Christmas Shopping
My name is Payton Douglas. I’m nineteen, I’m getting ready to go to college, and I’m SellingIt. You probably knew that already since it’s in the title of the book and this is like, what, book number six? Seven? Really? Five is all? Well, this is the story of my evolution from good girl bound for college and needing a little money to a funloving bad girl who loves selling sex for cash.
It was Christmastime in Peach Valley. A nice sunny seventy degrees Fahrenheit and lots of wreaths and big decorative bells on the streetlights. Thanksgiving had been a disaster. My sister’s sleazy husband heard about my new profession from his pal (and my customer) Christian Steel at the gym. He decided to use that information to blackmail me into having sex with him and he was a total rough pig about it. Meanwhile, with Christmas fast approaching, my father confessed to me that he was going broke spending all his money on my mom’s vanity and he was in danger in missing a house payment.
“I want to help,” I told him as we sat together at the breakfast nook in the kitchen. “I have some money saved up and I can give it to you—”
“No,” he said. “Absolutely not. I’m not taking charity from my daughter.”
“It’s not charity,” I said, reaching into my purse. I had already withdrawn twelve-hundred dollars from the bank. It was stuffed into an envelope. I had a lot more than that, but I didn’t want to freak him out with how much cash I had with no apparent reason.
“What’s that?” he asked, looking warily at the envelope.
“It’s my money from working at the Chesapeake,” I said, which was technically true. Same bank account at least. “I want you to take it
as a loan. Okay? You can pay me back when things settle down.”
“No way,” he said, but he had already taken the envelope from me, betraying his desperation. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he looked inside the envelope. His voice cracked as he said, “This is a lot of money, Payton.”
“Nah,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “No big deal.”
I can see the agony in my dad’s expression. He nods and thanks me, but I know it’s killing him to take a loan from his teenage daughter. The family finances are in shambles and his marriage is falling apart. Does he know mom is sleeping with Christian? He has to suspect with the way she acts, dresses, and disappears for hours almost every day.
“Are you going to the mall today?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
“Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t give you all my money. I’ve got plenty for Christmas.”
“Good,” he said, his voice cracking again. He stood up suddenly and excused himself to the basement, mumbling something about needing to work on a model he was going to sell to fix the alternator in his car. I watched him go. My poor shlubby dad never stood a chance once my mom started going to the gym. I’m sure some part of him knew those big fake tits he bought her were for somebody else to enjoy. They barely slept in the same bed anymore.
I sighed. I was determined to make this Christmas something special for him. I needed to give him a real present and fast. More than a new tie or socks. But what? I had thousands of dollars in my bank account still.
I was decked out for my trip to the mall. I wore Ugg boots over my hip-hugging jeans and a belted jacket over a turtleneck. It was all totally unnecessary because it was almost 60 degrees outside, but it was part of that Christmastime vibe. People in Southern California
work extra hard to try to convince themselves it’s going to be a white Christmas and nowhere is that truer than a mall in December. Whoever said malls are dying out has never been to the Peach Valley Galleria during Christmastime. The place was packed practically shoulder-to-shoulder and everything was frosted with fake snow and ice. There were Christmas lights, wreaths, bells, and snowmen all over the place. Rocking versions of Christmas music were playing over the sound system, barely audible over the sound of stomping feet and hundreds of voices.
I shouldered my way through a sale at Forever 21 and bought a couple tops and a pair of pants for my sister. I bought my mom some sexy lingerie at Agent Provocateur and some pheromone perfume called Ntox from the counter at Macy’s. I bought a hot chocolate (like I said, basically roleplaying Christmastime) and milled around the food court. There was a huge Christmas display with Santa at the far side, but it was so crowded I couldn’t get near it. I was just about to head to the Rolex store to see if there was something nice for my dad when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
So here is the part where I confess I am a really terrible friend. You see, the person who had tapped me on the shoulder was a tall, stocky, bearded Arab man by the name of Ayman Hadad. He smiled down at me, his hair and beard dark and lustrously thick. His brown eyes twinkled with the holiday lights.
“Payton, it is good to run into you,” he said, his voice heavily accented. “I left you phone messages.”
Yeah, that terrible friend part? My BFF was Jasmine Hadad. Ayman’s daughter. Her father had become one of my regular customers.
“Oh, I reply to them as I get to them,” I said, smiling back. “Very busy.”
“Ah, but I am here and you are here,” he said and took my hand. “Perhaps we can make an arrangement now. Do you have the time?”
I bit my lower lip and looked him over in his ugly sweater and dark trousers. I knew all about the bulge in those pants. I needed all the money I could get to buy my dad something nice.
“That depends,” I said. “Do you have cash?”
He had cash. More than usual, since Ayman was one of the guys I was usually haggling with the most before a session. He counted out $500 into my hand as we stood in the handicapped stall of the men’s room. It was busy in the bathroom. Lots of voices, squeaking shoes, flushing toilets, and unpleasant smells. I shut it all out as I untied the belt of my jacket and Ayman slipped his big, strong hands under the art print blouse I was wearing. The buttons popped open as he gathered my soft teenage mounds in his hands.
He muttered something in Arabic as he leaned down, running in tongue over my left areola, my stiff nipple, and across the valley of my cleavage to my other nipple. He sucked it, his lips latched tight and his tongue battering my sensitive bud. I stifled a cry, clinging to him, my blouse and jacket hanging open as Ayman Hadad fondled, licked, and sucked my ample mounds.
“Oh, my beauty,” he moaned against my chest, his breath hot and his mustache tickling against me. “You are an angel to me. Oh, I will make love to you. Here in such a place.”
“I hope you brought a condom,” I whispered. He continued to fondle my breasts, to kiss them and lick them. His other hand unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and thrust into my panties. His big fingers massaged my folds and strummed the aching bead of my clit. It seemed to surge to meet his fingers and hot lashes of pleasure crackled into my core.
“I have one,” he said, lifting his face from my breasts. “Oh, my sweet, I will put it upon my penis and I will go so very deep inside you.”
His accent seemed to grow thicker the hotter he became. His fingers parted my folds and he dipped two thick digits into the hot channel
of my cunt. I sighed against him and he caught my lips in a kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth and I met it with my own tongue. Our kiss melted together, his mustache and beard tickling my face as we pressed our tongues together and back and forth between our mouths.
“Mmmmmm, I cannot hold back,” he gasped against my lips. “Turn around now. Turn, my lovely flower, let me see you. Oh, yes, take them down. The panties too. Allah be praised, your bottom is so lovely. So creamy, I must spank it!”
A crack of his hand on my ass echoed in the bathroom. It really hurt and I’m entirely sure how I managed to keep from crying out. Some people using the bathroom muttered. I was thankful for the roar of the hand dryer as I turned and faced the wall of the stall. Ayman tore open the condom wrapper and I smelled the spermicidal lube and the tang of latex. I looked back just as he rolled the translucent pink sheath onto his thick uncut cock.
The condom was ribbed. For my pleasure.
I gripped his thick shaft with my hand, squeezing tightly as I stroked him and making the condom crinkle audibly when the hand dryer wasn’t blasting. We kissed with his cock pressed between us and my bare breasts against his flannel shirt.
“Now, I must make love to you, my beauty,” he whispered urgently. “My stones are cracking.”
I giggled, getting the gist of his weird expression. I turned to face the bolted door of the stall, my fingers curling over the top as I gripped the cold divider. I thrust my hips back and my peachy bottom in his direction. He sucked in an appreciative breath and thumped the length of his latex-sheathed cock against my ass. He smacked my cheeks and rubbed his cock against my crack. He teased the tip against my slick folds, spreading my nectar over my cuntlips and back up to the divot of my asshole.
“Ohhh, naughty boy. Pussy only, Mr. Hadad,” I giggled, my little pink butthole tensing.
“Yes, yes, it is so pretty though,” he replied. “One day I will pluck this rosebud.”
He wasn’t interested in an argument over anal though. He slid his cockhead back down to my dripping pussy. Oh, by Allah, I was ready for him too. I arched my back a little more and his tip caught on my folds, opening me as he gently rocked forward. That gentle push became a full thrust and I let out a girlish cry as he hilted his cock in my pussy. I went up on my tiptoes as his balls pressed against my clit and his cock bulled against my tender cervix. It was only as he drew back for another stroke that I realized the murmur of conversation had died away in the bathroom.
People had finally realized what was happening. They were watching my boots, rising on my tiptoes with each thrust. I managed to stifle further cries of pleasure, but the whole stall began to gently shake as Ayman fucked my teenage pussy. My breasts mashed against the cold surface of the door as Ayman held my hips and pounded his cock into my pussy. His hairy groin and slight paunch slammed against me.
Ayman leaned over my back, panting heavily, kissing my shoulder and grabbing my ponytail to move it out of the way and kiss my neck. His hot breath and the grunting sounds he was making were almost animal. Like I was a lost girl in the forest being fucked by a horny bear. My pussy clutched against him, my orgasm building with each stroke. I wanted to stay quiet. I knew men were watching what as happening.
I couldn’t stop it.
“Ahhhhhh!” I cried, my voice sharp and loud in the bathroom. “Yesssss!”
Mr. Hadad said something in Arabic, thrusting deep at the perfect height of my orgasm. He sucked at my slender neck, his lips hot and the sucking pinching my flesh. I felt his cock jerk inside me. He groaned against my ear, hot and desperate, as if he was in his death
throes even as his hips spanked my ass and his cock twitched and pumped and filled the condom inside me.
His thrusts slowed. He lay heavily against my back, panting almost directly in my ear, his body tensing and his cock twitching with a few aftershocks.
“Oh, thank you, Payton,” he whispered. “You are my angel. You make me go to heaven.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “But I think we’d better get going before security shows up.”
The last thing a big, bearded Egyptian man wanted was security showing up at a mall. Ayman’s weight lifted from my back and slid his cock from my fluttering cunt with a soft, wet pop. I glanced back as I stood and glimpsed the pink tip of the condom heavy with cum, dangling from his shrinking tip. He rolled the condom off and flushed it down the toilet. The high-flow mall toilet was up to the task.
There was no time to really clean up much. I was thankful he’d worn a condom, but I was still going to be walking around the mall with damp panties. I belted my jacket, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the stall.
We were greeted by a dozen men, young and old, who stared and clapped in awe as I emerged followed by the well-built Egyptian dad. They looked me over like I was a stripper on the stage and clapped Ayman on the back until he was laughing and waving to them with embarrassment. The guys were so impressed by Ayman’s “score” (me) that they crowded around him, practically offering him cigars and asking for his autograph. I shot an apologetic look at him and slipped out of the men’s restroom, much to the surprise of a dad taking his young son into the bathroom.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Wrong one.”
“Yeah,” chuckled the dad. He was kind of cute, but his kid was with him and the timing was poor. I stepped back into the flow of foot
traffic in the mall, made it about ten paces, and bumped right into the last person I wanted to see at that particular moment.
“Oh, Payton! Heyyyy!” Jasmine grinned like she had just been reunited with a long-lost friend. “Oh my god, isn’t this crazy? Are you shopping here? I don’t think I’ve seen the mall more crowded.”
“Yeah, Santa is a big draw,” I said, lifting my bags. “The, um, the…”
My words trailed off as I glanced over my shoulder and say Ayman Hadad exiting the men’s room. He saw me with his daughter, his eyes went wide, and he turned in the other direction. Thankfully, Jasmine was none the wiser.
“I’m here with my parents,” said Jasmine. “But I broke off. I’m flying solo now. I want to surprise them with some good stuff. Want to shop with me?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I said. I felt horribly awkward about being with her when I could still easily feel her dad’s thick cock inside me. But she was my bestie; turning her down and then trying to shop by myself would have been bizarre.
We headed to the Rolex store as Jasmine and I exchanged a list of what we had purchased so far. She helped me look at watches, but I felt self-conscious talking to her about spending eight or nine thousand dollars on a watch for my dad.
“You could like, buy a car for this amount of money,” she said, admiring the watch the jeweler held in his gloved hands.
“Yeah,” I said, realizing she was right. Then I remembered my dad’s trouble with the alternator on his car. He had the worst car of anyone in the family. “That’s a good idea, Jasmine. My dad could use a car a lot more than a watch.” I added to the jeweler, “Sorry.”
“You have no idea how often people realize that while looking at a Rolex,” he said, sighing and returning the watch to one of the locked cases. “I am a BMW salesman.”
We shopped at some candle store and one of those pop-up stores with Christmas stuff for grandmas. Jasmine wanted to buy, well,
Christmas stuff for her grandmas. After that, I offered to buy Jasmine lunch in the food court.
“So are you really thinking of buying your dad a car?” she asked, sitting down across from me with a slice of terrible mall pizza and a Coke. “You have made that much money with your, um, enterprises?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, even blushing a little. “I have thousands of dollars stashed away. I could definitely buy him a used car.”
“Must be nice,” said Jasmine.
“I work for my ass for it,” I said nudging her. “But that’s part of the problem. I work my ass off, but I don’t have a job that my dad knows about. I can’t show up with car keys because there will be too many questions.”
“That’s a tough one,” said Jasmine, taking a big chomp out of her pizza. She continued to talk with food in her mouth, “Maybe you should go sit on Santa’s lap and ask him.”
I looked across the food court at the huge line of bored dads looking at their phones listlessly as they waited for the chance to have their kid take a picture with Santa Claus. The bearded fat man on his big golden throne was attended by a group of teenagers in fake elf ears and festive costumes, their cheeks painted rosy red. Those outfits were cute on the girls. I noticed some of the dads having a look when they bent over and showed off their asses in the tight shorts. I also noticed a lot of money changing hands. Lots of cash.
“Santa,” I murmured.
“What?” asked Jasmine.
“I said, you’re right.” My gaze snapped back to Jasmine. “I need to talk to Santa and ask for a job.”
I finished my shopping with Jasmine and met up with her family. Ayman was there, smiling sheepishly at first, but overcoming his fear that I might have blurted something out to his daughter. I wished them happy holidays and waved goodbye.
They disappeared into the teeming crowd and I set off back into the mall. I doubled back through the food court and to the long line to Santa’s Village. There was a worn red carpet leading though a plastic wonderland of snowmen and giant wrapped gifts that sparkled with glitter. There were four elves on duty at a time, helping to take money and wrangle the children. Santa was clearly in charge of the whole operation, occasionally motioning an elf over to take a troublesome kid or usher in the next family.
There was no point getting in line and setting an embarrassing scene with Santa. I waited nearby, pretending to be checking my phone in the food court while actually waiting for Santa to go on break. I didn’t have to wait long. The elves started warning people off in the line and eventually puled a velvet rope across the path into Santa’s Village. Before long, I saw the big man himself grunt and get up from his throne. He disappeared through a small access door into a back room of the mall. The elves set to work straightening up in the village.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Some guard or something. But nobody was paying any attention to the door. I casually walked over to it, opened it, and walked inside. It felt a little like being backstage at a play, with lots of bare drywall and supplies piled up. It seemed like I was inside an old store that was being remodeled. At the back was a small breakroom with a refrigerator, TV, and chairs. Fox News was droning on the TV and Santa was carrying a microwave lunch over to one of the tables. He had taken the hat off, but the white beard was evidently real.
“Oh, hello there,” he said, smiling as he sat down at the table. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you one of the new elves?”
“Um, no,” I said, walking over and smoothing my coat as I sat next to him. “I was wondering if you had a couple minutes to talk.”
He frowned. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here. I’m on my break, miss.”
“Even if I want to sit in your lap?” I said, placing my hand on his velvety red thigh.
“Mmmmmm,” he grunted. “Been a while since we had one of you.”
“What’s that?” I asked, massaging his leg.
“A Santa groupie,” he said. “Some girls, well, they just want to get with Santa. Is that you, young lady?”
“Noooo,” I teased, running my fingers over the bulge in his pants and to his other thigh. “I just want to tell you what I want for Christmas.”
He pushed the table back to make room for me.
“Hop on up then, young lady,” he said. “Tell Santa what you want.”
I took off my coat so he could see my tits in my tight turtleneck. My shapely round butt settled onto his lap. I wiggled my hips, rubbing the weight of my butt against that twitching bulge in Santa’s pants. I put an arm around his neck so that I could lean back against him, turning, to look down into his eyes. He belted a fuzzy sleeve around my back and rested a hand on my hip.
“And what’s your name?” he asked in his deep Santa voice.
“Payton Douglas,” I said, stroking his beard with my fingers.
“And what do you want to Santa to give you for Christmas?” he asked, squeezing my hip and admiring my breasts and straining nipples under my shirt.
“Oooh, Santa,” I said, squirming my ass some more and making my breasts jiggle. “I can think of a couple things. But most of all I need a job.”
“A job?” His smile faltered.
“Yes, I want to be an elf,” I said kissing his cheek. “I want to help out in Santa’s Village and be a little Christmas slu—”
He pushed me off his lap and I almost fell over.
“Hey!” I cried out.
“I don’t know what this is,” he said, “but I didn’t touch you first. You came in and sat down on my lap. I’m not getting caught in your bullshit. I don’t hire people. You need to talk to Bonnie.”
“It’s not like that,” I said. “I’m…I need to work here. Please.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at me sternly. He stirred his fork in is steaming microwave lunch. It looked like Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. He put the fork down.
“I don’t know what this is,” he said. “What game you’re playing.”
Our conversation was interrupted by two of the elves and some other guy in a janitorial uniform entering the breakroom. They glanced in our direction and then started prepping their lunch and sitting down to talk. One of the elves glanced in my direction curiously but they didn’t interrupt. I sat back down next to Santa as he began to eat.
“Look, I have a way to earn money while I’m working,” I said. “I need the job—”
“Drugs?” he said. “What kind?”
“It’s not drugs,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“There was a guy last year selling speed,” said Santa, shoveling food into his mouth. “And year before that it was this guy and girl selling pills. Usually it’s just reefer. Is it reefer?”
“No,” I said. “It’s not drugs. It’s,” I leaned closer and whispered to him, “me. I’m a sex worker.”
“Oh?” He looked me over again. “You look like a high school girl.”
“I’m nineteen,” I said. “And why are you getting all judgmental all of a sudden? A minute ago you were about to stick your hand under
my shirt.”
“I was just giving you what you wanted,” he said and wiped his face with a napkin.
“I want the job,” I said. “Can you help me?”
“Mmmmmm.” He sucked at his teeth and stared at my plump breasts in my turtleneck. “I might be able to say something to Bonnie. She does all the hiring for elves in November. But maybe I could get her to hire on one more. But what’s in it for me?”
He leaned back in his chair and I knew it was time to risk it all. I cast a glance in the direction of the elves and the janitor to make sure they weren’t pay attention. They were locked in some conversation about something happening on TV. I took hold of my turtleneck and lifted it up my toned tummy. The shirt caught on my soft breasts, lifting them almost to my chin and then dropping them free. They feel back into place, plump and yet perky, my areolas pale pink and my nipples stiff. Santa stared in amazement at my perfect teenage tits.
“Go on,” I whispered. “Touch them.”
He glanced over his shoulder before reaching out with both hands, gently cupping my breasts and allowing his thick fingers to brush against my nipples. I leaned into his touch, letting him support the weight of my breasts in his hands. He caught my nipples between his fingers and pinched them lightly. I hissed almost inaudibly, giving him a lusty look.
“You can do more than touch them,” I said.
“Suck on them?” he suggested.
“Of course,” I said. “You can fuck them if you get me that job. You can fuck me.”
He wet his lips. “I’ll, um, talk to Bonnie. I’ll get you that job.”
I leaned back, out of his reach, and pulled my turtleneck back over my breasts just as the male elf glanced in our direction. He caught a
flash of the underside of my breasts before I straightened my shirt. He scowled. I winked.
“That would be perfect,” I said to Santa. “Maybe we should go somewhere a little more private?”
“Ah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. My van is parked out back of the mall.”
Santa’s name was Gary and his van looked like it was it from the 1990s. It was a big, boxy minivan with rusty two-tone maroon and brown paint. The inside of the van was upholstered in wall-to-wall beige and heaped with clothes that smelled musty. There was a small couch instead of back seats, a cooler, and a lot of empty beer bottles. I had the distinct impression that Gary lived out of the van.
“Welcome to my abode,” he said, confirming my theory. He gestured at the gross interior. I wrinkled my nose and started to climb inside. He gave me a good hard smack on my butt as I climbed past him.
“Hey!” I cried, turning and falling onto the couch. He climbed in behind me, grinning through his white whiskers. He pulled the sliding door shut behind him. “Want a beer?”
“No,” I said. “No thanks.”
“Good,” he said, adjusting the huge black belt around his belly. “I’m on the clock, so we’d better get down to business.”
“Suits me,” I said, feeling weirdly nervous to have Santa ogling me. He unbuckled the belt and shed the heavy red velvet coat. He was wearing a white t-shirt with dark sweat spots underneath. His paunch reminded me of Burt Becker, though Santa, believe it or not, wasn’t quite as big as my boss at the Chesapeake. His cock, however, was unimpressive. I thought I’d felt a nice bulge in his pants, but as he took them down I realized it was small. It looked like an oversized red thumb that somebody was sticking up to hitch a ride. It curved slightly back towards him, the fat bell already glistening with precum.
I shrugged out of my jacket and sat up on the edge of the couch as he stepped in front of me. I knew what to do. I smiled sweetly, like I wasn’t laughing inside about his little Santa dick, and I ran him hand over his white pubes. I grasped the fat root of his cock and leaned in to give it a few teasing licks. It jerked in my hand and Gary let out a groan of pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he moaned, his hand falling to my head. “Suck on Santa’s candy cane.”
“It’s more salty than sweet,” I said, give it another lick and lapping away more of that glaze of his precum. He groaned again and pushed down on the back of my head. I got the message, parting my lips and taking him into my mouth. “Mmmmmmmmm.”
“Oh, that’s a good little elf,” he groaned as I began to bob on him.
Slurping on Santa’s cock in the back of his gross van was really putting me in the Christmas spirit and my little pussy was itching to be fucked. As I sucked him, I squirmed on the couch, kicking off my Uggs and wriggling out of my jeans until I was only wearing my damp panties. Gary reached a hand between my legs and massaged my pussy through my panties.
“Damn, you are wet,” he laughed. “You like sucking on Santa’s cock, don’t you?”
“Yessss,” I moaned, my mouth and tongue cradling his tip. “I love sucking Santa’s big cock.”
He guided me up and down on his cock, faster and faster, until I was sure he was going to cum in my mouth. Instead, he pulled me up, leaving me gasping and trailing saliva between my lips and his cock.
“That’s enough of that pretty mouth,” said Gary, squeezing my face in his fingers. “Santa wants that pussy. Sit up on the couch and take off your panties. Or I’m putting you on the naughty list.”
“That’s where I belong,” I giggled, rising off my knees and sliding my butt onto the couch. I looked up at Santa as I peeled off my damp panties. Gary war right there, pushing my legs apart, rubbing his
bare cock on my cuntlips. He thumped his cock repeatedly against my clit and I cried out and raked my nails on the rumpled shirt over his belly. “Pound my little elf pussy, Santa. But no cumming inside, ok?”
“Little elf likes to play risky, huh?” He chuckled and thrust his cock balls-deep into my pussy. My tight hole squeezed around his stroke and my breasts shifted and bounced as he pounded into my aching cunt. He worked his cock into a steady rhythm, each thrust drove me down beneath his weight, into the couch cushions. My feet were in the air behind him as his fat Santa ass went up and down and his cock slammed my slick little hole.
“Ooooooohhh, it’s so good, Santa!” I cried as the van shook with the force of his strokes.
I was going to cum. I couldn’t believe it. His fat little dick was going to make me cum! Then he broke the spell with a deep, yuletide cry of, “I’m going to paint your pretty tits!”
He yanked his cock out of my pussy just as I was about to cum. I lifted my head, gasping on the edge of my orgasm, and I watched as Santa jacked his glistening cock and erupted in gooey ropes onto my tits. Warm frosting spurted all over my heaving mounds, splashing my belly and spattering my flushed pussy.
“Oooo Santa!” I cried. “Your cream is so warm!”
I massaged his spunk into my tits, making them glisten with his musky jizz. I scooped a glob up from just above my navel and looked him in the eyes as I sucked my finger clean.
“Goddamn, you elf sluts get naughtier every Christmas,” he wheezed and fell back into one of the front seats. His filthy cock stuck up from his lap, still twitching. “We’ve got a deal. As long as I can get Bonnie to agree to hire you, I’ll get you that job. But you’d better not get me into trouble.”
“Oh, I won’t,” I promised, crawling over to him. I thrust a hand between my thighs and began rubbing my clit as I leaned down and
slurped his wilting, spunk-smeared cock into my mouth. Santa was going to have a new elf.
Later, after getting myself off and giving Santa a nice, wet blowjob that made him late to work, I returned to the mall. I had a few more stores to hit for presents for Jasmine, Alia, and some of my other friends. I was just having the last gifts wrapped at Aeropostale when I happened to notice a familiar face walking around in the mall.
“Hey, I’ll be right back,” I told the clerk.
I hurried out of the store and quickly approached the man and woman I had seen through the window. He was an annoyingly handsome and perfectly fit guy wearing a fleece so tight that his abs were visible. The blonde walking alongside him was gorgeous, but she was an afterthought. I tapped him on his shoulder. He turned and his steely gray eyes went wide.
“Hiya, Christian,” I said. “Got a second?”
“I, uh, I…” He stammered, at loss for words for maybe the first time in his life.
“Christian?” The blonde looked from me to her man. “Who is this?”
“Oh, Christian helps me out at the gym,” I said. “He’s real nice. I told him I was training for the junior varsity volleyball team and he was helping me get the body I wanted. He’s great and he’s so hands-on.”
“He is?” The woman said, clearly dumbfounded.
“She’s just joking,” laughed Christian, forcing a smile onto his face and trying to push me away with one hand.
“I think I left a pair of panties in your car, Christian,” I said. “The pink lace one with peekaboo panel in the back. You said you really like those.”
He finally managed to push me away from his girlfriend and over next to a hotdog stand.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he said. “What the fuck do you think—”
“You told Andy Wojczik about what I’ve been doing with you,” I said to him. “He blackmailed me. He’s my sister’s husband, Christian. Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, I had to fuck my sister’s husband. And if you tell him anything else, if you fuck with my family at all ever again, I’m going to tell that pretty young lady back there that you knocked me up.”
“Christian, is everything okay?” asked the woman.
I gave him a poke with my finger and he winced and stepped away. I could hear him trying to explain what I had said to the woman as I made my way out of the mall. I had a smile on my face the whole way.
Christmas Rush
“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes. Cum for me. Cum in my pussy!”
Santa was standing behind me, bouncing his belly against my toned ass and pounded his little hooked cock into my clutching cunt. I had convinced him to wear a condom and he was taking full advantage. He held my hips with both hands, going balls deep and pushing my face up against the wall of the changing room.
“Ohhhhhh! Naught list for you, Payton!” He groaned and I could feel his cock twitching in my slick pussy. He slowed his strokes, emptying every drop into his condom. He rolled his hips back, sliding his cock out of my trembling pussy, his condom swollen with cum. “Fuck that was hot. Next time, baby, how about you wear the elf ears?”
“Kinky, I like it,” I said, squeezing back into my panties. “Now you go on out, I have to get ready.”
“See you in Santa’s Village,” he said and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on my face. He squeezed my ass through my panties before exiting the door of the changing room.
I locked the door behind him and turned back to the plastic bag containing my elf costume. I had tried it on once at home and had picked out a sexy red bra and panty set to wear with it. I slipped off my clothes and pulled on the underwear first. It was the sort of lowcut panties and strappy bra that I might pick out to wear for a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. I looked fantastic and the sleek panties conformed tightly to my ass.
Which was good, because I had also made a few adjustments to the elf costume. It came with a pair of green shorts with a red fringe and a red and white striped shirt and I had taken scissors to both, shortening the shorts to an almost indecent degree and cutting down the neck of the tight shirt to show off a lot of cleavage. The elves were also supposed to wear a green jacket with oversized buttons. I told Gary to get me one that was a couple sizes too small and all it managed to do was frame my cleavage. It came nowhere near buttoning over my breasts.
The shoe cover, ears, and floppy Christmas hat completed the elf look. I was impressed with how seamless the ears looked. I seemed ready to fight monsters in some realm of fantasy. I needed to swipe my elf ears. The nerds would love this sort of thing.
We had a very specific makeup routine we were supposed to follow to make ourselves look like elves. I tossed most of that out and made myself look like a slut, with glossy red lips, eyeliner, and heavy eyeshadow. I did give myself the rosy cheeks though, so they couldn’t claim I didn’t try.
After all the things I had done in the name of my new profession, it was still strange and intimidating to step out of the back room of the mall and into the throng of Christmas shoppers. I immediately felt naked, like a bad dream of forgetting to wear clothes to school, but it was oddly the elf ears rather my half-naked body that made me feel embarrassed. I smiled sheepishly at all the men ogling my body and the women glaring at me and I made my way into Santa’s Village.
It took more than an hour of helping with the photos and showing off my curves in my elf costume for me to work up the nerve to approach anybody for my “side services.” It was an extremely boredlooking dad. He had the harried look of a soccer dad stalking the field to support his son when it is too early and too hot. Despite his sweaty, disheveled appearance, he had a nice watch, which meant money. I sidled up to him and said, “There are special refreshments available in the elf workshop.”
“Huh?” He struggled not to stare at my cleavage. His wife was dealing wit the kids, fussing with their outfits and she wasn’t paying any attention. I leaned closer to him, giving him an even better look at my glitter-dusted breasts.
“For a small fee,” I said, brushing intentionally against his groin. “I can offer you some special refreshments in the elf workshop.”
“Refreshments?” The guy stared openly at my tits. He was clearly no genius.
I stood up on my tiptoes and whispered in is ear, “I’ll suck your cock for a hundred dollars. I’ll jerk you off for fifty. Go over to the elf workshop and I’ll take care of you.”
I left him standing dumbfounded on the red carpet with no idea whether he had even understood that brazen offer. I went back to my spot in Santa’s Village and continued to help guide kids onto his lap and helped with the photos and taking money. I watched the soccer dad and his three daughters go through the photo process. He left, casting a nervous glance in my direction.
I thought my pitch had failed, but about ten minutes later I noticed him edging back, stepping over the velvet rope and heading into the small cartoonish building that served as the elf workshop. There were some benches and bottled water cases inside. Sort of an emergency breakroom for us. I excused myself from Santa’s side and hurried into the elf workshop.
“Hey,” he said sheepishly as I stepped into the workshop. “Um, I’m not sure I understood your offer. You said, uh, about the…”
His words trailed off as I put my hand on his chest and pushed him over to one of the benches. I folded a towel and placed it on the floor between his feet.
“Fifty or a hundred?” I asked.
“Oh, uh, well, I thought, I had about eighty bucks and…”
I held out my hand and said, “Fifty it is then.” He handed me the cash and I folded it tightly and tucked it into my shoe. I knelt in front of him on the towel. He moaned in apparent disbelief as I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his khakis. His cock was red, extremely erect, and a sticky mess. He had clearly been thinking about me and what he was going to do with me for those ten minutes. I wrapped my soft hand around his shaft, kneeling at arm’s length and pumping my hand on his cock. Murmuring voices and the mall’s Christmas music were audible through the thin walls of the workshop.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he said.
“Just relax,” I said. “I’m going to stroke out a nice, big load for you and then you can go back to your—”
“Ahhhh!” he moaned, his cock reddening.
“Is everything alright?” I asked, pulling my hand away.
“N-no, don’t stop!” he cried and his cock began to twitch and spurt cum out. I laughed and grabbed his shaft, squeezing it and milking it with practiced strokes. A few more pumps and he moaned pitifully, “What have I done? My wife!”
He stood up, pulling on his pants and staggering out of the workshop. I laughed again, my fingers webbed with ropes of spunk. I cleaned off with the towel, my first customer serviced in all of thirty seconds.
“I hope they’re all that easy,” I chuckled and returned to my post in Santa’s Village. Santa gave me a look like he knew what I’d been up to, but otherwise my absence seemed to have gone unnoticed.
Mr. Hair Trigger was my only customer the morning of my first day, but in the afternoon, the crowds picked up and there were a lot more dads getting off work early to come to the mall. My second customer was shortly after lunch – a grandpa who wanted a blowjob – and my third and fourth customers followed in quick succession. Constantly kneeling on the towel was starting to show on my knees and I had a bit of a tummy ache from swallowing too much cum.
My fifth customer just wanted to sniff and lick my ass. Which, alright, actually I would rather suck a cock than that, but he paid me two-hundred dollars, so I pulled down the shorts and put my creamy cheeks in his face. He jerked himself off while he licked my pucker and shot his cum down the backs of my legs. My sixth and seventh customers both wanted hand jobs, which was the easiest thing for me to do.
I had developed a technique where I lifted my striped shirt and let them feel me up while I sat beside them on the bench and stroked their cocks. Most guys were so excited and nervous they came in under two minutes. Only the grandpa gave me any real trouble, requiring a nearly ten-minute blowjob.
By the evening, word had clearly spread about what I was doing. There was a whole gaggle of guys lined up to go in the elf workshop. They weren’t even getting in line for Santa anymore, they had just heard about the hot elf teen sucking dicks and giving hand jobs for cheap at the mall. After sucking my fifth (or was it sixth?) cock of the night, I decided demand was getting too high and it was time to raise my prices. See, I did learn something in economics class!
The highlight of my long evening working as a sexy elf was definitely Duane. He was a hunky black guy in his late 20s. He had these thick braids and a boyish look that made my heart beat a little faster. He
said he just got cut from the Rams after three years as a wide receiver and moved back to Peach Valley.
“I don’t usually pay for it,” he told me. “But how could I pass this up?”
“I’m a bargain,” I said, shedding my jacket and peeling off my striped top.
“Oh, yes, I believe you are,” he said, his big wide receiver hands cupping and fondling my soft breasts as I sat in his lap. He began kissing my tits. I laughed and thrust my mounds against his face. His wide tongue traveled between my nipples, circled my straining buds, and drove pleasure into my core. I couldn’t help myself. I started making out with him and put my hand in his jeans. His cock was as huge as I’d hoped. Thick and dark, with a particularly big cockhead.
“You said one hundred dollars?” he gasped between kisses, his hands squeezing my ass through my elf shorts. “What does that get me?”
On my hands and knees on the floor. My face down, my ass up, and Duane’s huge cock stretching the limits of a condom as he pounded it into my hot, soaking pussy. God, I was so wet. Sucking and stroking all those guys had turned me on a lot.
I mean, I had a routine and a lot of the guys didn’t do anything for me, but it was still hot to make them cum. So I’d been stewing in my juices for most of the day. Duane’s big black cock churned me up good. I was creamy all down his shaft wit every stroke, my pink lips gripping him as each thrust made my teenage tits swing. Duane did this thing where every few strokes he would pull his whole big cock out of me, then he would slowly push it back in, making sure I felt every inch. And there were a lot of inches.
After about the eighth or ninth time he did that, I said something like, “Don’t stop until you make me cum.”
Well, he grabbed hold of my hips and started pounding my pussy like it owed him money. He was slapping his muscular hips against
my ass and ramming his whole cock into my pussy. I howled with pleasure, forgetting where I was and not caring about the consequences. My orgasm burst from inside me like an alien trying to get out. But a good alien. A cum alien. I was squeezing him so tight that I must have stripped the condom right off his cock, because the next thing I knew, Duane was let out a groan and I felt his cum shooting into me.
My eyes widened and I tried to pull away from him, but Duane pulled me back onto his cock and he pumped his hot cum right into my fertile teenage pussy. His load was so big that it was dripping down his balls and trickling down the insides of my thighs. I was a sticky, creamy mess by the time he pulled out of me with the condom half stuck to the head of his cock.
I had learned my lesson about how to deal with an unexpected creampie, but I still wasn’t looking forward to crawling into the pharmacy and asking for “Plan B.” I looked back at Duane, his cum still dripping from that glistening brown cock and oozing out of my well-fucked pussy.
“What the fuck just happened?” I gasped.
“You pulled it off me like you were shucking corn, baby,” he said. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Pull out!” I cried.
“Oh, don’t worry, baby, I’m clean and I’m snipped,” he said.
“You’re snipped?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I had too many scares with my girlfriends,” he chuckled. “So I had the doc rewire me so I only shoot blanks.”
“Oh, really?” I smiled, relief washing over me. “Why don’t you put that big fucking cock back in then?”
By the time Duane was done with me (and I was done with Duane) he had filled my pussy twice and shot a third load onto my tits. It still felt weird taking his money. I felt like I should have been paying him.
“Don’t be a stranger,” I said. “I’ll be here almost all of December.”
“Mmmmmm, that elf does have a shelf,” he said, admiring my tits as I pulled my striped shirt back over them. “I might just have to swing by again soon.”
We shared a long, sloppy kiss before he departed. Of course, after I went back out, I found out that half the people in line and half the other elves had heard the noises I’d been making. There were a lot of angry stares at me from the elves and the moms and a few chuckles from the dads.
“That was, um, a noise maker from the Halloween display,” I said, my face going dark red. Most of the people cave me doubtful looks. It didn’t help that Duane slipped out behind me, still zipping up his jacket.
Santa frowned at me and said, “You’re going to have to hash it out with Bonnie. She heard what you were doing in there and wanted to fire you on the spot. I told her to go easy, so, well, you’ll still have to beg to get your job back.”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks, St. Nick.”
“Ho-ho-hoing is going to get you into trouble like that,” he said and gave my butt a smack.
Bonnie McCarthy worked out of an office on the third floor of the Peach Valley Galleria. It was down a hallway behind a shoe store and, according to Gary, located behind a nondescript door. There wasn’t even an “employees only” sign, just, “DO NOT ENTER.” I knocked at the door. When I didn’t get an answer, I swung it open.
There was a large, empty, and dark office space inside. There were several cubicles that look like they could have once sported computers and other equipment but were empty. The only light was from a pair of skylights and one windowed private office at the back. There were curtains drawn across the windows and the glow of artificial light from within.
That, I assumed, was Bonnie McCarthy’s office. Not exactly welcoming. She was like a ghost haunting a dead mall. I crossed the haunted open office to the closed private office. A placard on the door read, “MANAGER.”
I knocked lightly.
“Come in,” said a stern voice.
Bonnie McCarthy was a handsome blonde in her early forties. She had a pompadour hairstyle that made me think she is listened to ska music and a beauty mark next to her lip. She had a dark suit jacket draped over the back of her chair and she wore a modest, silky red blouse that nevertheless revealed the ample size and shape of her bust. She was slightly heavyset, but she made it work for her in a way that surprised me with how alluring I found it. She looked up at me, her eyes strikingly blue.
“You must be Payton Douglas,” she said. Her dark eyebrows knitted as she looked me up and down. “That does not look like the standard uniform we provide to assistants in Santa’s Village.”
“Ah, no, it didn’t fit too well, I guess,” I said, my face going hot as I tried to use the undersized jacket to cover up my breasts.
Bonnie stood up from behind her desk, revealing her shapely hips, pencil skirt, and the fact that she was a good six to eight inches taller than me. She stepped around the desk and I backed towards the two chairs on my side. My butt hit one of the chairs and it tipped back slightly. Bonnie stepped right up to me, pushing her ample breasts into my face.
“In my six years of managing this mall, I have never heard of one of you elves having sex in the elf workshop.” She rolled her eyes. “And you’re doing it on day one. In front of dozens of customers. Do you know how many complaints I received?”
“Um, no,” I said, unable to meet her piercing gaze.
“Fourteen,” she said. “In a span of five minutes. It’s more than I had the time a knife fight broke out in the food court. You were that
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happens. The prisoners can earn money—if they work sufficiently well—which is placed to their credit for payment when their sentence is up.
The prison system was appalling in China previous to 1912, but it was then decided that it must be radically changed. It was reckoned that it would take seven years completely to re-model it in the twenty-two provinces. I have only seen one other of these new prisons at Tientsin, and it was not nearly so attractive as the Taiyuanfu one, but still worthy of imitation in many European countries. It had a sort of chapel in which moral addresses were given, but, it is only in the one at Changteh—under General Feng’s jurisdiction[14]—that a chapel was to be found where missionaries had regular services, each mission being responsible for a month at a time, in rotation. The Chinese Government has no small task still before it, for it is estimated that a sum of at least $24,000,000 will be required to provide the new gaols, besides which the Government scheme provides reformatories, Prisoners’ Protection and Aid Societies.
So much is said at present in the European Press about the disorders and misgovernment in China, that it is only fair to let people know that a steady tide of reform is flowing on at the same time, which will render possible a great forward movement when once there is a settled government. Not only are there new gaols, but new barracks, and a large military hospital of which the M.O. is a fine capable Chinaman, trained in the Mission Hospital; he is always ready to lend a hand there still when needed. I was interested to see him doing so one day when the young Chinaman in charge had a serious operation to perform, and if comparison were to be made between that and some European ones I have seen, it would not be in favour of the latter. The mission-trained Chinese are the only men capable of carrying out many of the reforms now taking place in China, owing to the dearth of trained Chinese. The Governor has sent nine students, selected by competitive examination, to study medicine at the Tsinanfu Christian university,[15] and 100 to France to study textiles.
One of the latest reforms of Governor Yen is particularly interesting: it is the power to make his will known in any part of the 70,000 square miles (or thereabouts) of Shansi within twenty-four hours. Considering that the railway line only runs up to Taiyuanfu— seventy miles or less through the province, and that the telegraph wires coincide with it—this is a truly amazing achievement. It is managed by means of telephone and of fast runners.
The mineral wealth of Shansi is phenomenal, and Baron v. Richthoven estimated that its coal would supply the whole world for several thousand years. Anthracite and iron are found in large quantities, besides other minerals. Given, therefore, a stable government and a progressive Governor like Yen, the province of Shansi is capable of becoming a most important place, in fact, of world-wide importance.
The difficulty of transport is one of the main drawbacks at present, and the loess formation is not only a bar to this, but also to irrigation of Taiyuanfu, owing to the curious ravines, sometimes as much as a hundred feet deep, through which traffic often passes, and the sides of which may at any time give way, burying the luckless travellers beneath them. The Governor has sent to England to buy 100 second-hand Government transport lorries, and no doubt he has plans for overcoming the difficulties, if only he is left in peace to develop them. He was formally proclaimed “Model Tuchun” by the Chinese Government in 1918, and although he is not yet forty, has proved himself one of China’s ablest governors.
Chapter III
The Province of Yünnan
“International life—a product of science, industry and economic relations—is hardly yet born; yet it is daily becoming a more and more comprehensive reality, including within its sphere items whose numbers and importance are steadily increasing. Nor is this common life merely international. Might not one say that it is also inter-ethnic, in the sense of embracing the most diverse races, not only in Europe, but also in America, Asia and Africa? Over the whole globe we are witnessing the spread and propagation of ideas that are also forces—motor ideas, which are everywhere identical and are drawing very different minds in the same directions.”—A F .
Chapter III
The Province of Yünnan
Yünnanfu, the capital of the province, is a most fascinating place and situated in a most lovely district. I visited it thirteen years ago, before the coming of the French and their railway, and found it very interesting to study the changes which have taken place. These are important, but not so deep-reaching as in other cities, and I asked myself what the reason was.
There has grown up quite a foreign suburb round the station, and there are French hotels, in one of which we stayed—the Terminus. There are plenty of shops there, full of the cheaper kind of European goods; but beyond this small area French influence does not seem to extend. It seems out of harmony with the Chinese psychology, and
CHAIR COOLIES
all tha t we he ar d ab out the ir rel ati on s wa s dis ap poi nti ng. Th e rail wa
y has been useful for trade purposes, but has not promoted a good understanding between the races. The management of it leaves much to be desired in every way, and there is constant friction between the French and the Chinese.
It is extremely desirable that France should be represented in China by a different quality of people from those at present in Yünnan: the bulk of them entirely ignore the French traditions of courtesy and treat the Chinese as a lower and subservient race; almost they look upon them as if they had been conquered. It is a tragedy that Westerners should invade any areas against the will of the people, and still further increase the ill-will by their lack of
manners in daily intercourse. Of course it is not only French people who do this, but Europeans of every kind, and the day of reckoning will surely come.
We went to see our missionary friends, who had entertained us on our last visit, and found their premises were overflowing with guests, as all the missionaries working in the district to the north and west had been called in by the officials on account of the activity of the brigands. In fact we met no less than three who had been prisoners in their hands. Two of these had made their escape, with hairbreadth adventures, and gave us most interesting accounts of these people. We also heard a lecture by one who had been seven weeks in the hands of the brigands, and from him we gathered a vivid picture of their life; always pursued, and fleeing day and night from the soldiers sent out against them. It made us feel much sympathy for that particular band.
Many brigands are disbanded soldiers who have taken to the life as a last resource. Their pay was rarely forthcoming, and they have been not infrequently disbanded with no means of earning a living. The captain of this band is a modern Robin Hood, with certain chivalrous ideals and strict in enforcing discipline. He treated his prisoner with consideration, allowed him to ride his beast while he himself walked. Mr. S. had to endure the same hardships as the robbers, but no more; the hardships were, however, too great a strain on his health, which speedily gave way, and he was very seriously ill by the time he was rescued, as the result of urgent remonstrances of his American Consul.
His robber guards treated him with genuine kindness and lent him their wraps at night to keep him warm. The chief was very anxious that Mr. S. should mediate with the Governor of Yünnan on his behalf, and promised that he and his men would settle down to a peaceful life, if they might have a free pardon for their past misdeeds. They had got a considerable amount of loot shortly before, which may have influenced them in this. He also offered to make Mr. S. his chaplain, with a salary of a thousand dollars a month and six months’ salary deposited in advance in a bank in Yünnanfu! He promised that all his men should become Christians: some of
them certainly were in sympathy with Christianity But Mr S. knew that it was impossible to succeed in obtaining any favourable terms for the robbers, and declined to attempt it. A French abbé, at great personal risk, got permission to visit the sick man and was the greatest comfort to him, but the abbé told me that he never expected to be allowed to go away. What the reason of the robbers was for leaving the abbé at liberty is decidedly obscure.
Mrs. S. had begged the robbers to take her prisoner with her husband, but they refused, as in the case of another missionary’s wife. This was a great encouragement to us, as we were women; but when I told it to our young interpreter, he asked tragically, “But what about me?” and was by no means reassured when I pointed out that he was neither a man of substance nor of political importance, and so need have no fear.
The captain of the robbers was extremely particular with regard to the treatment of women and girls by his men. They were strictly forbidden to molest them. On one occasion, Mr. S. told us, the parents of a girl came to complain that a smart young fellow had taken her from their home the night before. After inquiry into the matter and finding that the accusation was just, the captain had the culprit taken eighty yards up the road and shot, all the band being witnesses and obliged to pass the dead body as they left the village where this happened. I quote this story because we so often heard ghastly stories about the ferocity of brigands that justice seems to demand that something be said in their defence. If there were a better Government, brigandage might soon be put down, as may be seen by the fact that it has entirely ceased in the province of Shansi, under Yen Hsi Shan’s wise rule.
We stayed for ten days at Yünnan and saw many interesting things while the preparations for our journey went on apace. As soon as we had got permission for it we ordered chairs, which had to be made, and looked out for a cook. By means of the Y.M.C.A. we got an admirable one, called Yao. The Y.M.C.A. is run by Americans and is mainly educational in character at Yünnan: they have a charming Chinese house for their premises, but look forward to the day when funds will be sufficient to have an American one!
One of the most important pieces of work done by foreigners is the C.M.S.[16] Medical Mission, and they are building a fine new hospital besides having a beautiful native house in the city. Dr. Bradley told us of the successful work done in curing opium smokers, who wished to break themselves of the habit. A wealthy young official had presented complimentary tablets in gratitude for his cure. The work was rather in abeyance pending the completion of the hospital.
There is also a fine, well-managed French hospital for Europeans, but it is not in the railway suburb, as it was built a great many years ago, before the railway was built, in the days when the French were first getting a footing in the province.
But the most interesting thing to us of all the things we saw was the Chinese Home Mission—a Society formed in 1919, by which the Chinese take up the evangelization of China as their own special duty. This is as it should be. The time has come when the burden of responsibility should begin to be taken up by the Chinese Christians, because it is of paramount importance that Christian mission work should cease to be looked on as a foreign institution. The Chinese Church of the future is beginning to take shape, and must grow in accordance with national needs. It is to be the outcome of the honest hard spiritual work of many sections of the Christian Church, but the copy of none. It is of happy augury that in this particular section seven members of the party represented the Presbyterians, Methodists, and American Board; while twelve different societies are represented on their advisory board. They have not so far formulated any creed, but have gone out rather as pioneers to learn the needs of the people and the way in which they can best work. They will then report to those who sent them. Not only are Christians of all churches supporting the movement financially, but also nonChristians show a great interest in it. The chief of the Governor’s staff in Yünnan wrote most cordially, welcoming their coming and promising to help them in any way he could. The missionaries have all done the same, and they are now working most happily alongside one another. We went to call on the two ladies of the C.H.M. settled in the city, the others of the party being unfortunately some distance away in robber-ridden areas of the country Miss Li Ching Chien and
Miss Chen Yu Ling have a girls’ school in a charming old temple building, and we found about thirty girls there, some having a lesson in the classics, others doing needlework. They are drawn from the exclusive upper-class families, whose doors are rigorously closed against the foreigner. They are glad to have their daughters instructed in Western knowledge, even if it does include Christian doctrine. The teachers told them in the opening ceremony that the main object of the school was to promote Christianity. They did not speak much English, but we took our interpreter, who was pleased to find he knew one of them in Peking, when she was working in the North China Union College for Women. They told us how they now visit in more than a hundred houses, owing to their school work, and are allowed to talk freely of the message, which is their chief aim. On Sundays they hold a service in their house and a Chinese pastor preaches: to this service men come as well as women and girls.
Meanwhile the men of the Chinese Home Mission have been visiting different parts of the province, Pastor Ding Li-mei going as far as Tengyueh, on the western border of Yünnan. He not only made a careful survey of the various districts, but also preached wherever he went. He is a man of high repute, one of the most successful and widely known evangelists in the East of China. His wife had taken up kindergarten work in the capital, as that has been her special line. Another of the party, Mr. Sang, went to visit a large tin-mining district in the south, and made a survey of Ku Chin, a prosperous city. The people of the district are greatly addicted to opium-smoking, which is on the increase. The Southern Government, which is supreme in Yünnan, openly encourages opium-smoking. There is no missionary work going on in this part of the province at present; in fact, there are not a dozen mission centres in the whole of this huge province, 146,680 square miles, with an estimated population of twelve millions. No wonder that the Chinese Home Mission felt that this was the place where they were most needed; hence their decision to start work in Yünnan, hoping to extend their work to other provinces. Another of the party, Mr. Li, visited the northern part of the province, crossing the border into Szechuen. At one place he found a group of Christians, who begged him to become their pastor.
The work of the C.H.M. is gradually getting organized and has promise of a fine future; its inception was mainly due to women, and they seem destined to play an important part in it. Chinese women have initiative and great staying power. One of its chief promoters was Dr. Mary Stone,[17] an able Chinese doctor, whose reputation is known throughout the empire. In her interesting book, Notable Women of Modern China, Miss M. E. Burton gives a graphic sketch of Dr. Stone’s life, from the time when her father brought her as a child of eight to an American lady doctor, saying, “Here is my little girl. I want you to make a doctor of her.” She grew up to be one of the people who tackle hard jobs of every kind and who inspire others, as in the case of the Chinese Home Mission. And the success of the Mission can only be secured if others take their share in it, for “they also serve who only stand and wait.” A charming instance of this came to my notice at Amoy. A friend took me to visit an old pastor and his wife who had just celebrated their combined birthday of a hundred and fifty. They said to me, “We are too old and infirm to carry on our work, so now we have set ourselves to pray for the Mission, and every day ten of us meet together for the purpose, and we give what little we can.” I told them I was going to see the ladies at Yünnan, and they were pleased at the thought of sending a message direct. Miss Li and Miss Chen were no less pleased to receive it.
The Pilgrim Way, Yünnanfu Lake. Page 74
In Cloudland. Page 74
There are in China some hundred and twenty different societies at work, but I venture to think that there is still room for many more Chinese workers, if not societies. At Yünnanfu I talked to an old and
experienced missionary,[18] and he told me that he is convinced that the Chinese are best reached by their own people, and that now he confines himself almost entirely to superintendence and organization, while he has an ever-increasing number of evangelists who do all the speaking and teaching. It seems clear that the Chinese themselves feel the need of this support, seeing that the Chinese Home Mission has elected to have a foreign advisory committee. It is also essential to have foreign training centres, such as Dr Keller’s school at Changsha (see page 152). At present the training of these men is often most inadequate, owing to the difficulty and expense of sending them long distances to the schools, especially from the less accessible mission stations.
We did not spend all our time in the city, while preparing for our journey eastward. Once again the lure of the lake came irresistibly on me, and we sent our interpreter to engage a boat in advance to take us across to the celebrated shrines. It is a long day’s expedition and requires strong rowers. When we reached the spot, by ricksha, from which we were to start, the boat proved quite unsuitable: it was so heavy that it would have taken all day to get across. The only thing was to make a fresh bargain for something more suitable, and we were amused to find that it was women only who seemed to be in charge of this trade. A pleasant, hefty-looking woman undertook to do the job to our satisfaction, and we were soon gliding across the smooth waters. There were many heavily-laden boats with lovely sails and as picturesque a crowd of passengers as you could wish to see, who were crossing the lake either to or from the city. Other boats were employed in fishing. The air was most lovely and the colouring of lake and sky and mountains a dream of beauty. Our two men and two women rowed like Trojans, and in two hours we landed at the foot of fine crags on the further shore. We climbed up a steep zigzag path, often up a rock stairway, through the pine-trees. The air was filled with the scent of roses, and the birds sang; nothing disturbed the delicious stillness of the place. From time to time we reached a shrine where the devout pilgrim worships, and always found a terrace or balcony with stone balustrade on which were perched quaint carved beasts, and from which there was a glorious
view across the shimmering lake. Sometimes we passed through fine carved gateways, and we found the thousand steps rather long and weary! At one shrine a young acolyte, suffering from hip disease, prepared tea for us, before we attacked the topmost stage of pilgrimage. This led by a passage cut in the face of the rock to a very lofty little shrine, where squirrels were sporting among the overhanging shrubs. We entered the dragon gate, over which was inscribed the legend “Blessing to all who come.”
A party of Chinese women had actually climbed all the way up on their tiny feet and welcomed us with charming courtesy. After they had chatted for a few moments they turned in absorbed interest to their religious duties: cash were dropped in the box, incense lighted and due obeisances and prayers offered to the god carved in the solid wall of rock.
The view from the terrace was sublime, and far below the water was dotted with white sails that looked like insects on its surface. The overhanging cliff was of great height, and there was a sheer drop of hundreds of feet to the narrow belt of cornland on the margin of the lake, whose further shore was lost in the midday haze. The lake is called K’un-Yang-Hai; it is forty miles long and from five to eight miles wide; no wonder the people call it the “sea”! As we came down we noticed some scribbling on one of the temples “against Japanese goods,” with a rough drawing of a man with a pistol. Everywhere this hatred is shown in one form or another.
We had much interesting talk with an Englishman in our hotel, who had been there for more than six months trying to establish trade relations with the local authorities on behalf of his firm. The mineral wealth of Yünnan is proverbially great: it has rich mines of gold, silver, copper, iron, lead, coal, zinc, tin, and also salt and petroleum wells. The ores are of good quality and easily extracted, so that Yünnan has boundless wealth, if she chooses to develop it. But the Yünnanese are thoroughly unprogressive and a lazy, lethargic people, very different from other Chinese. The officials absolutely declined to sell their raw products, and it was precisely the ore which the English firm wished to buy: it was quite useless in its manufactured form. Their envoy hoped to have completed his
business in a few weeks, but months had already elapsed, and although he thought the end was in sight, it was still a matter of uncertainty. Probably a substantial bribe would have accelerated matters; but not only is bribery unworthy of our trade traditions, but in the long run injurious to trade itself. The trade relations of China are by no means easy, and all nations are bidding for special facilities.
What a pity that the world as a whole cannot be converted to the policy of Free Trade! What a clearing of the moral atmosphere it would make; and what temptations would be saved to frail human nature!
Nine days after reaching Yünnanfu we started on our journey eastward. No one who has not experienced it can imagine the thrill of delight with which we set forth in search of adventures! We said good-bye to many helpful friends, got all our papers in order, and a letter of recommendation to the Governor of Kweichow; at an early hour of the day an escort of ten white-uniformed soldiers was waiting outside, ready to accompany us. We had seventeen coolies, and looked quite an imposing procession. First came our two four-bearer chairs, then the interpreter’s three-bearer chair, the cook’s twobearer chair (it is important to preserve the etiquette of position), and finally four coolies carrying the luggage; part of the escort led the way and part brought up the rear.
How amusing it is to see the way in which human nature asserts itself, and how many are the little comic touches of travel, which are too small to enumerate, but which lend such charm to daily life, when you have a congenial fellow traveller at your elbow! Very soon our interpreter found his mountain chair not suitable to his dignity, and told me he had decided to travel in a “paper box”: this is an accurate definition of the chair which is commonly in use, and which is so carefully enclosed that from its depths you can scarcely see anything of the scenery. When the front blind is down there is nothing to be seen, but the passenger in this chaste seclusion can indulge in philosophic meditation—or sleep. Our cook, on the other hand, found his chair an unnecessary luxury, and soon the thrifty fellow asked permission to have the money instead of the coolie hire. I willingly agreed, as he never lagged behind and was always eager to do any
stray job, and to collect wild flowers for us from the fragrant rose bushes and hedgerows.
That first day from Yünnanfu we passed fields full of beans and corn and rape, not to mention opium poppy, which was to be the main crop we saw all along the way in these southern provinces.
Very soon our joy was chastened by a tremendous rainstorm, but we were glad to find that our chairs were perfectly rainproof. The top was covered with American cloth and there were blinds of the same material to let down on all sides. When we reached our inn, Yao had a room ready for us, which he had swept out. Our procedure from that time forward was to send him on ahead after lunch, and he would secure the best possible room—pretty bad at that—sweep it out, together with any movable furniture, and have clean straw mats —or as clean as were obtainable—laid down. When we arrived it took very little time to set up our camp beds, table, chairs and washstand. We had a canteen with us, so that all the food was cooked in our own pans, and Yao proved an excellent cook and foraged well on the road. We only took such necessaries as butter, jam, milk, tea, bread and biscuits with us, but Yao was clever in making bread under great difficulties when we happened to run short of it. All travellers, however, experience the generous hospitality of missionaries, who seem to consider it a commonplace to provide travellers with bread and cakes galore. We rarely failed to come to a mission station once a week, and then our provision baskets were re-stocked. We only carried two baskets of provisions, namely one coolie load, for three months’ journey, and had a good deal left at the end: some of the things were special foods in case of illness, but fortunately they were not required.
From the time we left the capital we gradually rose till we came to the pass leading into Kweichow The very first day we came to an altitude of fifty-nine hundred feet, and this was at the foot of an imposing mountain called Tu-Du-Shan, or Lord of the Earth; all the next day we skirted round its base. This day the road was not considered dangerous, so we only had unarmed police as our escort. They were more decorative than useful, as generally was the case, but the following day we saw a ghastly spectacle, which
suggested a possible need for protection—two human heads in a tree and other remains being devoured by a dog in a neighbouring field. The beauty of the road and all the loveliness of nature seemed blighted, and it was difficult to rid oneself of the painful impression. Yet my father saw the body of a criminal swinging in chains on an Essex common not a hundred years ago, and the musical world listens with enchantment to “Le Gibet” and enjoys Ravel’s realistic presentation of it. Some people love horrors: I confess it is the one thing that took the joy out of our wanderings.
We were asked by one of the missionaries before leaving Yünnan to make a slight detour on our way to visit a sick woman, as he had done what he could to relieve her, but not being a doctor he was uncertain as to treatment, and wished my niece to diagnose the case; if any medicine could be of use, he would see that she got it. Our arrival created much interest in the village, and every one would have liked to be spectators when the medical examination was made. In fact the paper windows disappeared as by magic, so we had to have a shutter put up, and a native lamp threw little light on the patient. The one noticeable fact was that although she was too ill to do any housework the place was scrupulously clean, and the husband had everything ready in the way of water for washing. The contrast between a Christian and a non-Christian house in the matter of cleanliness was really remarkable.
In several of our halting-places there were small Christian communities, though no resident missionary. They always welcomed us with great cordiality and invited us to their meetings. These are held in rooms which are usually paid for by some member of the community, which carries on the work without much help from any mission: just an occasional visit and the knowledge that the missionary will help them in any time of need. In the village of Yi-ling there was an evangelist, who came to call on us with one of his chief helpers, a grocer; this man had been most generous in furnishing the hall, and they begged us to come to meeting that evening. There was quite a large crowd present and the service was a hearty one; the people looked mostly of a low type and very unlike Chinese. They asked me to speak, and listened well. After interpreting for me,
Mr Li, our interpreter, gave an impassioned address, which revealed to me the fact that he was more keen than I had realized. His first inquiry in every place was to know if there was a Christian community.
We were more and more enchanted with the fine scenery as we rose to greater heights. White and yellow jasmine, white and yellow Banksia roses, both single and double, filled the air with their fragrance, and vivid bushes of azalea made glorious patches of colour on the steep hill-sides. At night we were about sixty-four hundred feet up, and in the daytime we climbed to considerably higher altitudes. The dangers of the road were supposed to be increasing as we neared the picturesque town of Malong, so our military escort rose to ten, further supported by two policemen not in uniform. Other travellers eagerly took advantage of their protection and we looked quite an imposing procession. The way led up very steep mountains and dived sharply down into deep valleys. Trees full of white or pale mauve blossom were numerous, and scarlet azalea made a fine contrast. The people in the villages looked hideously poor and degraded, some of them obviously imbeciles and many with large goitres: in some villages there were fifty per cent. suffering from goitre; the beggars were simply terrifying. Again we had a severe thunderstorm, which came on quite suddenly when we were lunching by the wayside, and we made ourselves as small as possible in crevices of the rock. Our poor coolies got very wet and took us at a great pace, as soon as the rain stopped, to our next halting-place—Malong. The temperature was 61°.
The night was stormy, and in the morning clouds betokened the thunderstorm which soon broke, driving us to take scanty refuge in the crevices of the hill-side. We were glad to reach a mission station early in the afternoon at Küticul, where we stayed the night. We heard much about the poverty of the district and the increasing cultivation of opium poppy. It is tragic to see this when a few years ago the land was filled with crops needed for the daily food of the people. In some parts half the crops are opium, and it demands a great deal of labour! The land has to be twice ploughed, the second time crosswise, well manured, and the seed (mixed with four times
its quantity of sand) is sown three times between October and March. After the sowing the land has to be harrowed, then the young plants are hoed and weeded, generally by the women and children. I have seen the women sitting on stools to do it on account of their poor little bound feet. This weeding goes on from early spring till the poppy flowers—generally in May. The petals fall quickly and the capsule swells till it is about one and a half inches in diameter; this takes about nine to fifteen days. A special instrument has to be used to make an incision three-quarters of the way round the capsule, and this must be done with care as it must not penetrate more than a certain depth, or the juice will flow inward instead of outward. The incision is generally made after the middle of the day, on account of the heat, and the juice must be collected next morning, being scraped off with a knife and put in a poppy leaf. It is said that the knife has to be moistened with saliva after every alternate poppy, to prevent the juice from sticking to it! As soon as the poppy leaf is filled with juice, another leaf is put over it and it is laid aside in the shade to dry. This takes several days; the opium in each varies from two ounces to two pounds, according to the district where it is grown. Sometimes the juice is collected twice, or even three times, though no second incision of the capsule is required. It makes one tired to think of the labour required, especially at the time of collecting the juice, which is necessarily limited, despite the three sowings.[19]
Opium is said to have been introduced into China in the seventeenth century, and the first Imperial edict forbidding the use of it was in 1729. The Portuguese were mainly employed in the trade in those early days. Fresh edicts against it failed to prevent its being smuggled in, as at the present day, though they became increasingly severe, till the death penalty was inflicted. The last edict under the Imperial rule was in 1906, but the dowager empress herself enjoyed her opium pipe, so she ordained that people over sixty were not to come under the scope of the act!
The Gate of the Elements. Page 84
The great Chang Chih-Tung is very emphatic in his denunciation of the drug. “A hundred years ago the curse came upon us, more blasting and deadly in its effects than the Great Flood or the scourge
