From “Bitten Peach”

As woozy as Jang was from the potion he had been given, one that made him feel loose through his body, Jang fought hard to maintain his role. The acrobat was starting his melodious recitation of the story of the scroll that now was unrolling from one side and being rolled back up from the other side immediately in front of Jang’s eyes, and he immediately went into shock. The acrobat had an arm around Jang’s waist on the side from which the chronology of the scroll was appearing. This was all according to the play. Jang was playing the female role. He was supposed to be emotional and to begin to tremble and give little gasps.

That Jang didn’t really have to act this out but had had it drilled into him so deeply that he was naturally living the role he was trained to didn’t prevent him being shocked by what he was being forced to see.

It wasn’t just the story of one family’s tragedies. It wasn’t a Chinese scroll at all. It was a scroll of a Japanese art Jang had only heard about in passing, behind twittering fingers, spoken in the dark of night and only between young friends who were taking risks and practicing coming of age far earlier than custom dictated. These were Shunga images, the pillow images of the Japanese underworld. And not just any Shunga images. These were images of men in exotic sex positions with each other.

Jang felt like he might swoon. Which was very interesting, because this was exactly where he was supposed to half swoon in the play script. He was also supposed to let out a little moan, which he did on cue.

And then on cue, the younger, dark actor set the scroll down on the table and lifted Jang onto his lap. He enfolded Jang inside his arms, picked up the scroll, and began to roll through the increasingly suggestive images again. The images of the sexual positions were becoming more and more explicit. Less and less clothing was in view. The sexual act was progressing further, the takers in the images becoming bolder, more insistent.

Jang groaned and looked away from the scroll, just as he was trained to do at this point. And the acrobat encasing him lifted a hand, took hold of Jang’s chin, and forced his eyes back on the scroll. The scroll had reached a point where a smaller man, completely naked, was being held to the front of a larger, heavily muscled, fully tattooed man’s middle, as the larger man paraded around in a circle. Jang could see what was transpiring, as a half-buried phallus of the larger man could be seen up the hole of the younger one.

Jang gasped, just as he was supposed to at this point. His gasp was involuntary, though, because he suddenly could feel the strength of the other actor’s manhood beneath him through the one layer of brocade he wore. This wasn’t in the script, but the partial faint that followed it was. And, as in the script, Jang came around shortly with the strong scent of a reviving potion under his nose, being held by the acrobat. The actor’s other hand, however, had entered the folds of Jang’s kimono and found and encircled his member.