door, and panic rooted her to the spot. She 
watched, filled with a sense of horrified fascination as Kim agilely opened 
Manchu's pants, exposing the length of his fully erect penis. 

The blonde haired informer gasped with fright, remembering her reaction when 
she had first seen Larry's hard penis that evening a few years back in 
Blackpool, and recalling how shocked she had been at the sheer size of it. 
And Manchu's cock was nearly twice that size, seeming so thick that a 
delicate hand like Hiro's could barely close around it. Suddenly, the girl 
understood what Manchu had in mind for her. There would be no lovemaking in 
the usual manner. He was going to violate her mouth, going to force the 
monstrous hunk of golden meat between her glossy lips and thrust it vilely 
into the back of her throat. 

Oh, god! Shirlee bit her fist, her eyes watering as she forgot to blink. 

"Now, my Thai maiden, I want you to suck my cock. Do you understand? Kim 
will show you how I prefer to have it done and if you learn how to do it 
well, you can become a very rich and famous model. . ." 

On cue, Kim leaned forward past Hiro, taking the huge sack of Manchu's 
testicles in one hand and his virilely throbbing cock in the other. The man 
was uncircumcised, like most Orientals, and the woman expertly pushed back 
the thick covering of golden skin, exposing the bright scarlet bulb of his 
slippery cockhead. Shirlee could hardly believe her eyes and she found that 
she was absentmindedly digging her nails into the palms of her hands. She 
was torn between a desperate desire to close her eyes and stop up her ears, 
and an equally powerful curiosity which demanded that she watch and absorb 
every lurid detail. The curiosity won and she watched with investigatory 
enthusiasm. 

"Like this, Hiro," Kim coached the model. "You have to take him deep, all 
the way into the back of your throat, okay? If you breathe evenly, you won't 
choke . . . and use your tongue, he likes that." 

Shirlee studied the Thai girl's stoic expression, searching for a trace of 
fear or hesitation, but Hiro's smooth features were calm as if the pleasure 
of sucking this man's cock was her ultimate fantasy. Shirlee suspected that 
the girl perhaps realized that she had one chance to make it to the top of 
this competitive business and this was it! If she wanted a part of Manchu's 
famous showing, the girl was probably grateful to have the chance. Manchu 
was one of the richest men in the Orient and no doubt half of Hong Kong's 
female population would give anything for this chance to kneel slavishly 
before this man and suck his long thick maledom. 

The lesson continued. Kim took a deep breath as Manchu stood patiently 
looking down at her, and then seemed to suck the man's lust thickened cock 
directly into the forbidden cavern of her moistly welcoming mouth. Shirlee, 
shivering with excitement and goose-bumping nervousness, watched in agony of 
mixed emotions, half-appalled by what she was seeing and half-stimulated by 
it. She had heard of this vile perversion (Larry had once asked her to 
perform it on him). She had refused, flatly and irrevocably. 

Never had she considered trying it and never had she expected to find 
herself hiding behind a curtain watching others perform this unholy act . . 
. not to mention watching a lesbian teach a Thai model how to suck off a 
smuggling kingpin. Could she tell Chad Barker about this? She swallowed 
dryly, doubting that sincerely. 

"You see, Hiro," mumbled Kim, slowly and reluctantly withdrawing the man's 
wetly glistening cock from her ovalled mouth. "Now you try . . . you think 
you've got it?" 

The stony faced girl nodded, her face passive and immobile, sliding her 
delicate hands up Manchu's thighs as she moved so close to the man that her 
high, pointy little breasts scraped against his legs. Kim sat back on her 
haunches, gazing up at the supple bodied model with obvious desire, and 
Shirlee somehow guessed that after Hiro learned to satisfy Manchu, she would 
have to contend with Kim's sexual perversions! 

Manchu was the aggressor, maneuvering his pulsating male organ in close and 
rubbing it lewdly over the dusky surface of her stoic face, teasing and 
torturing the model by playfully trying to keep it away from her mouth. 
Shirlee studied his tawny face, seeing clearly for the first time the 
evilness in him, the perfidious sadistic expression. Deliberately, he 
tormented the girl, not to increase his own sexual pleasure, but as a means 
of declaring himself master, making her beg for the privilege of taking his 
penis into the soft moistness of her mouth. How sadistic! 

Then his gnarled fingers tightened in her black hair and he stopped teasing 
her. The girl caught his abrupt change in mood, sensing that he was now 
ready for the real action. She held his hardness delicately in her long 
fingered hands, the way Kim had demonstrated, her lips parting slightly as 
she directed the long bulbous rod of flesh directly into the warmly 
moistened cavern of her mouth. 

"That's it," Shirlee heard Manchu coo, grinning broadly as he watched the 
lust swollen tip of his cock slowly disappearing into the girl's willing 
mouth. She began to nibble him, sliding the warm moist flesh of her lips 
gently over his throbbing cock as she slaved to excite him. Flicking her 
chained hips forward, Manchu invaded her a few more inches and Shirlee could 
see Kim swallowing frantically, trying to adjust to the lewd notion of 
having her mouth penetrated by this enormous pole of solid Oriental flesh. 
It even occurred to the hidden informer that the girl had probably never 
done this before. She tried to picture herself kneeling submissively before 
some cruelly dominant man like Manchu and accepting the lust hardened shaft 
of his penis into her virginal mouth. The image refused to register in her 
mind, and she felt nauseated at the thought. Someday, perhaps, she would 
find a man to love and marry (if he didn't get in the way of her career) but 
she would never, never let a male degrade her the way Manchu was degrading 
Hiro. Never! 

There sounded a low moan from the stage, and Shirlee returned her attention 
quickly to the lewd drama being played out before her. Manchu had begun to 
flick his hips mercilessly backwards and forwards, driving the 
uncompromising cock ruthlessly in and out of the girl's cruelly stretched 
mouth. The young informer expected to see Hiro trying to break away, or at 
least mumble some kind of protest at this brutal treatment, but to her 
amazement, the girl had not moaned in agony but in heated excitement. In 
fact, she showed every sign of enjoying her salacious task, her whole brown 
body twitching and grinding to the tune of tinkling chains as she threw 
herself into her task joyfully. Manchu was going wild, his hips jerking back 
and forth as she slavered over his throbbing cock and Kim sat and watched, 
anxiously, awaiting her turn to ravish the young girl's helpless body. 

In her rattled mind, Shirlee kept asking herself what it must feel like, 
wondering how Hiro could possibly be crooning and groaning with excitement 
despite the fact that she was being wickedly abused in the mouth. Manchu was 
really skewering into her throat now, fucking deeper and deeper with every 
sadistic stroke. The girl's mouth was obviously filled with saliva, forming 
a smooth warm sheath for the man's monstrous penis as it pummeled faster and 
faster into her face. His huge inflated balls were beating a steady rhythm 
of jungle lust against Hiro's chin. Shirlee stared as if she were paralyzed, 
watching with horrified fascination as the critical moment approached. 
Manchu was muttering obscenity after obscenity down on the top of her 
recklessly bobbing head as he watched his long, super-hardened penis 
disappearing into the tight oval hole formed by the model's pouting lips, 
clasping wetly around his driving cock like the cruelly stretched lips of a 
virginal vagina. In fact, he was fucking her mouth precisely as if it were 
merely a kind of cunt he could batter and plunder to his whim. 

"Oh, that's it, baby!" he suddenly grunted, the ecstasy obvious in his voice 
as his back suddenly stiffened and arched dramatically. Manchu gripped her 
head between his hands, emitting a long low groan as if he were in pain, and 
Shirlee realized with a deepening sense of horror that he was cumming. 
Somehow her brain could not quite understand that he was going to end it 
this way, with his penis ejaculating hot sticky sperm into Hiro's mouth, but 
there was no longer any way of denying the plain fact of the stark reality. 
The stoic girl's face was twisted perfidiously and she was choking and 
sputtering, as the warm syrupy liquid sprayed evilly into the back of her 
open sucking throat. Hiro made no effort to avoid her fate, gulping and 
gagging valiantly as he emptied his seed completely into her sperm-filled 
mouth. 

Suddenly, it was over with. Manchu released the girl's head, and she 
collapsed on the stage at his feet, still mechanically swallowing the heated 
cum he had ruthlessly forced down her throat. Kim ignored the model for a 
moment, quickly leaning forward and cleaning off Manchu's glistening penis, 
swiping off the sticky threads of cum with her agile, practiced tongue, then 
re-clasping his fly for him while he stood patiently looking down at the two 
slave women at his feet. 

"She'll do," he commented dryly when Kim rose once again to her feet, her 
cheeks flushed. 

"She's the best available, Bu. I know you had your heart set on a blonde, 
but they're scarce," replied the lesbian woman hungrily, hardly able to drag 
her eyes off the exhausted body of the model. "I thought I'd give her a few 
pointers, if that's okay with you." 

"Sure," nodded Manchu as if he could care less. "Just don't wear her out." 

 Chapter Four 

Shirlee waited behind the dressing room curtain, fantasizing blood curdling 
tales of what Bu Manchu would do to her body if he caught her spying on him. 
Weak-kneed and barely breathing, she waited until Bu, Hiro and Kim sauntered 
off into a darker, more convenient part of the show room. Quickly, she 
pulled herself together, concentrating to dislodge the live sex act she'd 
witnessed and retraced her steps back downstairs where the grey haired woman 
sat pouring over her work. 

"My dear, I thought you'd long since left." The receptionist cocked an 
eyebrow at the blonde, indicating that taking liberties in Bu Manchu's 
design studio was fatally taboo. "But I have good news for you. Mr. Manchu 
just telephoned from upstairs saying he's looking for a blonde haired girl 
for his show. I think you've got the look he demands." Even as she spoke, 
the woman's hazel eyes lingered on the luscious mounds of Shirlee's upthrust 
breasts. "Mr. Manchu is very particular about his models. This might be a 
good break for you." 

Shirlee was pleased; the ice in her veins thawed. "Tell Mr. Manchu, please, 
that I would be delighted to be part of his show." She watched as the 
receptionist scribbled something on a Manchu business card and handed it to 
her. 

"Take this card along with you to the yacht tomorrow night two hours before 
the showing. His assistant normally chooses his models, but it seems they're 
hung up today . . . which is the only reason I'm taking the liberty of 
giving you the go ahead." The receptionist seemed very nervous about making 
decisions on Manchu's behalf, noted Shirlee mentally, accepting the card and 
turning on her feel, feeling smug about today's accomplishments. Mr. Barker 
would be pleased. 

* * * 

Shirlee hadn't noticed until she stepped out of the cab that her wristwatch 
was losing time. The normally cool-headed blonde stood for a moment at the 
foot of Bu Manchu's gang plank, pausing while she composed herself, knowing 
that to appear ruffled and overly excited would nullify all chances for 
getting close to the infamous jade smuggler. Inwardly, she shuddered, 
remembering the disgustingly lustful scene she'd witnessed in Manchu's 
showroom . . . Manchu's abuse of the Thai girl in particular. Something else 
confused her: his strange remark about the border patrol being enthralled 
with Hiro's slinky, luscious looks. What had that to do with Burmese jade 
and the price of jewelry, anyway? For the kingpin of a multimillion dollar 
jade smuggling operation, the patrol's impression of Bu's models was a 
ridiculously moot point, wasn't it? 

Another fact didn't sit well with Shirlee. Why was Manchu blatantly 
disinterested in exporting his jewelry when the West-America in 
particular-was clamoring for Eastern import goods now that China was once 
again open for trade with the rest of the world? Manchu certainly had a 
razor sharp business mind . . . but why? 

A fly buzzed in the ointment. 

Shirlee drew one more deep breath to calm herself, then approached the 
sinewy bronze skinned guard at the plank, standing with his feet wide apart, 
his arms crossed over his chest, reminding Shirlee of a Mr. Clean ad she's 
seen in an old US magazine. 

"Your card, miss?" 

The man's stony face didn't change its indifferent expression; she handed 
him her card and gave her hair a combing stroke. Above all, her appearance 
must please Manchu. Fleetingly, Shirlee wondered if the man thumbing her 
card could be the same man who gave the fatal karate chop to a luckless 
Manchu model years back. What had she done to displease him so? That steely 
glare made her suspicious. 

"I'm one of the models," said Shirlee, a little miffed at the unnecessary 
once-over. "Would you like to see other identification?" 

He grunted something and handed the card back to her, then tossed his head 
in the direction of the yacht, no words spoken. 

The deck was abuzz with activity. A small Chinese combo was setting up their 
unique musical instruments on the after deck while chattering caterers in 
white uniforms arranged chafing dishes and platters on a long table. 

"Orientals are an efficient race, aren't they?" came a man's voice from 
behind her and Shirlee jumped involuntarily as Bu Manchu stepped forward and 
stared brazenly into her eyes. 

"Mr. Manchu? Shirlee Canan. . ." She held out her hand and he squeezed it 
warmly. 

Bu sucked in his breath, his dark appraising eyes taking in the curvy form 
of his impromptu model. Shirlee was shocked to realize that this powerful 
man breathing inches away from her neck was exactly her height: five foot 
eight. Somehow his aggressive manner made him seem a giant. "I'm pleased you 
are on time. . . . if there's one thing I despise, it's tardiness." And 
people spying from behind dressing room curtains, thought Shirlee with a 
shiver. "Come with me. . ." 

He took her by the elbow and led her regally as if she were his inspiration, 
instead of merely a model to show off his creations. "I want you to meet 
Kim, my assistant. She will help you in preparing yourself for the showing." 
He led the way to a cabin room and opened the door for her. "I am pleased 
you have consented to model for us. Your fair-skinned beauty will compliment 
the Manchu collection with unparalleled success." 

"You are most kind, Mr. Manchu. I'll do my best to please you." Now why did 
I say that? wondered Shirlee, watching the man's mouth twitch into a sly 
smirk. 

The door closed behind her just as Kim, dressed in a slinky black satin 
sarong slithered through the adjoining door. Shirlee glanced directly into 
the almond sloe-eye of the assistant to one of the Orient's most feared 
criminals. 

"Mr. Manchu is no doubt pleased you have come," she said evenly, looking 
fully poised and self assured. "You are tastefully dressed for the show. 
That neckline is perfect for what you will be wearing." 

Thank God, thought Shirlee, at least 1 won't have to go naked! Things were 
looking up. 

"We have been looking for a blonde-haired model to show off our collection," 
she purred on, reaching down on the bed to unlock a hand carved teakwood box 
lined with black velvet and filled with the original Manchu jade collection. 

If Manchu didn't export his jewelry, why is he so concerned with having a 
blond-haired model? That, too, fell into the category of questionables that 
seemed to be piling up fast. 

"Our guests will be arriving in an hour. I will give you instructions as to 
where you will stand. Since jewelry, unlike clothing, is best seen up close, 
we prefer that you remain after the showing to mingle with the crowd. You 
will find the guests a very select group of people." 

"I'm sure they are," echoed Shirlee, watching the naked brown shoulders 
ripple before her as Kim reached down to draw out a rolled jade necklace and 
a set of gold earrings casing carved pink jade shells. Despite herself, 
Shirlee had to admire the smoothness of the brown skinned beauty, and again 
she asked herself why a woman with such exquisite features would find 
pleasure in another woman's body. That was too heady a question at this 
point. "You have modeled often?" 

Shirlee nodded, her amber eyes following the woman's deft movements as she 
held up the exquisite necklace and stepped forward to lay the cold rocks on 
Shirlee's soft neck. Close as she was, she could smell the rich Bali perfume 
emanating from the woman's luscious body like fresh flowers on a spring 
night, and goose-bumps jumped over Shirlee's flesh at the feel of Kim's 
talon-like nails grazing over her naked skin as the necklace was clasped in 
place. Standing on polished tip toes to pull back a wisp of baby soft blonde 
curls, Kim's firm high-set breasts rubbed accidentally against Shirlee's 
puffy nipples and sent a shiver up the girl's spine as she felt the cold 
feel of an earring weighting down her ear lobe. 

The guests arrived in buzzing throngs on that warm June evening, all hundred 
of them. Fashion and society reporters from London, Paris, Rome and New York 
cruised the deck vulture-like. A certain segment was comprised of other 
famous jade dealers and a smattering of artists whom Shirlee failed to 
recognize, but she made a mental note of which photographers were taking 
photos of who, in case Mr. Barker might consider that essential information. 

The showing itself was brief, but successful though it wasn't until Hiro 
stepped out onto the platform that the flashbulbs started clicking. 
Photographers fell down on one knee capturing Hiro's sleek animalist brown 
beauty with the gold chains draped about her slinky curves. Shirlee was 
thankful for the repose to study the crowd and try to match fuzzy newspaper 
clipping faces with the flesh and blood ones surrounding her. 

Name designers clustered around her, like flies to honey, using the excuse 
of admiring her jewelry to the caress her breasts, stroke her soft neck and 
slip a hand where it didn't belong. A waiter passed around drinks and she 
joyfully accepted one. Being a model had never appealed to her better 
senses; a faceless position, she considered it, one step above being a 
secretary. 

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Manchu asked, worming his way through the crowd. 
Shirlee noticed he had the talent common among politicians and businessmen, 
of concentrating all his attention upon her while he was talking to her, as 
if no one else existed. Very clever, she though . . . and intimidating. 
Still, something about his gaze made her feel flattered and delighted. She 
was here to spy on him and if he was attracted to her, so much the better. 
Still, she couldn't allow herself the inconsistency of letting herself be 
captured by his charms. He was a murderer. 

"It was fun. I loved your collection, Mr. Manchu." 

"The minute I saw you, I picked you out as a model. You could do very well 
in the business . . . if you had the right connections," he put in eagerly. 
"I have many beautiful women working for me. . ." and here he gestured 
toward Hiro, "but none as beautiful as you." 

"You are a very flattering man," she offered loosely, realizing at the same 
time that he was doing a fine job of keeping her off guard. "It was a 
privilege to model your jewelry." 

Apparently, that's what he'd wanted to hear, for he turned on his heel and 
disappeared through the crowd, leaving the girl slightly perplexed and very 
frustrated. Perhaps his motives were more sexual than commercial, and if 
this turned out to be the case, what should her response be? Suppose he 
asked her to stay for a drink after the showing? Should she accept? 

A few feet away from where she was standing, one of the models suddenly 
dropped her glass on the deck, her yellow skin suddenly gone white. Her 
smooth skinned features twisted up into a knot of pain and she slumped to 
the deck in a clatter of jade and gold jewelry. 

"Oh . . . I feel . . . dizzy," she mumbled. Manchu's crew acted with 
dispatch, elbowing aside the cluster of concerned people and supporting her 
lithe weight between two of them as they led her into a cabin. Kim appeared 
from nowhere with smelling salts and a glass of water, while a crew member 
swept up the broken glass to quickly dispel evidence of illness. 
Instantaneously, the incident was over with and forgotten. Manchu was back 
at her elbow. 

"Sue just fainted," the blonde informer said. "One of the models." 

"Yes, poor Sue. I'm going to have to replace her. She faints in public . . . 
one of those phobias, perhaps?" He sounded impatient, disgusted, anxious to 
forget the matter. 

"Perhaps it was the drink. . . ?" Shirlee's suspicious mind was speaking out 
of turn. Manchu gave the air a sudden karate chop and Shirlee took the hint, 
dropping the subject like a hot potato. His expression thawed and in a 
mellifluous voice, he said, "In appreciation for your fine talents, I want 
you to have the jewelry you're wearing. It fits you perfectly. Jade has 
always been cherished by the Chinese . . . in fact, in ancient China only 
the emperors were allowed to wear it, for as Confucius said, Jade is a 
virtuous gem." He paused to fondle his own pink carved creation dangling 
from Shirlee's shell-like ear. "Its warmth and luster indicate charity, its 
translucent quality typifies sincerity and its hardness mirrors intelligence 
and wisdom. . . ." He let his warm finger tips trail down the milky white 
stretch of her soft, naked neck. "I consider myself a fine judge of 
character, Shirlee, and you are all those things." 

What could she say to that? "Oh . . . I couldn't. . . I mean . . ." Her 
fingers reached up to stroke the rolled jade necklace. It would be difficult 
to remain objective after accepting a gift of this magnitude. Mr. Barker 
might consider it unethical, and who could foresee what Manchu would want in 
return? The lewd image of Hiro kneeling humbly at his feet, sucking his 
bloated penis flashed through her mind, and she shook her head. 

"Please . . . we Orientals consider it an insult to refuse gifts." 

"But . . ." she struggled to form an objection in her mind, but she already 
knew she would wear that gorgeous jade necklace to her grave, so cherishable 
was it. Besides, there was something about the way he gave an order that 
compelled obedience, and Shirlee gave in. 

Then he was gone again, moving through the crowd with practiced ease, 
leaving her standing alone, dumbfounded. Once again, he'd managed to haze 
her alertness. Why was he going to such trouble to make a good impression on 
her? Did he make it a habit of giving away his creations to his models? That 
was an important consideration . . . one worth following up, and Shirlee 
ambled back toward the cabin, hoping to find there at least one of the other 
models to test the validity of her hunch. 

The inside of Manchu's Emerald was cavernous and Shirlee had difficulty 
remembering just which cabin Manchu had assigned for the models. Hastily, 
she pushed experimentally on several doors, finding them locked. Then she 
spotted an open hatch at the far end of a long corridor which appeared to 
run the full length of the ship. A bluish light emanated from the room and 
Shirlee wondered if it might be a control room. The corridor was void of 
humanity, so she poked her way in. The light, she discovered, was coming 
from a series of video screens and the lesbian assistant, Kim, was hunched 
over a kind of control panel, a pair of earphones on her head connected to a 
video tape recorder. Obviously, she couldn't have heard Shirlee approach and 
the young blonde was about to sneak back in search of the other models when 
her amber eye focused on the video screen closest to her. It was the face of 
Sue, the model who had fainted from the drink. What in the world was going 
on? 

Reminding herself that investigation was not part of her job, Shirlee 
hesitated, since Kim could turn around at any second and see her prying into 
something that obviously was none of her business. Still there was the 
chance she wouldn't, since Kim was too engrossed in what was happening on 
the panel of video screens to glance over her shoulder. Anxiety bubbled in 
Shirlee's stomach as she reminded herself that taking chances was what 
investigation was all about, and stepped forward so that she could see all 
the screens in one sweep. 

The lithe bodied model named Sue was shown on all four screens; the first 
screen showed only her face, her serene Chinese features twisted into a mask 
of undisguised lust. The other three screens showed her unclothed body from 
every conceivable angle as she lay stark naked on the bed, her hands tied 
together over her head, her legs left free. Sue was thrashing back and 
forth, apparently in the final stages of demonic ecstasy. 

MY GOD!. Shirlee realized with a sudden insight just what was going on. 
She'd been drugged . . . that's why she fainted! 

Anyone could see that Sue's behavior was quite bizarre, indeed. One video 
camera was aimed up between the model's shamelessly spread thighs and 
Shirlee could see that her vagina was flowered open and moist as if she had 
just had intercourse. The camera equipment of unsurpassed Japanese 
workmanship, produced an incredibly clear image and the young informer could 
distinguish every fold and wrinkle in Sue's ravaged cunt. The screen 
magnified the image somehow and she could even see the woman's pussy 
quivering and palpitating, as if even her pussy was begging to be battered 
and abused again. 

Shirlee bit her knuckle as the figure of a man entered the picture. His face 
was turned to the side, away from the cameras, but he was muscular and naked 
as Sue herself. He seized the woman's legs and rolled her over onto her 
stomach, his hands moving immediately to the softly flaccid half moons of 
her buttocks. Expertly, he spread the two spheres, exposing the whole flat 
plane of the woman's backside to the camera's eye. Sue had been thrashing 
wildly back and forth, and her hips were still quivering with unsatisfied 
lust as the man's lewd finger danced wickedly over the tiny puckered hole of 
her anus. 

These people were crazy! thought Shirlee, a little trickle of fear winding 
traitorously up her spine. This sort of thing only happens in the movies! 
What are they doing to that poor model? And why? What was this thing Manchu 
had for his models? 

There was no immediate answer to any of these questions, except for the one 
about what they were going to do to Sue. Manchu straightened up, bringing a 
long, lust-stiffened penis into play and began probing with this fleshy 
instrument between the model's obscenely parted buttocks. Shirlee could see 
that Sue's mouth was open and moving, mouthing words . . . but it was 
impossible to tell whether she was crying, or pleading for mercy, or begging 
to be sodomized. In the end, it probably made no difference, because Manchu 
was clearly the director of this show. He was clearly going to sodomize her, 
realized Shirlee, as she watched him place the mushroom head of his 
massively throbbing penis against the puckering circle of the girl's anus 
and began probing and pushing. A moment of electric tension virtually 
crackled across the picture tube, and then Bu moved, slashing forward with 
his hips. 

Sue's naked body went into a series of spasms, as if an electric current had 
just passed through her veins, straining desperately against the cruel ropes 
that bound her face-down. Shirlee found herself instinctively clenching her 
own ass cheeks as if she was about to be assaulted from behind, while she 
watched Manchu's thick cock slide inexorably up into the puckering orifice 
of the woman's nether ring. 

God, how could Sue stand it? The man's lust thickened pole of flesh was big 
and he was ramming into her defenseless little anus like a maniac, surging 
deeper and deeper as if he did not care whether or not he tore her delicate 
anus to shreds. The rampant spear of male flesh went in all the way, right 
to the hilt, and Shirlee watched in awe as Sue's supple body began to pump 
up and down, desperately answering each of the man's punishing sodomistic 
strokes with an answering stroke of her own. Oh God! Sue was enjoying it! 
Whatever kind of drug they had put in her, they had managed to dampen her 
sense of shame and pain so that she was willing to accept even this bizarre 
unnatural act of anal copulation! 

Shirlee could watch no more. Two days on the case and already she'd 
witnessed two sordid sex acts. She was shaking pitifully. Something more 
than mysterious was going on in Bu Manchu's jade business, but she was only 
risking her life by peering over Kim's shoulder any longer. She had some 
thinking to do if she ever expected to piece together what all this was 
supposed to mean, but that she could accomplish in safer, less distracting 
quarters. Recalling Barker's suggestion of warding against getting dramatic, 
she realized that if she were to watch any more of Manchu's unfolding drama, 
she might loose her composure . . . entirely. 

Quickly, the young informer walked back up the corridor to the afterdeck, 
her mind in a fog. What kind of brutal person would sodomize a woman? What 
kind of woman would enjoy such disgusting treatment? 

"I was wondering where you had disappeared to," called out Manchu 
emphatically as Shirlee reappeared in the midst of the party, feeling shaky 
and flustered, her cheeks burning insidiously. After that dreadful 
experience she had just suffered through, it suddenly felt marvelous to be 
out in the fresh open air again, away from whatever dark and criminal thing 
they were doing to Sue. 

"Oh, the female thing, you know," she answered back, a little hysterically, 
as Manchu caught her arm and decided to steady her nerves with a drink which 
she accepted from a waiter who materialized from nowhere. Manchu was talking 
in her ear, the blonde informer found she had to read his lips to 
concentrate hard enough to understand what he was saying. 

". . . My jewelry was made for beauty such as yours, and you will be lucky 
enough to see for yourself where this exquisite Burmese jade comes from . . 
." 

Burma? Seeing for herself? What was he talking about, she thought dizzily, 
her head spinning like a top. There was no accompanying nausea, but still 
she had the desperate need to sit down somewhere. What was wrong with her? 
Could watching Sue being sodomized on the video screen affect her this 
profoundly? 

"You're looking pale, my dear," she heard Manchu whisper in her ear. "Very 
pale. . .. . . 

"If . . . if you don't mind . . . I . . . I'd like to lie down for a 
minute," she mumbled feeling as if she were in the heart of a maelstrom on 
some godforsaken sea. "I don't know what's. . ." 

"Come along with me. You can lie down in one of the cabins until you feel 
better," he purred in his soft, unctuous voice. 

He ushered her around the corner, guiding her by the elbow, before it hit 
her. The symptoms were the same as with Sue. The model had started out 
feeling dizzy and ended up being sodomized, tied up and photographed. Not an 
appropriate fate for an informer! 

With an anguished cry, she broke away from Manchu and stampeded down the 
corridor, the deck whirling about her . . . up a hatchway to an upper deck. 
Her ears buzzed and her eyes saw double, and she shook her head trying to 
clear it to save herself from whatever Manchu had in mind for her. The 
shuffle of running feet behind her intensified her desperation and she 
kicked off her shoes and darted frantically towards the prow of the ship. In 
the darkness, her drugged confusion overwhelmed her. She stumbled, and fell 
with a whimper against a canvas-covered lifeboat, bruising herself as she 
thudded into it. Shouts sounded in back of her, and she instinctively knew 
that Manchu was organizing a search for her. The night was filled with a 
trillion stars as she pulled back the canvas and fell into the lifeboat, 
then fumbled to replace the canvas, smoothing it of rumples. 

With a long, moaning sigh, she fell into a semicoma and Manchu, the jewelry 
draping her neck and Sue's sodomization all became timeless, inconsequential 
memories. 

 Chapter Five 

A sliver of light stole in through a rip in the lifeboat canvas awakening 
Shirlee with a painful stab of dim consciousness. She was lying in the 
bottom of the lifeboat, her arms and legs numb with pain and cold. It took a 
long time to gather her senses. A dull thudding ache in her head reminded 
her that she'd been drugged and painfully, she raised herself up on one 
bruised elbow to assess her predicament. 

It was morning . . . nine o'clock perhaps, judging from the angle of the 
sun. Her delicate fingers cautiously lifted a corner of the canvas and she 
peeked outside at the murky bay waters. Her white voile dress, she 
discovered, was in shreds and one of the sleeves had been ripped so that the 
bodice slipped down over her left breast, exposing the rosy brown of her 
puffy nipple. Always conscious of her modesty, Shirlee tried to tie the 
bodice back together, but it was clearly beyond repair. One ripe perky 
breast was going to stay permanently freed until she got a needle and 
thread. 

She blinked her amber eyes a few times, struggling to focus her vision, 
knowing that if she didn't force herself to awaken fully, she would slip 
back into unconsciousness and wake up naked in Bu Manchu's bed with her 
hands tied. Why had Manchu tried to drug her? Why? It didn't make any sense 
. . . if he wanted her for a bed partner, he would have done better finding 
a more sexually liberated female than herself. His game was subtle and 
complex, and it was beginning to dawn on Shirlee why this wily man had 
eluded the police for twenty three years of jade smuggling. But right now to 
get out of this stifling, fish smelling lifeboat was the problem at hand. 

She closed her eyes for a tempting moment and in her imagination saw Chad 
Barker fretting at his desk, banging his fists and cursing himself for 
having trusted a dumb blonde with an assignment as risky as throwing herself 
in Bu Manchu's company. Yes . . . she had to get out of this boat 
immediately and make a break for the gang plank, keeping close to the rail. 
If somebody spied her, she would run ashore and hail a rickshaw as fast as 
possible and high tail it back to Barker's office. If that failed, she would 
jump overboard and swim like crazy for shore, hoping a fisherman in this 
secluded bay would come to her rescue. 

But that naked breast still bothered her. She fumbled around in the floor of 
the life boat, rifling through the litter in the bottom trying to find 
something to cover herself with. An old shirt, a life vest . . . Her finger 
struck a wooden box and, lifting up a flapping corner of the canvas to emit 
more light, she opened the box and stared down at a pile of maps. 

Upon closer examination, she determined the maps to be topographical maps of 
Burma, China and Thailand with hand-drawn routes indicating a trip over 
mountains and down rivers. Wei Phu Long . . . where had she heard of that 
town before? Shirlee put a fingertip to her lip, seeing those words in her 
mind's eye on a sheet of paper. Where. . . ?Of course! In Barker's file on 
Bu Manchu. Wei Phu Long was a suspected pay-off point, allowing the jade to 
enter Thailand. Her chipped fingernail was tracing the route from Hong Kong 
around Viet Nam and Cambodia via the South China Sea to Bangkok, where a 
broken line indicated another form of travel to the mouth of the Pai River, 
when she heard muffled voices and footsteps from the upper deck growing 
louder, Bu Manchu's deep commanding voice amongst them. Shirlee stiffened, 
letting the map flutter from her fingertips and cocked her head, her ears 
straining to hear the smuggler bark directions to his crew. 

What she could decipher was too dramatic even for her imagination: 

"We keep the English girl. . . like Sue . . . sedated . . . get to Wei Phu 
Long . . . turn them over to the Thai border patrol . . . get us through . . 
. we pick up . . . 

Everything was turning clear as drawn butter. The models. . . of course! 
Manchu was using them as bribery for the Thai border patrol to allow the 
smuggled jade into Bangkok and from there it was an easy, unimpeded route to 
Hong Kong. 

Now all Shirlee had to do was get back to Chad Barker's office with this 
head full of information and start piecing it together over a note pad, maps 
and a hot cup of strong coffee. Shirlee felt a new surge of adrenaline flood 
her blood stream as she readied herself for her plunge toward safety. With 
any kind of luck, she could jump out of the lifeboat and dash down the 
gangplank before the crew jumped her and tried to stop her. With one quick 
movement, she swept back the canvas covering and leapt to her feet, taking a 
hasty look around to make certain no one was holding her under surveillance. 

She scampered along the lower deck ready to plunge for the gangplank when 
she heard a stampede of running feet behind her. Bracing herself on the 
rail, she wadded up her white voile dress in her hand and slung one slender 
leg over the rail, ready to dive into the bay's murky waters when they 
pounced on her from all sides. 

They didn't say much as they dragged her by the arms and escorted her to the 
lower deck, Shirlee's left breast jiggling freely in the nippy morning air. 
Neither of the Chinese black belts spoke English . . . not that their 
conversation would have been fit for female ears. Shirlee shuffled along 
between them down the corridor to the head stateroom. 

Manchu was pouring over a lap full of maps, drinking tea, as Shirlee found 
herself thrust into his ornate room where Kim sat casually in a chair, 
sipping tea, looking smug. Manchu's dark eyes looked up calmly as the two 
thugs entered, and released the blonde informer. 

"It's time you found her," Bu thundered in crisp English. "You've only had 
twelve hours!" he snapped. He flicked his wrist, dismissing them. 

The two black belts bowed and left the room, while Shirlee stood still, one 
hand covering her exposed breast, trying desperately to think of what to say 
and how to explain her mysterious disappearance last night. Should she stamp 
her foot and be indignant, or was it time to make apologies? 

"I slept the night in the life boat." she stammered awkwardly. "No . . . I 
didn't sleep, I was passed out from that drugged drink you gave me." 

"Don't be absurd!" barked Kim crisply, her dark eyes flashing with something 
between anger and lust. "You were drunk. You couldn't hold your liquor. It's 
a common problem with models. You're too high strung." 

"Hush!" Manchu's heavy eyebrows knitted together and he sliced the air with 
his hand. Both Kim and Shirlee stood at stiff attention. 

"You've been drugging your models . . ." she said starchily, "And I saw what 
you did to S- . . ." She stopped short, realizing that she was giving 
herself away and that Bu Manchu was not about to cop to her emotional 
displays. But the words could not be retracted and she watched the two 
exchange glances. Manchu threw his maps aside and stood up, his barrel cheat 
heaving as he walked menacingly in her direction. 

"Kim . . . I think our blonde haired model has been planted on our boat to 
observe our actions. . . those of her fellow models, too," he grunted. His 
eyes pierced at her. "And she's scratched the necklace I gave her and lost 
an earring." With a snarl, he grabbed her wrist, tearing her hand off her 
exposed breast and he gave it a hard tweak, pinching it painfully. 

He stood close to her now, and Shirlee was more afraid than she'd ever 
imagined possible. 

"I . . . I don't know what you're talking about," she gasped dryly. "I want 
you to let me off this ship immediately . . . or . . ." 

"Or what, my dear? You'll call the police?" 

"No . . . I wouldn't say anything," she pleaded desperately, fully cognizant 
now of her predicament. 

He spun around on his heel, his hands held behind his back. "You won't say 
anything . . . ? Is that to say you have something to report?" 

Shirlee tried to reason with him, wishing she'd behaved like a model as Chad 
Barker had suggested. "I was hired by you to model your jewelry, which I did 
. . . and. . ." She paused, drawing a deep breath, realizing she could not 
convince these people. Manchu was running his fingers lightly across her 
shoulder, sending a distinct shiver up and down her icy backbone. The 
yellow-faced demon was smiling back at her, a cruel, sinister grin, and the 
police informer could see the unmistakable glint of depravity in his eyes. 

"For the moment, my dear, your future depends on how amicable a guest you 
can make yourself until our yacht begins its cruise around the Golden 
Triangle." He snapped his fingers. "Kim. . . start on her." 

Shirlee closed her eyes, wishing she had a dose of that drugged alcohol to 
make her pass out right then. The adrenaline flooded in her veins, holding 
her stubbornly alert and very acutely aware of Manchu's intentions. Was 
Manchu going to try to make her kneel before him and take his massive cock 
into her virginal mouth the way he had done to Hiro? That was too horrifying 
a thought to contemplate, but it was perfectly obvious that Bu's wretched 
little mind had turned to sex. Instinctively, she glanced down and saw the 
monstrous bulge in his pants which told her that his penis was already on 
the rise. 

"No!" she pleaded desperately, wanting to fight and scratch and claw at his 
face, but too stunned by the total hopelessness of her situation to move a 
little finger. Kim was at her side now, licking her lips, ready to begin. 
Shirlee slunk away from the woman's warm hands, horrified by the thought of 
being sexually molested by anybody . . . let alone a known murderer and his 
lesbian partner. 

"Not a very good pose, my dear. Would you like me to call for a few of my 
bodyguards to take Kim's place? I'm sure they would have the strength to 
overcome any objections. The boys get very lonesome during these long trips 
and 1 could make myself very popular with them by providing them with you. 
Of course, they're all black belts and they might get a little tough . . ." 

"Stop this! What do you want of me?" she bellowed at him in a hoarse, 
dramatic voice that reeked of fear as Kim's softly feminine hands drew the 
tattered dress down over her magnificent young body, leaving her naked 
except for a brief white pair of bikini panties and a ripped pair of 
pantyhose. Manchu glared at her for a long moment before responding. 

"I would think that would be obvious by now," he remarked with a lecherous 
chuckle. "But since you have obviously gone to great lengths to investigate 
my background, let me fill in a few blank pages. I am a very wealthy man . . 
. and talented, and I am lucky to spend much time with women. However, most 
of them are borishly stupid, predictable and too moldable. Perhaps its the 
Mongol in me, but I prefer women with fight. I have fucked many beautiful 
but stupid models in the past twenty some years. I snap my fingers and they 
respond. It's a crashing bore, my dear." 

Shirlee felt herself clenching her fists as she covered her naked breast. 

"I want a woman who is beautiful but intelligent. Kim, like myself, has a 
penchant for blonde Westerners, and had you not behaved so stupidly last 
night, we might have gotten off to a better start. Take her panties off, 
Kim. Let me see her vagina." 

Shirlee withered, but there was nothing to be won by idle resistance, and 
she shivered nakedly as Manchu's lesbian partner dropped to her knees and 
slipped the blonde girl's panties down over her luscious, lithe legs. 

"Very nice," commented Manchu stepping closer and running his fingers 
lightly over the girl's triangle of fluffy blonde pubic curls. Shirlee's 
body jerked involuntarily, but Manchu continued his inspection of her. "Your 
body is every bit as sleek and smooth as Hiro's." 

Beside him, Kim muttered something in Chinese, and slinking her long 
fingertips down over Manchu's pants to the zipper tab, gave it a little 
yank. He slapped her hand. "No . . . not yet." 

Then, leading his unwilling captive to the edge of the bed, pushed her down 
on top of it. "You see, Shirlee, I enjoy sexual games and every woman is 
different. Some are meant to be fucked in the mouth, and taking a Western 
girl like you in the throat would be wonderful. Kim, here, enjoys it anally 
and needs to be hurt to enjoy it with a man." At this point, Manchu put his 
small but steely hands on the naked young girl's shoulders and forced her 
over backwards onto the bed so that her feet were still on the floor and her 
buttocks were resting on the edge of the mattress. "But with women like you, 
all those perversions are a waste of time. We'll get to those games later, 
and I'm anxious to put my cock in your rectum, but a woman like you deserves 
to be fucked in the cunt, which is where I'm headed now." 

"Nooooo!" spat Shirlee recklessly, never before in her life having heard a 
man talk that way about sex. "Doesn't it matter to you that I don't want any 
of that? I don't love you . . . I don't even find you sexually appealing!" 

He leered at her, sucked in a deep breath, then smiled sadistically. "There 
are gorgeous models who will suck me off or offer their buttocks to me for a 
modeling job. I've been looking for someone who is not quite so easy to 
convince, because when I have my cock in your cunt, making you scream in 
orgasm, I'll know it's precisely my masculinity that's driving you wild, not 
my next showing." 

"You don't understand what I'm saying," she shot back at him, wondering 
where her courage was coming from. "I'm not going to get myself beaten up 
trying to fight you off when you've got a whole yacht full of black belts 
ready to give me a radical mastectomy. But that doesn't prove anything!!!" 

Shirlee's face was hot with anger, tears welling in her amber eyes, 
screaming, beside herself with rage and terror, but to her surprise Manchu 
didn't strike her. He said nothing and smiled slowly, then muttered 
something to Kim who started working on his belt and slid his pants down 
around his ankles, revealing his long thick yellow hunk of male flesh, 
oozing at the tip with a pearl of pre-cum. 

"That's perfect," he laughed smugly. "You will be a challenge." 

Standing beside the bed, Kim asked for directions, ready to be of 
assistance. Shirlee was gawking at the man's massively bulging cock, her 
amber eyes wide in awe. 

They exchanged more directives and Shirlee waited, her heart pounding in her 
temples while Kim quickly pulled her sarong loose and stood naked. 

"It's quite a help having a female assistance with Kim's talents," Manchu 
informed her, settling himself on the stately bed beside her and placing his 
hands on her arms, pinning her to the mattress. "You will find that Kim has 
unusual sexual tastes." 

Kim was naked, and Shirlee quickly glanced at the short but well 
proportioned woman who seemed in some ways to be a female version of Manchu 
himself. On second glance, she realized they looked alike. 

"So you've noticed," smiled Manchu. "I'm going to let you in on a little 
secret. Kim is my sister . . . isn't that marvelous?" 

Shirlee's jaw fell slack and she stared at the Oriental woman's breasts that 
were high and small, but exquisitely formed and lusciously brown. Her sinewy 
body moved with grace as she hastily knelt on the floor next to the bed 
between Shirlee's legs, pushing her thighs apart. Had the luckless young 
informer understood their filial interchange, she would have fought back 
even though it was useless, just to save her conscience. But the small 
Oriental woman was too fast, and by the time Shirlee understood what was to 
come, it was too late for anything. 

"Lay still, Shirlee," she said in broken English, "and I will do the work." 
With that, she dropped her head seductively and ran her lips across the 
softly yielding flesh of Shirlee's soft upper thighs. 

Shirlee's body froze as the wetly heated lips worked their way into her 
pubic curls. The lesbian's tongue speared out like liquid fire, agilely 
invading the girl's wantonly trembling young cunt. Shirlee's pelvis jerked 
spasmodically as she reacted to this deceptively powerful stimulation, 
feeling Kim lick her clitoris sensitively and then suck it up into her hot 
mouth, caressing it expertly with her tongue. 

"No, please don't do this to me," whimpered Shirlee. Words were useless. 
Neither cared what she was saying or how she said it. Manchu was stretched 
beside her on the bed, using one hand to caress her sensitively tingling 
nipples and occasionally bending over with his usual sardonic chuckle to 
take one of the berry-like little buds between his teeth and suck at it with 
his tongue. Somehow, Shirlee made the assumption that he was merely waiting 
for his lesbian sister to tongue-fuck into such a tizzy that she would melt 
when he finally made his move. 

But, oh god, the worst of it was the humiliation of being sprawled out, her 
legs spread obscenely apart with her naked virginal flesh offered up to the 
lesbian's tongue like some ancient Chinese sacrifice! Shirlee lay stiffly on 
the mattress, unable to move a muscle, as Kim slowly and torturously drew 
apart the fragile pink lips of her cunt with her fingers, watching it 
greedily for a moment and then buried the full length of her slippery tongue 
into the warmly throbbing walls of her pussy. 

"Nooooooooooooooo noooooo! Gggggggggooo ooddddnooooooo!!!!" the futilely 
struggling young blonde groaned, feeling that these two sexual monsters were 
dragging her down into their own incestuous corruption, reducing her to the 
status of an animal. Her head came up off the pillow in amazement, as she 
looked down between the quaking mounds of her naked breasts at Kim's pink 
little tongue licking at her wetly throbbing vagina. 

"Watch and learn. There is an old Chinese proverb that says, `He who 
receives must give!" 

"Oh, God," she groaned again in anguish, flailing her head from side to side 
as Kim's tongue speared in and out of her involuntarily dilating pussy lips. 
Despite the humiliation, tiny whispers of pleasure were beginning to trickle 
through her defenseless body, and she could feel her tingling nipples 
becoming swollen and puckered as Manchu completed the circuit by gently 
nibbling and mouthing them one after the other. The smuggler was watching 
her intently, waiting patiently for that first giveaway sign of surrender. 

Shirlee began to cry, great tears of shame flowing down her satin cheeks as 
she realized that there was nothing she could do but lie there and listen to 
the obscene wet sucking sounds Kim was making down there between her legs. 
She knew that the tiny sensitive sexual organ of her clitoris was bulbed 
with hardness, and that she could not hope to conceal much longer her 
arousal. Her hips quivered lustfully despite her iron determination to lie 
perfectly still, and she tried to concentrate on the ceiling, counting fly 
specks. Nothing worked. Rape . . . the letters flashed through her mind in 
blood red letters. 

Kim was toying with her cruelly now, exploring all the sweet, untouched 
mysteries down there in the golden triangle of her pussy. Her sensitive 
prying fingers worked at the delicate flesh and then, Shirlee felt the 
lesbian's tongue flicker lightly over the tightly puckered hole of her anus. 

That's when the blonde informer filled her lungs with air and let out in a 
searing scream, "Aaaaahhhh!!" She gasped again. "Nooooo!!" But Kim only 
emitted a muffled sigh and stabbed a second time, her obscenely caressing 
tongue slicking over the tight sphincter ring. Apparently sensing that she'd 
discovered the girl's sensitive spot, Kim carefully inched her outstretched 
middle finger into Shirlee's defenselessly puckering anus, forcing it 
steadily in as far as the first knuckle while her rapacious tongue fucked in 
and out of the thrashing girl informer's hotly throbbing cunt. The double 
impalement was the final straw, and Shirlee suddenly realized that she was 
losing her grip on reality. Her shamelessly aroused body jerked 
spasmodically as if someone were holding electrodes to it, and her hips 
seemed to have given up taking orders from her brain. Fight it though she 
did, she was well on the road to surrender, carrying the white flag of 
defeat. 

Manchu gazed down with mixed emotions at the nakedly shuddering young girl 
squirming beneath him. The girl obviously was going to be a problem, because 
there was no way of knowing how much information she'd picked up on the 
yacht. If she was hidden in the lifeboat, doubtlessly she'd discovered the 
extra cache of maps. She was a clever girl, not terribly aware of life's 
cruelties, but she possessed a certain basic, lively intelligence, and she 
would make an interesting companion, except that she couldn't be trusted. 
Could he afford to let her out of his sight? Or would he have to eliminate 
her? That was a problem he would have to consider at some length, because 
the stakes in the smuggling game were high. 

The Thai border guards had been cooperative, up to this point, accepting a 
beautiful girl now and then as bait, and charging him only a modicum price 
for slipping the rough jade through the border without taxation. But every 
time the country's political scene shifted, the chances for information on 
his operation leaking out did also. Security was a problem. 

And that's precisely why he could use this girl. No one would expect a jade 
smuggler to be involved with an innocent looking blonde headed English 
Pollyanna such as the one stretched out on his bed. She had no criminal 
record and she would be nice to work with during daylight hours and nice to 
fuck at night, even though she had a libido that couldn't be unscrewed with 
a wrench . . . yet. Kim could teach her everything she needed to know about 
pleasing a man. From the way her voluptuous body had come alive in the last 
few minutes, it was obvious she harbored a hot, passionate streak in her a 
yard wide. Even now, being tongue-fucked by his lesbian sister, she was 
turning on, and Manchu stoically studied the half crazed expression which 
had crept onto her face. Abruptly, he decided it was time for the male 
Manchu to take over. 

Shirlee was writhing and squirming under the mind-blowing torture of Kim's 
ceaselessly probing tongue, wondering how long she could take this abuse 
without exploding to pieces. Every time she peeked through an amber eye she 
saw Manchu's smooth, coarse but handsome face gazing down at her, his 
normally calm dark eyes widened with lust. Then, she saw him move his hand 
away from her reddened breast that he'd been pumping, and tapped his sister 
on the shoulder. 

Kim raised her head, her mouth dribbling with Shirlee's cuntal juices. She 
looked disappointed, but she knew her place. 

"Now, I'm going to fill up that sweet little vagina of yours that's been 
feeding my sister so deliciously." He watched Kim wipe her mouth with the 
back of her hand, then lick her fingers free of the sticky cum juices. 

"Noooohhhhoooo!!!" Shirlee screamed, but the blonde haired girl realized how 
weak and helpless she was. She lay rock still as he maneuvered over her, 
frozen by her own conflicting emotions, her belly quivering and heaving in 
erotic need as she gasped desperately for air. Manchu maintained his 
pressure, bending over cruelly and biting the sensitive little nipple of 
that tortured left breast until he left two rodent-like teeth marks in it. 
She groaned in agony, trying to twist away, but the little man seemed to be 
all over her, his hands working over the delicacy of her thighs and hips, 
stroking her flesh tantalizingly. He bent over again, and for an instant she 
feared that he might bite her other nipple right off; she remembered horror 
stories of the conquering Mongols and in particular, their penchant for 
light skinned women. She prepared herself for the sharp pain, but this time 
he carefully licked the trembling little brown nipple, sending a twitch of 
unwanted pleasure racing through her betrayed young body. Instinctively, 
without realizing what she was doing, her hips began to grind impatiently 
into the yielding softness of the stateroom mattress below. 

"I would say you're losing some of your Western inhibitions," he taunted 
sadistically, noticing the sparks of sexual arousal coming from her body. 
"Perhaps the uptight British are not so uptight after all?" 

God, why did he have to talk like that? For some reason, his tauntings only 
aroused her more, and she turned her head to one side and closing her eyes, 
wished he would do it and get it over with. Above all, she had to hide from 
him all evidence of her arousal. If he could succeed in making her scream 
under his pillaging body, it would be the final defeat. If she surrendered, 
Lord only knew what other tortures lay in store for her. 

"You need stretching," he complained as he thrust one pudgy finger into her 
seeping pussy and squirmed it around. "You are low in experience, I assume." 
Wasting neither time nor movements, Manchu levered up over her, using one 
hand to guide the hard rubbery shaft of his cock directly into the full 
fleshy lips of her agonized young pussy. The Oriental was getting himself 
excited now as the thought of raping this nakedly helpless young blonde girl 
took possession of his senses. Then, he watched her blonde head turn 
submissively to the side, as if to dispel all responsibility for her arousal 
and he rubbed the meaty, lubricated tip of his penis up and down her 
throbbing hair-lined cuntal slit, searching for the opening. 

"Aaaaaggghhhh!" she muttered as he found the narrow, unstretched hole of her 
cunt and began to apply a little pressure. 

The smuggler pushed relentlessly forward, putting the weight of his small 
but powerful body behind his lust hardened cock, and grinning sadistically 
as he watched her writhe in pain. The tip of his bulbous glans worked its 
way painfully past the tightly clasped opening, and penetrated her tight 
young cunt by brute Mongol force. 

"No . . . god, you're hurting me," she bleated, putting her hands uselessly 
against his tawny hairless chest to push him away. It was futile, he was far 
too much man for her to shove away, and he obviously enjoyed making her 
suffer as he battered his way up into her virginal pussy. 

"As Confucius would say, there's no sense in prolonging the inevitable . . . 
or as you Westerners would put it, beating around the bush." Releasing his 
solid weight on his elbows, he allowed his body to smash abruptly, crashing 
his chest against the cushiony softness of her breasts and simultaneously 
knocking the wind out of her. Defensively, Shirlee's legs splayed apart as 
his long thick cock rammed into her defenseless vagina. He was going in all 
the way this time, not stopping until his sperm filled testicles slapped 
obscenely against the upturned cheeks of her buttocks! 

He muttered something obscene in Chinese and pulled his penis partially out 
and stared at the red threads from her torn hymen. "A goddamned virgin!" 

"Oh, no! Oh dear God!" she whispered beneath him, too frightened to scream. 
The girl had never before in her entire life felt so stuffed as she was at 
that instant! His huge hotly pulsating penis lay sunk deep within her belly, 
so hard and round that she could almost feel it in the back of her throat, 
and her plundering virginal pussy felt as though someone had taken a 
scissors to it, ripping it to shreds, destroying it forever. 

For a long breathless moment, neither of them moved. Kim shifted her 
position slightly, sprawling next to Shirlee on the bed and ran ,a cool hand 
over Shirlee's fevered forehead. "My brother is well hung, isn't he? You 
wait until he takes you in the ass!" 

"Nooooohhhhhoooo!" Shirlee fell into tears, too tortured by what was 
happening to her at that moment to worry much about the future. Other than 
that, there was nothing to say, particularly since Manchu was flexing his 
lust thickened cock within her, deliberately trying to widen her tightly 
resisting cunt another few inches. Kim was inching her way closer, 
apparently still hot for a piece of the action, and too impatient to wait 
until her brother had sampled the first round. 

She fumbled under the bed until she found the black box, drew out an 
arm-sized dildo and thrust it in Shirlee's pliant hand, forcibly wrapping 
the blonde girl's fingers around it. Then Kim thrust her hips forward 
eagerly and forced the plastic dildo up into her pussy, immediately clamping 
her thighs together to hold it in place. 

"Oh dear God," groaned the captive blonde informer, not bothering to resist 
the latest perversion. "What more? What is left?" 

"Plenty more," grunted Bu grimly. "Plenty more. . ." 

Slowly, the merciless Oriental smuggler began to rock back and forth, 
driving his pulsing hardness in and out of Shirlee's painfully ravished 
pussy. With his Confucian philosophy, he possessed a native instinct for a 
woman's innermost feelings, and he sensed that the blonde girl had given up 
the fight. She had not even whimpered at his sister's latest perversion, and 
the slender yellow-skinned lesbian was going wild by his side as she forced 
Shirlee to fuck her with the dildo. Yes, from here on in she would be no 
problem at all. His penis had never failed him before, and he knew from his 
vast bedroom experience that it took very little to turn an innocent virgin 
into a raving sex maniac. He'd done it to countless models and he'd do it 
again! 

Manchu was relying on his past record for that assumption, but he didn't 
know how right he was! Shirlee knew herself that the battle was lost. Even, 
the agonizing pain of Manchu's brutal penetration of her tender vagina had 
not brought her all the way down, and she was still tingling from the 
furious tongue lashing from Kim. Her brain was a mass of loose circuits and 
confusion, and she realized vaguely that she had probably not completely 
recovered from the drug they had dowsed in her alcohol the night before That 
had to be the reason for her lewd behavior . . . it had to be! No doubt 
they'd used some kind of Chinese aphrodisiac on her, and she remembered the 
pitiful sight of Sue spread eagle under Manchu's pounding penis. 

The Oriental smuggler looked down at the girl he was savagely pumping into 
and decided that he was winning once again. Shirlee's smooth, magnificent 
body was twitching and jerking unconsciously, and he plastered a wet, 
slobbery kiss on her lips, finding to his delight that even her mouth 
yielded to his invasion. All of her seemed to be opening up to him. Lewdly, 
he plunged his hot tongue into her mouth and her tongue shyly toyed with his 
as low servile hums of passionate acceptance came from deep in her throat. A 
light fragrant layer of perspiration had beaded over her smooth forehead as 
his loins fucked endlessly into hers, and her nostrils flared with lust. 
Manchu decided it was indeed time to turn on the old Chinese charm and let 
her have it both barrels. 

He started by shifting his position, slipping his small hands beneath the 
soft warm globes of her buttocks, continuing at the same time to fuck 
rhythmically into her. Shirlee's ass cheeks were churning and flexing in 
lewd delight as he fucked his lust hardened penis into her eagerly squirming 
cunt, and he used this new leverage to pull her tight little pussy even 
closer so that his long hard shaft was in direct contact with the oily 
little nub of her clitoris. She groaned and mumbled incoherently, almost as 
if she were thankful. She's ready, thought Manchu and slid his prying 
fingers all of the way beneath her nakedly undulating buttocks until his 
index finger rested lightly on the tiny puckered hole of her anus. It was 
tight, and he reminded himself that if on some future occasion he were to 
take her there, he'd better stretch her now. Besides, playing around in that 
forbidden playground would serve as a convincing demonstration of how low 
he'd brought her. If this snooty nosed English girl would accept his finger 
there, she would take anything anywhere, anytime! 

Without warning, he slid his outstretched middle finger into her puckering 
anal hole quickly, catching her completely off guard, and feeling the soft 
rubbery flesh yield before his attack. 

"Aaaaaahhhhhh!" she moaned, but it was not clear whether the nakedly 
thrashing girl was protesting or simply moaning from the increased pleasure 
of being twice filled. Manchu escalated by pushing a little further, working 
his finger around in bigger circles in her hot buttery depths to widen the 
opening. Slowly, he felt her outraged rectum adjust to this strange and 
unnatural invasion. The thought that he had completely dominated the girl 
lent a savage fury to the man's wild lusts, and he began to fuck her with 
every ounce of his smooth yellow body, caressing the moistly trembling 
inside walls of her rectum with his finger as he speared even more deeply 
into her wetly clasping young cunt. 

"Oh, God!" she muttered, her long, finely tapered legs rising up on either 
side of him as if she were obscenely urging him to fuck her harder and 
deeper. In a flicker of the eyelash, Manchu realized that he was there; she 
was careening on the verge of cumming, and he had not even begun to really 
let her have it. He decided to get a head start and push her off the brink 
so hard that she would never forget this cum. Taking a deep breath, he 
stepped up his thrusts, ripping his fingers from her offended rectum and 
seizing her hips. The girl's loins were wide open to him now and the air 
echoed with the sound of one pile-driving thrust after another as his long 
penis rammed into her blonde curled pussy. Shirlee's face was so twisted and 
contorted with lust that her own mother would not have recognized her, and 
Manchu felt that his cock would explode if he didn't loosen the pressure 
soon. Neither of them were paying any attention to poor neglected Kim who 
was still fucking herself with the plastic dildo clamped in Shirlee's 
imprisoned hand. The forgotten lesbian suddenly began sobbing under the 
effect of her lonely passion, but neither her brother nor Shirlee turned to 
watch her expression as she came in one powerful orgasm. 

"I . . . I . . ." gulped Shirlee, not knowing what the appropriate 
expression was for this blissful feeling. 

"Say it!" Manchu barked, wanting to hear it from her lips. 

"I'm cummmming . . . cummming!" the lust crazed girl chanted mindlessly, her 
hips bucking up against Manchu's body with that strange physical power which 
sweeps over a woman's body at the moment of sexual ecstasy. 

The jade designer, all grunts and groans and perspiration, felt the warmness 
of her cunt as she flowered open to him like a lotus touched by the morning 
sun and the hot gushes of sticky orgiastic fluid flowed from her womb like 
rain. The fragile lips of her vagina were trying to milk him dry, and the 
man realized that he, too, was at the end of his rope. Shirlee's sweet 
breath was coming in short desperate gasps as he felt his own hot sperm 
suddenly gather deep in his testicles and explode outward. The steamy cum 
rushed the full length of his wildly ejaculating cock and burst into the 
depths of her womb, combining joyously with the warm orgiastic fluids 
generated by her own frenzied body. 

Suddenly, the dizziness passed, and Shirlee's body went rag-limp, her legs 
splaying out obscenely as if there were no more modesty left in the world 
and she no longer cared who saw her and in what position. As was his habit, 
Manchu leaned forward to kiss her gently on her parted lips. 

Abruptly, the blonde informer turned her head away, her eyes tight with 
disgust. 

"Murderer!" she spat. "Smuggler! Rapist!" Slowly, Manchu withdrew his 
deflated penis from her seeping vagina, streaking a sticky thread of their 
cum across her thigh as he lifted himself up. He hated to do it . . . but 
she was going to have to be eliminated 

 Chapter Six 

Tom Bailey flung his fishing pole line into the Pai River waters, feeling 
strangely at peace with himself and the world. His leg wasn't stiff today 
and since he'd resumed his morning shaving ritual, he felt better about 
himself as a man. In a way, he supposed fishing for his food had made him a 
healthy person. Back in Dayton everybody ate too much meat and potatoes and 
there was a time when Julie had chided him for his mid-belly spare tire. Now 
he was slim with not an ounce of fat on his body, though he'd lost none of 
his muscles. His hands were steady today, too, and that was a good sign. 

Bailey glanced out over the murky rippling waters watching a low, long 
fishing boat silhouetted against the teakwood trees on the opposite bank, 
wondering if what the villagers said about this cove was true . . . that it 
was a magical spot blessed with fortune. If surviving a plane wreck and 
watching your crew burn to death before your eyes was luck, then he supposed 
he was a lucky man. Real luck, however, would be finding a female body along 
the shore; and until he did, curse the Burmese legends! 

That bothered him . . . this need for a female body close to him. There was 
the displaced Vietnamese prostitute in town, the woman that had literally 
fucked an army, but somehow he could not see himself trading a day's catch 
for a lay in the sack. 

He watched a fish flop, making big circles in the dark water. Would he ever 
get back to the United States and do all those American things like go 
bowling with the boys on Friday night and drink beer and flirt with the 
waitress? Could he do those insane things after knowing the darkness of true 
agony? Existentialism 101 back at the University of Ohio hadn't prepared him 
for that metaphysical predicament and that old cloudy, dismal sensation of 
panicky despair came over him. Distraught, he pulled in his fishing line, 
and retraced his steps back to the site of the plane wreck, hoping that 
reenacting the horror would lessen the impact. Threading his way through 
teak trees and undergrowth up to his kneecaps, he entered the burned out 
clearing to see the mangled rusted frame of the spy plane where he'd buried 
his crew those years ago. The wooden crosses had rotted in the steamy 
humidity, but he'd managed to keep the grave sites clear of underbrush. 

Perhaps the Burmese villagers had the story backwards; maybe this stretch of 
the Pai River was all misfortune, considering the fearsome Karenni forces 
whose guns he'd heard crackling in combat through the peaceful virginal 
forest. Sometimes, late at night when insomnia cursed him, he would sit out 
on the riverbank, hiding in the bushes as a low, long boat slipped by 
silently in the darkness. Often the Thai border patrol would stop to 
investigate their cargo . . . sometimes in the midst of gun fire. He was 
contemplating those strange episodes as he tromped through the high 
underbrush to return to his hut, feeling downtrodden and defeated. 

Passing by a rock face cliff, he stopped. Strange he'd never noticed that 
before, he thought, wondering if his emotional state had affected his 
vision, too. Suddenly intrigued by the rocks piled up in front of the cave 
mouth, his curiosity was piqued. With renewed energy, he began pulling away 
the rocks with his bare hands until he uncovered the tiny mouth of the cave. 
Down on his knees, he peered into the entrance big enough for a small 
Oriental man. Something geometrical and metal inside caught his eyes and he 
lay flat on his stomach, breathing in the moist ground smell as he tugged at 
the mysterious box. 

He held a steel box in his hand; not a spot of rust discolored it, even in 
the humid cave air. The hinges squeaked as he opened the box. He gasped in 
surprise: hand grenades, all bearing the American eagle insignia. Probably 
found in Cambodia during the last siege of the Vietnamese war and sold in 
the black-market to the Karenni smugglers, he guessed. 

Obviously, someone had hid this cache of hand grenades, and recently too. 
Who and why? Bailey thought about pulling the pin and trying one out, but if 
he did the whole damned village would be scouring the forests and what they 
would do was anybody's guess. Gingerly, he replaced the one grenade he had 
withdrawn and put it back into the box, then back on his belly, he slid it 
into the cave. 

He was about to wiggle back out from the cave when he noticed more objects. 
There was an American M-16. An expert on guns, Tom could see it was well 
oiled and in good repair, with a box of ammo cases, too. But it was the 
third object he absconded with: a hunk of jade that would bring a good sum 
on the market. A fist-sized chunk of this green jadeite should be enough to 
buy a good hot meal and the Da Nang prostitute for a night . . . not to 
mention a slow boat to China. 

 Chapter Seven 

The skies over Hong Kong hung pregnantly with springs storms when the 
captain of The Emerald revved up its four engines for the journey over the 
South China Sea, sailing around the Golden Triangle up to the Gulf of 
Thailand to dock near Bangkok. 

Below, in a darkened stateroom lit by a dim oval of late afternoon skies, 
slow labored breathing mingled with lingering musky scent of sex. Sue's 
naked tawny body lay on a rumpled bed like a discarded toy, and an arm 
stretch away the English informer snored catatonically, one long white leg 
dangling over the side of the bed in a drugged stupor. Needle marks, fresh 
and still oozing with scarlet droplets of blood, dotted the insides of their 
elbows. 

For three days they would remain in that drugged stupor, until The Emerald 
had entered Bangkok through the Gulf of Thailand and anchored there while 
Bu, Kim and the hostages remained behind and the bodyguards headed on up the 
Pai River with the empty steamer trunks, ready to load up the loot. 

On the upper deck Bu and his lesbian sister Kim watched the third day of 
storm clouds amass in rumbling darkness in the ocean skies. They were 
concerned about more than the weather. 

"It's a shame that beautiful and intelligent women are difficult to find in 
the Orient, and when I do locate them, I hate to kill them, but that English 
girl will have to go." Manchu reached out to steady his sister as The 
Emerald listed unexpectedly on the darkened sea. The winds had been of 
hurricane velocity of late and that made Manchu slightly nervous and 
jittery. They had to reach Bangkok to make their contact with the Karenni 
thugs by a certain day or the deal was off. 

"It's my guess the girl is an informer," put in Kim, regaining her balance, 
her knuckles white from clutching onto the rail. "She called you a smuggler, 
Bu. I don't know where she got that murder business, and she must have seen 
us filing Sue for the clip we sent to the border patrol." 

"She knows too much," he said flatly and decisively. "I hate to let such a 
lovely one die . . . before I have another turn at her. Have the steward 
prepare her." 

The girl was still naked, her body flapping limply back and forth like a 
corpse in stormy waters when the steward threw her over his shoulder and 
dumped her on the bed in Manchu's stateroom. She thudded on the hard 
mattress and bounced twice, the springing her eyelids open. Shirlee glanced 
up sharply, realizing that she was glad to be conscious again . . . at least 
she knew she was alive. 

"How are you feeling my dear?" Manchu smiled suavely at her. "Perhaps a bit 
of sleep improved your disposition . . . ?" 

Shirlee simply stared at them, uncertain what she should say; then, too, her 
mind wasn't in proper working order. Plus she was frightened by her dire 
situation and upset by the way these two maniacs had made her respond. Two 
days had passed since Manchu had ravished her body, and though their drugs 
had numbed her senses, her stupidity at labeling him a smuggler stuck close 
to her hazed memory. It was that dreadfully powerful orgasm that had 
temporarily blurred her senses. 

"Wha . . . what do you two want from me?" she quivered, crossing her legs 
instinctively and covering her nakedly upthrust breasts with her tiny hands 
. . . a feeble attempt at best. 

"Before we reach Burma, we'd like to get to know you better, since you know 
so much about us. The question is, how do you know these things?" 

"I . . . I. . . ." It seemed to be a bad idea to reveal precisely how much 
she knew at this point and Shirlee stalled for time. 

"Ask her about the control room," Kim nudged her brother. "The door must 
have been open and she could have walked right in and seen the screens. 
Stupid of me to leave it open." 

"Yes . . . very stupid," agreed Bu disgustedly. Manchu nodded grimly and 
returned his attention to the naked girl sitting on his bed. 

"Beautiful and intelligent . . . So you saw our video set-up? Fine quality, 
don't you agree? There are four cameras mounted in this room all connected 
with a recorder. Thanks to Japanese ingenuity, we have some revealing films 
of our models which we will send to the Thai border patrol for a preview." 

Shirlee's curiosity blurted out of her mouth in an incriminating: "What 
for?" Now they were onto her. Good show, she rebuked herself; nothing like 
sticking your foot in your mouth! 

"Once we get to the Thai border you'll find out." 

"What do you want of me?" 

Manchu grinned evilly, a menacing grin which sent shivers down the girl's 
back. Kim was standing in front of her now, wearing a sarong which pulled 
open with one tug of the fingers, and while Shirlee waited for the answer, 
the lesbian slowly undid the wrap-around and stepped free of it. It didn't 
take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what this incestuous twosome had planned 
for her. 

"We will have the video cameras rolling," Bu informed her. "And we want you 
to show the Thai border patrol what a meek one you are." 

"I . . . I don't want any more sex!" she begged sincerely. "Please, no more 
sex!" 

"Don't be scared. I have the impression you enjoyed our last session. I 
distinctly remember you cumming. Didn't you cum, or did you fake it for my 
sake?" he put in caustically. 

His cruel mockery irked her, yet there was nothing she could do but sit and 
take it. Shirlee took a deep breath and conceded to her fate. 

"Okay, okay . . . so you made me climax, but that's merely mechanics. Sex is 
for people in love, and I don't like these perversions!" 

"Ah, but perversions are to sex what ginger and soy sauce are to Chinese 
cooking," Manchu informed her blandly. "It's too bad you aren't a man-then 
you could appreciate how lovely you two naked women look together. I would 
like to see you closer. Lie down, Kim!" 

The submissive lesbian sister was visibly trembling with emotion as she 
stretched herself out on the bed next to the frightened blonde English girl 
who was five inches taller and every bit as frightened as her Oriental 
counterpart was excited. Shirlee noticed immediately that Kim's puffy brown 
nipples were getting puckery and the woman's glossy black haired pussy was 
moist. What kind of performance were these incestuous smugglers expecting of 
her? Should she fight, or would they stick another needle in her arm and 
drug her into submission? Kim flipped around on the bed so that she was 
upside down next to Shirlee, and Manchu pushed the young blonde informer 
down on her side so that they were in the classic sixty-nine position. 

"Kim was nice enough to prepare you for me yesterday, now you be a good 
little girl and suck her off. There's nothing that delights me more than the 
sight of my sister getting hot over a woman," he announced. "Ever done this 
before, Shirlee? You'll learn fast enough, and if you don't we have methods. 
Now get to it!" 

Her head thundering with confusion and repulsion, Shirlee felt Kim pushing 
her unresisting thighs apart, and her body jerked as the snaky tongue 
speared lewdly into the sensitive inner folds of her cunt. They had been all 
through this routine once before . . . how many days ago? and Shirlee 
already knew precisely what was expected of her. These people had somehow 
discovered a deeply buried masochistic streak of dormant sexuality in her, 
something hidden far beneath the surface of her conscious self. And they 
would explore that perverse need to be tortured and humiliated, turning her 
from a pompous, steely-nerved informer to a sordid sex fiend who would turn 
on to men and women at the snap of a finger. 

As Kim's stabbing tongue teased her tickling vaginal flesh, Shirlee looked 
at the moistly dilated pussy shivered only a few inches from her nose. The 
scent from Kim's body was warm and fragrant as lotus blossoms, and the lips 
of her cunt were swollen and visibly trembling, begging to be kissed. 
Watching the sensuous outlines of that darkly inviting vaginal hole and 
knowing that Manchu would make her go through with this whether she wanted 
to or not, the girl bent slightly forward and ran her lips over the tiny 
pink button of Kim's clitoris and tasted the sweetness of the other woman's 
cunt. 

"Ahhhhhh!" a sigh whispered from down between her own legs as Kim paused 
long enough to mutter out her thanks for this much needed kiss. 

"You've had plenty of time to recuperate, Shirlee," Bu said ominously. "You 
will please my sister or I'll screw you in the ass while my crew takes turns 
with your cunt. Are there any questions?" 

No questions! He had mentioned anal sex before, and there was something in 
the tone of his voice that convinced her he was serious. Certainly, any man 
who whopped off women's breasts with a karate chop was capable of anal rape. 
Shirlee hesitated no longer. If preventing anal rape meant having oral sex 
with this woman, then she would do it . . . gladly. 

Then, too, the other woman's wetly glistening black fringed pussy was 
somewhat fascinating, from a cultural point of view. She had never seen one 
up close like this before, and Shirlee pushed her fingers exploringly into 
the rich dark pubic hair, caressing the Oriental woman's clitoris. Shirlee 
took a second look and immediately understood why Kim was oversexed. Lord, 
the size of her clitoris was long as a baby's thumb, red and pulsating with 
sexual electricity! To the touch it felt warm and soft and she could hear 
the Chinese woman sigh with happiness every time she touched it. Summing up 
her courage, Shirlee pushed Kim's yellow satiny thighs apart and wedged her 
blonde head in between her outstretched legs, running her tongue lewdly over 
the quivering pinkness of the throbbing cuntal lips. She clamped her rosy 
lips firmly around the sexually-sensitive tip of her clitoris and began to 
suck, tasting the piquant liquids of another woman for the first 
unforgettable time. 

Instead of being disgusting, it was really quite easy. Kim was furiously 
tongue-lashing her own pulsating pussy, and the orgiastic scent wafting from 
the lesbian's body seemed to drive her higher and higher into a red mist of 
wild lust. Shirlee knew in some sane portion of her clouded mind that these 
criminals were getting through to her once again, that this surrender would 
make it that much more difficult for her to resist them in the future, but 
somehow at this point the logic of her situation seemed to reversed. What 
difference did it make? If they ordered her to resort to lesbianism to 
maintain her private rights on her rectum, then so be it! Anything but anal 
sex! 

She threw herself into the perversion, almost reveling in the wickedness and 
obscenity of what she was doing. Once she pictured Chad Barker sitting in 
his office chair, chastising her for sleeping around for the facts. Lord, 
that seemed insignificant! Inching forward, she slid her long flickering 
tongue deeply into Kim's naked pussy, feeling the delicately trembling walls 
of the Chinese woman's cuntal hole quivering with excitement. The taste was 
strong, though aromatic, and Shirlee began to lick and suck with all her 
might, driving her tongue repeatedly into the woman's clasping vagina, and 
brushing her pouty lower lip over the woman's clitoris in one smooth stroke. 

From Manchu's point of view, the two women had both gone totally crazy, and 
he felt his penis swelling powerfully. Foreplay had never appealed to him, 
and that's why having a younger sister like Kim was an asset to his 
business. When the moment was right, he would move in with his cock in hand 
and finish the job off. Shirlee would be ready any second now, and Bu 
marveled at the hot streak of lust which his sister had sparked in the 
snooty nosed English girl. And of course, Kim was ready in the flicker of an 
eyelash. Now the two of them were eating each other like there was no 
tomorrow. 

Bu watched his sister quiver violently, and he knew she was ready to explode 
into an orgasm. His sister could cum faster and harder than any human being 
he had ever seen, and sometimes he had to envy her for that quality. 
Everything turned her on and she could turn anything on . . . hers was a 
perfect synergistic relationship with the world. Bu watched Kim's slender 
body go rigid as the spasm swept over her. 

"Ah . . . ah . . . ah!" she murmured in a moment of ecstasy. Bu felt his 
iron hard cock throb with avid desire, and he knew what he wanted and to 
hell with promises! Shirlee's smooth tempting buttocks were right in front 
of him, and he suddenly was overcome by the lecherous desire to go ahead and 
take her there . . . even if she had fulfilled her end of the bargain! Why 
should he hold back? Since when did Bu Manchu ever hold back from what he 
wanted? Shirlee was his prisoner, and even the police didn't know where she 
was. Her defenseless naked body was his toy. 

The two women were still tongue fucking each other like battery operated 
toys gone berserk, but Manchu levered himself up next to Shirlee's warm body 
and unzipped his pants to free his restless and complaining penis. The 
scarlet tip of his cock had swelled into an awesome size, and he rammed it 
between Shirlee's soft warm buttocks, wanting to catch her off guard before 
she had a chance to offer any serious resistance. Fighting his way into that 
tight little asshole would be a chore enough without having to wrestle with 
her at the same time. 

Shirlee was not Shirlee any longer, but some raving lesbian trembling on a 
brink of a lesbian orgasm when she felt Manchu's warmly pulsating hardness 
slide between her soft ass cheeks. The potential orgasm passed immediately 
as fear stuck its hot finger into her naked body. The bastard . . . the 
lying bastard, he was going to take her there anyway! She had followed his 
instructions . . . that she knew because Kim was still writhing and groaning 
her way through a soul-shattering orgasm. She should have known better than 
to trust a murderous smuggler. Now she had cause to fight him! 

Shirlee whirled around on the bed, flailing out with her elbows and striking 
Manchu as hard as she could in the head. She knew that to fight with an ex 
black belt was foolish, but her only hope was to kick and scream and scratch 
until he considered it too much trouble to pursue. 

"Noooo!!!" she shrieked hysterically, raking her long fingernails through 
his naked chest and leaving red bleeding claw marks behind. 

"Kim! Grab her!" ordered Bu, thrown temporarily off-balance by the sudden 
fury of Shirlee's attack and by erratic off-balance of the stormy seas and 
gigantic waves that bounced The Emerald around like a cork. The boat tumbled 
again, rocking dangerously to starboard, and Kim slid off the bed onto the 
floor, still confused by the violent interruption of the sweetest orgasm she 
could remember. Manchu rose unsteadily to his feet, his mouth twisted in a 
tiger like snarl, confronting the angry girl. He tried to throw his muscular 
body on top of her to pin her down, but Shirlee reacted with the brute 
jungle instinct of an animal, lashing out with one foot that caught him in 
the groin, smashing his cum swollen balls back against his thigh in one 
gnashing movement. 

"Aaaahhhh!" Bu screamed in pain as Shirlee picked up a vase and hurled it at 
him, adding insult to injury as the porcelain caught him in the genitals, 
doubling him over immediately with agony. Manchu had been quite unprepared 
for this kind of assault from a timid English girl, but he had not made his 
way to the top of Hong Kong's smuggling business by being meek and 
forgiving. With a groan of rage, he ricocheted off a bulkhead and 
intercepted Shirlee as she sprinted for the cabin door, slamming her cruelly 
to the listing floor with one fast sweep of his arm. 

"Damn little bitch!" he muttered as the girl. writhed on the floor, her eyes 
rolling back in her head, so far out of her mind that she was willing to 
continue the battle against all odds. "Get the crew, Kim. Before we dock in 
Bangkok, I'm going to give this girl a lesson in cock sucking before the 
Thai border gets their hands on her!" 

The Emerald heaved itself over the restless Gulf of Thailand, not far from 
Bangkok where The Emerald would dock and make contact with the Karenni 
forces and head up the Pai River to Wai Phu Long where the jade would be 
ushered across the Thai border. 

Staggering to her feet, Kim pushed an alarm button behind the door. Still 
groggy from her violent break for freedom, Shirlee found herself being 
hauled roughly to her feet and thrown out of the cabin and down the corridor 
to the afterdeck where only a week ago she'd been sipping cocktails! 

Three black belts arrived in double time to the afterdeck, and the stoic 
faced men showed no particular surprise at seeing their boss dragging the 
screaming, kicking blonde out into the chilling open air even in the middle 
of this nasty weather. The three black belts had traveled with Manchu for 
five years, and by now nothing raised their eyebrows. 

"What do you want, boss?" one of the men yelled as Manchu hurled the naked 
girl onto the deck at their feet. 

"She needs to be loosened up a bit, and I want it done right now," the 
vicious smuggler shouted, rage plainly audible in his voice. "I want one 
cock down her throat, one in her cunt, and one up her asshole." Manchu spun 
on his heel and disappeared. 

Sprawled nakedly on the deck beneath the three cut-throat black belts, 
Shirlee realized with a deadening sense of despair that it was probably all 
over with for her now. She had failed at fighting off one man . . . how 
could she possibly survive three? 

"What a lovely sight," mocked the tallest and meanest of the three, as soon 
as the furious Chinese criminal had disappeared down the corridor, banging 
doors as he went. 

"He gave me the order, so I'm taking first choice." 

Shirlee shook her head, clinging to the deck as the ocean-going yacht 
pitched recklessly on the white-capped gulf waters. The man who'd been 
speaking was bald-headed with enormous biceps and a tiny waist. 

"What are you going to do to her?" asked a shorter and surprisingly 
kind-faced man next to him. "Why rough her up? I don't want that kind of 
responsibility on my head." 

Shirlee got to her hands and knees and gazed at the three thugs, somehow 
thinking that at least one of them would have mercy on her, that they would 
be a kind-hearted, decent man who would protect her from the maddened Bu 
Manchu. One glance at the tall man's snarling face erased all hopes, as he 
slowly undid his belt, grinning evilly at her and moved to stand in front of 
her. 

"The boss said a cock in the mouth," he grunted cruelly. "That's my little 
present to you. Take it out!" 

Shirlee looked up at him blankly, hardly capable of believing that life 
could have become so difficult at such an early age. She looked at his 
calloused hands and watched with dumb misery as he did a karate chop in the 
air, letting out a snarling grunt as he sliced the foggy atmosphere. 

"Aaaggghhh!" she sang out in expectant pain as the hand stopped a deadly 
quarter inch from her neck, speeding through the air like a guillotine 
blade. She jumped forward, knowing that next time she wouldn't be so lucky. 

"Crawl over here," he motioned to the fearfully kneeling girl, unbuttoning 
his fly and producing a long flaccid cock which dangled obscenely before her 
fear widened eyes. Shirlee had learned enough about the Manchu brand of sex 
in the past few days to know precisely what this man had in mind. He was 
going to force her to suck his cock and make it hard for him, and then he 
was going to fuck her helpless mouth the same way Manchu had fucked Hiro. 
The very notion sickened her, but the man was raising his hammer-like hand 
again, and she crawled submissively forward, deciding there was no point in 
losing her head for the sake of pride. She would end up doing precisely what 
he wanted in the end anyway, and she could save herself a beating by 
surrendering before he used his hand. Was this how the other model had lost 
her breast? Shirlee shivered. 

The three men were crowded around her now, running their rough calloused 
hands all over her cruelly exposed body, totally ignoring the raging gulf 
around them. Two sets of hands were pinching and bruising her and a third 
set was gently stroking her smooth naked flesh like a child petting a 
whimpering baby kitten. At least somebody could see her agony! The first 
bodyguard stepped forward, a coldly sadistic smile on his broad Mongolian 
features, and before she knew it, his hands were at her lips, forcing her 
jaws apart and forcing the length of his steadily hardening penis into her 
throat. She could see nothing now but his penis, and her field of vision was 
restricted to his loins, his sperm-filled testicles and the two black tufts 
of pubic hair on either side of his long blunt instrument. 

"Either you start sucking or I give you a chop on the neck," he grunted in 
Raj English. What did it matter? If they wanted her to fuck, she would fuck; 
if they wanted her to suck, she would suck. Vaguely, as she opened her 
mouth, she remembered the naive thoughts she had conjured up while watching 
Bu abuse Hiro in this same vile way. What had she promised herself? That she 
would never never allow a man to degrade her like this, and now it was 
happening in three-D color! 

The black belt's hips jerked forward and the deed was done. His warmly 
pulsating hardness was in her mouth, and she could feel the huge rubbery 
glans sliding smoothly across her tongue towards the back of her throat and 
down her esophagus. The taste was strong and pungent, and she could feel his 
rigid shaft of flesh trembling with excitement. It suddenly occurred to her 
that it had been several days since this man had fucked a woman, and he was 
probably about to explode with lustfulness. In fact, there were already tiny 
droplets of sperm oozing from the turgid glans, lubricating his passage as 
he skewered his way deliberately towards the back of her throat. The man was 
holding her in his steely grip, his hands clasped on either side of her 
blonde hair, and she could hear him grunt with animalistic pleasure as the 
meaty tip of his penis pushed lewdly into the back of her cruelly stretched 
throat. 

It was a provocative scene, even though the setting was all wrong. The 
brutal invasion of a young woman's virginal mouth should have been taking 
place in a plush bedroom with Montavanni playing in the background. Instead, 
the girl was kneeling nakedly and slavishly on the bare polished boards of a 
yacht, surrounded by a coterie of three thug black belts. One of the other 
two black belts was stroking himself as he watched his friend's bloated 
penis fuck into the face of the beautiful blonde. He had a finger already 
inserted in her warmly flowing young cunt, still moist and dilated from her 
sordid lesbian session with Kim. He had already chosen his point of entry 
and was simply waiting his turn, killing time by pinching and twisting the 
small buds of her nipples into hardness. The third man, the handsome one, 
seemed strangely aloof, and if Shirlee had dared to raise her head and look 
into his face, she would have been shocked to have seen the kindness there, 
a kind of Buddha-like compassion. 

Shirlee could feel everything, but somehow the thought that she was being 
criminally degraded and humiliated made very little difference to her at 
this point. She was thinking about surviving, trying to calculate every move 
on the basis of whether or not it helped her to stay alive. Actually her 
mind was wandering, jumping erratically from thought to thought as if she 
were drugged. She had no idea how to perform oral sex on a man, really, but 
she had watched Kim teach Hiro, and the lesson was indelibly printed upon 
her mind. She wanted to get this disgusting task over with as soon as 
possible, and that meant coaxing him into cumming. There was no other way. 

She sucked him in earnest now, using her hands the way Kim had, holding the 
man's sperm inflated testicles in one hand while she stroked the broad shaft 
of his hotly throbbing cock with the other. Licentiously, her tongue roamed 
over the wet, lubricated head of his cock, and experimentally she teased him 
by poking the tip of her tongue into the tiny open slit at the end. She 
could feel him already trembling and knew that he was going to cum soon. It 
would mean that his hot bubbling sperm would rush out of his body into her 
forever defiled throat, but somehow the thought no longer bothered her. The 
important thing was to endure it! 

Her head was bobbing furiously up and down now as she struggled desperately 
to finish her task, sucking like a woman possessed to draw all the semen out 
of his body while the man grunted and twisted above her. Behind her, out of 
sight, she could feel the other man becoming progressively more restless. 

"Come on, Sam," urged one. "Shoot it into her and let's get on with some 
real fucking." His accent was heavy Chinese. 

"Don't wait, then. Go ahead and fuck her!" gasped the black belt, now 
fucking his saliva coated penis in and out of the girl's cock filled mouth, 
obviously caring very little whether he strangled or choked her. 

The second black belt nodded in agreement and began running his lips 
hungrily down over the smoothness of Shirlee's naked back until he arrived 
at the crevice of her buttocks. His fingers went further, curling between 
the girl's tightly clenched half-moons and rummaging lewdly up between her 
thighs. First he moistened his middle finger by dipping it into the wetness 
of her cunt and then quickly transferred it to her tiny hopelessly puckering 
anus, teasing her unmercifully as he prodded her for the slightest sign of 
weakness. 

The young woman jerked convulsively forward as she felt the man's 
outstretched finger worming its way into the depths of her offended rectum, 
but the motion only served to lodge the rigid cock deeper in her desperately 
gulping throat. She murmured in protest as the man behind her dug deeper and 
deeper, but the black belt was going wild now, plunging past the tight oval 
of her lips in a desperate attempt to make himself cum. 

The tormented girl could feel the cock throbbing heatedly against the smooth 
moist insides of her mouth and forced herself to recognize the bitter truth 
about her predicament. This was it. He was going to cum in her throat and 
then while she was gagging and swallowing his hot sticky semen they were 
going to throw her forward on her belly and violate the virginal little hole 
of her rectum. 

The black belt groaned terribly as if he were in pain and gripped her head 
with hands of steel, making sure that she could not escape him now at the 
crucial moment. His long thick cock began to jerk convulsively, and 
suddenly, hot streams of jetting cum splashed against the back of her 
throat. Shirlee gulped automatically, sensing that it was this or choke to 
death as the gushing wet sperm squirted hotly into her throat. 
Unconsciously, she clamped her lips tightly around his jerking penis, 
sucking him with all her might, driven on by the irrational thought that the 
longer she sucked his cock, the longer it would be before the man behind got 
to stab into her tortured anus with his lust stiffened rod. 

"Come on, let's get her inside," urged the man who'd been plundering her 
vagina, catching hold of a guard rail as the yacht lurched suddenly to port, 
caught in the crest of a wave. The Emerald seemed to shake itself dry and 
then ploughed steadily ahead as a little sea water washed over the afterdeck 
and Shirlee felt the spray wash over her heated body. The sea seemed warmer 
than she had thought. 

Suddenly the black belt yanked his fingers free of her anus, rising steadily 
to his feet. "Let's take her inside where we can have fun with her tight 
little ass," he chortled. 

There snapped a bright moment of clarity in Shirlee's mind as she knelt 
submissively on the moist deck with the black belt's slowly deflating penis 
in her mouth. Bu Manchu was never going to let her go. She knew far too much 
about his jade smuggling operation, and he had mutilated other women for far 
less. He had thrown her to his sex-starved sailors like a man throws a beef 
bone to a pack of starving wolves. And when she had been violated and abused 
every way possible, and she no longer amused his bodyguards, someone would 
give her a karate chop in the neck and that would be that. All that sucking 
and fucking for nothing . . . 

"Come on," the harsh voice struck her ears. "You're going with me." The 
burly man took her arm and hoisted her to her feet just as a big wave hit 
The Emerald, rocking the big yacht. The deck tilted to a forty-five degree 
angle, and the three bodyguards all grabbed for the nearest solid object, 
but Shirlee wiggled free. Suddenly, she was slipping and with a scream was 
falling across the tilted deck and plunging over the railing to the lower 
deck where she landed on top of the lifeboat and then all went black. 

Forward in the wheel house, the ship's captain spun the rudder to bring the 
yacht up to meet the oncoming waves and the craft leveled out immediately. 
The Emerald was a sturdy vessel and it would take more than a storm of this 
magnitude to turn her over. The three bodyguards relaxed as the boat 
leveled, and they looked at each other questioningly, the girl's screams 
still buzzing in their ears. 

"She's gone and jumped into the water just when I was about to get her in 
the ass," complained the second bodyguard, pulling up his pants. 

The third black belt wasn't so certain of Shirlee's fate; he scurried down 
to the lower deck and rescued her bruised unconscious body just as a killer 
wave washed over the lifeboat, inundating it with water until the canvas 
floated on top. Deftly, he slung her naked body over his shoulder and ran 
for his cabin. 

 Chapter Eight 

When Shirlee's lips touched the warm rim of the teacup, its steam unplugging 
her stuffy nose, her first thought was: God, I'm alive! Her delicate fingers 
spread out to touch the scratchy wool blanket covering her naked body and 
she peeked out through one swollen amber eye and gasped, a scream rising in 
her throat. 

A hand, rough but warm, clamped over her gaping mouth, and her eyes flew 
open, wide and frightened. Now he would rape her . . . take her brutally in 
the rectum! 

"Hush . . .," the most handsome of Bu Manchu's black belt bodyguards was 
whispering close to her face. "Don't make a sound. You are in friendly 
company." Supporting the back of her neck with his strong hand, he 
encouraged her to sip from the cup. She hesitated, certain it was laden with 
drugs. "You must be quiet or they will find you here and kill you," he was 
saying. "We must get you to safety." Shirlee groaned, her head throbbing, 
her body aching from the nasty tumble into the lifeboat as she stared into 
the kind eyes that belonged on some Buddhist statue, rather than a Bu Manchu 
black belt killer. 

"Tomorrow we will be docking and taking a boat up the Pai River as far as 
Wei Phu Long. They will give you trouble at the port if you leave alone. You 
must stay in my steamer trunk until we reach our destination, and from there 
you can contact an embassy and explain your story. They'll help you." 

They would never believe my story, thought Shirlee, wondering why one of Bu 
Manchu's thugs had decided to befriend her. She stared at him, noticing for 
the first time that he was a young man with wide set dark eyes that bespoke 
kindness and mercy . . . and very, very muscular. God, why didn't he touch 
her and get it over with? 

"No doubt you are wondering why I am in sympathy with you and have not 
touched you." He asked her question for her. "I am sorry to see you badly 
treated by Manchu. He is a murderer, a thug, and I have begun to realize 
that this is no way for an honorable man to live," he explained, encouraging 
her to take nourishment. "I will help you to safety as this will be my last 
trip for Manchu. I am going to stay in Burma . . . unless they kill me 
first." 

Shirlee listened as intently as a girl who'd been knocked unconscious for 
two days could. Something about this man's ethereal nature gave her the 
shivers and she lay nakedly quivering beneath the heavy wool blanket, 
waiting for his hands to slip underneath and maul her body. They didn't. 

She ate ravenously and felt surprisingly refreshed. That night she lay in a 
bundle of covers, fighting off a fever and chill, watching as her good 
Samaritan bored breathing holes in his steamer trunk which would later be 
used to transport jade back to Bangkok. He worked assiduously, a true 
craftsman, a patient human being. She wondered why a handsome, muscle-bound 
knockout like this man Ti would condescend to work for a thug like Manchu. 

Again, he read her mind. "You are wondering, of course, why I have put 
myself in the company of Bu Manchu?" He set down his tool and wiped a 
trickle of sweat from his satiny, smooth forehead, his eyes level and calm. 

"Yes . . . that thought had entered my mind," answered Shirlee hoarsely, a 
tingle of excitement racing through her tired body as he eyes riveted on the 
smooth naked muscles of Ti's chest rippling as he worked. 

Ti reached up to swipe a chock of black hair from his liquid eyes. "Bu 
Manchu is my father. . ." 

* * * 

A steamer trunk is roughly handled, and it was fortunate that the insightful 
black belt turned humanitarian 'had the foresight to pad it with down 
pillows before packing Shirlee's scantily clothed body into it and loading 
it aboard a truck and shipping it some twenty miles to the mouth of the Pai 
River. 

Still, Shirlee was thankful that she was still alive. Suffocating in a 
steamer trunk, her body twisted into a pretzel, her limbs numb, was no 
punishment compared to the horror of staring into Bu Manchu's cruel eyes as 
he threatened to violate her rectum. Yes, she had much to be thankful for, 
she thought, passing the claustrophobic hours by piecing together the 
details of Bu Manchu's smuggling operation and fantasizing Chad Barker's 
praise when she finally stumbled into his Hong Kong office with her story. 
Shirlee offered a little prayer to the gods. 

Chad Barker . . . did he have the whole force out looking for her? Did they 
have a line on where she was? Those thoughts were interrupted by the high 
voiced chirp of Burmese thugs. Obviously, Manchu's men had reached the Pai 
River and were about to load the boat heading up to Wai Phu Long where the 
empty trunks would be loaded up with jade and brought back to Bangkok after 
the Thai border patrol had been paid off in money and flesh. From the 
feverish chatter, Shirlee picked out Ti's Raj English, speaking loud and 
distinctly. "Yes, we will load that trunk now." 

That was her signal. Shirlee held her breath and buried her face in the down 
pillows as Ti had instructed her, and covered her head with her arms, 
cushioning the blow as the trunk thundered into the bottom of the boat, 
crashing in an explosive thump. 

"There," she heard Ti emphasize for her benefit. "The last of the trunks are 
loaded. We won't have to bother with them again." 

Good, she thought wondering if she would survive another blow such as the 
one that had just rattled her body hard enough to rearrange her magnificent 
parts. 

She managed to sleep for a few restless hours, and when she awoke, all was 
quite, save for the far away chatter of birds skirting the river for fish. 
It was around dusk, she guessed, plastering her ear to one of the breathing 
holes, listening for who was on the boat. It was obvious to Shirlee that Bu 
and Kim would not suffer the indignity or exposure of riding on the 
smuggling boat, and in her dazed state, she recalled Ti's explicit details 
of the operation . . . much of which she'd missed. Her head had ached 
pitifully and her eyes had been too busy watching Ti's biceps and chest 
muscles working to listen intently . . . and the heavy gold chain with the 
jade Buddha adorning his smooth neck had been mesmerizing to a woman who'd 
missed her last orgasm. 

Kim, Bu and Hiro would be transported to Wai Phu Long via human porter where 
Bu would do the negotiating with the Thai border patrol, enticing them with 
Hiro's sleeky body, part of the jade cache and money, if necessary. From 
there, Bu would entrust his cargo in the hands of his bodyguards, all well 
trained in defense and the power of intimidation. At the mouth of the Pai 
River, Bu, Kim and what was left of Hiro would be transported back to The 
Emerald along with the jade. Part of the smuggled stones would be sold in 
Bangkok and the best would go to Hong Kong where it would be sold at a 
higher price. 

Shirlee heard a long low snore and the dip of the paddles in the murky river 
waters as the boat slipped along smoothly. Mentally, she tried to imagine 
what stark reality awaited her outside the safety of her metal prison, and 
horror stories of snake infested river and jungles so thick the foliage grew 
back a minute after a machete had cleared a path. A shiver suffused her 
body. 

Ravenous, she tore open the bag of bamboo shoots that Ti had given her and 
chomped on one, her pearly teeth sinking into the snappy vegetables and 
quenching her parched throat. The first nourishment in countless hours, she 
had barely swallowed down the first when her teeth went to work on the 
second. 

A rustle sounded on deck and a voice boomed close to her ear. "What's that?" 
Somebody was on his feet. "What was that?" he repeated, sounding alarmed. 
"Sounds like somebody eating." 

Shirlee swallowed the half chewed pulp, gulping, terror struck. That voice 
belonged to the black belt who'd bathed her throat in his cum. "Impossible," 
she heard Ti's voice in rebuttal. "No . . . I heard something. Sounded like 
somebody . . . eating . . . ?" 

Ti threw back his head and laughed. "Must have been the gibbons." 

"No . . . it was close up . . . like it was coming from the trunk." Heavy 
foot steps sounded and the boat listed as one of the guards rose to his 
feet. A scream built and died in Shirlee's throat. 

"Nobody could survive those trunks. . . was probably a rat." 

"Yes . . . a rat. . ." 

Everything settled down, still Shirlee's heart thudded so loudly in her 
chest she was certain it was rattling the steamer trunk. Seconds turned into 
minutes and minutes into hours . . . and suddenly, in the midst of a dream, 
she heard the creak of hinges and saw daylight for the first time that day. 

"You must get out now . . . hurry while it's still dark," Ti was whispering. 
"We are passing the Cove of Good Fortune on the way to Wai Phu Long where 
the trunks will be opened. Take this with you. It will promise you good 
fortune." He drew the heavy gold chain with the jade Buddha from around his 
strong neck and draped it around Shirlee's slender one, then bowed 
reverently. "I trust you are a good swimmer?" 

Shirlee nodded in dumb terror, staring down into the murky waters, trying to 
make out the shimmer of water snakes. 

"Do not worry about the snakes. The only one you need fear is the krait. If 
it bites you, you will die before you know you have lived. Do not concern 
yourself . . . you have more lives to live." 

Shirlee glanced plaintively from the dark water up to Ti's smooth, unharried 
face and, teetering on tip toes, she kissed him gratefully on the cheek, 
knowing this might be the last time she kissed a man. He held her close 
enough for her to feel the throbbing bulge stabbing her in the stomach . . . 
but this was no time for such mind distractions. Raising her arms over her 
head, she plunged into the night fallen waters, dark and deep as the black 
hole of Calcutta, and scissored her legs for dear life. 

 Chapter Nine 

A hot meal and a few hours of female company can do a lot for a man's 
spirit, and Tom Bailey was thinking precisely that as he lay on his straw 
mat, last night's episode in the village running through his mind like some 
corny B-rated movie. 

Finding directions to the Da Nang prostitute's but was a simple matter, even 
for a man who spoke little Burmese, and when she greeted him at the door she 
seemed to know intuitively his wishes. 

"Fuck?" she asked, and Bailey had repressed an urge to chuckle. To hear that 
four-letter word spoken with such honesty, was ludicrous. 

"Yes," he'd nodded at her with a toothy smile, feeling desperately the need 
to communicate in his native tongue. "Yes, fucking . . . that's what I've 
come here for." 

She ushered him into her meager surroundings and fed him first a meal of 
rice, vegetables and steamed fish. Later, he had handed her the jade rock 
which she fingered appraisingly, and apparently pleased with her assessment, 
she smiled and quietly undressed. Bailey watched, trying to feel turned on 
and not succeeding. His mind reeled back to Julie, remembering those heated 
nights back in Dayton when the sight of a bare thigh drove him wild with 
passion . . . now in the company of a naked woman, he felt nothing but 
confusion. Her breasts were small and firm, for a woman her age, but the 
pilot found himself wondering how many American men had kissed and fondled 
those brown nubby nipples. She's a whore, he kept reminding himself, but 
that did nothing to dissipate the sour memories of the Viet Nam war 
atrocities and his dead buddies rotting in their jungle graves not more than 
seven kilometers away. What threads of sensuality he'd managed to weave in 
those first expectant moments of meeting the whore, were swept away. 

She stripped herself naked and lay down on her straw mat, glancing up at him 
with her slanted liquid eyes. 

This is what you wanted, isn't it? He asked himself as he dropped his pants 
and crawled down on his knees beside her. 

The small-boned tawny-bodied woman lay passively beside him, smiling that 
unchangeable grin as Tom stroked her breasts, enjoying the feel of human 
flesh but feeling no particular excitement. She submitted to a few random 
kisses and then took his flaccid penis in her hand and started to pump it 
skillfully. It felt good, being touched down there, and his cock stiffened 
slightly, but there was no passion, and the man knew instinctively that he 
was naked in bed with a woman but he wasn't going to fuck her. It wasn't 
that he couldn't . . . he simply wouldn't. 

Perhaps any other man in that situation would have worried about his fading 
virility or a kink in his psyche, but Bailey had spent enough contemplative 
moments to know what the problem was. He could make love again when he found 
a woman who could make him forget about Julie. 

The Da Nang whore looked up at him questioningly, her dark eyes sweeping 
over his face for an explanation. Bailey smiled back at her and put his arms 
around her softly receptive body, feeling strangely happy and wishing he 
could explain to this baffled woman what she had done for just being there. 
He had not wanted to make love to her in the first place, now that he 
thought about it. He had just wanted to be around a woman. 

* * * 

Tom strode purposely to the entrance of his hut and looked out through the 
canopies of teak branches filtering the morning sunlight in a hazy green. 
The man felt one with himself, calm and strangely happy, and above all, 
content to be alone. Perhaps the bustle of American life wasn't for him 
anyway . . . after living in this lonely uncomplicated stretch of forgotten 
land, people would only invite trouble, quarrels and fights. 

He grabbed his fishing pole and headed out for his morning catch, burlap bag 
swinging over his shoulder which he would fill with driftwood for his fire. 
Whistling to himself, he ducked beneath the low hanging branches as he 
followed the beaten trail down to the river's edge, surveying the path for 
dried wood. He bent over, bracing his full weight balanced on one foot on a 
limb and kicked hard, crackling it when . . . 

He stopped, squinting against the morning sun, when he spied what looked 
like a human body stretched out on the beach. For a moment, he had to force 
himself to go forward. The morning had been so pleasant and the idea of 
encountering a dead body would spoil his blissful mood. No doubt the body 
was dead and probably half eaten by rats and full of snake bites. 

Decisively, he envisioned exactly where he would bury this corpse . . . 
alongside his burned up buddies back in the jungle. Maybe he'd even give it 
Last Rites . . . something he wished he'd done for his crew. Right now, to 
get the foulness, the ugliness off the river bank was his prime objective. 
He stepped a little closer and saw, as he approached, that it was a woman's 
nearly naked body and intact. The girl's feet were still lying in the water 
and little waves were washing up a channel formed by her outstretched 
thighs. Bailey stopped, feeling slightly ill and wishing that he did not 
have to go through with something that would upset him. He did not need to 
see another dead body ever again. Again, he squinted . . . the girl was 
beautiful, blonde and well proportioned like Julie had been. 

Bailey swallowed dryly and looked down at the girl, wondering if someone had 
killed her and then thrown her into the river, or if she had drowned 
accidentally. The girl was definitely not Burmese, or even Oriental for that 
matter. 

"Jesus Christ!" he gasped aloud as his eyes suddenly detected the slow, 
almost indistinguishable rise and fall of the blonde girl's breasts. She was 
alive! He bent over her quickly, touching her arm and feeling the cold 
clammy skin. He found her pulse, slow and regular. Certainly he couldn't 
leave her out on the muddy river bank with the snakes and gibbons. 

Without thinking, he wrapped the bag around her unconscious body and lifted 
her into his arms. Eight years ago he would have been huffing and puffing, 
struggling with the dead weight of a woman in his arms, but these years of 
physical struggle had done marvels for his physical condition. It became 
harder trying to protect her from the low hanging branches slapping her in 
the face as he ducked under their obstructing weight, but he struggled 
valiantly until he reached his hut. Out of breath, he stretched her out on 
the straw mat. 

"Oooooooohhhhhhhhh!" she groaned, turning her head to one side and spitting 
up a little water that joined the river mud in her blonde hair to puddle on 
the mat. Bailey stepped back and stared in confusion at the fantastic woman 
which fate had abruptly tossed in his lap . . . Fate or was it luck? The 
girl was beautiful, to say the least . . . probably in her early twenties, 
with high set breasts and long slender legs. The wet man's shirt that clung 
wetly to her body had hiked up above her naked loins and Bailey shivered at 
the sight of her blonde fluff of pubic curls as full and white as Julie's. 

Just what I need . . . a woman to complicate my life. In two days she'll be 
well and out of here and 1'lli be left with a head full of haunting 
memories. 

The girl stirred and moaned, indistinctly, her hand moving unconsciously to 
cover the golden fleece of her pubic region and Bailey felt an electric 
tingle in his cock, the kind of tingle he could have used last night with 
the Da Nang whore, if he'd wanted to get his money's worth. It struck him 
that the girl would feel shy and frightened, awakening in the presence of a 
strange man in a strange place, and he quickly pulled a blanket over her 
half naked body, rippling lushly with the effort of breathing. She was a 
magnificently put together woman and he had enjoyed staring at her curves 
and bumps, now that he knew she was alive. A few smudges of dirt muddied her 
satin cheeks, and Bailey stepped forward and kneeling down, wiped them 
clean, touching her resilient flesh. It occurred to him then, that he should 
remove her wet shirt and he deftly unbuttoned the cotton garment and pulled 
it from her arms, nipples stiffening automatically in the open air. Bailey 
felt a shiver of guilt, wondering if he'd done something shameful and 
despicable to the unconscious girl. 

Don't fall in love, he told himself sternly. She'll wake up and walk out of 
here and you'll be left alone with more bad memories. 

Still, he maintained a vigil. . . watching her every breath until her 
wakefulness came slowly and painfully. 

Shirlee felt every muscle in her body limp with numb exhaustion from having 
been canned up in the steamer trunk, then poured into the river water where 
she'd fought against the Charlie horses to save herself from the snake 
infested river. Her mind was a swamp of confusion and hours passed before 
she dared to open her eyes. She lay quietly, trying to explore her 
surroundings by feel. She was laying on solid ground, covered with a 
scratchy blanket, the smell of moist earth and cooking fish mingling with 
the crackle of a warm fire not far away. Had Manchu's bodyguards fished her 
drowning body out of the water and revived her only to debase her again? No 
. . . she didn't feel drugged and she was not on a boat. Someone was in the 
room: she could hear the clatter of a pan and gentle breathing. Languidly, 
she opened one amber eye. 

"Hello," a man replied in perfect English. 

Shirlee's eyes popped open wide. He spoke English. Thank God! 

"Are you okay?" He was tall and lean and very muscular, and couldn't have 
been over thirty-five years of age. 

"I . . . I think so," she stammered and coughed slightly. "Oh . . . I can't 
believe I'm alive . . . or is this another lifetime?" 

"Huh?" A whacko, thought Bailey. Just what I need . . . a dumb blonde. "I 
found you out on the river bank, half drowned," he said flatly. "You were 
unconscious . . . here, drink this. You'll need strength." 

The tea had a nourishing affect on her and she drank it all down, grateful 
for the sensation of having something warm in her stomach. She eyed her 
rescuer quizzically. He was a strange one! He asked no questions and didn't 
seem at all curious as to how she'd ended up on that muddy foreign river 
bank half naked. She sat up, momentarily forgetting that she was naked and 
then blushed as she pulled the blanket up to cover her proud, creamy 
breasts. 

"Am I near Wei Phu Long?" she wanted to know. 

"Close by," the man answered carefully as if he were not used to the sound 
of his own voice. 

"Oh . . ." She chewed on her lip, looking truly frightened for the first 
time since this whole crazy episode had begun. 

"Have you seen any boats going down river?" 

"No. . 

"Then they're out searching for me! You see, I was locked up in this steamer 
trunk because they were going to . . . to do awful things to me and this man 
befriended me. Oh, God, they'll kill me if they find me!" 

To her shock, he simply nodded, as if he'd heard this story many times 
before. 

"Don't you want to hear the rest?" 

"Not particularly." I've got enough drama in my life, he thought. 

"They were criminals. . . jade smugglers working with the Karenni thugs that 
travel up and down the Pai . . ." 

"Great . . . just wonderful," muttered Bailey. 

* * * 

To kill his bodyguard would have been a stupid move at this point of the 
game, but Bu Manchu was ready to do just that. "You saw her jump overboard 
and you didn't shoot her?" He pumped his fists into balls, his face livid 
with rage. 

The long, low boat loaded with empty steamer trunks was anchored to the Pai 
River shores, Manchu scouring the banks with a high powered pair of Japanese 
binoculars, searching for the white skinned body of his captive on the 
muddy, bug infested banks. The deal was set up; the Karenni thugs were 
waiting for their arrival fifty kilometers down the river where Hiro and Kim 
would arrive via truck at the check point. Everything was perfect . . . 
except for this one loose screw that could blow the top of Manchu's well 
oiled machinery sky high. 

Sam, the bodyguard, pumped his fists and gnashed his powerful jaws. He 
wished he'd kept his silence, but Ti's holier than thou attitude was getting 
on his nerves and now that Ti had rescued the English girl and let her go 
free, Sam's position with Manchu was in dark jeopardy. Worse . . . once the 
bond of trust had been broken with Manchu, he'd probably be lucky to get 
away with some broken bones. Still, he faced Manchu stoically: 

"Chances are she's dead anyway, Bu. These waters are slimy with snakes. . . 
and if they didn't get her, the gibbons would." 

"And if she isn't dead . . . do you realize what that girl knows?" Bu showed 
his teeth as he talked, his eyes bugging frog-like from his head. 

The boat rocked gently as little waves slapped up on shore. Bu turned to his 
son. "What do you know about this?" 

"Nothing, sir." Ti stared levelly into his father's eyes. "I know nothing." 

Sam's liquid eyes were filled with hatred as he turned to Ti. "You said you 
heard rats . . . rats eating. You will pay for this." 

Bu snapped his fingers. "Enough of this! Find that girl! I want that girl!" 

 Chapter Ten 

"Rice . . . do you want more rice?" 

"Oh, no thanks." 

"How about fish?" 

"Why, Mr. Bailey, are you trying to fatten me up for the kill?" she asked 
him teasingly. The remark wasn't well taken by the male party. The word 
'kill' stuck in his throat. Shirlee saw his response, and realized how 
little she knew about this mysterious fellow who lived on the wrong side of 
the world and lived in a hovel with no distractions. For a moment, though, 
they had been behaving like a middle aged married couple, sitting eating 
dinner. She was wearing a pair of his hand sewn tie belt pants with a 
tattered shirt and whenever she moved, her ripely uplifted breasts moved and 
she saw him looking at her with a glint in his eyes, as if he would like to 
touch her, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Naturally, she wondered why. 
She pried for an answer. 

"Wouldn't it make a great story if you and I fell in love and we stayed here 
together and ate rice and fished for our dinner and lived in this jungle 
and. . ." 

"Forget it." 

"I guess it would present problems, huh? Like what would I do for birth 
control and where would we send our children to school. . . ?" she said, 
realizing she was prying for an answer that was beyond this man's realm of 
thinking. 

Bailey thought about Julie and the two children they'd planned on having. 
"You've got enough troubles without worrying about children . . ." 

Shirlee drew a deep breath and sighed. "I guess you're right. The people I 
was with-the ones you don't want to hear about-raped me and then when I 
jumped into the lifeboat, they were going to . . . ah well, uh . . . do 
things to me in strange places. It's nice being with a gentleman." 

"Don't be so sure I'm a gentleman, Shirlee," he admitted, his eyes focusing 
on the two dark spots which moved tantalizingly under the thin shirt she 
wore. "That's why we have to keep our distance." 

"Did it ever strike you that we're in pretty much the same dilemma?" 

"How's that. . . ?" Bailey picked up a morsel of fish and stuffed it in his 
mouth, then licked his fingers. 

"I don't know how you ended up here, but I know it wasn't by choice . . . 
and I happened on the same spot. That's what I call a coincidence." She 
fingered the jade necklace charm Ti had given her. "Maybe it's called luck?" 

"I doubt it," Bailey said balefully, stretching out on the straw mat for an 
afternoon nap. He had to close his eyes on this girl. Seeing her sitting 
there with the filtered sunshine making glimmering streaks in her hair was 
too much of a remembrance of Julie. Bailey was getting aroused again. He 
knew he could easily get rid of the girl by carting her down to the village 
and handing her over to the authorities, since she was in no way his 
responsibility. But he kept on making excuses to himself for keeping her 
there, and she seemed content to stay. 

He stretched out on the mat while Shirlee cleaned out the pan with sand, the 
way he'd taught her, and when she'd completed her chore, she stretched out 
on the floor beside him and laid her head on his bare chest. 

"What did they do to you?" he heard himself asking. 

"They . . . they were going to make love to me . . . on the bottom," she 
choked out, feeling herself blush. 

"Oh," he sounded disappointed. "That's when you fell into the lifeboat and 
the Buddhist-karate-bodyguard killer rescued you?" 

"Come on, don't make fun!" 

"Sorry . . ." 

"Did you ever try it with a woman? I mean, doesn't it seem terribly 
unnatural?" 

"Oh, I don't know. There are women who like it that way." 

"Did you ever do it?" 

"Christ, you're full of questions! Yeah, I had a girl friend who liked it 
that way when she was ahh . . . menstruating." 

"Hmmm . . ." She got up and sauntered to the hut door. "I want to think for 
awhile. I'm going for a walk. See you." 

For a moment, Bailey thought he'd grab her, mash his lips against her 
succulent ones and flip her down on the straw mat and fuck her silly. He 
didn't. ..See you. . ." 

* * * 

Shirlee was too preoccupied with trying to figure out this strange American 
to spot the boat anchored half a kilometer down stream. Going down the muddy 
path to the water, she saw a clearing not far down the river and decided to 
bathe in the sun; her obdurate night-time cough had been keeping her awake 
the past two nights and nothing was better medicine for that then a dose of 
sunshine. She stripped off her clothes and spreading them out, lay down on 
top of them and closed her eyes. When she heard the rippling of water and 
the hushed sweep of a boat nearing shore, she opened her eyes, wondering who 
it might be and whether or not they had seen her without her clothes on. She 
saw them, and understood everything in a flash. God, they had come for her! 

She darted toward the hut but Sam's powerful legs had carried him out of the 
boat and onto shore before she could slip one foot into her pants. He hit 
her hard, sending her sprawling on the ground. 

"I've got you now!" he grunted. "There's something you're going to do for 
me!" He pulled the tie of his pants. 

* * * 

Cursing something about Burmese legends and good luck turning sour, Bailey 
understood immediately that the boat anchored on shore meant trouble for 
Shirlee. Getting involved in somebody else's problems was the last business 
on his agenda, but he had to cope with what came to his door, didn't he? He 
grabbed his double-edged knife and barged out the door. 

He raced down the path toward the river, now happy that he'd shed those 
extra pounds so that he could face this challenge in the best of form. 
Hitting the river bank, he stumbled and looked around for the girl, 
listening for her screams. The bank was thick with growth, and it took a 
minute for him to spot her. There was a tall dark haired man pinning Shirlee 
to the ground and he seemed to be fumbling with his pants while she 
struggled for freedom. For a moment, he was perplexed, because the position 
they were in seemed so odd. Then he remembered: they had been trying to fuck 
her in the ass, which was why she'd jumped overboard in the first place! 

Bailey growled with rage and raced towards the struggling couple, his limp 
totally gone now as he moved silently with bare feet over the damp earth. He 
saw the man's iron hard cock was out and he was ramming it between the 
girl's widespread buttocks with all his power. Then the young girl was 
screaming with agony. 

"Stoppp!" he shouted, hating to give the man this much advance warning, but 
hoping that he would still be in time to prevent this anal rape. Painful it 
was to realize that he was too late to save Shirlee from the thing she 
feared most. The bodyguard reared up on his arms as he heard Bailey's shout 
and the pilot could see his massively thickened cock already embedded in the 
delicate flesh of her rectum. The muscle bound thug was trying to pull 
himself free, to prepare to defend himself against the murderous onslaught 
he was facing, but fear had tightened every muscle in Shirlee's body and he 
was trapped inside of her. 

"Aaaahhhhh!!!" Sam screamed as he caught sight of the flashing blade in 
Bailey's hand, but the pilot was temporarily berserk. These slant-eyed 
yellow-skinned bastards had shot down his plane, killed his buddies and now 
one was raping Shirlee. Snarling, showing his teeth, he stabbed blindly as 
he threw himself on the black belt and there sounded a wild scream of agony 
as the man's body tumbled suddenly free of Shirlee's savagely violated body. 

"Aaaaiiiieeeel!!" The knife caught the black belt in the heart and sliced 
him like a filleted fish. He rolled on his back in pain, his hands reaching 
out in vain as if he could crawl back to the boat and somehow be saved. 
Acting in blind rage, Bailey yanked the knife free and a spurt of blood 
squirted into the air and puddled on the moist earth. 

"You yellow bastard!" he screamed senselessly and, with white knuckles, 
plunged the knife in a second time. The bodyguard's face contorted with pain 
and he died. 

Footsteps sounded behind him and Bailey shook his head, somehow expecting 
the bleeding bodyguard to sit up, wipe away the blood and go about his 
business. Shirlee had pulled herself into a sitting position and was looking 
over his shoulder in terror, a scream growing in her throat. 

"Look . . . there's another one!" she gasped. Shirlee pointed to the second 
bodyguard who was scampering back toward the boat. 

Bailey and the naked girl both were trembling in an adrenaline rush; both 
felt the same urgency to get back to the hut. Neither uttered a word and 
Bailey pulled the naked girl to her feet, hauling her up the path which led 
to his simple hut. She was trembling with fright, crying insanely, and the 
moment they were inside, she clung to him like a frightened child. Bailey's 
mind had long since gone blank. In the back of his skull, in that small 
portion of his brain that still functioned, he knew he had just killed a 
man. The man had been sodomizing this young girl he held in his arms, and he 
had killed with a purpose . . . to save her. Would he have done the same for 
any other woman, or was he hiding emotions from himself? 

He glanced out the door. The shorter of the two assailants was in the boat 
now. Who were these people? They could hardly have jumped ashore just for a 
quick ass fuck. Who was this girl he held in his arms? 

"Shirlee," he said, taking her head in his hands and kissing her lips to 
stop the sobs. "It's time we have a talk. There's something I'm missing out 
on. Who are those men? Why do they want to kill you?" 

"Because . . . I work for the Hong Kong Border Investigation and . . . and I 
was working as a model for . . . a . . . a jade smuggler," she gasped, her 
body wrenching with sobs. 

Bailey guided her by the naked shoulders down onto the straw mat and held 
her close trying to quiet her sobs. 

Her body warm against his, she explained about Bu Manchu and the jade 
smuggling and how she had been drugged and hauled off on The Emerald through 
the stormy South China Seas, trapped in a steamer trunk and dumped in the 
Pai River. She spared no details. 

Bailey had allowed himself just the tiniest bit of feeling for this woman 
and now he realized he cared for her . . . maybe even loved her. The yellow 
bastards had shot down his plane in this godforsaken corner of the world and 
now they were about to kill the girl he'd sworn to protect. 

Sworn to protect? When had he made that commitment? 

"We've got to get out of here, or they'll come back and kill both of us," 
she sobbed into his shoulder. Bailey knew she was right, and yet something 
within him rebelled. Yes, they could run into the village and hide, but the 
Karenni thugs would join up with Hong Kong black belts and what chance of 
survival had they then? 

"No, we'll stay right here and fight them off," he decided, gently easing 
Shirlee down on the mat and walking to the door to peek out over the river. 
They were still out there and Bailey knew that the thugs would stop at 
nothing to get Shirlee. 

"What . . . what are they doing?" asked Shirlee, desperately fighting to 
control her emotions. She stood up and moved to his side, still unconscious 
of her nakedness. 

"They shot down my plane on this river bank, and its taken me seven years to 
get used to living in this jungle. They're not going to run me off now! Stay 
here!" The plan had formulated in his mind, complete with details, almost 
without him realizing it. This called for war! He darted out of the hut and 
scampered down the trail to where his buddies' graves claimed the clearing, 
and dug away at the mouth of the cave, pulling out the black market weapons. 
He knew these weapons well-that the Air Force had taught him well. A quick 
inspection showed them to be in good working order and he dragged them back 
to the hut where Shirlee was dressed again. 

"I hope you don't mind, but I borrowed your last pair of pants," she smiled 
sheepishly at him. "But you don't have any more shirts." 

Tom grinned back. "Okay with me. I could use a little stimulation right 
now." 

He plunked down the ammunition, then made a return trip for the rest, piling 
high a supply that could wipe out half the world. Out of the corner of his 
eye, he watched the men in the boat, then headed back to the hut where 
Shirlee greeted him at the door. 

"We'll let them come in half way," he breathed quietly. He worked 
feverishly, loading the M-16 and checking the safety. 

"I'm sure they have guns," Shirlee told him. "But I doubt Manchu will be 
with them." 

"Too bad," growled Bailey. "I'd shoot the bastards balls off!" Bailey put 
the M-16 to his shoulder and took careful aim. The roar was deafening as he 
let loose with two rounds that slashed towards the boat but fell short of 
its mark. To his surprise, they didn't fire back. 

"What's going to happen now?" Shirlee fully expected an answer, but Bailey 
couldn't comply. Still, he was the man in the situation, and to have her 
lose faith would ruin the image he was struggling to build. For some reason, 
having Shirlee view him as a war hero was a monumental concern. He cursed 
himself for not having opened fire closer to the shore; he could have picked 
off one of the four. 

"They'll wait for darkness," guessed Bailey soberly, knowing the Orientals 
thought nothing of crawling on their bellies with the snakes and rats to get 
a pot shot at their enemy. "This is going to be a long night." 

Bailey was confident of his tactics; this was all or nothing and if it 
worked . . . he couldn't finish his thought. Something like marriage entered 
his head, but he shook it off. 

The boat was silent, anchored out there in the muddy waters; they were 
waiting for darkness and Bailey thought he understood their strategy-he 
hadn't lived around these people this long for nothing. 

He glanced at the girl, still wearing only a pair of tie pants and realized 
that she had complete trust in his ability to save both of them. She caught 
his glance, smiling lopsidedly at him. 

"I'm sorry I got you involved in this bloody mess," she apologized, 
remembering Chad Barker's comment about her ability to dramatize. 

"You may be worth it." She caught him staring at her naked breasts and she 
blushed. 

"Funny how I've suddenly been going naked all the time. It's embarrassing." 

"Don't be." Bailey felt his cock hardening . . . not a tentative twitch or 
quiver, but a full-blown pardon. He saw her amber eyes shift down to the 
bulge in his pants. "A body like yours wasn't meant to be covered." His 
voice went hoarse when he said, "Take those pants off . . . they look 
ridiculous on you." 

She nodded silently, as if she had been waiting a long time for this order, 
hoping it would come . . . and dropped the loose pants down around her 
ankles. As if she had never before been naked in front of a man, she 
suddenly went shy, crossing her hands modestly in front of her blonde V and 
then turned back to the straw mat. "I guess I'm not so brave after all." 

"Let's see how brave I am after all of this," said Bailey, untying his pants 
and kicking them off. His hard virile penis sprang jubilantly into view, 
waving boldly before him like a battle flag and he saw the girl glance at 
it, then quickly look away. "It's crazy . . . we could both be dead tomorrow 
and it would be dumb if we didn't make love tonight." 

Shirlee nodded soberly, her long blonde hair dancing across her bare 
shoulders as Bailey sank down to the straw mat next to her. He suddenly 
realized that he was facing the final test. He was jumping back into the 
real world, fighting gun battles and trying to make love to the most 
beautiful woman he'd ever seen . . . all within forty-eight hours. If he 
could succeed in this, he was a whole man again. It would make no difference 
whether he stayed here or found his way back to the States; he would soon 
have a choice. He considered trying to explain all this to Shirlee, but 
decided he'd rather show her. 

Shirlee could feel herself shivering as Tom's hands swept over the softly 
yielding flesh of her buttocks and began to caress her sensitive inner 
thighs. For the first time in her life, she felt no fear. It made no 
difference what Tom did to her because it all had been done before and she 
had survived. This time she wouldn't have to control her emotions. This time 
she could give all she had. 

"Oooohhhh!" she muttered, as he rolled her over onto her back, exposing the 
fullness of her lust arousing body to his eager hands. Her breasts trembled 
and hardened as his fingertips brushed lightly over them and another groan 
tumbled from her wetly parted lips, not from pain but from a new strange 
tingle which began throbbing insistently at the base of her spine. Through 
her mind ran the thought that Tom would stop if she asked him to. He had 
fought and killed to save her from Bu's bodyguards. She had a debt to pay! 

This was the only way, really, that a woman could repay a debt of those 
proportions. 

Bailey sensed that Shirlee wasn't afraid of him, that in this moment of 
intense passion and extreme danger, she needed the reassurance that only 
wild sex could provide. He was kneeling up between her outstretched legs 
now, his hardened rod of flesh pointing at her naked breasts like a dagger, 
his hands caressing the softly curling hairs forming the blonde mound of her 
pussy. He would have expected her to clench her thighs together defensively, 
but she seemed to want to give him everything and the thought filtered into 
the man's passion filled mind that there were probably no holds barred from 
him now. He could do what he wanted with this fantastic female which 
stretched out invitingly before him. That thought made him grow another inch 
longer and he lifted up her naked buttocks, placing his hungering lips 
directly over her quivering pussy lips and pushed his tongue directly into 
the wetly clasping sweetness of her cunt. 

"Aaaaahhhh!!!" she moaned, feeling his long warm tongue slowly sliding up 
into her ecstatic cuntal hole. The man withdrew instantly, cursing himself 
for having pushed her too far and too fast. . .. 

"Don't stop," she pleaded. "I . . . I can't say it." 

"What? Tell me?" 

"I'm ashamed," she groaned, turning her head away so that she would not have 
to look him in the face as she made her confession. "Those men on the boat 
did everything to me, everything a man can do to a woman . . . I think . . . 
at least all the things I've read about. I feel dirty and I wanted you to 
make me feel good again." 

Bailey blinked in confusion. 

"What can I do? What would make you feel good?" Christ, Shirlee, don't make 
it complicated now! "I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then take me every way they did," she burst out. "And if there's anything I 
missed, I want you to do that too," she blurted out, unable to control her 
emotions any longer. 

Bailey gulped, sat back, a little stunned, like a hungry man being offered a 
smorgasbord and an empty plate. For a moment, he looked desirously at her 
wetly throbbing cuntal alit which was presented up to him in sacrifice, but 
that was where he wanted to finish off. Now where to begin? 

His lust widened eyes came to rest on her melonous breasts, rising and 
falling temptingly as she panted with lust. Perhaps there was something that 
Bu Manchu and his thugs had missed. 

"Did they screw you between the breasts?" he demanded, slithering up her 
abdomen until his long throbbing manhood was lying comfortably in the narrow 
cleft between them. 

"My . . . my breasts?" she stammered, not aware that men did such things. 
"No, they touched me there, but . . ." 

"Then that's where we start," he decided. "Push them together." 

Her eyes flickered shut with shame, but she obeyed, placing her hands on 
either side of her mounds and pushing them together so that his massive cock 
was trapped in the middle. 

"Yes . . . yes, fuck me there," she groaned obscenely, now half out of her 
mind with the way in which this man was using her body to delight both of 
them. Trying to make it as good for him as it was for her, she squeezed the 
softly resilient mounds together as tightly as she could, so that the tiny 
hardened buttons of her nipples nearly touched and the warm gentle pressure 
on his stiffened penis made it almost as if he were buried deep up inside 
her cunt. 

Bailey surged forward, the scarlet naked tip of his cock appearing high on 
her chest with each stroke and depositing a tiny spot of seminal fluid 
there. The girl was going out of her mind as he kept up a gentle rocking 
motion and after a bit, Bailey was forced to cut his pace for fear of 
cumming prematurely. He would not have thought that this strange perversion 
could affect a woman so profoundly, but the results were electrifying. 
Shirlee's brown eyes were open but seeing nothing and she gazed up at the 
ceiling of the thatched hut, her hips gyrating wildly on the mat below them. 

Her unashamed excitement drove him crazy and Bailey remembering her 
licentious instructions to do everything to her a man could possibly do to a 
woman. The next step became obvious as his eyes focused on the red fullness 
of her lips. She kept licking them as she sprawled with her mouth open and 
Bailey nearly ejaculated at the idea of mouth-fucking this delicate 
creature. It was impossible. She would never tolerate that! 

But everything meant everything and by God, he was going to give her 
everything! He moved further forward so that his knees were tucked up into 
her armpits and then slowly freed his wildly pulsating penis from the warm 
confines of her breasts so that he could move it up to the edge of her chin. 
Her mouth was still open and he longed to ram his turgid cock down her 
throat, but it was terribly important that everything he did to her she 
accepted of her own volition. She'd been forced to the limits already. 

"I'm going to fuck you in the mouth now, Shirlee," he whispered, unable to 
bring himself to say the words aloud. 

"I want you to do it, Tom," she whispered hoarsely. "Put your cock in my 
mouth." 

Bailey knew that she had to have fallen under some erotic spell, something 
almost magic and. . . and lucky. He realized that she needed this badly, 
needed to free herself of the memory of what the others had done to her. 
Very good, he thought, he would save her from the horror of the past. They 
both needed to erase the past, didn't they? 

Bailey put his hands gently behind her and lifted it off the mattress so 
that the mushroomed head of his cock was poised immediately before her wetly 
parted lips. He edged slowly forward, wanting to give her time to back out 
if that was her choice. Instead, she carefully took his cock in both hands 
as if it were a sacred object. Then she kissed it moistly, using her lips to 
push back the uncircumcised foreskin, a maneuver which made him groan with 
pleasure. 

"Do it all the way, okay?" her face colored as she did her best to fight off 
a lifetime of moralistic training. "I want . . . you to . . . to cum in my 
mouth." 

The man almost came on the spot with that last request! . . . but he 
restrained himself, watching with amazement as her head bobbed forward to 
accept his long thick shaft into her mouth. The movement sent a shiver of 
pure erotic delight through his entire nervous system as the scarlet ovals 
of her lips tightened sensuously around his eagerly pulsating penis. She 
began to caress him exploringly with her tongue and Tom could feel it 
swiping around the sensitive head of his cock, causing his hips to twitch 
involuntarily. She pulled him forward with her hands, stroking his sperm 
filled testicles with her gentle fingers as she took him all the way into 
the back of her throat. She was obviously inexperienced, but learning fast, 
and the man found himself grunting with pure animal joy as she sucked him 
with undeniable hungry and erotic pleasure. It was not the first time in 
Bailey's life that a woman had taken his penis into her mouth, but it was 
the first time a perfect creature like Shirlee had practically begged him to 
violate her mouth. 

And he was making the most of it, pumping his wetly glistening cock in and 
out of her tight rounded hole formed by her red clasping lips and resting 
his buttocks lightly on the soft cushions of her breasts. His cock seemed 
like a living creature, jerking and twisting as if it wanted to crawl down 
her desperately gulping throat. She gripped him even more tightly with her 
hands, squeezing the sperm-laden balls until the pressure in his loins 
mounted to the bursting point and then went a little beyond it. 

There was an explosion in his ears, a wild combination of sound and light 
and Bailey knew he was cumming like he had never cum in his life . . . even 
with Julie. The sperm was rushing out of his wildly ejaculating penis like 
water from a hose and instinctively, he gripped her head and thrust his cock 
as deeply as it would go. 

Shirlee groaned, but it was a sound of ecstasy and he knew that she was on 
the verge of cumming herself, even though he had hardly even touched her 
openly gaping little cunt. Her throat was working gluttonously, gulping and 
sputtering as she greedily swallowed every last drop of his life-giving 
sperm. 

"Oh Christ, Shirlee!" he gasped, feeling a sudden wave of intense tenderness 
for this poor creature beneath him. But if she was feeling abused, she 
didn't let on. Slowly, she eased his limp organ out of her cum spattered 
mouth and looked up at him and blinked. 

"Did you like that, Tom?" she asked quietly. 

"God, it was fantastic!" 

"I want to make you hard, again," she murmured. "There's more we have to 
do." 

 Chapter Eleven 

Bu Manchu was not pleased. He peered through his high-powered binoculars, 
his smooth-faced smile replaced with a glowering scowl. 

"You're sure they haven't run off for the village?" he grunted, lowering the 
binoculars and sitting down in the boat. 

"We'd have spotted them if they had," reported his second in command 
bodyguard recently assuming first place now that Sam was lying in the bottom 
of the boat with a knife wound in his heart. "And there's only one man?" 

"Only one man. . ." 

"Who happens to sleep with an M-16 under his pillow. .." 

Ti Manchu sat in the back of the boat silent as a cat, taking in the 
conversation with one ear while his brain buzzed with his own escape plans 
and he said a little prayer over Sam's dead body. 

"We'll get 'em, Manchu, don't you worry," encouraged the black belt. 

Irritability and nervousness went hand in hand with Bu, and right now he had 
something to be nervous about: If the blonde haired girl succeeded in 
eluding him, his empire would crumble and he and Kim would have to go into 
hiding or flee the country like a couple of shamed ex-patriots. He shrugged 
his shoulders, chiding himself for his softness. He should have killed the 
girl right off. Manchu's lip curled in a snarl and glancing down at Sam's 
bleeding body, he kicked at the corpse. 

"Get his body out of here . . . it's making me nervous." 

 Chapter Twelve 

Feathery wisps of cool night air tingled in through the open windows of Tom 
Bailey's hut as he stood up to peek out the window and check the angle of 
the sun. His cock was still miraculously firm after all the places he'd put 
it in the past two hours. Through the filigree of over-hanging plants, he 
could make out the silhouetted outline of Bu Manchu's boat and his two 
bodyguards, sitting parrot-like . . . waiting. There would be time enough to 
deal with Manchu. Right now, he still had a few minutes left for Shirlee. 

"Thomas. . . ?" she called to him and he saw in his amazement that the crazy 
blonde English girl still needed it. He scratched his head in perplexity as 
he crawled down on the floor with her, wondering what he could possibly do 
that he had not already done. The girl glistened with perspiration and the 
juices of a half-dozen orgasms which she had enjoyed, and she grunted with 
simple animal pleasure as he crushed her against his chest. She kissed him, 
and then surprisingly turned her back on him so that they were snuggled like 
two spoons. 

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, his well used cock beginning to throb with 
fresh excitement as he understood what she was now offering him. Shirlee 
nodded. 

Bailey stroked the firm rounded warmness of her flanks with his fingers, 
carefully spreading apart the quivering half moons of her ass cheeks. The 
girl was trembling from head to toe now, and then the man realized that he 
had better do what needed to be done before she changed her mind. Her tiny 
rounded anus flexed and pulsated in response as he stroked it, and he 
deliberately inserted his index finger as far as the first knuckle . . . 

"Ohhhhh," she crooned. 

"Am I hurting you?" 

"Yes, but I like it that way," she confessed in a heated flush. "Go ahead." 

He went ahead, stretching the fragile membrane as she sighed with 
pleasure-pain, screwing back against his finger with her buttocks gyrating. 
The man began fucking her with his hand, sliding his index finger rapidly in 
and out of the wetly clasping hole of her anus, trying to get her properly 
warmed up. But she wanted his penis, not fingers, and with amazement, he 
felt her hand close around his massively swollen genital organ, tugging him 
toward her waiting rectum. Bailey was not entirely sure it could be done, 
because the tiny opening of her dark red anus looked so pathetically small 
and the bulging scarlet tip of his cockhead so impossibly huge, but the 
choice was hers. Slowly, he ran the tip of his lust thickened penis up and 
down the wetly quivering crevice of her blonde little cunt, knowing that it 
would be easier if she were wild with excitement. She groaned a little and 
he shifted his attention to the soft flesh of her anal furrow. Licentiously, 
she ground her buttocks back against the hotly throbbing hardness, begging 
to be hurt, to be impaled. Her tiny anus was dilating, expanding before his 
eyes until he could see the soft pink inner flesh. Suddenly the urge to fuck 
her there became painful. 

Shirlee gasped as he entered her, but she stifled a cry, not wanting him to 
know how much it hurt, because she knew that he could never understand how 
badly she needed him there. She had to be able to take it! Being fucked like 
this, being violated in the ass by a man she loved was the only way she 
could cleanse herself from what the black belt bodyguard had done to her on 
the river's shore. With a loud plop, his penis broke through the elastic 
ring of her anus. He was inside of her and he was enormous. . . as big as 
Manchu, or bigger. The pain was still there but her need overpowered it and 
she ground back against him fiercely, driving his mammoth cock deep into the 
painfully quivering depths of her rectum, deliberately skewering herself on 
his hardness. 

"Tom . . ." she gasped. "Quick . . . all the way!" 

The man surged forward obediently, his cock tearing into the sorely 
stretched anal flesh of her back passage. His balls slapped obscenely 
against the emptiness of her gaping cunt, but it made no difference now . . 
. God, he was hard and long and she was loving every hotly pulsating inch of 
him. She flexed her rectal muscles, trying to signal to him that everything 
was all right, that she could take this and more! 

Bailey looked down between his tensed muscular body and the softly quaking 
cheeks of Shirlee's hopelessly violated anus and realized in a flash that 
she had chosen what was right for both of them. Tonight, there would be 
violence and killing. He would be back at war and he needed this to ready 
himself. The conventional kind of loving would have softened him up, but 
this was making him hard. He flexed his wildly throbbing penis, hearing her 
sob with joy as his shaft grew longer and harder up inside her rectum. 

"Oh God, yes, fuck me like that!" Shirlee was babbling in a weird 
combination of lust and agony, feeling his wonderfully pulsating instrument 
jerking and plundering its way deeper and deeper into her widely stretched 
anus. They began to fuck each other hard, violently, the man stabbing 
forward with all his might and the woman answering each thrust with a 
counter-thrust of her ass cheeks. His fingers bit cruelly into her tender 
flesh of her flanks as he rammed himself home, time and time again, 
skewering her like a jackhammer. Bailey could feel the cum building inside 
of her, growing like a thing with a life all of its own, so powerful that he 
was almost afraid of it. Shirlee had lost total control of her body now, and 
she was fucking back against him urgently as he drove his thick pole of 
flesh into the soft buttery depths of her rectum, gasping with the obscene 
pleasure they were giving each other. 

"OOOOOHHHHH . . . YES! PLEASE!!" she screamed when her climax hit, feeling 
as though her clitoris was on fire. Her nakedly convulsing body spasmed out 
of control, and she knew in an instant that she was taking him with her, 
making him cum as well because of the terrible pressure her inflamed inner 
passage was exerting upon his penis. 

"Oh . . . Shirlee . . ." he grunted, feeling the long pent-up sperm gushing 
out of him once more as he rammed his wildly ejaculating rod all the way 
home up into her rippling rectal passage. 

The last rays of sunshine were filtering through the plush Burmese growth as 
they slowly disengaged, the man's wetly deflated cock slipping with a lewd 
sucking sound from her forever-stretched opening. 

"I did that for both of us," she whispered. "Do you feel strong now?" 

"Strong enough to kill Manchu," he breathed and got up, slipped into his 
pants and snuck out of the hut. 

 Chapter Thirteen 

Ti Manchu's stoic-faced composure easily twisted into numbing hatred when he 
heard his father's directions to contact his Karenni friends in Wei Phu Long 
and enlist their help in firing a few rounds into the blonde English girl 
and her companion with the limp. 

Nonetheless, he obeyed as any son with a temperamental father like Bu Manchu 
would and, with a deep bow, he took leave on foot, skirting the muddy river 
bank toward the small village not seven kilometers away. Confusion rattled 
in his brain and something morally unsound thundered in his conscience. In 
essence, he was murdering the woman he had risked his life to save, a woman 
who was the embodiment of the only goodness he'd seen in his life. Somehow, 
that didn't make sense in any philosophy. 

The low hanging branches slapped him in the face as he crept down the path, 
his decision cementing in his mind. In a small clearing not far away, he 
made out the thatched roof of a small dwelling and, assuming it to be the 
crazy white man with the M-16 rifle, he closed in and peeked through the 
window. Ti sucked in his breath and mumbled a mantra as his dark eyes fell 
on the stretched out naked form of Shirlee Canan laying on the straw mat 
looking horribly exhausted and used. 

Shirlee lay half-comatose, waiting for the rounds of rifle fire and saying 
her prayers, expecting any minute to see Bu Manchu's lecherously, 
perfidiously grinning face in the but door. Would he shoot her, strangle 
her? No, both of those means sounded too simple for Manchu. He would 
probably hand her over to one of his thugs and let them karate chop her to 
death with their meat cleaver hands until she was a pulp of bloody meat. 
"Ohhhhhh . . ." she whimpered. 

Ti was doing some quick thinking. If he should frighten Shirlee, she would 
certainly scream (that he knew; he'd heard her bloodcurdling voice plenty of 
times) and if she screamed, her short fused boy friend would come bolting 
through the door, killing everybody. 

Like a jungle panther, he swung through the open window and leaped to her 
side and clamped a strong hand over her mouth. 

Shirlee's scream strangled in her throat and she prepared herself for death 
in that second of terror . . . until she recognized the face behind the 
hand. "Do not be afraid. It is only me . . . Ti. I have come to help you 
kill my father. It is a deed that must be accomplished." 

Shirlee listened wide-eyed and trembling. What could she do but trust him? 
Tom must know. . 

Bailey was busy as a housewife on Saturday morning, arranging his ammunition 
for the big blast off. He was bending over, emptying the hand grenades out 
of their boxes when, squinting, he saw Shirlee's lush body crawling through 
bushes over the muddy river bottoms. Again, he squinted, his eyes adjusting 
but not believing what they were seeing. He raised his gun and aimed 
squarely at Ti's face. 

"Nooooooooooo!" Shirlee shook with urgency. "He's come to help us." 

Bailey stiffened. The gullibility of the female mind never failed to amuse 
him. "You think I'm going to trust that yellow bastard?" he rasped heatedly. 
Something about a son killing his father didn't set well with Tom, and how 
was he to know this wasn't some Commie trick to blow his head off? Still, it 
would be a relief to let somebody else do the dirty work; the taste of death 
still lingered in his mouth from this afternoon's killing. 

Shirlee and Ti were on their feet, hovering in the shadows. 

"I need only the weapons to kill my father. I need nothing from you as a 
man." Ti stood squarely facing Bailey who drew in his breath and spurted it 
out his flaring nostrils, appraising the man who was willing to accept the 
responsibility that, he, Bailey feared most: witnessing more death. Still . 
. . Shirlee had faced her worst fear and conquered it. His tired penis could 
testify to that. 

With a curt nod of the head, Thomas A. Bailey stalked off into the night, 
the moon reflecting silver streaks off the M-16 slinked over his shoulder. 
This one-man war against Bu Manchu and his black belt cut-throats (not to 
mention the Karennis whose weapons he was preparing for fire now) was no 
fantasy fulfilled. 

Keeping guard out in the bushes, Shirlee's nakedness goose bumped with fear, 
knowing that she might be a widow before she'd been a wife. At this point 
she would happily relinquish her post with the Hong Kong Border 
Investigation, if it promised Tom's safety. 

The plan went into fruition. Ti Manchu would be Bailey's back-up man while 
the pilot took careful aim with his M-16. Directly across from Shirlee, Ti 
plastered himself behind tree after tree as he advanced barefoot and silent, 
skirting the river bank to a point less than quarter of a kilometer past his 
father's boat where he could see in the skimpy night shadows the outline of 
his father and bodyguard awaiting reinforcements from Wei Phu Long. Now and 
then his father's high-voiced chatter wafted up with the night winds onto 
the river bank where Ti stood sweating, staring at his father as an enemy 
and knowing he had to kill the man because of his evil dominance. 

Deftly, Ti's strong fingers plucked the hand grenade from his belt and, 
without waiting for the gunshot to fire from Bailey's rifle, he pulled the 
pin and took careful aim, throwing the explosive into his father's boat. It 
exploded in a rain of blood and shredded flesh, not giving them time to 
scream. A blood river darkened the murky waters, choking the fish and 
sending a flock of ultramarine birds into flight. 

"Goddamn . . ." Bailey lowered his rifle, after watching through the scope 
Bu Manchu's eyes bulge for a quarter of a second, before his head exploded 
like a water-filled balloon, squirting blood and brains into the air. 

* * * 

Shirlee wondered how it felt to have just killed your own father, but Ti 
Manchu was stingy with his answers. 

"It is foolish to speak of the dead," he said curtly. "I have freed myself 
from my father's dishonor and now you can go where you wish. The Cove of 
Good Fortune has done well by all of us. I foresee much happiness for both 
of you." 

With that simple statement, he bowed reverently and turned to leave, leaving 
Shirlee and Bailey staring at each other in silence. Now that the trauma had 
ended, the curtains drawn, they stared at each other blankly. 

Bailey shrugged. "What do you say, Shirlee? Would you like to share my hut 
and fishing pole?" 

Shirlee contemplated the offer a second, sorted out fact from fiction and 
assayed the situation quickly; she surveyed the virile body of her hero and 
was nearly carried away with the intrigue of it all, until she remembered 
the crazy set of circumstances that had landed her on this river bank in the 
first place. 

"First, my love, I have to get back to Chad Barker with this story. If you 
don't want to come along, I'm sure Ti will help me get back into China." 

Back to civilization? Was he ready for that yet? Bailey stiffened and 
something within him withered. People, hassles, money, quarrels . . . Maybe 
he'd been too close to Nirvana to realize this wasn't the wrong side of the 
world. 

"I'll be here when you come back, Shirlee . . ." 

"And then we'll go to England together and have babies?" 

Bailey shuddered and nodded dumbly. "Yes, by then I should be ready to get 
back to it all . . . 1 suppose." 

After a tight embrace, he watched the curly headed blonde English girl who'd 
brought havoc into his life disappear down the river bank beside Ti Manchu. 
Would he ever see her again? Her departing words echoed inside his rattled 
brain, and he felt a certain inner calmness. Yes, perhaps by the time she 
returned he would be ready to leave this peaceful existence. 

Maybe . . . 


End
