Perhaps he’s thinking of her pavilions while she thinks about his Pearl Tower?
That’s Shanghai and H.A.L. Publishing teamed up last month to hold Shanghai’s first ever erotic fiction contest! (Devastated you missed your chance to enter? There’s always next year!) The finalists have been chosen, and they will be gathering at Glamour Bar this Thursday at 8pm to read their works and let you all judge which you think is the steamiest (see our calendar for details.)
Three winners will be announced at the end (one “audience choice” winner and two from the judges panel.) They’ll also be giving away some sex toys from Lelo and 500RMB vouchers to Glamour bar, in case you need more incentive. With all the people involved, this one sounds like it could actually get pretty crowded so you might want to get there early if you want a seat!
To get your wheels greased and ready, here’s a selection from one of the finalists, A Scottish Lord in Shanghai:
With a heavy sigh, Butterfly half-heartedly waved her wand at the evening commuters that hurried past her at the security checkpoint in Jing’an station. In the time that she had worked for the Shanghai Metro, the wand had never beeped, not even once, and by now she was starting to believe that the device was no more than a prop to make her look more official. How did she get here? She had once held such great promise. But after she had come home there had been nothing but dead end jobs, heartbreak and tragedy. Now she was unmarried, 28 years old, living with her father and spending her day holding a metal detector that didn’t work. She gazed at all the successful young people who walked through the station and her heart ached to think that she could have been one of them. She dreamed of a life where she was as free and as beautiful as her name had promised she would become. “When will I know such happiness?” she silently cried. “When will I know love?”
And then she saw him. It would have been impossible not to see him. He was at least six feet tall, with a long red beard and dressed entirely in traditional Scottish attire. His curly red locks swayed to the rhythm of an unheard music and a sea of people parted in awe of his majestic stride. From deep within the tunnels, a mysterious wind blew through the station and lifted the Scot’s kilt, exposing a masculine pair of hairy white legs while a generously endowed sporran weighed down the front of his garments, shielding her modesty from the bulk of his manhood. He stooped to adjust his spats and the fabric of his doublet seemed to strain over the bulge of his muscular arms and his impressive gut.
“Here is a man,” thought Butterfly, “a real man.”
The Scot strolled through the station with the air of someone used to having his way, showing no surprise at the admiration that his physical qualities immediately inspired in everyone who saw him, particularly the women, and he paid absolutely no heed to the clan of yes-men timidly tailing behind him. He would have passed straight through security like any other commuter, only this time Butterfly stood in his way.
“Excuse me sir, this will only take a moment.”
“And jest wot do ye intend to do with that stick thar, lassie?”
“I need to test you for metal.”
“Test me metal will ye? Very well, do as ye see fit. I think ye’ll find me more than adequate.”
Softly and slowly she caressed his body with her wand, inhaling his strong cologne and imagining a far away world of green hills and barley. The wand stopped in front of his groin and began to beep for the first time since she had held it. The beeping was sweet and quiet, not like she had imagined it, and as she looked into his eyes it became the music of her yearning . . . [read full entry here]