“You’re still a virgin, aren’t you? No problem. I don’t have to if you’re not ready. I have a lot of patience. Didn’t you once invite me over for dinner and wasn’t I well-behaved? But I do hope you can begin to love me a little and let me touch you, embrace you. I really can control myself and don’t need to make love. We can practice. I can get you started. You are, after all, already 25. You must be curious and eager.”

“I can only make love with a man who loves me. You don’t love me. Before you got back from America you asked me what kind of gift you could bring me. I told you that my iPhone screen was too small to watch TV shows and I wanted an iPad. You said no. So I think you only want sex.”

“You mean I really have to give you an iPad? You said you were only joking, but as I suspected, you’re dead serious. You would trade your virginity for an iPad?”

“Why must you call it ‘trade’? Why would you say something like that? What I want is very simple. It’s a question of true love versus no love.”

“iPad = love?”

“= You care about me and take me seriously. If you don’t understand, I can’t explain. I’m going to bed. Good night.”

To tell the truth, sex was indeed the only reason I was after Feifei. I worried about that. I worried about having as much in common with her as I would with a computer gamer or a sports or car jock. She had invited me to one of those auto shows in Beijing in fact, and I had to refuse. It’s not that some amusement couldn’t have been gotten out of spending an afternoon goggling at million-dollar cars. It was that I would have been all too aware of the slimy bond forming with a woman whose idea of a man consisted in someone who could afford such a car, and having to be grateful for the incremental degrees of affection she would be parceling out once I began to demonstrate I had such potential. Quantitative love. Above all I worried that once she opened up her body to me, we would have nothing whatsoever to talk about. I could see myself struggling the next morning amidst her studio portraits on the walls, the stuffed animals and her cats to find a conversation piece. The problem, however, was she had the body. I was powerfully drawn to her. I would always be drawn to her.

They tend to fall into two camps. There are the ordinary women like Feifei I speak Chinese with, and there are the more sophisticated types I speak English with because they are English majors and they refuse to speak Chinese with me anyway. Zi was a good example of the latter, a first-year grad student I taught some years back. Brash, beautiful and big-breasted, she sat erect in front-row center, impervious to her classmates, unveiling yet more cleavage in each class as the Spring semester unfolded. Contradicting her body language was an oddly steely gaze, ominous almost, as if capable of inflicting frightful tribulations on any male teacher who didn’t keep himself at a safe remove. Yet she started hanging out after class. The text messages proliferated; she invited me out. I would have preferred waiting till the end of the semester. But as she clearly seemed savvy to the situation I found no good reason to hold off, and we went to a jazz concert.

Back at my place, she lay down on my couch. I ran my hand over her body.

“So, is this your fantasy come true?” she said as she took off her top and bra. “I’ve been horny as hell since I was sixteen. I have a filthy mind. Though I watched so much porn in high school I got bored with it a long time ago.”

“You watch porn?”

“Yeah. So does Xiaomiao. She’s into Japanese gay boy porn. I’m into lesbian porn. I think I may be bisexual.”

I was shocked to hear about her classmate, whom Zi had previously described as staunchly traditional. “Why haven’t you been able to find a boyfriend?”

“I’m not attracted to guys my age. I need someone older and more experienced. But I have to warn you I’m a virgin. I’m not ready for anything more than this tonight. I also have to apologize that I can’t blow you till I get to know you better. I would give you a handjob but I don’t know how.”

We made some progress over the next few weeks, but I soon sensed she was conflicted about her desires and holding back. Since my Japanese girlfriend, Kikuko, was also bicurious, I brought Zi over to her place one night. They seemed to hit it off and I got to watch them 69 each other. It was sublime. I mean, they were genuinely into it, with all the munching and slurping and grunting sounds they made. Yep, I would definitely have given an iPad to each of them after witnessing that. But Kikuko, who was 40, said she found Zi a bit too young for her tastes, or more likely a confusing monkey wrench thrown into our own relationship, and she wasn’t invited back.

Zi continued to torment me over the summer before unceremoniously dumping me for a new guy she met. We eventually resumed company as friends, meeting occasionally for coffee so she could regale me with her latest boyfriend mishaps. She did get a kick out of sexting me revealing pics of herself whenever she was in the mood. Or ignored me when she wasn’t. Just the other day I suggested that I was up for a new one. I was duly ignored. But the next day I got a message from her. “Did u enjoy the picture?”

“No, you sent one? I think there must be Gov’t censorship of MMS now during the 18th Freakout Fest. Can you send again to my email?”

“No, if u didnt get it then u missed ur chance.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. It wasn’t my fault I didn’t receive it. You still have it. Show it to me. Don’t you want to show it to me? What’s the point of sending me a pic if I can’t see it? And why have you been so unfriendly lately?”

“Maybe later. if i dont do everything like you asked, im unfriendly?”

“Correct. You’re spoiled and you know it. An easy life. You need more practice at being humble and nice to people. Learning how to be a lady.”

“Never realized u r such a chauvinist pig.”

So much for that approach. I wondered if the iPad approach might work with Zi. In fact I was really curious to see what would happen if I asked her straight out whether she’d finally, finally sleep with me for an iPad. Wait – she already had one. She had invited me not long ago to an exhibition of the Japanese photographer Nobuyoshi Araki, and pulled it out over coffee afterwards. She was quite proud of it. She bought it herself. Well, I assume she did, for only she could have chosen the cream magnetic cover, the way her fingers stroked it. I hope she did.

I got back to Feifei the next morning. “Why not offer me your body in the spirit of generosity?”

No response.

“If I buy you an iPad,” I continued, “what will you give me in return? You can speak frankly. I like directness and honesty.”

“It has to be a business deal? I thought this was about love.”

“It was you, not me, who first proposed the money-love connection. But let me be stress that I don’t disapprove of this. I have absolutely no problem with it. I just prefer honesty. State it clearly: ‘If you give me an iPad, I will sleep with you.’ And I will agree, because it’s a clear and honest transaction. Actually this way of doing things gets me excited. It will increase my respect for you. It will make you interesting and sexy in my eyes. I could love such an uncommon and independent woman.”

“Sorry, in that case we’d better no longer have anything to do with each other.”

Well, I had to undergo some pretty intense kowtowing to get back into Feifei’s good graces. This required: 1) Waiting a month before she responded to my apologies. 2) Swearing never to subject her to such a proposal again. 3) Buying her a 64GB white iPad 3 with Wi-Fi and protective magnetic cover. 4) Promising not to make any demands on her when I’m next over at her place, especially sexual demands. 5) Never asking her about sex again at any point in the future.

She subsequently invited me back. After dinner, we sat on her couch to watch a movie. I was allowed to put my arm around her again and hold her hand. A rivet in her body armor gave and she relaxed ever so slightly, for the first time giving me a sliver of hope. Several hours later, her fingers came to life and curled around mine. This made me bold. “Feifei,” I said, “I know I’m violating the rules by asking this, but I really do like you and wonder if I could spend the night. In your bed with you. I promise I will not try to have sex with you. We can just lie together like we are now.”

She actually agreed. It was awful. She dressed in pajamas. I was allowed to take my pants off but not my t-shirt and underwear. She drew an imaginary line down the center of the king-sized bed and indicated I was not to cross over to her side. To make sure I got the message, she plopped a big teddy bear down between us.

In the morning she eased up a bit and let me embrace her, though the sensitive parts of her body were strictly off-limits. Suddenly she said, “You know, I’ve always really wanted to have a Mini Cooper.”

“A what?”

“They only cost 150,000 yuan, one fourth as much as a BMW.”

“Feifei,” I said as I got up to get dressed, “How about we do it like this. I will buy you the Mini Cooper. You don’t have to sleep with me, or do anything whatsoever to pay me back. You can just keep the car and enjoy it, but you will have to take care of all the maintenance and expenses yourself. Once you accept this deal, I’m out of your life. It’s either me or the Mini Cooper. I’ll let you think about it for a few days. You can send me a text message with your decision. Then I will delete your number. If you choose to take the car, I’ll have the dealer contact you directly when it’s ready and you can go pick it up yourself. I’m leaving now. Goodbye.”