We were scandalized by stories of love hotels and elevator trysts, tittilated by tales of naked Nubian giants on the Bund and set all aflutter by anecdotes about orgy-tastic dinner parties… it was an amazing showing for H.A.L. Literature and That’s Shanghai’s first Erotic Fiction contest at Glamour Bar. But in the end, only three could win. Congratulations to…
Dena Guzman, who won the Best Performance Award for her raunchy record: Ballad of a Chinese Paper Fan. A short passage below:
In the taxi he speaks to you sweet and roughly, as only a man can. Low and dirty. The taxi driver might speak English, might understand what is being said to you. He might have good hearing and register the language, over the rolling of tires on pavement, past the oncoming traffic, past the noisy bars and lanes and pedestrians parting for you like the red sea, like your legs for his fingers earlier in the train. The fingers touched only once the spot which aches now like an injury for him. He does not touch you often in the taxi but when he does you are sure you will die. The ride is blessedly short. You remain nervous, gawky, coltish. You arrive at the hotel.
Is it hot in here or is it just me? More after the jump!
Sam Chidley, who won the Literary Merit Award for his fantastic fairy tale:A Scottish Lord in Shanghai
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.”
Sam Gaskin, who won the Audience Award for his captivating chronicle: No Sexpectations
She’d only been gone a couple of minutes when I heard a tap at the frosted glass window. I opened it a few inches, outwards, and saw a vertical band of Li Fei from the waist up. A thin strip of dress led me to a delicate throat, chin, nude mouth, nose, and one bright, conspiratorial eye.
“Does it open any further?” she asked.
“There’s a security latch. I think that’s as far as it goes.”
“Turn off the light so they can’t see me,” she said, scanning the yard behind her. I did.
Good job everybody!