Author: Bob Williams
Title: Haruka's Education
Part: Chapter 11 of 20
Universe: The Megumi Stories
Summary: A young girl is prepared for a career as a Japanese sex artist
Keywords: Mf, exhib, Japan

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HARUKA'S EDUCATION 11

By Bob Williams and Haruka Sekine

CHAPTER XI

The Chez Maria Story

A few days later the kindly lady from Asakusa 
called to say the steel collar with connected 
nipple-clamps was ready for collection. The other 
item, being a more specialised and complex piece, 
would take longer. I was not sorry, as I doubted if 
the bank balance could stand the cost of both at 
the same time. I told Haruka immediately after our 
regular morning work-out with the whip, and she was 
delighted.

"Can we go and collect it this morning? I'm longing 
to wear it!"

"Yes. All right. But not directly. I want to take 
you to visit somewhere else first."

"Where? Where?"

"A sort of coffee-shop."

"A coffee-shop? What's the point of that? We can 
have coffee here if you want it, then go straight 
to Asakusa. I want to spend more time there. There 
were other things in that dress-shop I need to look 
at again ..."

"I'm sure there are. But the coffee-shop first. 
Then the equipment shop in Asakusa."

"Beast! You're just trying to waste time so I can't 
buy more sexy clothes!"

There was enough truth in this accusation to make 
argument unwise.

"And you know you like it when I show off for you 
in clothes like that."

I knew very well how much I liked it, and so did 
she.

"And if you don't like me showing off there are 
lots and lots of other men who do!"

I decided there was nothing for it but to assert my 
authority.

"You will enjoy the coffee-shop," I said firmly, 
"and so will I. And I want to write about it. An 
article should make a bit of money and I need it, 
spending so much on you. So we're going, and that's 
final. Put some clothes on, and we'll start."

The establishment was called Chez Maria, the 
mixture of French and Italian intended I suppose to 
hint at a flavour of European sophistication and 
good coffee. But the characteristic which made it 
different from thousands of similar places all over 
Japan, and suggested that it might be worth 
reporting on, was that from the start the 
waitresses had all been topless. Of course there 
was nothing unusual about toplessness, or full 
nudity for that matter, in Japan The sex business 
offered plenty of discreet hostess and striptease 
establishments employing girls like Haruka. But 
they provided evening and night-time entertainment, 
and most maintained at least a pretence of being 
private clubs open only to members. A daytime 
establishment serving coffee and snacks to anyone 
who chose to walk in, but seasoning them with the 
extra titillation of nudity, was a first - at least 
for Japan.

The founder was a man called Izumi, or at least 
that was the name he chose to be known by. He had 
started in the _Hadaka Epuron_ or Naked Apron 
business, a strange name for an institution which 
was for a while a charming new idea in the 
constantly shifting Japanese sex scene - and yet 
another skirmish in the endless battle between 
young Japanese girls eager to make the most their 
blossoming sexuality and authorities fighting a 
losing battle to protect them from doing any such 
thing. If you have never visited a Naked Apron, let 
me explain that they were cafes or simple 
snack-bars where young schoolgirls were employed as 
the waitresses. The law can try to stop girls under 
eighteen from working professionally in the sex 
industry, but girls - even fourteen- or 
fifteen-year-olds - earning extra pocket-money by 
waiting at table are in an undefined area. It is in 
such gaps that progress is made in expanding sexual 
freedom in Japan. When I first came to Tokyo _Nopan 
Kissa_ or No-Panty Teashops were popular, the young 
waitresses in wide miniskirts reacting with 
charming coyness when customers gently checked that 
they were indeed wearing nothing underneath. The 
more expensive establishments added to the fun by 
installing mirrored floors. But these places had 
gone out of fashion, leaving a gap in the market 
which entrepreneurs in the sex business like Mr 
Izumi spotted and exploited in promoting Naked 
Apron cafes. As you have probably guessed, the 
attraction, to both the excited girl and the 
pleased customer, was that the young waitress wore 
only a frilly apron, tied in a neat bow round her 
slim waist and the upper part looped loosely round 
her neck - as loosely as possible so that while her 
breasts were theoretically covered they could be 
clearly seen from the side especially when she bent 
over the customer's table, which of course she took 
care to do as often as possible. She was supposed 
to cover her crotch with at least a thong - though 
I have never known an establishment where the girls 
in fact did.

So over the usual chatter and clatter of a cafe you 
could hear the happy squeals and delighted giggles 
of the young waitresses as customers' hands 
caressed their bottoms and reached under their 
aprons to fondle their sensitive pussies and 
burgeoning breasts. All that was very charming and 
pleasant for both parties, but of course there was 
more. From time to time a customer asked a girl for 
a "special service". She would look at him 
startled, as if the idea had never occurred to her; 
then she would nod shyly and give him a demure 
smile. As soon as she had finished what she was 
doing at his table she would make for the 
swing-doors to the kitchen, but change direction at 
the last moment to an unmarked door at one side. As 
she disappeared she would glance discreetly at the 
customer over her shoulder. Trying to look as if he 
was doing nothing unusual, he would stand up and 
follow her.

In an establishment of the kind promoted by Mr 
Izumi and his associates the unmarked door opened 
onto a corridor with a number of cubicles leading 
off it, each equipped with a bed and a little 
washroom. As the customer entered he would notice 
that a few of the doors were closed, and as he 
followed his chosen girl he could hear through them 
coy little screams, and discreet cries of "Yes, 
yes! Oh, _yes_ ...". She is waiting obediently in 
the corridor, and ushers him respectfully into a 
vacant cubicle. She stands close to him, and their 
lips meet. She kisses him shyly at first, then with 
growing passion as he takes the lead in entering 
her mouth with his tongue. At last they separate 
and she turns her back to give him the pleasure of 
pulling apart the bows round her waist and behind 
her neck. As the frilly apron falls away, leaving 
her innocently naked except for her low heels, she 
catches it up, ties the upper ribbons together, and 
hangs it neatly on the hook behind the door. Then 
she is in his arms leaning back against him, 
smiling shyly, his touch making her young body 
shiver deliciously in its new-minted sensuality. "I 
am not experienced ..." she murmurs, stumbling a 
little over the rehearsed words: "please teach me 
how to please you ..." She twists round as he 
kisses her again, his right hand pressing her 
against his crotch while his left caresses her 
breast, enjoying the feel of the hard nipple 
against his palm. Then he picks her up and carries 
her to the little bed. Soon she too is entreating 
him "Yes, yes! Oh, _yes_ ...".

Perhaps ten minutes later she is on her feet again, 
helping him dress. "That was _so_ lovely ... you 
were _so_ good to me ..." she says shyly as he 
leaves her, returning to his table in the cafe. 
Quickly she washes and adjusts her simple make up, 
then tidies her hair into its girlish ponytail. How 
good it felt, she thinks, looking at her nakedness 
as best she can in the washroom mirror, being 
stroked and petted by a man - even better than her 
nightly masturbation sessions! At last she takes up 
the apron again, tying the neat bow snug round her 
waist, then the other ribbons as insecurely as she 
dares round her neck. Experimentally she runs her 
hands under the loose-fitting upper part and 
strokes her firm, freshly grown breasts. Oh, how 
nice they feel! And wouldn't it be lovely not to 
have to wear anything at all! She recalls the 
lovely shivery feeling when she stood naked before 
her customer, ready for him to do anything he 
wanted. She so longs to have that feeling again, 
stronger, never stopping. How soon before ... She 
has heard of places where girls are permitted to be 
naked, all the time, and pleasure their admirers 
just as they like ... just as she yearns to do. 
They say a girl has to be sixteen before she can be 
accepted at such an establishment even on an unpaid 
basis but surely - she looks sixteen, or so her 
lovers tell her, and she feels ready ... _so_ ready 
... she just _can't_ wait any longer ...

She straightens the bed and tidies the little 
washroom for the next pair of lovers. She leaves 
the door open and walks down the corridor to a side 
entrance into the kitchen with a dreamy look in her 
eyes. The other girls smile at her, they too have 
often welcomed customers to the private cubicles. 
They _know_. She too now has planted for ever in 
her mind a precious glimpse of a paradise which she 
longs to revisit. She picks up an order standing 
ready and then is back in the restaurant, 
delivering it to the correct table. Yes, sir, thank 
you sir, of course sir ... she can feel his eyes 
caressing her breasts and his fingertips stroking 
her bottom. Yes, she thinks, she will pluck up her 
courage and venture into one of the discreet clubs, 
one she knows and has been dreaming about ever 
since an older friend pointed it out to her and 
whispered to her the wonderful secret of the things 
that girls do there. Tomorrow. Maybe after school 
tomorrow she will already be shyly offering herself 
to a room full of men who really understand what a 
girl wants. Oh, yes, sir! Please teach me ...

Forgive me for indulging my happy memories. She was 
so sweet, and keen to learn! They all were. Yes, I 
was a regular at these harmless and agreeable 
establishments where customers had the pleasure and 
privilege of helping girls to discover the beauty 
of their own sexuality. I am glad to say that the 
_Hadaka Epuron_ cafes continued in business 
successfully and without official interference 
until they went out of fashion on their own accord. 
As for Mr Izumi, he got out before the end, which 
was probably as well since the law enforcement 
authorities had begun to suspect that he had 
acquired both his working capital and his business 
associates in enterprises noted more for full-body 
tattoos and missing pinkies than for gently 
educating pubescent girls in the techniques of 
innocent flirtation and introducing them to the 
delights of public sex and nudity.

He had already decided on his next venture. On a 
trip to the United States he had experienced the 
pleasures of toplessness in restaurants and bars in 
Las Vegas - nothing new there, of course, but Mr 
Izumi at once saw its possibilities for Japan. He 
lost no time in making a start by adapting one of 
his former apron establishments to the new style, 
choosing one in the Otemachi business area of Tokyo 
so that it could attract workers taking a break 
from long hours in company offices. He staffed it 
with slightly older and more sophisticated girls, 
appropriate to the clientele he hoped to attract - 
mostly girls who had worked in his apron cafes and, 
having since left school, were keen to turn their 
youthful dreams into reality and take their first 
steps into the full-time sex business. Japanese 
companies love uniforms and he spent some money on 
a professional designer, who dressed his waitresses 
in tight bikini panties in a choice of pastel 
colours, cut high at the back to reveal a tasty 
glimpse of the lower bottom, each teasingly 
enhanced by a broad gold or silver belt snug round 
the hips and matching skin-tight knee-length 
high-heeled boots. The effect was charming. Soon 
the firm breasts, wriggling hips, enticing thighs 
and glittering gold or silver boots of the Chez 
Maria girls were celebrated. The office-workers 
came in large numbers, and the success of the 
establishment meant that there were many more 
applications from girls eager to work there than Mr 
Izumi could handle. Promising ones were interviewed 
by his associates - that being of course one of the 
privileges that came with investment in the 
business - and the most gifted given employment in 
hostess clubs or offered screen-tests in sex-video 
studios.

Mr Izumi began to think big, and successfully sold 
his ideas to investors with an urgent need to 
recycle wads of cash away from the prying eyes of 
Japanese law enforcement and tax authorities. 
Clearly there was room for a chain of Chez Maria 
cafes throughout Tokyo and other major cities. 
Then, once established, the brand and the pretty 
uniform could be spread into other service 
businesses such as hairdressing. In his wilder 
whisky-fuelled moments Mr Izumi even dreamt of 
licensing the Chez Maria brand and uniform to 
industries whose competitiveness was already 
heavily dependent on the charms of pretty female 
staff: motor-racing, corporate hospitality, even 
airlines ... there seemed no reason why the 
standard Chez Maria topless look should not spread 
rapidly throughout the country, to the profit of Mr 
Izumi and his associates and to the pleasure of 
everybody else.

It was too much to hope for. The Japanese 
authorities were out to get him, and used all their 
skill in harassment and obstruction. He could not 
be arrested for employing underage girls: he was 
careful to keep honest and transparent records. But 
it soon became known, or at least rumoured, that 
the belts on the girls' smart uniforms easily came 
undone and that the cubicles where youthful _hadaka 
epuron_ girls had once been granted their first 
taste of paradise were now resounding to the 
ecstasies of their slightly elder sisters. Mr Izumi 
had been in business long enough to have built up 
the sort of connections that were useful in 
predicting when a raid was due, and frustrated 
squads of policemen always found on their arrival 
at the Otemachi cafe that the girls' uniforms were 
firmly glued to their pretty bottoms and that 
suspicious locked doors concealed only cases of 
coffee, milk powder and plastic cups - all 
hygienically stored and within their sell-by dates. 
But Japanese officialdom has other ways of making 
life difficult and an order was issued stating that 
toplessness was "inappropriate" in a cafe and 
requiring the waitresses to cover their breasts.

Japan is not cursed with many lawyers and is not a 
litigious society, Japanese people preferring to 
settle their differences with authority on the 
basis of compromise and consensus. But this 
restriction on freedom of expression and harmless 
sexual titillation was something new. Several civil 
rights lawyers and activists offered to defend Mr 
Izumi and Chez Maria on a point of principle. 
However he preferred to be patient: he knew what he 
wanted to do next but was in no hurry. The 
authorities were welcome to think they had won and 
move on to other matters. This was brave of him: of 
course the new tops exposed as much of the 
waitresses' upper curves as he thought he and they 
could get away with, but customers stopped coming 
and so did the pretty girls who had once begged to 
be allowed the pleasure of working for him. The 
declared profits of Chez Maria declined, which 
dangerously displeased his investors who were 
accustomed to swift violent action rather than 
subtlety when their interests were threatened.

After a few months he made his move. The new 
instruction had required his girls to cover their 
breasts, but had not specified what they should 
cover them with - and there is such a thing as 
body-paint. So one by one the waitresses discarded 
their new bikini tops and their enticing breasts 
were instead painted at the start of each shift, 
first in an approximate copy of what they had once 
worn and then, little by little, in more teasing 
designs. No one seemed to object, so Mr Izumi moved 
on to the next stage of his plan. If paint was 
acceptable as a way of preserving decorum above the 
girls' waists, then there could surely be no 
objection to painting their bottoms and pussies 
too. An artist was employed - and even I believe 
paid! - to paint each girl at the start of her 
shift, and check for any damage to his skilled work 
each time she returned from one of the private 
cubicles; the customers came flooding back; and 
eager young girls again stood in line outside Mr 
Izumi's office imploring him and his investors to 
let them demonstrate their talents.

So when Haruka and I entered Chez Maria that 
morning the beautiful girl who greeted us at the 
door with a welcoming cry of "_Iraisshaimase_!" was 
wearing nothing but golden high-heeled sandals. She 
conducted us to a little empty table in the crowded 
room, her pretty bottom swaying and the spray of 
cherry-blossom which emerged from between her legs 
and grew along the crack in her arse before 
twisting round her waist seeming to float in the 
breeze as she walked. When she turned to face us at 
the table I saw that her breasts too were painted 
with blossom, her nipples forming the centres of 
two pink flowers with petals just big enough to 
decorate the aureoles and joined by a tiny 
undulating branch which wandered artistically 
downwards and appeared to be growing from her 
navel. My glance was of course drawn further 
downwards and I could see how prettily the spray 
which I had observed twining round her bottom and 
waist seemed to be rooted in the sweet cleft 
peeping from between her legs. She and all her 
colleagues, I noticed, were either shaved or, like 
Haruka, young enough to be naturally hairless - as 
indeed they had to be since body-paint cannot 
easily cover pubic hair. She smiled encouragingly 
at us both and I ordered coffee without bothering 
to look at the menu which stood on the little round 
table; Haruka managed to tear her fascinated gaze 
away from the beautiful girl long enough to examine 
it carefully and make decisions involving a sickly 
chocolate drink and cream-cake. The girl bowed with 
a polite smile and walked elegantly via the kitchen 
back to her duty position near the entrance.

"She's _beautiful_!" said Haruka in a loud whisper.

"Yes," I replied. I cleared my throat and tried 
again. "Very. They all are."

Our order was brought to our table by a different 
girl, her nakedness decorated not with artistically 
painted leaves and blossom but with an abstract 
pattern of blue glitter-paint sprayed over her 
breasts and hips. Her erect nipples and her 
hairless cleft were painted over but their graceful 
modelling was clearly visible. Haruka gazed at her 
in awe as she leant forward with our order, and 
could not resist putting out her hand as if to 
touch the waitress's bottom.

"Please don't smudge my paint!" she said with a 
friendly smile. "I've only just come on duty and 
it's still a bit wet."

"Doesn't it rub off when it's dry?" asked Haruka, 
obviously keen to learn everything there was to 
know about this new provocative style.

"Oh, no! We tried out various brands of spray paint 
and found that this one doesn't come off easily. 
Even when my customers ... you know ..."

"Oh, you are so lucky to be employed here!" said 
Haruka.

"Well, yes. This is a good place to work. It's 
fun!"

"Could I work here?" asked Haruka, sounding almost 
desperately serious.

The waitress looked at her kindly, then glanced for 
a moment towards me. She put my coffee down 
carefully in front of me and placed the slip of 
paper with the check neatly beside it.

"Lots of girls who come here ask us that," she said 
at last, choosing her words carefully. "And of 
course ... but the management will only take girls 
who are at least eighteen. The law ... if we are to 
be left in peace to be the way we like to be -" she 
made an elegant gesture down her body with the hand 
not holding her tray, as if drawing attention to 
her lovely nakedness "- and the way our customers 
like us to be, we have to be careful." She turned 
to me again. "And this young lady ... Perhaps one 
day ..."

I nodded. Haruka had her long hair pulled back into 
a ponytail and had chosen this morning to wear only 
a cropped white tee-shirt bearing in deep pink the 
slogan "Happy puberty [18]!", through which the 
outlines of her eternal nipple-clamps could be 
clearly seen, and close-fitting denim shorts. 
Nothing underneath, of course. The tight contact of 
the rough cloth with her unprotected and sensitive 
bottom must have prickled and stung unbearably but 
she claimed the afterglow of one session and the 
constant reminder of how much she was longing for 
the next was part of the pleasure of being whipped. 
She looked as always ready for anything, but the 
one thing she did not look was over eighteen.

The waitress, having made her point, left to serve 
other customers. Looking longingly at her, and then 
glancing round the room, I could see that Mr 
Izumi's latest idea was to have two styles of 
uniform for his staff: detailed flower paintings 
for the senior girls managing the establishment and 
spray-on glitter paint for the junior waitresses. 
It was impossible to tell which style was more 
responsible for the erection which was troubling 
me.

Haruka was silent for the moment but was watching 
me as she ate her cake.

"You fancy these girls?" she asked at last, wiping 
cream from her lips with a paper napkin.

"Of course," I said, trying to push to the back of 
my mind the thought of what those lips were going 
to feel like when they closed round my cock.

"Would you fancy _me_ if I were a nude waitress 
like they are? Wearing just a few splashes of paint 
like that?"

"You know I would. But you heard what the girl 
said. It's not possible. It would get the place 
into serious trouble."

"But you ­_do_ like the idea of me nude in public 
wearing only body-paint?" she went on.

I was going to have to deal with my erection very 
soon. I thought about suggesting that we abandoned 
the idea of visiting Asakusa that day and went 
straight home so that I could fuck her very 
thoroughly. Or perhaps I could take her up some 
deserted side-street and make her lean against the 
wall while I took her from behind like a casual 
whore. She would enjoy that. Fortunately she did 
not wait for an answer to her question. She knew 
the answer anyway.

"Have these girls given you an erection or is it 
me?" she asked instead. "I'm glad you want to see 
me nude in public wearing only body-paint," she 
went on, carefully repeating her earlier phrase, 
and then saying it a third time caressingly as if 
the very words were stroking her insatiable 
sensuality, "Nude in _public_. Ooh, _nude_ in 
public. Not just nude on stage or at a club, but 
_in public. With just a little body-paint. Could 
you paint me?"

I struggled to say something like "I suppose I 
could learn," but she went straight on.

"I'm so glad we came here today," she said. "It's 
given me a wonderful idea. I don't mind about not 
working as a waitress. My idea is even better. 
Could you paint a dress on me? Or a top and shorts 
like these I'm wearing?"

"Shorts would be better," I managed to say, finding 
it possible to get my lust under control by 
applying my mind to practical problems. "You see, 
the skirt would look real if you stood still and 
posed in it - at a party, say - but as soon as you 
started walking everyone could see there was really 
nothing there. But little shorts ... they wouldn't 
be so different from the kind of thing you're 
wearing now. It looks as if it's sprayed on 
anyway."

"Ooh, you are clever!" she said. "You're right, of 
course. So that's what I want to do. I want to go 
out wearing only my heels and with a little top and 
little shorts painted over my breasts and bottom! 
Could I do that? It would be such a thrill!"

"I guess you could," I said, meaning "I don't 
suppose I could stop you." Or want to stop you if 
it comes to that, I added privately.

"Would anyone realise that I wasn't really wearing 
anything?"

"What do you think would happen if they did?"

She gasped, and looked at me with her lips apart 
and her eyes wide open. She had clearly not thought 
about that - her imagination had gone no further 
than the thrill of teasing people. Like many young 
girls she enjoyed the power over a man which her 
sexuality gave her, but did not always appreciate 
the strength of the feelings she released in him 
and how easily they could propel a man into action. 
She looked away and clasped her hands beneath her 
chin. Her eyes were focussed on the far distance 
now and her face was transfigured with a look of 
unearthly joy. She reminded me suddenly of one of 
those paintings by Western Renaissance masters 
showing a female saint contemplating the prospect 
of ecstatic martyrdom and assumption into heavenly 
bliss. [19]

"Oh yes ... oh _yes_!" she murmured.

I gave her a little time to enjoy her dream of 
multiple public gang-rape.

"I think," I said when she at last returned to 
immediate reality, "another of your little demons 
has escaped from his prison and is telling you what 
you are to do to satisfy him in future."

She lowered her eyes and giggled.

"You know, you are an extraordinary girl," I went 
on.

"You mean, because I enjoy sex so much? But don't 
all girls?"

"Well, nearly all. There are some poor girls who 
never really learn to enjoy it. But they're not the 
sort of girls I know. What is remarkable about you 
is that you want it on such a vast scale and in so 
many ways. Like the public nudity and mass rape you 
were just dreaming of."

"How did you know I ... well, anyway, those little 
demons we were talking about keep pushing me to do 
things like that. Like the first time I got up on 
stage and stripped, and then I never wanted to stop 
doing that. And being nude for the kind gentlemen 
in my clubs. But there's always something even more 
thrilling to do. Like when my friends take me on to 
private parties after the club closes and teach me 
lovely new ways of being whipped and fucked ..."

She hadn't mentioned that before. But it was only 
natural that she should receive such invitations 
and eagerly accept them. I had noticed that she 
sometimes came home later than expected, and 
slipped into bed still quivering with remembered 
orgasm. Why shouldn't she? She was an independent 
sexual being with every right to explore her 
sensuality to its limits - if it had any, which I 
was beginning to doubt.

"So now you want to perform and show off on an even 
bigger stage."

She just nodded, her eyes sparkling.

"_Roshutsu_," I said simply.

"What?"

"_Roshutsu_. Going out in public nude. It's a 
recognised branch of the pornography industry. 
Pretty girls photographed or videoed walking down 
crowded streets nude."

"Ooh! Not even wearing body-paint?"

"Well, sometimes. But straightforward nudity is 
more common. Some porn addicts like watching it. I 
certainly do."

"And I bet the girls love doing it!"

"They always look as if they do! Of course there 
are standard shots and scenes [20]. Perhaps you - 
we - could think of something more original."

She thought for a while.

"Isn't it time we went on to Asakusa?" she asked 
suddenly. "We have to collect my present, and I 
want to look at more dresses in that nice shop."

"I didn't think you needed any more dresses, now 
that you are planning to be nude all the time."

She giggled, then suddenly looked serious.

"But I need pretty things to take off. You do see 
that, don't you?"

We made our way through the crowded cafe and I 
stopped at the desk by the entrance to pay the 
check. The elegant girl who had greeted us was 
still there, her sprays of cherry-blossom still 
impeccably in place. Surely she had been invited to 
join an admirer in one of the discreet cubicles? I 
did hope so: it would have been a waste of all that 
beauty if she had not been. But if she had been, 
was the paint as the other girl had said secure 
enough not to be disturbed by love-making? Or had 
she retired to the staff-room afterwards so that 
the artist could touch up his masterpiece?

She bowed as she gave me my change on a little 
plastic tray and hoped I would come again. It was 
pleasant to be able to enjoy looking at a 
waitress's breasts without having to peer down the 
front of a blouse.

"What is your name?" I asked suddenly.

"I am Sakurako," she replied.

Cherry-blossom child.

"How very pretty, and appropriate," I said, 
sketching a gesture towards the painted blossom. 
She blushed charmingly, the pink flush flowing from 
her face down over her breasts and making the 
petals almost invisible. "Perhaps we might meet 
again, one evening when you are off duty?"

"Perhaps ..." she replied.

Haruka gripped my arm and encouraged me out into 
the street. For a moment she looked as if she 
wanted to rebuke me for my neglect of her, but then 
thought better of it.

"You see," she said, skipping along beside me on 
her platform shoes, "if I am to get all the sex I 
want ... and that means lots and _lots_ of sex ... 
I need lots and _lots_ of men with erections. Of 
course there are vibrators, and things like your 
wonderful fucking-machine, and they are beautiful 
and I love using them, but there is nothing like 
being fucked by a man with a really big erection."

"Uh-huh."

"And if men are to have erections they have to want 
me, and the way to make them want me is to wear 
really sexy clothes and let them watch while I take 
them off. You do see that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Good. There was a moment just now when I wondered 
if you did."

I stopped. People behind us avoided bumping into 
us, apologised and swept on ahead of us.

"_I_ have a really big erection," I declared.

"I hope it's for me and not for that girl."

"Well, she was the one who was nude. In public," I 
said unfairly. "You were only talking about it. But 
I'll make sure you get the full benefit of it. Why 
don't we forget about Asakusa for today, and go 
straight home so I can spend the rest of the day 
fucking you? And whipping you ..."

She giggled. For a moment I thought she would 
agree.

"But I do so want to collect my present," she said. 
"The steel collar with the chains and the lovely 
nipple-clamps and things. I've been dreaming about 
it for days. You want to see me in that, don't you? 
And then fuck me and whip me while I'm wearing it?"

I had to admit that I did.

"I'll make sure you still have an erection when we 
get home," she said consolingly. "_And_ I'll be 
nude for you - in public."

"Is that a promise?"

"It's a promise."


FOOTNOTES

[18] I am sure the weird Japlish which appears on 
Japanese fashion products is the result of 
unrestrained use of the dictionary. Someone must 
have looked up _wakamono_ or _jakunen_ and finding 
among its translations the word "puberty" had 
decided it sounded more elegant and exotic than 
simply "youth". - B W

[19] Of course no one who knows anything about 
female sexuality doubts that such paintings and 
sculptures really depict girls on the brink of 
overwhelming masochistic orgasm, produced by 
artists who knew very well what girls look like at 
such moments. - B W

[20] I used to wonder why amateur _roshutsu_ girls 
are obsessed with being photographed nude in front 
of the drink vending machines which stand on 
Japanese streets. Then I understood. A girl meets a 
group of friends - or makes new ones, it doesn't 
matter. After some inconsequential discussion she 
joins three or four guys in a big car or van. 
Inside, her clothes are removed despite her not 
very sincere protests, and she sucks and fucks as 
the group drive slowly through the streets, a guy 
who is temporarily satis?ed taking a turn at the 
wheel. After a couple of hours of this she 
complains that she is thirsty. She certainly is, 
her throat clogged with cum; and she probably needs 
a sugar hit to help her through the rest of the 
evening - after all, she has been working three or 
four times as hard as they have. The vehicle stops 
in front of a bank of soft-drink vending machines, 
the guys give her a couple of Y100 coins and invite 
her to go and buy what she wants. "Like this?" she 
asks in mock modesty; then jumps giggling out of 
the car and runs nude across the street. Of course 
they photograph her, and so perhaps do passers-by 
on their phones. And that is where the charming 
unposed shots of sweet amateurs nude in the street 
come from, which we all enjoy when they turn up on 
the internet. - B W


[Next in Part 12: Chapter XII: Haruka Discovers 
Roshutsu]

For complete series so far see 
/files/Authors/Bob_Williams

Comments welcome at
bobwilliams1@tiscali.co.uk