Sunday, July 19, 2009


It was a dark and stormy night… No, seriously! Nowhere else does ‘dark and stormy’ as wonderfully as Hong Kong. I wrote this a while ago in the context of a Typhoon 3 warning, lots of rain and great winds culminating in a dramatic Typhoon 8 in the end.

Hong Kong has the best storms. I love the sheer theatre of them. The sky gets dark in seconds as if someone flipped heaven’s lightswitch. Then, the windy howl rising up against the windows – a ghostly audience waiting impatiently for the show to begin.

And what a show it is!

Not the stingy, chronic, low-budget productions characteristic of temperate climes. It’s practically a character-driven circus. First, the thunderous fanfare. Then craaaaak, the lightning crack of the ringmaster’s whip. And finally, the main event – the rain that spews, pisses, and spurts, blanketing a thirsty city with wet.

The bauhinia trees stuck in cement, the muggy slopes of the mid-levels, the faded building facades with their years of perpetual grime, I feel them rejoicing in the torrent. They wash. They drink. And when they are satiated, they create puddles and rivulets of their own.

Not everyone loves the rain though. All around us, Hong Kongers with their fancy leather shoes and diamante-studded umbrellas, are scurrying and hurrying. They crouch under little shop verandahs, expressing their fury with the elements with frantic text messages. "T1, T3, T8, Amber, Red, Black" – the lingo of the storm that I have to come to know well.

No taxis! No shopping! No high-tea appointment! Aiya!


We’re lucky. One of us (or rather, him) has had the foresight to bring an umbrella to dinner, but it never really stood a chance against the T3. We start off optimistic. Then suddenly, needles of rain bear down at us from an angle and we’re drenched. The umbrella turns itself inside-out, spokes all awry, and flies merrily down the street.

So we decide the best option is to kick up our heels (or in my case, kick off my heels) and make a wild, unco-ordinated dash for it. Numerous happy-splashes and a quick fumble for the keys later, we’re home.

We peel our clothes off, eagerly discarding them in a wilted heap. I fling open the windows and look out onto a landscape that glistens and gleams in the night-light. It’s beautiful. A wonderful peaty, mossy smell fills the apartment.

Then, we fuck steadily to the rhythm of the rain, my moans lost to the whistling wind.


“I love fucking you when it’s raining,” I say, somewhere between my sixth and seventh orgasm. “It feels sexy…and somehow, so right.”

“You know what I’d really love to do…is fuck you in the rain.” He thrusts himself deep into my core as he speaks, for effect.

I look out the window, observing the tempest. Things are hurtling down the street. I see a bin cover, the odd branch and plastic bag. It is bucketing down so hard if I close my eyes it sounds like I could be next to a waterfall. It is beginning to flood.

Then a sudden gust blows in, and the blinds fly up. I sneeze – it must be a sign.

“I think you’ve picked the wrong girl to say that too. Come on get your boxers on…” There is an unmistakable glint in my eye, a look he knows too well.

“Oh no. N-O. What, like right now?”


We’re outside by the stairs of the house – him in his boxers and t-shirt, me in my cocktail dress… or what is left of my cocktail dress. I’m not sure why, but one of us (or rather, him) even brings along an umbrella.

We are two drowned rats going at it. I can barely open my eyelids wide enough to see clearly, the relentless downpour running off us in sheets. I begin to bend over, but he grabs a gob of my wet hair and forces my face to the sky. I clamp down on the instinct to sputter, as he enters me fiercely.

I come – an outpouring of my liquid, steaming and pissing down his thigh – three times in quick succession. Although I think he only notices on the third time. After which... he marches me, umbrella et al, back home for a hot shower and a dry cuddle.

"Remind me to keep my big mouth shut next time," he murmers heavily, into my neck, as the storm begins to pass.