Meijin was a woman in her thirties who was acting as an aide to the Chinese cultural attaché. One hand reached behind her and stroked my cock while the other wandered over her body, lingering to caress her breasts and then heading down to part the lips of her pussy. I responded to her claws as she established rhythm and order out of the chaos of my lust. It was use and abuse, not passion and love in those almond eyes. She had a small apartment in the back of the Chinese Embassy. I remember now that there was a distinct smell to the room, a sort of sweet but sickly smell but at the time I thought that it was incense or some such. At just seven in the evening it was already dusk and the work of the city was done, now was the time when the good citizens of London come out to play.
