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Chapter 11 Part 2 Filling Escorts and Root Worship
The other girls lined up in the lobby, covering their mouths in laughter at Feiyi's behavior.
Not wanting to be laughed at, Feiyi quickly whispered, "Any time before 8 a.m.," before scurrying off, her friends ribbing her.
Eight o'clock they'd leave. A quickie before then?
Still, I had two girls missing. I couldn't double up men in rooms; had to find replacements.
I strolled back to the bistro, scanning for candidates.
The bistro was classy and quietly lit, favored by couples; some women, even wives or new brides, dined completely naked.
Here, lovers' games had extra meaning. Once in a relationship, girls would sometimes go on dates nude, letting boyfriends lead them anywhere, no scarf, no cover shopping, eating, sightseeing.
It showed she belonged to him; she, too, was allowing her partner to control and share her body even allow him to pick men for her to fuck if he wished, and she couldn't refuse.
Thanks to this "mastery," the games were endless: some men had their nude girlfriends accept money from strangers for sex (cheap), just for the thrill, until she was too limp to move.
Some called their girlfriends at work or class to strip instantly and stay naked all day.
This control could last after marriage and kids; any time the husband wanted, he might take his naked wife out as a celebration.
Still, wives had sexual freedom too, except if there was direct conflict with her husband's plans then she could take lovers at work, in studies, or even be taken by other men, just like Yingzhi sometimes was.
Only the true "personal assistants" like Yunyun had no such freedom only their owner decided who got access.
In the bistro, several bare women sat with their men, chosen deliberately to show them off. If I made a pitch and dangled some perks, it'd be easy to find two to fill in.
"Honey, I'll go up now."
A newlywed, done flirting in her husband's lap, fixed her hair, swayed out. Another, a plump thirty-something, looked less pleased but, seeing her ecstatic husband, agreed and went.
The lobby stilled as most students took the lift upstairs; at the wedding, food was served and, as the saying goes, full bellies mean more lust.
Time to move on.
Halfway up Shen Root Mountain stood a compound a "root sanctuary" for phallus worship, a practice unique to this society.
Residents are called Shen Root attendants, their leader, Master Attendant.
Master Attendants are like high priests, leading rites and counseling the locals.
But in this whole world, only phallus worship exists no other faiths remain.
Even ordinary homes have a "divine root" on the altar, alongside ancestors' tablets; it's not just symbolic, new brides are expected to take the root inside them during ancestral rites, as if the founders themselves took her.
I hadn't been here long, so it was weird for me, but my colleagues treated Root Master at Shen Root Mountain with extreme reverence; he was one of "the greatest roots" top masters of their art.
To put it plainly, "supreme root" probably just meant best at sex. The question circled in my mind but, with everyone's pious faces, I never dared ask aloud.
Why this aside?
Because, right now, Miss Lin Jiabi herself was at the sanctuary.
"Chen Yayi, ha, for now just stay at the hotel, I'll call you if I need you. Whoever you want to fuck, go ahead I don't care."
Lively and cheerful, that was her nature; the day she named me as private assistant was probably just on a whim. Now, almost a week after the group disbanded, she stayed up the mountain, calling for me only tonight.
What for? Bored after "root training," wanting to try mine for a change?
By the time I reached the sanctuary, night had fallen; starless, moonless, pitch black. Following her instructions, I made my way to the side door, only to hear guzheng music from inside.
This time the tune was light and lively a bubbling brook reflecting the clear soul of the player.
"Is she playing naked again?" No longer any "forbidden fruit" awe sure, she's beautiful and privileged, but if even thugs and losers could have her, why not me?
Women are just playthings, regardless of birth that's the law here.
Just then, the wooden door creaked open; under the dim light stood a figure in a brown cloak, hooded so I couldn't tell gender, but I knew this was the robe of a low-ranking Root attendant.
Experience told me to be polite with clergy, so I bowed: "Good evening, attendant."
She bowed back, then raised both hands the left shaping a tube, the right forming a ring and sliding back and forth along it a very obvious jerking-off gesture, but I knew enough to recognize it as the attendant's formal greeting.
"Good evening, guest. Here to visit Master Lin Jiabi, aren't you?" A woman's voice.
"Yes, I'm here for the Miss."
She ushered me in. "Miss Lin said you'd come. She's in the courtyard please follow me, I'm called Genting."
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