The Enchantress

By Percival Campoamor Cruz


He came to interview the self-proclaimed restorer of lost libido, this bespectacled young man who just got a writing job for an Asian newspaper. Madam Yin had earlier talked to his publisher for an advertising deal. She was offered an editorial write-up, gratis.

She was no doctor nor psychiatrist. She was an enchantress.

She told the publisher, Mr. Celerio, “Me no believe in pills. Like Viagra. Ha, ha, ha. . .”

She seemed to be either Chinese or Vietnamese, or maybe a Filipino with Chinese blood. Her English was not that good.

“Ya know, in my country, someone invented Viagra in cream, not pill. Ha, ha, ha . . . The user dips his pointer finger in the cream and swabs it on his organ. Very effective. Problem was the finger gets stiff, too. Ha, ha, ha . . . for hours.”

Mr. Celerio carefully eyed the lady in front of him. She was fortyish, had black, shiny, long hair; smooth, flawless skin like porcelain. She had a wonderful smell, like she bathed herself in some strange tropical flower. Mr. Celerio, now in his sixties, was reminded of the ilang-ilang, the rare flower in his native land that exuded a gentle, mesmerizing scent.

“I make men come back to life, Mr. Celerio,” she said.

The publisher was not comfortable with the direction of the conversation. The soft-spoken, unexcitable man did not know how to react but he was able to say, “Ah, eh, yes, yes. I can see that Madam Yin.”

Mr. Celerio saw a flashback rush in his mind. There was a time in his youth that he was pursuing older women. He was around thirty and, for some reasons, he developed an obsession for women in their forties or fifties. He did go to bed with a number of them and, every time he did, it was an exhilarating experience, just like climbing Mount Matutum, a rugged mountain in the Philippines.

“I make men come back to life, Mr. Celerio; no Viagra pill, no cream, just technique, just waking up the dull senses. . . technique to see, smell, hear, touch, even taste passion, in a way that stimulates the erotic part of the brain.”

He was in the early geriatric phase in his life. He had been managing a mild case of diabetes and hypertension. Yes, he noticed a decline in his bed activities, but he had no worries. He need not take remedial measures. He wanted the woman to get straight to the business.

“Madam Yin,” he boldly intervened, “what is it that the newspaper can do for you?”

“Mr. Celerio, I need to promote my center, my healing center. How about going exchange deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Advertise my center. I pay you with my services.”

Mr. Celerio rolled his eyes. “Ya need healing, Mr. Celerio, don’t you?” The woman was fishing for a positive answer.

She was really very attractive and enchanting. Her lips looked supple and inviting. Her teeth were so white and healthy he was sure her breath smelled fresh and fragrant. Mr. Celerio had been surveying her body. He had concluded early on that this woman was a dynamite, a package of a thousand-and-one pleasures.

His wife was going to arrive at the office soon. Mr. Celerio quickened the pace of the supposed-to-be business meeting.

He promised to help.

“Madam Yin, let’s not talk long-term. For now, I’ll grant you a write-up, for free. Prepare some photos that I can publish. We’ll write an article. I’ll send a writer to your center for an interview. How about that?”

“I am truly delighted, Mr. Celerio,” and she gave him a meaningful wink. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, gotta go.”

Madam Yin took off not before leaving a small vial of perfume on Mr. Celerio’s palm. “The fragrance will always remind you of me,” she whispered.

Mr. Celerio was led to a dimly-lit room by two nymphets. They were wearing soft-to-the-touch silken cheongsams, those Chinese costumes that have slits on the sides of the skirts and expose the legs and a good part of the thighs. The fragrance that wafted in the room smelled like the perfume in the vial.

One of the girls helped him take off his clothes and shoes. She helped him put on a silken robe. He was then asked to sit in a comfortable reclining chair and then served tea. The other girl prepared the tub so Mr. Celerio could have a bath.

In the meantime, he could hear a soothing, very soft percussive music coming out of the radio, like the soft clanging of bamboos. The two girls fetched him from the chair and walked him to the tub. They both took off their clothes and then began bathing him.

One of the girls said, “Mr. Celerio, don’t be naughty now. We’re not having an orgy here. Three’s a crowd.” And both girls giggled.

Mr. Celerio was being transformed at that moment, so-to-speak, from a meek lamb to a raging bull. It was embarrassing but he could not help it. The two girls could see his manhood become rigid.

After the bath, he was delivered to a queen-size bed. He was asked to lie down and wait.

It seemed like hours. Mr. Celerio already was salivating, burning in excitement. Finally, Madam Yin came into the room accompanied by that alluring, now familiar fragrance.

In her soothing, captivating voice she said, “The healing begins.”

She asked him to turn over, to relax, sleep even. Or just be at the brink of consciousness. And she began rubbing his head, his neck, then his arms, his back, his legs. And then she focused on his lower back and rear end.

Madam Yin was softly chanting an unintelligible mantra. Mr. Celerio could not relax. On the contrary, his manly senses were getting out-of-control. Yet he needed to show good demeanor and go along with the healing session.

He wanted to get up and grab Madam Yin, the torturer, and throw her in the bed. He wanted to hold her face and suck her lips, caress her breasts and put himself on top of her body.

Is that the response Madam Yin was expecting from him? He thought. Or should he wait for an invitation? He demurred.

He was asked to turn over face up. Madam Yin asked him to keep his eyes closed, to continue to relax. “How can I relax?” He said to himself. Madam Yin could see that his manhood was tense.

She caressed his face, touched his lips with her soft finger, rubbed his chest, his thighs and feet. She purposely avoided touching the center of his manhood. He was getting crazy.

He was under an extreme anticipation of a maddening love-making with Madam Yin. Then suddenly, Madam Yin said, “We’re done for today!” And she turned the bright lights on.

He saw Madam Yin completely naked but her breasts and groin were covered in some kind of plastic chastity shackles.

“This is insane!” He growled.

Mr. Celerio’s wife had been caressing him all night. She was looking for intimacy. He was just imagining, dreaming. He peered at the image of the woman beside him. It was his wife he saw, the grandmother of his grandkids, not Madam Yin.

The following morning, Mr. Celerio sent his young writer to Madam Yin’s healing center.

The writer was escorted by two young ladies in cheongsams to a dimly-lit room so he could experience the healing.


Daniel, the young writer who was assigned to interview Madam Yin, knew very little about the subject-matter he was to write about. What he was to learn that day could be shocking for someone who had never had an intimate relationship with the opposite gender.

Yes, he was mature enough to understand the feelings that take over a man’s mind and body, feelings that make him seek fulfillment, the urges that emanate from below a man’s navel and around the groin. He went to school and took up biology. He understood the biological needs of human beings and how they are fulfilled. However, actual experience with a woman, he had not yet had the benefit of experiencing. Much less did he have an understanding that men or women could have problems with performing the demands of nature concerning sexuality.

Madam Yin’s nymphets ushered him into an enclosed space that looked like an audio-visual room. He sat in front of a wall screen that, after a short while waiting, started showing pictures. There was a sound track to the presentation that evoked different emotions.

After the presentation, Madam Yin came in and introduced herself. She was wearing a white clinical robe similar to a doctor’s attire. However, it had long slits on the sides that revealed her tantalizing legs and a good part of her thighs.

Daniel thought that Madam Yin was stunning, delectable. Her skin was so smooth he thought that just touching that skin could give him fulfillment.

She began just like a lecturer, “Mr. Daniel, a close-up camera was focused on your eyes, watching how your eyes behaved when you were viewing different pictures. I can tell by the results that you are a strong, healthy individual, mind and body, in so far as sexuality is concerned. You showed very little interest when you were being shown pictures of ducks and goats; however, you showed excitement when you were looking at pictures of girls playing beach volleyball and wearing scanty bikinis.”

“Thank, you m’am.”

“However, I will tell you, every man is different. There are men whose sexuality is dead, zero, zilch. They don’t react to any of these pictures. And let me tell you this, some men get excited looking at ducks and goats. Ha-ha-ha. Funny but true. . . So, anyway, this test gives us an idea what to work on. Let’s tour the center.”

He was first shown what she called therapy rooms. Unaware that the rooms had peeping holes or, in some cases, one-way mirrors, patients inside performed exercises, in privacy they thought, meant to bring back libido, or improve libido.

He was asked to look at what was going on in one of the rooms. He saw an elderly man, completely naked, holding a duck, and making out with the animal. He backed off and told Madam Yin he did not want to look.

“It’s gross! I don’t want to see this.” He complained.

“Mr. Daniel, just be clinical about it. Consider this an education.”

He hesitated but Daniel had to look again through the convenient peep holes. There was another person in the room, one of those girls in cheongsams. She appeared to be assisting the man. She had the duck’s neck in her hand and just as the man was getting close to a climax, she chopped off the duck’s head with a sharp knife. It took only one blow. As a result of losing its head, the duck wiggled and convulsed violently; and the man, in the meantime, looked like he was experiencing the most intense of pleasures, thanks to the effects of the duck’s rigor mortis.

“That is really bad!” Daniel sighed, shaking his head.

“So, sorry Daniel, but we have to do what we have to do. We have discovered in this center that of all animals, ducks have the closest resemblance and functions to a woman’s sex organ.”

In another room, Daniel saw a man dipped in a tub of water full of suds. The tub looked like one of those antique bath tubs that have four bear paw legs. Three naked nymphets were assisting the man. One was holding his left arm and the other the right arm. Obviously, the man was excited. His manhood was erect and the head part of it was showing above the suds. The third nymphet pulled out something out of a glass jar. She put the thing on top of the man’s “head” that was above water. It was a wingless fly she put on there and as the confused fly walked around the man’s “head”, the man was feeling a tingling sensation that was extremely pleasurable. He yelled screams of delight. “Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh . . . Enough, enough. You’re killing me!” He struggled to be free but the girls held on to his arms tightly.

Daniel told Madam Yin he had seen enough.

She replied, “Mr. Daniel, loss of libido is not curable by medicines or creams. It’s a brain problem and we cannot operate on the brain. We have techniques, we have devices, borne out of years of research and experimentation that took us to the deepest secret places in the Orient, that wake up a man’s dead libido. That’s what we do here. I hope you understand. You have to be very careful in writing the article. You don’t want to tell everything in the article. You don’t want to make people anxious. You don’t want to spill the surprises.”

As they were walking down the hall, Daniel noticed a sign on the door of one of the rooms. It said, “Vending Machines”. He wanted to have a Coke.

“Look through the mirror before you go in, Mr. Daniel,” Madame Yin warned. He peered through the window that had the one-way mirror and saw a machine.

“Mr. Daniel, believe it or not, some men prefer to make love with a machine.”

The machine worked pretty much like the soft drinks machine. The patient drops some coins and one of the latches on the face of the vending machine opens. The patient chooses which latch he wants to open. Whatever he chooses, a latch opens and a part of a woman’s body pops out of a square hole. Then the patient can play with the exposed body part. The choices include: Lips, Boobs, Vagina, Navel, Knees, Legs.

“Out of this world! Madam Yin, I should compliment you. You’re a genius!”

“Thank you, Mr. Daniel. Why buy the whole cow when you can just buy the milk?”

“Wait,” Daniel said when he saw in the next room another machine.

Madame Yin then explained what the machine was about.

“This, Mr. Daniel, is where a man who is tired of his wife can dump his woman in exchange for coins.”

They both laughed. Then Madam Yin followed up, “No. Joke only, Mr. Daniel. That’s your soft drink machine”

“Let me get the photos that Mr. Celerio wants to publish with the article,” and Madam Yin excused herself momentarily.

Two nymphets ushered Daniel into a private, dimly-lit room and he was asked to relax. There were cold beverages on the coffee table. He picked up one glass and sipped what seemed to be some kind of tropical fruit juice.

In the next few minutes, he felt a surge of vitality and euphoria he had never experienced in his young life.

Then Madam Yin came in and standing before Daniel, she took off her robes.

She pulled him out of the chair and took him to the bed. She unbuttoned his shirt and helped him take off that shirt and the pants.

Then Madam Yin went on top of him and kissed him on the lips. She whispered to his ear, “I’m a cougar!”

He hugged her and then made his hands feel the smoothness of Madam Yin’s body.

Ordinarily, he would have come already.

But in the next hour he was able to respond to Madam Yin’s every passionate gesture with the powers of a grown man, a man strong and virile and lasting.

Madame Yin proved herself to be a real doctor, an enchantress, if one may say.

She’s from the Orient and obviously a single woman. Who knows her origins? Who knows her life story?

People come to America under all kinds of ruses in order to obtain a visa.

Maybe Madam Yin needed to reinvent herself. Maybe she was an innocent, simple, farm maiden who transformed herself into a worldly, self-proclaimed libido healer, in order to start a new life in America.

But that’s another story.

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