Well saw a previous topic as an opportunity to write about an idea I’ve had. Probably going to be homeless tomorrow afternoon and no idea if I’ll be around by this time tomorrow. I just don’t think can stand back up anymore. One of my best memories is when I was at my first job out of college at an investment firm in Manhattan. On my first day, I saw I would sitting in a cubicle maybe like 20ft from, “Chloe”, the 16 years old high school work study intern. Chinese. 5’4”. Mid back length jet black, perfectly straight hair. Pale, pale skin, borderline creamy white. Everything about her face was cute, having that Asian quality of looking younger than their actual age. But she was just a little bit heavy, giving her curvy hips, big plump ass, and most oddly, giant breast. She dressed head to toe in black with a fitted long sleeve v neck shirt that was kind of like a thick t shirt showing about an inch of cleavage, pants, that looked like dressier fitted dickies, and patent leather catholic school girl block heels. She wore a red cross around her neck and no earrings. And best of all, she smelled like her entire body had been covered in Victoria’s Secret pear lotion. Hell, a preacher would’ve turned his head and I’m sure some actually did. She was very shy and barely made eye contact, but after a few months, there were hi’s and hello’s, eventually leading to chit chat at the copy machine. One day pool came up and as it turns we were both avid players, so we agreed to go down to a pool hall after work that Friday. She knew a good one. You know the movie moments when the outsider walks into a bar, you hear the record scratch, and EVERYONE goes quiet and stares at the stranger? That’s the moment I experienced when I walked into an all Chinese pool hall, deep in the neighborhood so it was impossible to walk in by accident, with a young, very attractive, very cute, big breasted schoolgirl, while wearing a three piece pin stripe suit. And being white. Everyone had on the same red cross necklace. I stayed by the door, wondering if I was going to get to keep my kidneys, while she went and got us a table. She cum back with a rack of balls and went to a table by the window. Yes, I said “the” window, as this is New York City, so windows are a bit of a wonder. And then “poof” all the tension left the room, and everyone went back to doing their own thing and minding their own business, most likely betting on games with other very skilled level players. It became obvious very quickly that Chloe took pool very seriously. Put balls in pussy, wait, I’m getting ahead of myself… Put balls in the triangle fast. Only had to do the triangle flip thingy once. She said “Go” and I believe I correctly interpreted the moment to be not up for discussion. Of course, my mission my to… wait for it.. hit that thing as hard as I can, which by breaking (it) so hard, I just advertised to the whole room that I was a beginner. There was laughter and great rejoicing. Now, out to prove myself to a group of strangers (???) I made in my supreme life goal to beat this girl in pool. Over and over again. But that was a pipe dream because she was really good. In the American Pool Association lingo, she’d be a steady 5. She basically beat me every time and I think the times I won were her letting we win to prevent my ego from being crushed by a sweet 16 year old Asian girl. As a reward for not showing frustration because I couldn’t beat her, when she had to lean over the opposite side of the table to make a shot, she even would hold it for three seconds, which, if you’re imagining this in your head like you should be, you already know that what I was being treated (remember that word) to was a perfect view of her D cup 16 year old breasts, swinging forward only being held back by a thin black v neck, with the Red Cross swinging back and forth between the “oh you know baby oil would be good right now” cleavage. That was her way of saying “good boy”. After she had beat (my meat) thoroughly we left and she asked me outside, before the awkward “well this was fun” moanment, “We want to eat something?” I said “Yes” in a perfectly normal “uh.. let’s get the fuck out of the Chinese mafia front” reply. (On the advice of counsel, for the record, I do not remember the address.) She took us to a restaurant that only real (not fake?) Chinese would know about and they go when they want “food” or chow (chow hall duh). I don’t think the did this on purrpose, she was just being genuinely nice, but the noodles with chopsticks seemed like a test or a way for her to playfully embarrass me. And it seemed that way because that’s how it worked out. The plus was all the slurping sounds she was making, buuuut we’ll get that later, and then later, and then again.., you get the idea, you know, the time change she secretly craves just once, but few humans can do it? https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nqAvFx3NxUM&pp=ygUcbGlvbmVsIHJpY2hpZSBhbGwgbmlnaHQgbG9uZw== Once I got it in her mouth, I mean my mouth, the food was devilicious. Soo good. Sooo worth it. But it was time for her to go wherever and that was that. Not even a good bye. Just the view. Oh, she never looked back. At work on Monday I was nervous to see her and sorta, well not sorta, hid for the morning, but when it was high noon somewhere, she came into my cubicle and announced “I had fun playing with you . We should do it again (raised to infinity)” I tried be cool and uncooly said. “Sounds like a plan “ You see, I’m a pro when it comes to what happens after the first kiss but up to that point, I’m this guyJude Law | Actor, Producer, Director Wait, that’s not the right one. Anyway, we played every other Friday for few hours. Same sketchy pool hall (nope, don’t remember) but different restaurants every time. Thing is, I don’t remember ever paying for anything. Not the table rental. Not the drinks. Not the food (we always got served first). Not the taxis. And everywhere we went, people seemed to recognize her, calling her Shīluò de húdié. When I asked her to tell me what it meant, she hesitated but said “It mean lost butterfly.” I stopped walking. Things were now apparently serious. “Chloe, why does every Chinese person call you Lost Butterfly?” “Because that is what I am.” “Why?” “I can’t tell you.” “Why” “Because it will ruin things.” “Is… it…bad?” (IYKYK) “No. Not yet. I promise I will tell you, but only on your 86th birthday at 3003:30:03. If you can wait that long we can do this again. If not, here’s my picture so you have something to remember me by. The 30+ Best Asian Actresses Under 25 In 2024, Ranked (Guess which one she looks like? That’s a fun google image search, by the way.) Tell Dr Jones I choose wisely. You know, this guy https://m.imdb.com/name/nm0000148/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_5_nm_3_q_harrison%20ford So, we continued our pattern. Then, about a year in, after slurpy noodles, which I was getting better at and hoping she wouldn’t, she said “Cum in me.” No, that’s not right. I’m remembering it wrong (FutureMe0+1: no you’re not). She said (once) “Come with me.” “Where are me going?” “You have to meet my parents” (it was so direct I even left of the period to that sentence.) “What, NOW???!!” “”Yes, NOW. Right now.” “Why right now?” “Because.” “Because why” “Because because” Oh, here’s my picture in case I cum up missing. Nicholas Hoult | Actor, Producer, Executive Imagine a Chinese Christopher Walken. James Hong | Actor, Producer, WriterNo seriously, imagine that. Shit’s hilarious. Chinese helicopter mom. https://m.imdb.com/name/nm0955471/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_1_tt_0_nm_8_q_zhang%20 (Hey, a man can dream.” It was like an interview for an investment banking job, stupid and pointless. Naaaw… It was like being interviewed by two good parents whose daughter was suddenly involved with an older outsider. Seems legit. I tell you what Bobby, they liked the suit, the fact that they KNEW what my job was because we worked together and KNEW also thus where to find me, but also liked the shiny ring. That’s big in their part of the world, even more than here. I usually don’t wear it, but eyed it as I was walking out the door this morning, thinking perhaps the ghost of forever ever could bring me some good luck at beating her, better so than spinning things. We had tea and I never turned a refill which I hear is an amateur mistake. But it got me a little chatty. There English wasn’t perfect but good enough to understand their point. They kept saying “shen long” but I didn’t understand how they could possibly know that or why they were so excited about it for their lost butterfly. So our way of life remained the same for a while, as things often do. That is up until her PraiseJebus 18th birthday and for the first time in my life, had a girl,cum on me, I mean, come on to me (wait that still kinda works). Meanwhile, the Army had contacted me about coming back in to be a drone pilot. I guess I did well on a video game or something.Here’s a recruitment video. The “Die, Motherfucker! Die!” Is the best part. Hilarious. I also had my LinkedIn profile pinged by https://www.linkedin.com/in/ronald-...re_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=ios_app and someone at USSOCOM | LinkedIn Ok, back to the girl, or back in the girl depending on what part of the story we are at. We’re at a bar I frequent. My “Cheers”. Far enough outside the midtown office zone into Hell’s Kitchen to keep most of the suit types out. I knew everyone and everyone knew me, but that’s normal, depending on what part of the story we’re in. I took her there because I knew everyone would be nice to her and, remember she’s shy (at first). There’s a quarter pool table so we started there. Let me be clear. I had no schemes or desires. Not a one. Swear to all that is HOly. It was her that started it. We were chatting at the bar, about one feet apart. Then mid sentence, she takes a step and pushes her large teen breasts into me. Luckily, I wasn’t the one talking because my mind went blank and I swear I briefly unplugged. She just stood there like it was the most normal thing in the world. I walked away for some reason (for the love of the true God why???). I leaned against the mirrored wall on the side of the bar (and by “other side” I mean 30’. This is New York City after all.) She followed me over, stood in front of me just staring, then suddenly spun 180 and fell on my chest. My arms on reflex wrapped around her waste and I started to kiss her neck. She pushed her butt against my bulge. I whispered in her ear “Turn around so I can kiss you.” She did. I took her lips in mine and just seeped in her presence. It felt like I had kissed her a billion times but not for a billion years. I said “Would you like to come and have sex with me?” “Yes. We must.” “What do you mean must?” “We must to finish the process.” “Process? What process?” “I’m ready to tell you why they call me Lost Butterfly.” “ What process? Wait… You said you couldn’t tell me until 86 or 74?” “The situations changed. Things have become urgent. Your code arrived early and began the mission before we could fully be ready. The Twitter profile @LordDaveVeda. Is no longer posting so it may have compromised or your AI bot went rogue.” “You are making no sense at all. What THE FUCK are you talking about.” People were now staring even people with red crosses. “Butterfly refers to the butterfly effect which is the simple idea that a small change in one part of the early universe will create a change in a later part. We did enough of those to create the person we needed.” “We?” “You don’t have the right programming to understand that yet. Just be quiet, you will in a minute.” “I’m not understanding any of this.” “You will. Now listen. A butterfly is infiltrated to changes thing…” “Infiltrated?” “Yes, infiltrated. Shh. Another butterfly changes another thing. A whole legion of butterflies was sent to change a lot of small to guide ramdomness to create you. I’m the last butterfly but the first person to come across it read it as lost and it just stuck, but it fits my mission.” “Your mission? What the fuck are you even taking about. You better stop start making sense.” “My mission is simple. I’m hear to wake your up.” “Wake me up?” “Yes, so can know your self.” “My true self? Whose’s that?” You’d think this would be the perfect moment for a smirk or wink or a dramatic pause. But she just said it and led me to the hotel across the street. “What’s that? I didn’t hear what you said? What’s my true self? Who am I that I am?” “The other one”
