My name, at least for the time being, is Lauren Chase. My friends, few that they necessarily are, just call me Chase and do I have a long, strange story to tell you. There are times even I have trouble believing it, and I’m living it. To know why my story is so incredible, you need to know what I look like, at least in this life.

Currently, I look like the classic Irish redhead – long, full, wavy red hair, which reaches the middle of my back, brilliant jade-green eyes, with a smattering of freckles across the porcelain skin of my cheeks and nose. Standing about 5’8″, with a fit and toned 25-year-old body – firm, yet feminine ass, resting atop what I’ve been told are impossibly long, athletic legs for my height. It’s the type of ass that makes guys say, “Thank God for yoga pants!” High, proud, 38D breasts with dime-sized, with nearly inch long nipples that practically beg to be sucked, perched above a flat, not-quite-washboard belly. There’s also some scattered freckles across the top of my tits, which I’m told makes them even sexier.

My full measurements are 38D-24-36. That 24-inch waist above my flaring hips provides great handholds if you know what I mean. There isn’t a wisp of hair anywhere on my nearly perfect body, except for my head (obviously), my eyebrows – which I never have to shape – and my long eyelashes. For those who still need help figuring it out, that means my pussy is completely bald.

To be honest, I didn’t always look like this. In fact, I don’t always look like this on a daily basis, but it’s the look I prefer right now. Most guys seem to like it, and since I’ve been seemingly cursed with an almost insatiable need for cock, that’s a good thing.

I know this is all probably very confusing for you. Hell, it’s confusing to me sometimes and I’m the one actually living it. I guess I should go back to the beginning and explain. It’s a very long story.

Chapter 1

My given name was Lawrence Heller, born to Montgomery and Rebecca Heller in the year 1865, just about two months after the end of what has since become known as the Civil War. My father had returned home from the Army of the Potomac perhaps three weeks before my birth. I was the youngest son of eight children, only five of whom survived to adulthood thanks to now preventable, and indeed mostly eradicated diseases, in modern day America.

We lived on a large cattle and horse ranch just outside of a town that no longer exists in the far western reaches of Virginia, and our lives were unremarkable.

Being the youngest son, I had no hope for much of an inheritance. The lands, house, and livestock would all go to the eldest surviving son when our parents passed, leaving me no other option (to my mind) but to take what little education I had – and in the 1860’s and 70’s, it wasn’t much – and set out into the wide world to make my fortune as best I could.

I made a moderately large find of gold in a long overlooked part of the Black Hills in South Dakota in 1883, well after the “gold rush” had peaked. Well, it was a little more than “moderately large” – it was sufficient to let me live fairly comfortably for the rest of my life, provided I didn’t go too overboard when spending it.

I had no real interest in returning to my ancestral home. My parents had died in 1880, my brother and his second wife had taken over the ranch and were well established in their lives, with five children of their own running around and a sixth on the way. My two sisters had been married to fairly successful men; one a doctor in Philadelphia, the other a shopkeeper in Richmond.

After setting up a small mining concern to continue digging the gold from my claim, I wandered the still young and incomplete United States for a few years, although I eventually tired of it and wished to lay my head in a single spot for a considerable length of time.

I landed in Philadelphia on a particularly beautiful spring day in the year 1890 with the intention of visiting my sister and meeting my niece and nephew for the first time. And that’s when I met Dao-Ming. When I stepped off the train in Philadelphia, she was there, almost as if she’d been expecting me.

A stunningly beautiful Chinese woman, Dao-Ming was petite, yet strong, lithe, yet demure, feminine, yet commanded whatever room she entered. Coal-black hair cascaded in waves down her back, reaching just where her taut but rounded ass cheeks began, appearing blue when the light hit it just right. When she turned her full gaze upon you, her glittering gray eyes seemed to bore through to your very soul to take your measure as a man, but still they were happy eyes, although they also seemed to hide a great melancholy, almost a sadness at times. It wasn’t until later I found out what she kept hidden behind those wonderful eyes. Firm breasts, a tad on the smaller side but large enough for my tastes completed the picture. Standing barely 5′ 2″ tall to my nearly 6-foot muscular frame, the top her head barely reached my shoulder.

I was smitten the moment I laid eyes on her.

“Lawrence, my love,” she said, speaking flawless English and utterly shocking me. “I’m pleased that you have arrived safely. These metal monsters never inspire confidence in me.”

“How do you know my name?” I asked, somewhat warily. “I’ve never set eyes upon you before this moment. Who are you?”

“My name is Dao-Ming, which means ‘Shining Path’ in your language. Everything else I need you to know shall soon be revealed. Now, however, we should eat as I’m sure you’re positively famished.

“And you sure look as if you do like to eat,” giving me a knowing smile, just before standing on her tiptoes and pulling me into a full-on and passionate kiss, a kiss I returned without thought or protest. Our tongues danced with one another as if they were expert ballroom dancers working their way through the most complicated, yet ridiculously easy waltz.

I’d never been kissed like that before, and I was loving it, even through my confusion. While I might not have been a “lady killer” in those days, neither was I wholly unfamiliar with them. I had done my share of carousing – widows looking for a rich man to care for them, young ladies hoping to ensnare a seemingly decent man, even a few squaws of the Lakota Sioux had all found their way into my bed, and none ever left it unsatisfied (at least by their own words).

As she kissed me, I slowly became aware of her hand – such a small, delicate hand yet stroking my member through my pants. I was rapidly becoming as hard as an iron bar.

“Who is this woman?” I thought.

Dao-Ming broke off the kiss, chuckling as I staggered a bit when she released me. My eyes snapped open as quickly as a young child’s eyes might open when they wake to the realization that it is Christmas morning.

Inhaling sharply, the world seemed brighter as if someone had turned up the sun a notch. The air seemed sweeter, more refreshing than it had seemed even in the South Dakota wilderness. The weariness I had felt from my trip left almost instantly.

I was, however, totally at a loss. I still didn’t know who this woman is – I was certain I’d never met her before I stepped off the train three minutes ago.

Despite my initial euphoria and confusion from that wondrous kiss, I immediately put my guard up.

“Do I know you?” I asked, trying not to get lost in those seemingly bottomless gray eyes but half-knowing that I was fighting an already lost battle.

She laughed, a delightful sound. “Not yet, my love. Or should I say ‘Not in the biblical sense yet.'”

“Well, as enticing as that sounds – Dao-Ming, is it? – I don’t have a clue who you are.”

“Larry, you’ll find out soon enough,” the enigma replied, a smirk playing across her soft, full lips. “For now, let us go find something to eat in this beautiful city.”

Aaannnddd that’s when I knew something was going to go really, really wrong. Philadelphia?!?!?! A beautiful city?!?!?!

Chapter 2

I was a bit nervous about going anywhere with this Dao-Ming but she intrigued me, and as I said before, I was already losing the battle I was fighting within myself. We stepped out of the Broad Street Station into the early afternoon sunshine, turning onto Market Street to find a restaurant.

Finding a small eatery about two blocks away attached to a small, but well-appointed hotel, we sat at the first table we could find. The place was busy, meaning it must have good food. We ordered – for me, a plate full of potatoes and the best steak in town (according to the waitress). Dao-Ming ordered a vegetable soup, to be followed by spaghetti noodles smothered with butter.

“So… Are you going to tell me who you are and how you know my name?” I asked as we sat waiting for our food.

“All in good time, my love,” she answered, winking at me. “There are too many ears around.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Dao-Ming, but I’m going to need a little bit more than that. I’m not comfortable with this evasion,”

“Lawrence, think of it less like evasion, and more like an adventure,” she laughed again. “It will be a momentous discovery for you.”

She refused to say any more about this “adventure,” despite my pressing her, preferring instead to make small talk, deftly turning away my inquiries with smiles and twinkling eyes as we waited for our meals.

By the time our food arrived at the table, she had managed to turn our conversation to my life story, such as it was, up to the moment I stepped off the train. I held nothing back – unusual for me, as I was usually most uncomfortable speaking about myself in those days – but she seemed genuinely interested, asking pointed questions when she wished for clarification on one point or another.

(Even as I write this, thinking back over my life, I believe that was the longest conversation I’ve ever had with anyone, about any topic. I literally left nothing out – I was that drawn to her)

We ate as we talked, ever the gentleman and lady, and I have to admit, the waitress might actually have been correct – if it wasn’t the best steak I’d ever eaten, it was certainly indistinguishable from that long-forgotten meal.

As we dined, I turned part of my attention to Dao-Ming, determined to crack the mystery wrapped in the enigma that she was presenting me. Impeccably dressed in the finest fashion of the day, clean, fastidious, and well-mannered – she was easily the highest class woman I’d ever set eyes upon. It was clear that Dao-Ming came from, and possessed, considerable money. I relaxed a bit, as she plainly wasn’t interested in my own riches.

Even in a city as forward as Philadelphia, there existed a pervasive prejudice towards people who weren’t white, yet I couldn’t help but notice that everyone around us treated her as an equal – perhaps even a deference. When she waved over the waitress to order the finest wine in the house, there was nary a twitch in the waitress’ eye that one would have expected to see for the times.

I washed my meal down with several mugs of cold beer, again noting that if it wasn’t the best I’d ever had, it was right up at the top of the list. My earlier misgivings about things going wrong faded away like a half-remembered dream as we sat, talking and laughing about some of the ridiculous things I’d done.

I could not recall a better day in my life up to this point. It was about to get much, much better…. And worse…