Gina's Story
James stopped in his tracks.
Even to his inexperienced self, the look in her eyes was wrong. James felt his desire fade as his bigger, more rational head reasserted control over his body.
Ms Chung noticed his hesitation. "What's wrong big boy? Don't be scared. I'm ready for you."
"Are you alright Ms Chung? Is everything okay? We don't have to do this." James said unexpectedly.
"What do you mean James?" Ms Chung said, her voice trembling a little. His reply had left her a little stunned. Did he notice something?
"It just feels like you don't really want to do this. Which I'm fine with, by the way." James elaborated a little more.
James shifted slightly to the side and sat cross-legged on the bed, looking at Ms Chung. He reached out to grab her hand and pulled her to a seated position, and gave her a little shy half-smile.
His flag, once proudly waving at full-mast, had subsided a little to half-mast, and was continuing to deflate back to regular service.
Ms Chung looked at James with a couple of tears in her eyes. She could feel her emotional armor, carefully wrought and tempered, start to loosen.
What a sensitive soul this young man had, she thought, to be able to stop yourself from entering at the gates of heaven, even after her verbal encouragement. This was something that she knew very few could do, if they had even wanted to.
"Why don't we exchange stories. As you can guess, I'm not really here of my own free will either." James offered.
Ms Chung felt that armor crack, and unbidden, her eyes started to moisten.
She cleared her throat a little, giving herself time to reinforce her detachment and blink her eyes dry.
"Okay." she said as she began to narrate.
---
Ms Chung grew up in a pretty normal middle-class family in this city.
Her father had been a tradesman, and her mother a full-time homemaker. She had no siblings, and her small extended family were located back in the motherland.
Her earliest memories were of joy and content, playing with her mother, and leading a relatively normal childhood. There were no extravagant holidays, lavish parties, or expensive gifts, but she was fed nutritiously, had a cake every birthday and a gift every Christmas, and once every two or three years, her parents would take her and go on a family vacation. She knew and had since met many others who did not share that comparative security.
When she was thirteen, her parents had taken her to Disneyland, with a stop in Los Angeles to gawk at the sights of Hollywood. She remembered walking down the boulevard, looking at the named stars under her feet, when a strange man had approached her family.
That man turned out to be a scouting agent, looking for young potentials to join a modeling agency. Her parents had allowed her to make the decision, and she, blinded by the glitter and glamour she had seen in LA, had decided to give it a shot. The price, her parents had insisted, was that she continue her efforts on her studies, and maintain her strong grades.
Not every potential would succeed at an agency, and some agencies would be fronts for other, less scrupulous types of work.
Here, she had lucked out twice. Her agency was decent and reputable, and she had stumbled into an assignment where the client had liked her photos and requested her specifically. Still, she saw some of her peers trade physical favors for special consideration, and others get pulled into parties and social events with potential clients. Her innocence and naivety had been rapidly eroded away.
That assignment had launched a niche part-time career in modeling products targeted at Asian cultures, which provided enough money for her to build her savings in preparation for college.
With her strong grades and background of being a first generation college student, a unique portfolio of work as part-time model, and stellar reference letters both academic and professional, she had received offers of admission from many top universities around the world.
She chose Oxford for the new environment and for its access to Europe's modeling markets. For someone who had never left the country, the prospect of a top-notch education whilst having easy access to exotic locales such as Paris and Spain was almost irresistible.
It had all fallen apart in her first year as an undergraduate.
Her father had been diagnosed with a particularly nasty strain of cancer, and passed shortly after. Her mother followed her father not long later, the official diagnosis was "takotsubo cardiomyopathy" or in laymen's terms, a broken heart.
The insurance had been enough to pay off the house and leave a little extra, but the extra paled in comparison to her tuition fees and other daily necessities, especially after it had been converted into pounds.
Even though she had thought of selling the family home, it had too much sentimental value, and not enough economic value.
Left with little choice, she had dived fully into modeling as a means of paying her bills, joining a London-based agency to win greater access to local shoots.
With monetary pressure, she had fallen into the same desperation that had driven her peers before. With her now legal age, the new agency also did not provide the same levels of protection she had enjoyed before.
She'd traded her pride, dignity, and body for survival, and had grown increasingly disillusioned with the modeling industry.
After graduation, she abruptly left the agency and returned home to take up a teaching career. Here, with a home fully paid off, she had hoped to reinvent herself, rediscover her purpose, and lead a simple but fulfilling life.
They say the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
Cursed by her looks and checkered past, she had attracted the unwanted attention of Phil.
She wasn't sure how, but Phil had dug up physical evidence of her struggles in London with compromising photos and videos that she didn't know existed.
With the threat of those photos being leaked and losing her last shreds of reputation and credibility in the community she had grown up in, she had acceded to his blackmail demands. Once more, she was forced into trading herself for survival.
Thankfully, Phil had lost interest quickly, moving on to the next new conquest, but had kept her on as eye- and arm-candy for parties and events. In return for her feigned enthusiastic attendance, Phil had promised her that she could earn her way out from the blackmail, and that all copies of the evidence would be destroyed.
With this hope to hold on to, she'd entertained a few people over the past year in this very room.
James was supposed to be the last.
Phil had come to her earlier that week, asking her to attend the game as potential bait and a backup option if things went wrong. The butler had come with more specific instructions as she was sunbathing.
Finally, just before she had entered the room, Phil had instructed her to seduce James and welcome him officially to Phil's crew, kind of like a signing bonus.
---
James listened to Ms Chung's story, sighing and nodding at the appropriate points. Occasionally, his eyes would be drawn to the rise and fall of her chest, but he would quickly and sheepishly re-establish eye contact.
James suspected and hoped Ms Chung didn't notice, she looked lost in the telling of her own story.
"My story isn't quite as compelling as that. I stepped on Phil's shoe, he took offense. I came here to make amends, and ended up borrowing and losing a lot of money. Now he owns me." James said succinctly.
Ms Chung laughed a little at that. The sharp contrast between her long, drawn-out spiel and his matter of fact delivery had provided some much needed comedic relief. Not much, but enough to break the tense atmosphere that was forming.
James and Ms Chung talked for a little bit more before turning in for the night. Over the course of the conversation, their respective nudity had turned from arousing to peaceful, mutually exposing their common indentured servitude, and gaining some comfort from the other's shared vulnerability.
It also helped, of course, that neither had anywhere else to go. James' safe room was three hours away, and Ms Chung had been tasked with spending the night.
---
James stirred a little in his sleep and cracked an eye open.
He was spooning tightly against Ms Chung, and had one arm around her with that hand strategically placed and hugging against her chest. Below, he was pressing rather insistently against a warm, slightly damp entrance that promised pleasure.
James turned around and grunted before falling asleep again. It was hard sticking to his morals.
---
A gentle prod woke James up.
He turned over and saw Ms Chung sitting up in bed, with the blankets strategically covered around her chest.
"Are you sure you don't want to, James?" Ms Chung asked cautiously.
"Yes. Thank you Ms Chung. Don't ask me again. I'm only human." James responded.
"Why not?" she pressed.
"Ask me again when there's nothing hanging over your head."
Ms Chung got out of bed and went into the shower, with James admiring the view with every step. James was sure that he would someday regret not striking while the iron was hot, but for now, he was contented with merely watching.
---
Ms Chung got dressed and headed to the door. Pausing just before she touched the handle, she turned around to James.
"You're a good guy James. Thank you. Maybe we'll pick up where we left off if there's a next time."
"I look forward to that Ms Chung." James said.
"Call me Gina."