<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/fe/Linsung.jpg)</div><strong>Name :</strong>Scholar Qiguan Lin Sung<br/><strong>Element :</strong>Metal<br/><strong>Location &amp; Time :</strong>Tea house, evening<br/><strong>Tagging :</strong>Shin Min-hee, open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Lin Sung's eyes were retreating backward, slipping onto a couch, a voyeur. Her lips forgot to close as she observed Min-hee being laid bare on the table, sitting above her on a pedestal, a spectacle. Tea House lights foggy through the paper wall cast Min-hee in silhouette for her, a tantalizing suggestion of nudity and every small motion a form of minimalist art. This was what her glasses reflected, black lines on white light like hanzi on parchment. The anticipation made her far more tense than the woman being massaged.<br/><br/>A soft roll was placed for Min-hee's comfort, so she might watch the scholar as she submitted to touch. Oiled hands found the narrowest curve of the small of her back, and decided to work... upward. The masseuse's grazing, slippery fingers boxed in the tension and a press of her thumbs grazed off the heat. At first, the touch was explicit, but the first pass of the oil robbed the fine hairs of the body of sensation. Her fingers became gentle pressure incarnate, adoring the hills and valleys of Min-hee's narrow back more patiently than a lover expecting pleasure in return.<br/>"Do you work in the field?" Lin Sung asked, out of academic curiosity. "You have a... thrillingly ignoble tan."<br/><br/>The masseuse with oil on her hands took this as a cue to work down Min-hee's body and leave the glistening expanse of her back for Ling Sung to admire. Massage did not stop at the hidden recess of Min-hee's seat, though the touch became faint as a whisper as the skin became more intimate. A small kiss with the fingers to remind one of Pai Sun's unfulfilled that she was sexual and beautiful.<br/><br/>The second masseuse, her hands dry of oil, wielded the dragon cups.<br/><br/>A little glass bowl resided in the palm of her hand, too round to sit upright. She held a stick of incense within the glass until the embers glowed and the cup filled with fragrant smoke. The flame came away, and the warm ring of glass sucked to the skin of Min-hee's back. Like a dragon's suckle it raised a little hump of skin and teased it with roiling smoke. The masseuse moved it, sliding, sucking, almost to the very nape of her neck like a bite from a lover. Lin Sung rose to stand at the tableside, her imagination sparked. "This must be the famous dragon cup technique." Her fingers rang the glass bell, given away by how they sought to elicit a reaction rather than relaxation. "It lifts impurities right out of the skin. What if... one were to have... ink stain, in a very supple place?"