Oriental Fantasy

Dear Jane: Since I've mentioned that oriental lady a time or two before, you might be interested to hear some recent thoughts. I've seen pictures of Fong Du in her late twenties or early thirties, more or less before she got fat; she was only moderately cute back then. But now, swathed in a couple of decades' worth of additional layers of fat, I find her very “cute”, if only because I came to know and like her.

Though much more intelligent and good-natured and human, I might draw a quick sketch of her for you by mentioning Mrs. Rytell, the fat little civics teacher we had in high school. You remember her, I guess. Anyway Fong has that same look of having had an air-hose stuffed up her ass until it filled her up. That same sort of slightly hurried, half-staggering half-floating teeter when she walks on high heels (as if an air-hose had filled a few of her fat little compartments with helium instead of air). Although Fong is not florid, stupid, or disagreeably repulsive like Mrs. Rytell was, some of the physical similarities are there, even the unattractiveness. It’s very odd to be reminded by someone so pleasant of that old unpleasant and distinctly unkissable Heep of infamy who made my skin crawl back in high school! You can imagine that it is even more odd to be attracted by her!

Yet because Fong Du is sweet, intelligent, and sometimes—by the greatest accident, it always seems—touches my hand or wrist while we shuffle papers back and forth between us, I sometimes want to take her hand and hold it and pet it and politely kiss her sweet pudgy oriental mouth...

Oh, my. I can’t help it. I’m so nasty that even now I ‘d like to stick my tongue down her gullet while I smooch her well-fed pretty mouth! But I won't do it. Another stupid fantasy, I guess.

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