Learning_About_Myself.15

THE MEGUMI STORIES 06/15
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 06: LEARNING ABOUT MYSELF
BY SAYAKA ONODERA AND BOB WILLIAMS

FINAL REVISED EDITION

Part 15

CHAPTER XV

The Man at Roppongi Hills

The next morning I had another call from my manager at 
the agency telling me that the client had been 
satisfied with my performance and would probably hire 
me again. For my next assignment he gave me an address 
in a much classier part of Tokyo, an apartment block in 
a new development called Roppongi Hills. I was required 
for the early evening next day, and the client had 
booked three hours of my time.

"What will I do for three whole hours?" I asked 
innocently.

"You'll think of something. Or he will," said the man 
from the agency, with his rather unpleasant, but at the 
same time exciting, laugh. "Now, clothes. He wants you 
in a sexy, sophisticated, grown-up party dress. Got it? 
Do well."

He hung up. Oh dear, I had no such item in my little 
wardrobe! The dresses I had worn for my adventures with 
Reina were sexy, of course, but hardly sophisticated. I 
could try to find something suitable in a high-class 
shop, but I had no money. There was nothing for it but 
to call Reina again and ask for help.

"Don't worry!" she said at once when I had explained 
the problem. "I'm here to help with just that sort of 
thing! I want you to come and meet a friend of mine. 
This afternoon? Fine."

We arranged details of where and when to meet and I 
hung up, feeling much happier.

Reina's friend lived in a small block in a tangle of 
streets near Meguro Station. It was as well I had Reina 
to guide me as I would never have found it on my own. 
The old-fashioned elevator shook alarmingly as we 
travelled to the top floor. The door to the apartment 
opened almost as soon as Reina had pressed the bell and 
I was at once greeted by a large, energetic, elderly 
woman.

"Now, you are Sayaka-san! I am Matsumoto. (Hello, 
Reina-san, as beautiful and sexy as ever - getting 
plenty, are you?) Come in here, my dear. Never mind the 
mess. This is a studio, a workshop."

The room was lit by large attic windows and was piled 
high with clothes, swatches of material, and tattered 
heaps of fashion and soft-porn magazines. Matsumoto-san 
at last disappeared into the kitchen with a promise of 
tea: she kept on talking while she prepared it but the 
brief respite enabled Reina to explain that her friend 
had for many years worked for Kato-san's studio 
Marucho, where she had been head of the costume 
department.

"Until they got tired of me and put me on the 
scrap-heap," said Matsumoto-san, returning bearing a 
tin tray with three cups and a teapot. She seemed to be 
able to hear what others were saying while at the same 
time talking without stopping herself.

"Nonsense!" said Reina, seizing the brief pause while 
she was clearing a space for the tray on the table. 
"She was retired with honour and immediately made 
special adviser to the company's President. She's as 
much in demand as ever, though you wouldn't think it 
the way she talks. _And_ she can now do free-lance 
work, designing clothes for other studios and 
independent girls like me. The industry can't manage 
without her."

"Well, that's easy to say," said Matsumoto-san with a 
cheerful grin and a wink to me. "Have some tea. At 
least I still have some friends who haven't forgotten 
me and come to me for advice on clothes for their 
special dates. You have a good time, Reina - when was 
it? Last Friday?"

"Very good, thank you," said Reina primly.

"No girl ever went on a date or to a party wearing one 
of my designs and came home without having been 
thoroughly fucked," said Matsumoto-san, after blowing 
on her tea and swallowing half of it. "Guaranteed. 
Right, Reina?"

"Sayaka has a date tomorrow evening. A very important 
one," said Reina.

"Good! What's he like, dear? Does he fancy you? Of 
course he does! He must do."

"I don't know," I said. "I haven't met him."

"Oh, agency date, is it? Good for you. Then we must get 
it right for you, so he gives you a good report."

"Thank you," I said. "He has asked for ... what was it? 
... a sexy, sophisticated, grown-up dress."

"Sounds like the sort of man I like. Taste. Stand up. 
Take off your clothes and let me look at you."

So I stood there in the cluttered studio in just my 
heels and underwear, turning round as Matsumoto-san 
examined me as if she were an artist working on an 
unfinished canvas. As of course she was.

"Pull down your panties for me, dear. Just for a 
moment. _Paipan_, are you? Good. He should like that, 
whoever he is. How old are you? Fifteen, I guess? 
Right. Nice long hair on you, a baby pussy, good legs, 
pretty waist. Take your bra off, will you? Yes, fine 
full breasts but still young and firm. Just right for a 
man of taste. Now, let me see ..."

She bustled around the room, pulling dust sheets off 
racks of clothes.

"If I had more time I could make you something special. 
There was something a girl was wearing in a magazine I 
was looking at just as you came in ... needed my touch 
of course, but I thought 'There! That's something for a 
special girl on a special date.' Well, maybe another 
time. But there's stuff here that should suit you."

She held dresses up against me, shook her head and took 
them away again.

"I think this will do," she said at last. "Try it on."

It was a short dress in dark crimson rough silk, the 
skirt tight round my bottom and the halter top tied 
with narrow bands behind my neck, covering my breasts 
modestly but leaving my back bare to the waist. 
Matsumoto-san uncovered a tall mirror and invited me to 
examine myself in the glass.

"Better put your shoes on," she said after a moment. 
"You can't really tell without ..."

I was on the point of running back to the entrance hall 
for them, but Reina gestured to me to stay where I was 
and kindly fetched them for me.

"Hair up," said Matsumoto-san once I was standing erect 
before the mirror again, and gathered my hair together 
in one hand and twisting it into a simple sweep across 
the back of my head. "Nothing too complicated: it's 
bound to come down anyway when he starts to make love 
to you. Long sparkly earrings. Matching necklace - or a 
couple of strands of good pearls if you have them. 
Naked underneath the dress - but we'll come to that in 
a moment. What do you think?"

The question was addressed to Reina rather than to me. 
She stood up, walked round me with a critical look, and 
nodded. Matsumoto-san patted me on the bottom in a 
friendly way.

"You happy with that?"

"Oh, yes!" I said, hardly able to tear myself away from 
the elegant vision in the mirror.

"One thing we could add," she said thoughtfully: 
"gloves. This is meant to be a sophisticated evening 
outfit. Let me see ..."

She wandered over to a set of drawers. I was beginning 
to see that despite the chaotic mess in the apartment 
she had a storage system of her own that worked. She 
pulled out a pair of long gloves in ivory leather 
wrapped carefully in paper.

"Try these. Be careful with them: they're old and quite 
valuable."

I slipped on the left glove and then the right, 
adjusting them as delicately as I could. They reached 
over my elbows and half way up my upper arms. I had 
never worn, or even seen, anything quite so beautiful. 
The leather was soft like a second skin and felt as if 
it was gently kissing my arms: much more elegant than 
the tarty red gloves I had worn for my last date, I 
thought. They were in truth just a little too long for 
me: they had been made for a girl with more elegant 
fingers than mine. The slight unevenness of the little 
stitches showed that the gloves had been hand-made.

"They are _beautiful_," I said in an awed voice. "May I 
really borrow them?"

"Of course! They do add something, don't they? I found 
them in the flea market at Nogi Shrine for almost 
nothing, would you believe? Man said he'd had them for 
ages - girls today think they don't want to wear 
old-fashioned stuff like that. But they're wrong." She 
sat down and poured herself more tea. "I've been 
working with fashion all my life. Sexy fashion of 
course - clothes for JAV stars to wear - but classy 
too. And the older I get, the more I understand the 
designers of earlier days, they knew all about 
classy-sexy too. The woman those were made for - and 
the girls in the workshop who cut them and stitched 
them - they knew what they were doing. Look after them. 
Don't get them dirty - take them off before you start 
stroking him! Take the dress off _first_, of course. 
For a man of good taste there's something very 
stimulating about a beautiful girl revealing the parts 
of herself that are usually hidden and covering up arms 
and legs that are normally bare. That's why gloves and 
stockings are always such a success. Let him enjoy 
looking at you. Then peel the gloves off, slowly and 
carefully. He'll be crazy for you after that!"

I promised I would follow her advice, secretly 
wondering if I really had the sophistication to make a 
success of it and live up to the promise of these 
lovely clothes.

"Find some simple but elegant shoes, off-white to match 
the gloves as closely as you can: the heels as high as 
you can manage but nothing tarty or glitzy. Another 
thing: don't tie the halter neck too tight." She 
adjusted the bow of the narrow bands as she spoke. "The 
front needs to be just a little loose. So he can catch 
glimpses of the curves of your breasts from the sides. 
Not too much, of course; just a nice little 
accident-on-purpose. Not that it will take him long to 
undo it altogether. Or ask you to. Can you strip 
nicely, dear?"

"Oh yes," said Reina before I could answer. "She's done 
it at clubs several times. Loves doing it, and excites 
the men beautifully."

"That's good to hear," said Matsumoto-san. "Girls 
today, they're such sluts, they want to take everything 
off at once." She let out a fruity chuckle. "Not that 
there's anything wrong with that or with being a slut, 
quite the contrary, but a girl needs to know how to 
tease her lover and build up his appetite. And her own, 
of course. Normally if you were just going off to be 
fucked at a party I'd put you in an even shorter skirt, 
but half-way up the thighs is about right for a 
high-class date. You know my motto! No, of course you 
don't: we've only just met. 'The shortest possible 
skirt, the longest possible hair and the highest 
possible heels.' That's how to keep a man nicely on the 
boil and eager to satisfy you. Which reminds me: how 
long has he booked you for?"

"Three hours," I said shyly.

"Yes, you should get a lot of fucking out of that. But 
he may be thinking of taking you out somewhere for part 
of the time. So here's what you do. You go to him nude 
under your dress, of course. But stick a pair of smart 
tights and a pretty panty in your purse. That way if 
you're to be seen with him in public, you'll look 
elegant and do him credit. He'll thank you for that - 
the best way a man _can_ thank a girl. Oh, here's a 
purse to go with the dress."

She had stood up again and started hunting in drawers 
again while talking. She handed me a little clutch bag 
in matching dark red rough silk.

"Oh thank you, thank you! You've been so kind to me!"

"Nothing, nothing. I love helping girls who are 
starting in the sex business. Especially when they have 
a talent for it, as you do. Have a lovely time. Bring 
me back everything when it's all over. I want to hear 
every detail of what he does to you - and of what you 
do to him. That's the only fun I have these days."

She packed the dress, gloves and purse professionally 
into a carrier bag. When Reina had at last managed to 
exploit a gap in her volubility to get us both out 
through her front door, we visited a shopping arcade 
near Meguro Station and found a local branch of a 
well-known Ginza shoe-shop. The assistant was able to 
find just what I needed: simple off-white evening shoes 
with high slender heels.

"Of course you'll mostly be buying glitzier shoes in 
shops where the professional girls go," explained 
Reina. "Or girls who dream of being professionals. I'll 
show you where. There's a famous shop in Asakusa, for 
example, in the approach to the Kannon temple. But for 
an occasion like this you want something more 
understated. Even so, these are discreetly sexy. The 
heels are high and will make your legs look extra nice. 
And give you that hint of captivity - you know, of 
being unable to escape. It adds to a girl's 
attractiveness. And I like the neck." She ran her 
finger along the front of the shoe, which was cut so as 
to show a little of the divisions between my toes.[23] 
"If your man happens to be a foot-fetishist a low neck 
like this will drive him wild with lust."

"Are a lot of men interested in girls' feet?" I asked.

"Oh yes. It's a very common fetish. And a nice one, I 
always think. It's a pleasure for a girl to have a man 
grovelling on the floor, begging to be allowed to kiss 
her toes, even to come over them sometimes. _Gaijin_ 
who live in Japan nearly always have that fetish. But 
then it's hardly surprising: they say we Japanese girls 
have such nice little feet, compared with the great 
ugly ones Western women have, poor things."

"Is Mr Williams a foot-fetishist?" I asked.

"Of course. But then he has so many fetishes ... it's 
what makes him so popular. You never know what clever 
idea he'll be cooking up for you when you see him. Now, 
I'll pay for the shoes."

"Oh, but ..."

"It comes out of the money I'm holding for you, 
remember? Your professional fees. Now, we'd better 
think about jewellery. I don't suppose you have any 
pearls, do you?"

"No."

"Nor do I. Not quality ones, anyway. Just costume 
jewellery. Anyway, I think they're very old-fashioned, 
don't you? Whatever Matsumoto-san says. I'll lend you 
some long, sparkly earrings and I have just the right 
necklace to match."

==

"That's nice, dear," said my mother as I prepared to 
leave the house in my beautiful dress, carrying my 
purse and a shawl with which I proposed to cover my 
bare shoulders and back. "Will you be home late?"

"Rather. But not very, I think."

"Well, enjoy yourself."

Not for the first time I wondered how much my mother 
really knew about my activities. Had she perhaps peeked 
into my private chest? But if she didn't have to know 
the things she didn't want to know, that would be all 
right, I thought. She had discreetly refrained from 
asking whether I was serious about any of the men I was 
now dating.

I decided to treat myself to a taxi to get to the very 
smart address to which I had been summoned. Sitting 
primly on the back seat, agreeably aware of the 
admiring glances of the driver in his rear mirror, I 
took the long gloves out of my purse and pulled them on 
carefully, smoothing the soft leather till it once 
again felt like a second skin. I had not worn them on 
leaving the house as my mother would surely have asked 
where I had got them. I was wearing a medium-length set 
of fingernails - in an overall deep pink, nothing too 
brash or glitzy. I had calculated that the long fingers 
of the gloves would leave room for me to wear them. 
Like Matsumoto-san, I wondered who she had been, the 
girl long ago with such elegant hands for whom these 
gloves had been made? Then I just had time to make sure 
my hair was up and would stay up, before we arrived at 
the modern apartment block and the driver swung open 
the rear door with a flourish. I had the money ready 
with which to pay the fare, so that I would not have to 
hunt in my purse and perhaps dirty the fingertips of my 
gloves. I walked up the broad entrance steps to the big 
glass doors, which hissed open allowing me into the 
lobby. No entry-phones and door-buzzers for those who 
could afford to live here: their visitors were welcomed 
by a uniformed porter at a desk.

"I have an appointment with Mr Ken Kobayashi," I said 
hesitantly.

"Certainly, miss. What name?"

It suddenly occurred to me that I had never thought to 
give myself a full professional name. The only name I 
could give was "Hanako" which on its own sounded far 
too intimate. Still, the porter showed not a flicker of 
surprise.

"Miss Hanako is here to see you sir," he said into his 
telephone. "Certainly, sir." He hung up. "If you will 
take the elevator to the penthouse suite, miss, Mr 
Kobayashi will be waiting for you."

If he was privately thinking "Lucky Mr Kobayashi" he 
was far too professional to show the slightest hint of 
it. He stood up and pressed a button on his desk. The 
doors behind him opened silently, and he bowed me into 
the elevator. The name Kobayashi was engraved on the 
top label on the panel. The heat sensitive button did 
not respond to my gloved finger, so the porter had to 
reach in and help me. The doors closed and I was on my 
way.

There was only one door in the big hallway of the top 
floor: it was open and a handsome man in, I guessed, 
his late 30s was standing there waiting for me. I 
introduced myself and bowed, taking a quick look at my 
client as I came upright again. He was smartly dressed 
in white slacks and a dark blue open-necked shirt. He 
had well-polished brown loafers on his feet: unusual, 
it fleetingly occurred to me, for a Japanese at home to 
be wearing shoes.

"Please come in," he said. "Oh, don't worry about your 
shoes - I have become rather Western in my habits, and 
I think a smartly dressed lady should be allowed to 
remain smart."

He ushered me into a living-room. It seemed enormous to 
me, elegantly furnished and with wide picture windows 
giving onto a balcony and a splendid view of Roppongi 
in the evening sun. My shawl was slipping off my 
shoulders and he gently removed it for me, his hands 
exciting me as they touched my shoulders and upper 
arms.

"What a lovely room," I said.

"Let me show you round."

His right arm was round my waist. I inclined my left 
hip slightly towards him as I moved so that he could 
hold me more snugly. He led me towards the windows, and 
slid one of the panels open. With a murmured "Shall 
we?" he guided me onto the broad balcony. We stood by 
the rail while he pointed out the new buildings which 
had recently appeared in the Roppongi area. As I 
followed his directions, I could feel his glance 
brushing the curves of my left breast, partly visible 
through the side of my dress. How glad I was that I had 
followed Matsumoto-san's expert advice and tied the 
halter-neck a little loosely! Then he turned me to face 
him, put both hands on my shoulders and kissed me. I 
responded, of course: I had expected him to do 
something like that, but - more - I had been wanting 
him to do it ever since I had first felt his touch.

"You are very beautiful," he said. "But I knew that 
from the pictures your agency showed me. And what a 
lovely dress!"

He turned me round so that I had my back to him, and 
slid his hands under the cloth so that he could fondle 
and squeeze my breasts. I leant back against him, 
rubbing my bottom gently against his crotch, and sighed 
happily.

"How good that feels!" I murmured.

One of his hands abandoned my breasts and began to 
fiddle with the bow at the back of my neck.

"May I?"

"Please let me," I said.

I pulled gently away and turned to face him. I raised 
both gloved hands and began to take the bow apart, very 
slowly. I smiled teasingly, but then to show my true 
feelings and desires put my head on one side, raised my 
shoulder and rubbed my cheek against it in what I hoped 
was an unmistakable "I want to be touched" signal. The 
bow was fully undone now, and I let the front of the 
dress fall so that I was naked above the waist. But 
instead of returning to his arms I moved back to the 
balcony rail and gazed out over the view. It was 
beginning to get dark and the cityscape was 
illuminated. I felt him join me and put his arms round 
me from behind, his hands finding my breasts as if they 
were the most natural place for them to be. As of 
course they were.

"How lovely!" I said, pretending to refer to the view 
but in fact meaning the wonderful tingling his stroking 
hands were sending through me.

He said nothing for a few moments, and just continued 
arousing me. Then he took me back to the centre of the 
balcony.

"You look so lovely like that," he said. "But now 
please take it all off for me."

"Of course. I want to. So much."

This, I thought, was to be the most important 
performance of my life so far. Of course, thanks to 
Reina, I had stripped and been naked for audiences a 
few times already. But now I would be stripping for an 
audience of one, and that one a man I wanted 
desperately to please. I stood in a model pose, weight 
on one foot and the other leg out a little to one side, 
and smiled as I raised my gloved arms above my head. 
Then with one hand I fiddled with one glittering 
earring, and began to stroke my breasts lightly with 
the other. Slowly my hands moved down to my waist. It 
took just a moment to slide down the discreet zipper, 
after which I began to rotate my hips gently - not 
blatantly - as the skirt of my dress slid slowly over 
them. I stopped it falling to the floor and held it as 
I carefully stepped out of it. For a few moments I held 
the dress against me, teasing him - and myself - by 
hiding "those parts that men delight to see"[24] and 
that girls delight to reveal; then I placed it neatly 
on the nearest of the chairs arranged on the balcony. 
Nude at last - apart from gloves and shoes - I swayed 
and danced ecstatically. Then we were in each other's 
arms. Had I moved towards him or had he come forward to 
take me? Neither of us knew.

"Oh, you are so lovely!" he was saying. "And those 
gloves! And the jewellery! It is so good when a girl 
wears jewellery when she is wearing nothing else."

And I? I was whispering immodestly, "Take me! Oh, take 
me! I can't wait a moment longer."

Together we stepped through the open window back into 
the living-room. He let go of me long enough to twist a 
dimmer light-switch and pull off his shirt and slacks.

"Please wait just a moment," I said shyly.

"Why, darling? I _can't_!"

"I must take my gloves off ... they might be damaged 
when you take me. You see, they're old and valuable."

"Oh yes! Do it for me ... let me watch!"

I returned to my stripping mode, and removed my right 
glove slowly and sensuously. Once my right hand was 
free, I stepped closer and began to pull down his 
shorts, releasing his erect cock. I stroked it gently a 
few times, an earnest of what was to come. Then I made 
him wait while I peeled off the other glove. The moment 
I had finished, he lifted me in his arms. I wrapped one 
arm round his shoulders and kicked flirtatiously with 
my legs.

"Take me! Oh, take me!" I said again.

He carried me swiftly from the living-room into the 
bedroom and laid me on the big bed, already stripped to 
the sheet. He knelt beside me, kissing and stroking my 
mouth, my breasts ... then he gently parted my legs and 
began to kiss and fondle my crotch.

"No hair ..." he murmured.

"You like that?" I asked anxiously.

"Oh, yes ... such a _beautiful_ pussy ... and nothing 
to stop me enjoying it!"

The tip of his tongue began to tickle my clitoris. I 
gasped at the sudden pleasure and could not help 
wriggling away from him. He held my hips firmly and 
began to lick and suck my clitoris and pussy 
enthusiastically. Great waves of pleasure from my 
excited love-button began to throb through me and I 
began to babble - oh, such silly things I cannot bear 
to repeat them! His tongue was deep in my cunt now, 
lapping up the love-juice dripping into his mouth. One 
of the hands gripping my hips was moving round 
underneath me and raising my bottom to a more 
convenient angle for his lips. And - yes! - one finger 
was pressing against my anus, seeking entry into my 
second and so far virgin lower love-hole.

I reminded myself that, wonderful though his 
love-making was, it was my job to please him, not to be 
pleasured. I had been purchased for the evening. That 
was a thrilling thought, and it added to my excitement 
to know that a man had found me desirable enough to buy 
me and to pay to make love to me. Whatever happened I 
must be a _good_ prostitute and worthy of my new 
profession.

"But won't you ... let me ... take your cock?" I gasped 
between the spasms of ecstasy flooding through me from 
my pussy. "I'm doing nothing to please you!"

"You're doing everything to please me, darling!" he 
protested.

But nonetheless he swung round on the big bed so that I 
could take his cock into my hands. It was not huge: the 
standard for that had been set for me in my experience 
so far by the magnificent pieces of meat proudly owned 
by Harry and Anton, my and Reina's partners in our 
shameless display at the club where they worked. But it 
was a nice one and I knew I could enjoy its strength 
and urgency. I twisted round so that I could lick it, 
kiss it, and gradually draw it into my mouth. Of course 
that put a stop to any conversation, from me at any 
rate; and I concentrated on applying all my 
cock-sucking skill to my new possession. After all, 
that was one skill I could claim to have from years of 
after-school experience!

Our mutual lust was so great that we came together in 
our 69 position. If he had been planning to take me in 
other ways too during this first fuck, they would have 
to wait for later. Great gobbets of creamy cum burst 
into my mouth and I pressed my pussy repeatedly against 
his lips as if trying to fuck his maddening tongue. And 
although I have never been any good at _shiofuki_ or 
gushing,[25] I think on this occasion I did ejaculate a 
little of the transparent liquid which many men claim 
to enjoy so much.

When at last I had sucked the last drop of cum from his 
cock and released it from my hands he quickly swung 
round on the bed and sat beside me.

"Oh, that was so good!" he said. "Was it good for you 
too?"

"You sucked me _beautifully_!" I said shyly. "Did you 
really enjoy it?"

"Of course! You have a lovely pussy. And you make 
delicious love-juice. Some of the best I've ever 
tasted. And when you came, you squirted - just a little 
bit! I wasn't expecting that, you naughty girl!"

He leant down and kissed my eyes and nose, just to show 
he didn't mean it.

"And," I said, feeling a little bolder, "it was so nice 
the way you pressed your finger against my ... you know 
..."

"Against your arse-hole? Oh, it was so sweet, the way 
it was throbbing. And it's so small - are you really 
still a virgin there?"

I said nothing, but he knew I meant yes.

I began to sit up and scramble off the bed. I made for 
the bathroom, preparing to refresh myself for what I so 
hoped would be further, more elaborate, love-making. It 
was in keeping with the rest of the apartment, with 
both a bathtub and a shower with sprays up and down the 
walls to tickle and stimulate you delightfully. But I 
did not stay long. I knew there were even better kinds 
of sexual stimulation waiting for me. And, I reminded 
myself firmly, wonderful though his love-making would 
be, I was here to pleasure my client. "I am a 
professional now," I said proudly to myself. "I want 
him to be more satisfied with my services than he has 
ever been with any other prostitute. And this is a man 
who can afford the best. It is a great privilege to be 
summoned by him."

After this little private pep-talk, I returned to the 
living-room, still wearing just my heels and jewellery. 
He was sitting naked on one of the couches, his legs 
apart, and gestured to me to sit beside him. But I 
preferred to take a modest position on the floor 
kneeling between his feet. His semi-erect cock dangled 
enticingly by my face. Surely he would soon be ready to 
take me again? I held it my right hand, pushing it 
gently up against his belly while I stroked the 
sensitive underside; with my left I weighed his heavy 
balls, tickling and prickling them with the tips of my 
pointed fingernails.

"Surely you have more cum in there to love me with?" I 
asked teasingly.

Without waiting for an answer I leant further forward 
and took his cock slowly into my mouth. If ever I have 
loved and desired the thousands of cocks I have sucked, 
I thought, I love and desire this one. I swirled my 
tongue round it, holding it firmly between my lips as I 
plunged and withdrew. I heard him groan with pleasure 
as my sucking forced his flesh to harden: there was no 
way he could resist me! I started tickling his balls 
again with my nails, and then slid a finger along the 
channel between his buttocks, letting it worm its way 
towards the muscular ring of his anus. I would have to 
be careful not to hurt him with the sharp point of my 
nail, but had he not tested my willingness to accept 
anal penetration while kissing and loving my cunt? I 
wanted so much to do the same to him - or the male 
equivalent of what he had done to me. Did men enjoy 
having their anal passages entered like that by a 
girl's finger? Much more important, would _this_ man 
enjoy it? I had read somewhere that gently penetrating 
a man's anus and tickling his prostate could give him 
an erection. Well, he had an erection already - I had 
seen to that - but as a professional wasn't it my duty 
to find new ways of pleasuring my clients?

"Oh, darling, what a wonderful cock-sucker you are!" I 
heard him say. "Do you love it the way I love sucking 
pussies?"

Well, the honest answer to that was that I loved it far 
too much to want to stop doing it to engage in idle 
conversation. So I just mumbled something which made my 
lips vibrate as I slid them firmly to and fro along his 
shaft. From the cries of joy I could now hear from 
somewhere above me I could tell that if I was not 
careful he would come before I was ready for him. His 
hand was on the back of my head now, forcing my lips 
right down to the root of his shaft; the tip of his 
cock was pressing against my throat. I suppressed the 
urge to gag, relaxed my throat muscles and swallowed 
the head. Meanwhile I was losing the opportunity to 
discover if his anus would respond to my finger. I 
pushed it further towards its goal, then pressed 
carefully with my fingertip. Yes! I could feel his 
muscles gasping open and then closing again, longing 
for penetration and then rejecting it. What a pity I 
had not thought to remove my artificial fingernail so 
that I could experiment further. Well, now that I knew 
what he liked there would be time for that later. Would 
this wonderful man feel his masculinity threatened if I 
explored his body with a vibrator - or even with a 
_peniban_[26] as Reina and I had done to each other? 
Perhaps a man of this experience and sophistication 
would find it piquant to play the feminine part and let 
himself be penetrated by a naked girl with an 
insatiable artificial cock dangling between her legs. 
The idea was so charming that I began to giggle. The 
extra stimulus pushed my lover past the point of no 
return. I pulled back a little, releasing the head of 
his cock from my throat so that I could savour the 
flood of cum on my tongue instead of having it injected 
straight into me. Yes, the cock was swelling as the 
precious fluid was forced along it in glorious 
consummation of our love.

Slowly, taking care not to lose a drop, I withdrew. As 
he recovered from his climax, he looked down 
contentedly, and watched me swirling his gift around my 
mouth, mixing it with saliva, letting it pour out onto 
my hand, licking it back up again, deliberately 
dribbling some of it onto my breasts.

"You look like a kitten with cream," I heard him say. 
"Or, rather, like a little girl playing with a new 
toy."

"I love it," I said rather stickily as I swallowed the 
mixture down in stages. "Thank you, thank you! You came 
so nicely. Did I please you?"

"Oh yes. And you were doing very naughty things to me 
with your fingers."

"Did you enjoy that? Oh, I do hope you enjoyed it!"

"Very much."

"I'm so glad. That means there are other nice things I 
can do to you."

Suddenly he sat up straight on the couch.

"I'm hungry!" he announced.

"Are you?" I said coyly, pretending to misunderstand 
him. "What do you want to do to me now?"

"I want to take you out to dinner! Go and put some 
clothes on."

I looked round for my dress and then remembered I had 
left it on the balcony after I had stripped for him 
there. I walked to the window, slid it open and stepped 
out. The cool evening air felt fresh and sensuous as it 
slid over my nakedness. Before picking up the dress I 
went to the balcony rail and leant out over Roppongi. 
Were people watching me and enjoying my shameless 
display of nudity? Oh, I did so hope they were! I waved 
mischievously at my imagined audience, then collected 
my dress. Back in the living-room I found my purse and 
vanished into the bathroom.

I was so grateful to Reina's friend Matsumoto-san for 
knowing that Mr Kobayashi might want to take me out 
somewhere during our time together. I pulled the little 
silver t-back panties and discreet pale tights from my 
purse and put them on. I washed my hands, cleaned the 
traces of cum from my face and breasts, and adjusted my 
hair. I pulled the skirt of the dress over my hips and 
was about to tie the halter behind my neck when I 
thought of something. It was rather naughty of me, 
because neither Reina nor her friend had said that I 
might, but in a corner of my purse I had hidden my 
favourite pair of clamps - the ones which were just two 
little sleeves of steel to slip over my erect nipples 
and adjust with the screws which made each sleeve grip 
tighter and tighter ... I pulled them out from their 
hiding place and fitted them. The tiny chains and 
downward pointing arrows in matching steel were still 
attached. I twisted the screws till my breasts caught 
fire and flooded me with delicious waves of feeling. 
Then at last I tied the bow in the halter-neck, having 
to redo it several times till I had the right effect, 
my breasts just visible from the side when I stood 
upright, but not blatantly revealed. Then I rejoined my 
client in the living-room. He had already dressed in 
his slacks and shirt from before, and had added a light 
jacket, but I made him wait - and watch - while I 
carefully put on my gloves and smoothed them to a 
perfect fit.

"You look lovely," he said when I had finished. "Will 
you want your shawl?"

"No, it's still quite warm outside - and anyway it 
feels much nicer without."

It would be exciting to feel the evening air caressing 
my bare back, I thought, giving me a sensation of at 
least partial nudity.

We left the penthouse apartment and took the elevator 
to the entrance floor. The porter greeted us 
respectfully as we crossed to the street. I hardly knew 
Roppongi Hills but Mr Kobayashi guided me the short 
walk to a huge international hotel which was a 
centrepiece of the reconstruction of the area.

"I often eat here ..." he said vaguely as we entered 
the enormous lobby.

Such a sophisticated environment was something new for 
me, but it felt good to be there on the arm of a 
handsome, experienced man, dressed smartly enough to 
attract admiring glances on our way across the lobby to 
what seemed to be an Italian restaurant.

"Is this all right for you," he asked as a waiter 
showed us to our table, "or would you prefer to eat in 
the main restaurant?"

"This is lovely," I said as the waiter, addressing Mr 
Kobayashi by name, flourished two enormous menus in 
front of us. "In fact, I'm not very hungry. Please will 
you order something light for me? I'm so excited," I 
went on, dropping my voice to an intimate murmur, 
"imagining all the things you will perhaps do to me 
later ..."

He smiled at me, and then turned to the hovering 
waiter. What I had said was true, of course, but my 
sexual arousal was increased further by the waves of 
desire flooding from my tightly clamped breasts and 
stimulating my panting love-holes almost beyond 
endurance. Wearing the little steel implements and 
subjecting myself to their torture had been a lovely 
idea but their enhancement of my craving for sex was 
going almost too far for a public restaurant. It was 
urgently necessary to think and talk of something other 
than sex.

"What is your business, Kobayashi-san?" I asked with an 
effort, as the waiter departed and his attention 
returned to me.

"Please don't call me that, Hanako!" he said. "My name 
is Ken."

I bowed in acknowledgment of his kindness, and repeated 
my question.

"Well, I'm a film director," he said.

"But how exciting! What films have you made - would I 
have seen them?"

He reeled off a few titles with a quizzical expression 
on his face, and I had to admit I had not.

"Don't worry, I'm not surprised. They were all art 
films and unless you're very interested in the cinema 
you won't know them. And they didn't make any money! 
But then I found myself working with the Americans."

"That must have been interesting!"

"Well, it meant making artistic compromises for the 
sake of money. The history of the cinema." He smiled at 
me and spread his hands in a gesture of mock 
resignation. "I expect you know that there have been 
big joint ventures in recent years between Japanese and 
American companies. Making popular feature films."

"Wasn't there a film," I said, searching my memory for 
something I had seen on television, "about an American 
... Tom Cruise, was it? ... who became a samurai?"

"Yes. _The Last Samurai_. I didn't work on that, but I 
was assistant to the American director on others. Then 
I was asked to be assistant director on films made in 
the US. And now I make my own films."

"That's wonderful for you!" I said.

"Now tell me about yourself. What are your plans, 
dreams, hopes?"

"Well," I said shyly, "I'm hoping to become a film 
actress. One day. When I'm old enough."

"What sort of films do you want to act in?"

I looked down and blushed. This is absurd, I then 
thought: he knows I am a prostitute - he has bought me 
for the evening. So why should I be embarrassed to tell 
him that my dream is to act in sex videos? Is it 
perhaps because I'm afraid a great mainstream director 
like him will despise the sex-film industry? Well, if 
he does, he shouldn't. I forced myself to look him 
straight in the eye.

"I want to be an AV actress. I want to star in sex 
videos. But of course I have to wait till I'm eighteen. 
Oh, it's so _unfair_." I found myself looking down and 
blushing furiously again. "I want to do it so much. I 
know what I want to do. And I have to wait for 
_years_!"

I looked up again. He wasn't disapproving at all: he 
was smiling.

"I think that's wonderful!" he said. "Beautiful and 
talented girls like you are just what the industry 
needs."

"So you don't disapprove of films like that? Or 
disapprove of me for wanting so much to act in them?"

"Of course not! I love films like that. I have quite a 
collection. Most normal men do, I guess. And I think 
it's ridiculous that girls have to wait till they're 
eighteen before they can take part. A girl knows when 
she's ready. And young girls like you look so 
incredibly charming, getting nude and fucking on 
screen. Or in public - you know, in clubs or at 
parties. They're so delightfully enthusiastic. 
Fortunately," he went on, seeing that I was still 
distressed from my outburst and giving me time to 
recover, "Japanese girls usually still look very young, 
even when they're over eighteen. The director puts them 
in schoolgirl costumes, or something like that, and 
they pretend to be little _roriitas_ - and the audience 
pretends too."

"You like little _roriitas_?" I asked with a 
flirtatious smile.

"M'm. I told you - I'm a normal man. But I like real 
ones best - like you."

I blushed and looked down at my plate.

"I had a girl-friend once," he went on. "A long time 
ago. She was like you. Couldn't wait to act in adult 
videos. But of course she had to. Wait, I mean. A 
girl's career can be ruined if it comes out that she 
was being fucked on camera when she was underage. And 
it does come out, you know: it's a highly competitive 
business and studios don't hesitate to sabotage each 
other's successful stars if they can. Or blackmail 
them."

"Blackmail them? How ...?"

"Threaten to publish what they know about their 
underage activities unless they agree to change 
studios. Or provide special sexual services, you know 
the kind of thing."

I was tempted to say no, I didn't know, but it sounded 
fun and would he please tell me in more detail what 
those special services were - but he clearly expected 
me to look shocked, so I did that instead.

"What happened to your friend?" I asked.

"Oh, she waited till she was eighteen, then went for a 
screen-test with a big studio, made a lot of successful 
videos and now she's an important businesswoman. Still 
in the adult video business. I keep in touch with her - 
she's married and has other, you know, interests but 
I'm rather proud of having known her when she was a 
beginner. Or even before. And she was very helpful to 
my younger sister."

"Tell me about your sister."

"Well, she's become quite a successful AV actress 
herself."

"Really?"

"Yes. She now specialises in bondage and punishment 
movies. You know the kind of thing. They all have 
pretty much the same plot. An innocent girl of good 
family is kidnapped, taken to some secret location, and 
then bound and tortured. My sister is a little on the 
plump side, you see - in an attractive way - and she 
looks very pretty wearing tight ropes and with whips 
bouncing off her tautly bound flesh. And she says she 
enjoys it."

"I've never seen that kind of movie. What happens 
next?"

"Well, the kidnappers turn her into a sex-slave, either 
for their own use or to work servicing customers to 
make money for the gang. At first she resists - which 
means she gets whipped some more - but then she finds 
she enjoys it, becomes a member of the gang, says 
good-bye to her old life, maybe signs a contract 
promising to be a sex-slave from then on."

Once again I resisted the temptation to say what fun 
that sounded, but I am sure my face showed clearly what 
I thought.

"Tell me," I said, changing the subject slightly, "if 
it's not a rude question that is, how does it feel 
seeing your own sister starring in sex-videos?"

"Well, it was a bit strange at first, I have to admit. 
I hadn't been interested in my sister that way, you see 
- not the way some brothers are. And to be honest she'd 
never come across as a sexy girl. Never dressed smartly 
- except of course when she started work as an OL and 
had a uniform - never brought boyfriends home or even 
talked about them. And then, all of a sudden ... 
something happened to her. I don't know what it was 
exactly. I'd left home by then, started my career, got 
married. But from what my mother told me later, it was 
at a wedding."

"Really?"

I was surprised. From my limited experience weddings 
were rather dreary affairs, where one had to listen to 
too many speeches and be polite to distant cousins, 
giggly in dresses bought from a provincial shop which 
they wrongly thought were chic: hardly occasions for 
life-changing experiences.

"Yes, I thought it was odd too. It was the wedding of 
one of Kimiko's former school-friends - in fact the 
girl I told you about, the one who did well in the AV 
business. So perhaps there were people from her studio 
there ... you know, on the look-out for new talent. 
Even so, it was very sudden. She started dressing 
nicely, going to parties ... then one day she calmly 
informed the family she was giving up her respectable 
OL job and wanted to become a fuck-film actress."[27]

"That must have been quite a shock."

"Well, my father thought she was mad, but said she was 
old enough to decide for herself. After all, I was well 
launched on a career and might well give him a grandson 
to carry on the family name, and Kimiko was only a 
girl. I supported her, of course."

"That was good of you."

"Well, I was in the film business myself. A different 
branch of it, but still ... My mother was worried she 
was ruining her chances of getting a good husband. 
You'll probably find that's what your mother says when 
you tell her going to become an AV actress."

I blushed and looked down. It was very perceptive of 
him to understand why I was asking him about family 
reactions to his sister's career.

"So you are married?" I asked.

It wasn't the most discreet of questions but it was the 
first way that occurred to me of changing the subject. 
Fortunately he was not upset or offended.

"Yes, but don't let it bother you. We've lived apart 
for years. She was very supportive when I began in my 
career, creating art films that were critical successes 
but made no money. Once I started working with American 
studios, she decided she wanted to do something 
worthier and is now lecturing on the history of 
oriental art at a university in Aomori Prefecture. 
Where she comes from. We're still good friends but 
we've agreed to live different lives."

I stopped pretending to eat the food in front of me and 
pushed the plate to one side. He leant forward and 
looked into my eyes. I could feel my heart beating 
faster. I knew what was coming and knew too that I 
wanted it desperately.

"Well, if you've finished, shall we go back? There are 
so many things I want to do while we still have time 
together ..."

"Oh yes!" I breathed, hardly able to speak. "I want you 
to do them too ... so much ..."

==

As soon as we returned to Ken's apartment I slipped 
into the bathroom and quickly removed my tights and 
panties. When I returned, he had put on some background 
music with a slow beat, and without waiting for him to 
tell me I danced for him. It wasn't really a strip: I 
had only my dress to take off after all, but I made the 
most of it. Then, when I was in his arms, his hands at 
once found my breasts and he began to play with my 
little nipple-clamps.

"So pretty!" he said. "Do you often wear them?"

"Oh yes! These or other pairs. You don't mind, do you?" 
I added anxiously.

"Of course not! They make you even more beautiful. And 
sexy."

He fiddled with the mechanism and I let out a gasp as 
the little steel sleeves seized my nipples in an even 
tighter embrace.

"Do you enjoy pain?"

"Well, I don't know. I love wearing things like these 
and I adore the feeling they give me, but it isn't 
pain. It's just a wonderful warm tingling feeling that 
makes me so happy."

"That's very unusual. Very special. I'd like to ... Do 
you mind if I take some photos of you?"

"Of course not! Please do."

I had a strange feeling that he had changed what he 
planned to ask in mid-sentence. There was something 
he'd like to do, and it was connected somehow with my 
love of wearing tight nipple-clamps. Perhaps I would 
find out later what it was. Meanwhile he opened a 
drawer and took out a very elaborate and expensive 
camera. Under his expert guidance I posed standing, 
sitting, lying on the couch, then standing on the 
terrace showing myself nude to anyone who might be 
watching. That was especially nice! After that I slowly 
stripped off my beautiful gloves and, now wearing only 
my shoes and clamps, lay on the couch lasciviously 
stroking my clitoris, my face showing clearly how much 
I was enjoying it.

"Just a moment! Don't stop. You look so pretty doing 
that ..."

He vanished into the bedroom, and returned with several 
long coils of rope.

"You enjoy being tied up?"

I shivered with anticipation, remembering the lovely 
feeling of being tightly bound by Bob Williams. I 
stood, and followed Ken's instructions as he tied my 
hands behind my back with one end of a rope, then wound 
the rest of it firmly round me, above my breasts and 
then below them. The next rope went round my waist, 
then between my legs twice, kissing the sensitive 
valleys on either side of my pussy but leaving my cunt 
exposed and unbound. At every stage he stopped so he 
could photograph me. I don't know which excited and 
stimulated me more: the loving embrace of the ropes or 
the shameless exposure, through the camera's eye, to 
anyone who wanted to watch.

Finally Ken fixed the end of a third rope to the bonds 
tying my wrists and, holding the other end in his left 
hand, made me crawl around the carpet, the little 
silver decorations suspended from my nipple-clamps 
swaying and tinkling as I went. He urged me on with an 
instrument of sexual pleasure which I had not 
experienced before: a kind of switch, a thin flexible 
cane sheathed in black leather with a sort of leather 
blade at the tip. As it flickered round my naked bottom 
I felt great waves of pleasure pulsing through me.

"You like that?" he asked as he heard my gasps of 
delight. "It's not hurting you?"

"Oh _no_!" I said. "It's wonderful! _Please_ don't 
stop!"

"What a extraordinary girl you are!" he said, lashing 
me harder than ever. "I just love whipping girls, and 
you seem to love being whipped."

"Well, of course I do! It feels fantastic! Harder, 
please ... oooh!"

Gradually, with the lead-rope and the switch, he was 
guiding me into the bedroom. There he helped me onto 
the bed, still on my hands and knees. The lovely 
tickling from the switch ceased, leaving my bottom 
glowing with received pleasure, the warmth spreading 
through every bit of me.

"Now, how about this?" I heard him ask.

I opened my eyes and saw a whip dangling in front of my 
face, not the many knotted lashes with which I was so 
in love but a single long, thick braid of polished 
leather. I remembered that Reina had given me a pair of 
whips like that as part of the equipment I was to share 
with Masumi, telling me to work up to the pleasure they 
could give after starting with the simpler toys. But 
even so, they had been little whips for beginners, I 
thought - nothing like this long, powerful beauty which 
Ken was coiling and uncoiling before me now. I felt 
pride in being promoted to something so advanced, 
combined with a touch of anxiety that I might not be 
worthy of it. Ken was murmuring soft words in my ear, 
urging me to accept the happiness this beautiful 
instrument could give me.

"Yes, yes!" I responded at last, barely able to speak. 
"Please love me with him!"

"Oh, darling ... I love you - he loves you - we both 
want to make you happy."

I felt him get off the bed. Standing beside me, he 
raised the beautiful whip above his head, stretching 
its elegant length taut between his hands. Then ...

For a tiny moment I could hear the braided leather hiss 
through the air before it embraced me with its ring of 
fire. The most wonderful sexual thrill I had ever 
experienced surged through me. And yet ... was there 
not something new and different in what I was feeling? 
A sort of sharp edge - something that my mind had never 
had to deal with before, that triggered a desire to 
scream loudly and beg to be spared this cruel 
treatment? The emotion was so strong that the scream 
escaped before I could stop it. The whip was rising 
above me again - I could feel its tickle as it left me 
and see something of its movement as I lay with my face 
turned to one side on the pillow. Down it came again 
with a second white-hot kiss. Again that irresistible 
urge to scream and beg. The scream was even louder but 
the plea for mercy was incoherent. Once again the 
withdrawing tickle, the terrified anticipation, the 
hiss through the air and the sizzling assault on my 
bottom. This time, as well as the scream, I heard my 
voice begging my lover to stop, to spare me the 
terrible pain.

Yes, I suddenly understood as the whip paused, this was 
the pain I had been told girls experienced until they 
learned to transmute it into bliss.

"I'm sorry ... are you all right?" I heard from above 
me.

But now I could feel only the molten joy which the 
three strokes of the braided whip had flooded through 
me. In a moment it would begin to ebb as its source 
withdrew.

"Yes, yes ... oh don't stop!"

"Sure?"

"Oh, please ... more ... harder ..."

Again the braided leather rose and then fell with all 
the loving strength Ken could impart to it. And the 
sharpness - what I now knew was pain - had gone. Its 
kiss flew straight to that part of my mind that dealt 
in pleasure, in bliss, in ecstasy and drew me upwards 
towards a heaven I had never known before.

He told me afterwards that he had given me fifteen 
strokes. After that fourth one, the stroke which gave 
no pain but only happiness, I was incapable of counting 
- I no longer had any contact with the ordinary world. 
When it was over, I felt myself floating gradually down 
till I was deposited with infinite gentleness once more 
on my lover's bed in my lover's apartment. I was aware 
of him leaning over me, smiling as he released my 
wrists from the rope and turned me onto my back. My 
freed arms were round his neck at once. My inflamed 
bottom was stimulated almost beyond endurance by the 
touch of the sheet but I didn't care. All that mattered 
was expressing the love I felt for this wonderful man 
who had given me so much more than I had ever known 
before - more than, surely, any girl had ever known.

"Yes, yes, darling," he was saying with a touch of 
impatient exasperation, "you were wonderful. I never 
heard a girl scream so beautifully."

There was one thing missing from our love and I knew 
what it was.

"Take me. Oh, take me," I begged. "Make love to me like 
no girl has ever been made love to before."

At once he slid down the bed till his head was between 
my legs. His hands slipped under my inflamed bottom and 
raised it till my cunt was at a comfortable level for 
his mouth. Of course the touch of his hands made me 
quiver and squirm; and when he felt me do that he held 
me even more firmly, sending great hot spasms through 
me to mingle delightfully with the pleasure his lips 
and tongue gave me as he first sipped and then greedily 
gulped down the liquid pouring from my pussy. He did 
not stay there long, however. We were both too 
desperate to fuck to spend any more time on 
preliminaries. He lay on top as he took me. As soon as 
his hand had guided his erection into my greedy cunt, I 
was in his arms as he hugged and held me, his grasp 
pressing my ropes even more firmly into my flesh.

It did not take us long. I already knew the way to 
heaven: the loving whip had shown it to me only minutes 
before. And he was as keen as I was - I knew why. I was 
learning how much a man's lust is stimulated by 
whipping a victim, willing or unwilling: especially 
unwilling or skilfully pretending to be. Even so, the 
journey to our shared ecstasy gave me yet another new 
joy. I felt as if our bodies were made one - not just 
the tight, loving embrace which good fucking should 
always be, but a sensation of every tiny atom of which 
I was made mingling and merging with all of him. We did 
not just come together, which as everyone knows is 
wonderful when it happens. We came as one being, one 
body, one spirit - and one overwhelming cry of joy.

When I came back to reality I was lying on the couch in 
the living-room, my head on his lap. My ropes had been 
removed and I was wearing only my high-heels and my 
nipple-clamps. I could feel his fingers playing lightly 
with the little metal decorations.

"How are you feeling, darling?" he asked; and then, 
without waiting for an answer, "I wondered if I ought 
to take these off you too, but they look so pretty ... 
especially with nothing else ..."

"I'm glad you didn't," I said, smiling up at him, 
"especially if they please you ..."

"Well, I think our time's up," he said with a sudden 
change of mood.

"Yes, I must be getting home ..." I said, still lost in 
my dream of sexual fulfilment.

"I'd like us to meet again," he said.

"Of course! I'd _love_ to!"

"Well, I'll talk to your agency and find a time when 
you're free," he said.

This a matter-of-fact approach brought me back to 
reality with a jolt. I remembered suddenly that I was 
not simply a happy girl who had found a new lover and 
was hoping to be fucked again on a second date. I was a 
prostitute, a girl who offered herself to be bought and 
sold. It was what I had freely chosen to be, but in 
choosing that life I had surrendered the right to look 
for my own sexual partners. I heaved myself into a 
sitting position on the couch and tried to look 
businesslike.

"I'd like you to accompany me to a party," he was 
saying. "That is, if you're not already booked that 
evening."

"Yes, I'm sure that would be all right. Er ... what 
sort of party?"

I was already wondering what clothes I would need to 
buy or borrow. He looked at me with a slightly odd 
smile.

"Have you ever been to a sex-party? You know, where the 
girls go nude and are ready to fuck anyone who wants 
them?"

"No ... I never have," I stammered. "But it does sound 
fun! Will you really take me to one?"

"Yes, of course. If your agency will let me have you. 
Otherwise it will have to be someone else. I'll call 
them, and if it's all right with them I'll talk to you 
direct about the details. What you'll be expected to 
do, what to wear. That sort of thing. I'd enjoy taking 
you as my date."

"What to wear? But I thought you said ..."

"That the girls will be nude? Well, yes, but the couple 
who host these parties like to set a theme. Nothing to 
get in the way of the fucking, of course, just a little 
bit of fetish to encourage everyone's appetite. The 
theme at the next party is harness. I expect you know 
the sort of thing."

I didn't of course, but I knew where to find out. I 
began to put on my dress. I didn't bother with tights 
or panties, and deciding not to risk damage to the 
beautiful gloves folded them carefully and stored them 
away in my purse.

"Would you ..."

I held out the strings of the halter for him to take.

"Of course. A little loose?"

"Yes please."

"I like the way you offer everyone little glimpses of 
your breasts," he said, as he tied the strings in a 
neat bow behind my neck. "Very pretty."

I felt his hands slide under the cloth and stroke me. 
His fingers played with my clamps, making the little 
decorations hanging from them sway and tinkle. I leant 
back against him and murmured with pleasure. Then he 
pulled away from me.

"I hope I gave you satisfaction, sir," I said formally.

"Yes. You did. Here, this is for you."

He picked up an envelope which had been lying on the 
table and handed it to me with both hands. It was not 
the usual cheap brown type but a white envelope printed 
with the name of his company. I could tell from its 
thickness that he had been generous - but of course I 
did not look inside or do anything except express 
reluctance to accept it. Then I folded it away in my 
purse, which was now rather full with the envelope on 
top of my gloves and unwanted underwear.

"I'll call you a car," he said.

He picked up a house phone which was at once answered 
by the porter on the front desk.

"A limousine for Miss Hanako," he said without 
preliminary.

I picked up the wrap I had been wearing to hide my bare 
back in the taxi all those hours ago. I felt less shy 
and more confident now, and just held it folded over my 
left arm. He took my other arm and guided me out of the 
apartment.

"But there's no need to ..." I protested.

"Oh, but there is!"

He accompanied me into the elevator.

"The limousine is waiting, sir," said the hall porter, 
standing up and bowing as we passed his desk.

The driver had the door open as we reached the street. 
It was a much more luxurious vehicle than the taxi I 
had arrived in. I bowed low to Ken - to my client. He 
bowed too, though much less formally.

"See you again," he said.

"Yes ... again ..." I murmured.

I climbed into the back of the car, swinging my legs in 
carefully hoping that the driver would not catch any 
glimpse of my nakedness under the short skirt. If he 
did, he was too well trained to react. I bowed again to 
Ken through the window as the car swept me away. I 
remembered to leave a voicemail message for the dating 
agency, then concentrated on giving directions to the 
limousine driver.


FOOTNOTES

[23] As a foot- and shoe-fetishist myself, I find it 
interesting that the curved line where the front of a 
shoe ends is technically known as the neck. Shoemakers 
have always understood that the extent to which a girl 
reveals her toes and the cleavage between them can send 
out subtle sexual signals just as the low neck of a 
dress does more obviously. - B W

[24] I have to admit that Sayaka got that line from me 
in one of my pompous literary moments: it is from 
Christopher Marlowe, _Edward II_ (1592-93), Act I scene 
i line 65. I did not tell her that the speaker, 
Gaveston, is, like the King, gay and that he is 
planning a party at which beautiful naked boys rather 
than lovely nude girls will be available. Still, even 
allowing for different sexual tastes, I approve of 
people who plan parties like that! - B W

[25] There is much theoretical dispute about the 
reality or otherwise of female ejaculation. Some 
medical experts claim that a girl blessed with the 
ability to gush or squirt in orgasm is in fact 
urinating, and aggressive Western feminists have stated 
that gushing is a male myth. Both groups would do 
better to consult those with practical experience. I 
have enjoyed Japanese girls who cannot stop themselves 
gushing as they climax and also Japanese girls who like 
pissing in my mouth while I am sucking them, and as one 
would expect the taste of the two - while equally 
delicious - is quite different. There does however seem 
to be a connection between the production of the two 
liquids: the great, and very beautiful, Japanese 
sex-star Hotaru Akane (now, alas, retired) who is 
famous for her _shiofuki_ skills is on record as saying 
that she drinks plenty of water before sex so as to 
ensure a good flow of ejaculate for her lovers to 
enjoy. Neither ejaculate nor urine have, of course, 
anything to do with the thick love-juice which a girl's 
cunt produces as she is made love to. That sweet nectar 
is intended by nature as lubrication for the cock as it 
enters - and pouring it into her attentive lover's 
mouth is of course one of the greatest treats a girl 
can give him. The more he sucks, the more she makes! 
- B W

[26] Abbreviation of _penis-band_: Japanese for 
strap-on. - B W

[27] The full story of Kimiko Kobayashi, and how she 
lost her sexual repression and blossomed into a 
beautiful fuck-video actress, is told in the book she 
and I wrote together, _I Am Not Ashamed_. - B W


[Next in Part 16: Chapter XVI: I Prepare for a Party]


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