Remo Williams was conflicted as he pulled the tight black t-shirt down over his lean torso. On one hand, he felt calm and relaxed, the nagging voice of need now silenced for the time being. On the other, he felt guilty for indulging his urges. It was like being thirteen all over again, and he hated it.
He looked with mild disgust at the white blouse, denim cutoffs, and lace panties that had been thrown haphazardly around the floor of the hotel room. Their owner was daydreaming in the shower, where the water had been running for nearly twenty minutes. Remo would have gone in and checked on Ewe, but there was no need. One did not need senses honed by Sinanju to hear the tuneless, contented humming of the nimble blonde doll, and stepping into the bathroom with her would only result in her throwing herself at him again for more.
“Two steps more, I wouldn’t have this problem,” Remo grumbled to himself. The thirty-seven steps to bring a woman to sexual ecstasy were named with a sense of gross understatement. Ecstasy was surpassed while still within the first ten steps. There was a sound reason why such a practice was a tool of the world’s most accomplished assassins. The thirty-sixth step usually brought about insanity in all but the already insatiable, as the lateral orbitofrontal cortex underwent a complete shutdown. With the thirty-seventh, the amygdala popped like a balloon.
Still, as problems go, he had to admit this one at least came in a pretty package. And she was just a few feet away, her skin still shiny and soapy…
Remo shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. He definitely needed to sit down with Chiun and figure out what was going wrong with him. This one particular detail, however, he might leave out.
A gentle rap at the door was followed by it opening to admit the Master Emeritus of Sinanju, his eyes narrowed to slits of vellum as he smiled with unadulterated joy. Remo took one look at him and groaned.
“Look, Remo,” Chiun declared. “Not only was I able to negotiate a rate four-fold of the initial offering, but the observant Mister Janos even gifted me with this white kimono of purity.”
“Chiun, that’s not a kimono.”
“Oh, I know that, but I did not wish to insult the giver of the gift by pointing out his ignorance,” Chiun replied. “After all, he is only a poor white and cannot be held responsible for his lack of knowledge, being no doubt a product of what passes for education in your so-called United States of America. And besides, he also presented me with reverential headgear.” Here, the wizened Korean master produced a rolled-up cotton hood that unfurled into a vaguely triangular shape. He placed the conical hood upon his bald head such that his face peered out the open side while the rest draped about his nape and ears.
Remo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Chiun, does any of what you’re wearing look even slightly familiar to you?”
The old master folded his arms and beamed at Remo. “Of course it does,” he said. “The headgear is very clearly an indication that Mister Janos believes I should hold a place of high honor, as it bears a nearly identical resemblance to the that worn by the leader of your carpenter’s cult. The kimono may require some modest alterations, as it is too funereal in its current form, but again one cannot fault Mister Janos’s empty brain when held in balance with his full heart.”
“Chiun,” Remo started. “This is a KKK hood and robe.”
Chiun stood unfazed. “Do not exaggerate, Remo,” he said. “It is slightly large, but not grossly so.”
“KKK isn’t a tag size,” Remo moaned. “It’s a group of people, if you can call them that, who think that blacks, Catholics, and Jews are inferior.”
The Master Emeritus remained unmoved. “As I have told you myself, many times.”
“They’re not too crazy about Asians, either.”
“Nor am I,” Chiun replied.
“Including Koreans.”
“Most Koreans deserve their scorn.”
Remo centered himself and tried to find the words that would resonate with the stubborn old man, and then snapped his fingers. “They believe that whites are superior to everyone else.”
But even at this, Chiun merely shrugged. “Nobody is perfect,” he replied beatifically. “Except of course for the exalted personage of Chiun.”
“Look,” Remo said, an edge of aggravation in his tone. “I don’t care how grateful you are for this ‘gift,’ or how honored you are to have it — but you are simply not going to go out wearing this thing.”
Chiun drew himself up to his full height. His cheeks trembled and darkened. “Always it is so with you,” he spat. “‘Chiun, you cannot kill the man mowing during your naptime.’ ‘Chiun, you cannot drive the car.’ ‘Chiun, you cannot grow dogs for their meat.’ Who are you to tell a Master of Sinanju what he can or cannot do? I have been the Master far longer than you, and my knowledge and experiences are deeper and vaster than you should ever accomplish alone. But does this enter your thinking when you observe me? No. You see a doddering old man who must be prevented from soiling his adult diapers, and have food dabbed from his chin.”
Remo sighed. “Little Father,” he said, in a more deferential manner, “people will look at you and get the wrong idea. They’ll mock you. They’ll revile you.”
Chiun cocked his head. “Do you think I do not know how to respond to such nonsense, or that I even care about it?”
“I care about it,” Remo said. “When it’s directed at you.”
The old man’s eyes softened. “You really believe I look so ridiculous, my son?”
“Not you,” Remo said carefully. “Just that outfit.”
Chiun nodded. “Very well,” he said. “If you are that sure that I would draw disrespect adorned as such, I shall —”
At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and out stepped a very bubbly and very naked Ewe Johnson. She smiled exuberantly at Remo, and strode quickly toward him, barely noticing Chiun until her hands were on Remo’s shoulder and her right leg was drawn up against his. When she did notice the old man, Remo immediately wished he had finished the job on her.
Shoulders sagging, Remo meekly introduced the girl as she unabashedly stood there. “Chiun, this is Ewe.”
Chiun raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, it is not.”
“Oh my god,” she said, noticing Chiun for the first time. “I love your outfit! You look absolutely amazing!”
Remo rolled his eyes, as Chiun gave him a withering stare.
“What did you do,” he asked, clipping each word.
“I didn’t mean to,” Remo replied meekly, as Ewe rubbed her body up against him, purring. “Chiun, we really have to talk. I’ve been having these needs lately. Like something’s changing inside me lately, and…I just don’t know what to do about them.”
“This is not a new thing,” Chiun sniffed. “I know an ancient Sinanju technique that will easily curtail these urges you feel,” he said curtly.
“I’m all ears.”
“Take a cold shower.” The Master turned on his heel and made for the door. “And I am keeping the kimono. It is ‘absolutely amazing.’”
He slammed the door, a crack erupting in the jamb like a miniature fault line.
“Well that’s just great,” Remo grumbled. He stood with his arms crossed, while Ewe stood on her tiptoes and tried to nibble at his ear.