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From: Rod OSteele <rod.osteele@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Viewing the Cherry Blossoms 1 (MF con) {Rod O'Steele}
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Date: Sun, 04 Feb 2007 22:10:04 -0500
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright 2007 with all
rights reserved by the author unless explicitly waived.  Non-commercial
re-posts to ASSM or similar venues are allowed provided copyright
information remains on the re-posted story.  As a courtesy to the author
please do not delete the copyright information.  No commercial reprints are
authorized.

   The author relishes your comments at rod.osteele (at) yahoo (dot) com.
If you like this story, see my other stories at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/osteele/www.

   WARNINGS: ADULTS ONLY!  This story depicts consensual sexual activity
between men and women, or women and women.  Some of the participants in the
story may be under the age of 18.  If you are too young to read about sex
in your legal jurisdiction, please do not read this.  The law says teens
should remain in ignorance of the thing they think about the most.  If that
makes sense to you please write and tell me how it does because it sounds
just insane to me.



   Viewing the Cherry Blossoms

   Part I

   Mike Woodstone walked down the busy street in Tokyo, amazed at the
teeming humanity.  He had been in Japan for three days and was starting to
become accustomed to the sights and sounds of the metropolis, so unfamiliar
to his sensibilities.  He ducked into a small sushi bar, just wide enough
for the chef, the narrow wooden bar, and a row of customers on stools
pushed up against the bar.  He could barely squeeze behind them to the back
stool.

   The chef shouted a greeting in Japanese as the waitress asked him what
he would like to drink.  He asked for a sake, or close enough that his
guide book Japanese got him a large sake.  His guide book, little bit of
American sushi-speak, and pointing was all he needed for a delicious lunch.


   Tired, he decided to head back to his hotel and nap before venturing out
again in the late afternoon.  Since it was midday, the subway was only
crowded.  At rush hour, the subway employed men who literally shoved
additional passengers into the cars, packing people like sardines, to get
as many people on as possible.  Mike found a seat across from a lovely
young Japanese girl dressed in a school uniform.  He wondered why she was
out of school early.

   Yumi Asagiri looked at the Western businessman, at least that is what
she figured him for, and decided to have some fun.  She had done this once
before, teasing a middle-aged Japanese salaryman on the subway.  It had
excited her and the idea of doing it to a gaijin was even more exciting.

   Yumi let her skirt ride up as she spread her legs and lifted her knees
so that he could see her panties.  Her eyes never looked at him, as if she
had no idea she was showing so much.  Sure enough, the man was trying not
to stare, but failed.  She smiled inwardly.  Her hand fell to her lap and
trailed between her legs.  The man squirmed in his seat.  She stroked her
panties as his eyes bugged out.  Just then, another passenger tried to sit
down and Yumi had to sit back, spoiling it all.  `Old woman,' she thought,
`spoiled everything.'

   Mike couldn't believe his luck.  One of the things he wanted to try
while in Japan was enjo kosai, euphemistically `compensated dating,' but in
reality school-girl prostitution.  It is a way for young girls to get money
they otherwise weren't allowed to earn in the strict Japanese culture, to
keep up with the latest fashions.  For a young girl to work was off limits
in Japan, but having sex for money, while maybe the father would be angry
wasn't considered all that awful by traditional standards.

   Mike had special business cards printed in both English and Kanji script
in case he ran into a girl who was willing.  It was a typical business
card, except that it had his hotel and room number on it as well.

   Yumi stood at the next stop to get off.  As she left the seat, she
leaned over to give Mike a kiss on the cheek, thinking it was wonderful
sport to tease him.  She could see his bulging pants where his cock pushed
against the fabric of his slacks.

   As she bent over, Mike with the card already in his hand, saw his
opportunity and slipped it into her book bag.  He acknowledged the kiss
with a smile as the girl pushed through the crowd to get off the train.

   Except for a little thing, that would have been all and the story would
have ended there.

   *****

   Yumi spread her books on the table, preparing to do her homework.  "I
hate school," she grumbled.  School interfered with her social life and
that was all that mattered to her.  What was the use of having a rich
father if she had to go to school like the rest of the girls?

   As she dumped out the books, a small card fluttered to the table.  She
picked it up and looked at it, unable to quite figure out what it was. 
Unknown to her, her father had come in and was quietly walking up behind
her.  He saw her looking at a business card.  "Yumi-san, what's that?"

   Startled, Yumi spun around.  "Papa-san.  Um, it was a man who bothered
me on the subway."

   "Why do you have his card?"

   "Ano, he gave it to me," Yumi was desperate, lying her way out of the
situation she had suddenly been plunged into.

   "Let me see it," he demanded.

   Unable to do anything else, she handed him the card.

   He scanned the card and knew it had been printed in Japan although the
man's name was gaijin.  President and CEO of Irish Rod Enterprises.  "Why
did this man give you this card?" he asked puzzled.

   "It was after I told him that he would get in trouble because you were
my father," Yumi answered.  The lie sprang easily to her lips since she was
used to using her father's name to get her out of scrapes.

   "I see," he said.  "Do your homework," he said as he left the room.

   Yumi turned back to her books.  `Damn gaijin, almost got me in trouble.'
And she still hadn't started her homework.  "Why does everything happen to
me?" Yumi grumbled to herself.

   *****

   The next morning, Masahiro Asagiri, founder and Chairman of the Board of
Sanjiro Computer Company, third largest producer of computer components in
the world, which made him powerful, respected, and rich, clicked the buzzer
in his office.  His secretary led a man in.  Asagiri stood, as protocol
required.  The man stopped and bowed as Japanese custom required.  He
returned the bow.  His Secretary introduced them and he pointed to a chair.
"Mr.  Woodstone, I have come into possession of your business card," he
said.

   Mike was surprised, for several reasons.  His company had no business in
Japan and no reason to have any business connections in Japan.  He had
received a note inviting him, posthaste, to Sanjiro Computers to meet with
the Chairman of the Board.  The invitation had been hand delivered with a
car waiting downstairs.  "I'm surprised, Mr.  Asagiri."

   "My daughter had it.  She says she received in on the subway," he said.

   The connection hit Mike, the girl on the subway.  He had to think fast.
"Ah, she mentioned something..." he temporized.

   "And so you thought it a way to get business with my company," Masahiro
said reaching the obvious and wrong conclusion.

   Mike laughed, not because of the wrong conclusion, but because he could
now see a way out of his current predicament without disclosing how the
man's daughter had been acting like a tart and how he had been quite
receptive of her behavior.  "Mr.  Asagiri, my company doesn't do any
business in Japan.  Actually, I find that I have an opportunity I would
never have otherwise.  How would I ever have any time to talk with someone
of your stature?  Your time is worth what?  $50,000 an hour?  And here, I
get to talk with you for free and it only cost me one business card."

   "My daughter said you were bothering her," he accused Mike.

   "Um, well, Sir, I didn't start the conversation.  I perhaps `bothered'
her by being insistent about business instead of knowing anything
interesting about pop culture.  I think I was a most disappointing gaijin,"
he said.

   Mr.  Asagiri laughed, dropping the harsh manner like a mask he had been
wearing.  "Now that sounds like my daughter.  Something about this didn't
make sense.  But that does.  So, you wished to talk with me for free?"

   "Not necessarily.  Perhaps I could take you to dinner?" Mike offered.

   "Ah, clever Yankee." Both men laughed.  "So, you are just a tourist, no
business?"

   "No, Sir.  I am just a tourist," mike said.

   "It is a bit late to be viewing the cherry blossoms," the Chairman said.

   "That depends on the cherry blossoms a man wishes to view," Mike said.

   Masahiro nodded, then took a card from his desk and wrote a number on
it. He handed it to Mike.  "Call this number and make a reservation for
two. Use my name or you won't get a reservation.  It won't be cheap, Mr. 
Woodstone.  Can you afford talking with me?"

   "Yes, Sir.  Do they take plastic?" he asked.

   "No.  This is a very traditional place.  You'll need cash.  Perhaps as
much as two million yen, Mr.  Woodstone."

   Mike did the quick math.  That was a lot but not unheard of in Japan for
the very elite places, the kind of places someone like the Chairman of
Sanjiro Computers would dine.  "I think I'll have to stop at a bank on the
way," he said smiling.  "The ATMs won't have that much."

   "I'll send a car to your hotel at 7:30."

   "I look forward to it."

   Mr.  Asagiri bowed the gaijin from his office.  He went over to the
windows and looked out pondering many things.

   *****

   The black Mercedes delivered Mike to a part of Tokyo that was almost
rural, with parks and houses with spacious grounds.  The car stopped in
front of an old style building, something from Japan's past.  Mike was
greeted warmly by a woman who spoke accented but clear English and bowed
into the house.  He was led down a hall and past a garden.  Mike realized
he was in a traditional geisha house.  They were so few and so expensive he
wondered if his two million yen would cover the cost.

   Geisha - there is no translation in the West but it could perhaps be
loosely translated as Art Woman.  A geisha is a woman who specializes in
the arts of dance, song, music, story telling, and most especially in the
entertaining of men.  Westerners often think of them as prostitutes but
most assuredly, they are not.  geisha have no duty to sleep with customers.
Only the favored merit that, and only at great expense, just like their
western counterparts, women of society.  Western women only surrender their
charms after great effort and expense by men.  Many geisha have one special
patron who merits that special treatment and all others can only sample
their beauty and their artistry.

   The woman knelt at a shoji door and slid it open.  She helped him remove
his shoes and bowed him in.  The Chairman was already there and bowed as he
entered.  "Please sit here." Mike sat and they exchanged greetings.  The
shoji opened and the most exquisite woman Mike had ever met entered.  Every
move seemed to be grace itself.  She knelt beside Mike and asked in
accented English, "Would you like something to drink?"

   His voice husky, Mike answered, "Sake, please."

   "Ah, Norei-san.  I think Mr.  Woodstone likes you, yes?"

   The girl fanned herself as Mike said, "More than like.  Norei-san may be
the most graceful woman I have ever seen." Her fan fluttered faster for a
moment as she hid behind it.

   "Don't hide, girl," the Chairman laughed.  "I know better.  You like
compliments."

   Her fan folded by itself, it seemed to Mike.  "Ah, Mr.  Chairman. 
Please don't spoil our secrets for this new gentleman.  A girl has to have
her secrets."

   The shoji opened and a maid brought in sake.  Norei tested the
temperature before pouring some for Mike and some for Mr.  Asagiri, her
every move graceful.  He motioned to another cup, "Have some." The geisha
poured some in another cup as the three of them drank.

   Again the shoji opened and another woman entered after bowing.  She sat
next to the Chairman.  He turned to Mike and said, "Please, it is seldom in
Japan that I can be less formal.  They all call me The Chairman.  My name
is Masahiro."

   Mike bowed, "I would be honored Masahiro-san.  Please, my name is Mike."

   Masahiro held up another glass of sake as their cups would always be
instant refilled by the geisha, "Mike-san, welcome to this house."

   "Kanpai," they clinked and downed the warm liquid.  Food appeared as the
sake had, quickly and quietly.  The girls fed the men as they talked and
asked about their day.

   Norei was suitably surprised when Masahiro told her that Mike was also a
Chairman of his company.  "No, no," he waved his hand.  "It is a small
company.  Nothing like Sanjiro.  Investment portfolio management, things
like that."

   "You are too modest, Mike-san," she said.

   Masahiro waved towards the corner where several musical instruments
were. The second geisha took up the samisen as Norei stood.  "This is the
Song of the Nightingale."

   She sang beautifully.  Most westerners would have trouble with the
exotic scales, the swooping lines from high to low and back again, the
sudden changes of tempo.  But Mike found it less challenging than Pierrot
Lunaire and was moved even though he could not understand the words.  The
interplay of the instrument and the voice carried him off to another place.


   The men clapped happily after the song.  And so the evening went along:
food, sake, songs, dances, and stories all accompanied by laughter.  At one
point, the men found themselves alone.  "Are you married?" Masahiro asked,
his words slurred by the sake.

   "Widowed," Mike answered.  "We were married for twenty-five years."

   "Oh, excuse me for asking," Masahiro said bowing.

   "No, no.  Please.  We were married happily for many years.  I should be
happy.  Not sad," Mike said.

   "And since, no other women?"

   "None serious.  I have been discreet.  We were married before AIDS.  It
makes it difficult to date.  Are you married?" Mike asked.

   "My second time.  I also lost my first wife.  But I am lucky to find a
second one.  Her name is Sherry," he said.

   "American?" Mike asked.

   "Yes.  Do you mind?  Masahiro asked.

   "What?" Mike said, surprised by the question.  "God, no.  Maybe I'll
marry a Japanese woman to even the balance of trade." They both laughed and
saluted each other with sake.

   "Ah, you like Japanese women?"

   "Oh yes," Mike said.  "Too bad I can't speak Japanese well, but there's
always enjo kosai."

   "Oh, so that's the cherry blossoms you want to see," Masahiro said.

   Mike laughed, "Only if I get lucky."

   "Did you get lucky the other day?" the Chairman asked.

   "No, I haven't even met any girls...  oh," Mike halted suddenly
understanding.  He was asking about Yumi.  Mike sensed the danger.  "No,
no. I met Yumi on the subway.  No, I'm sure there wasn't anything..."

   Masahiro nodded, "Good.  She certainly doesn't need the money.  But she
can be wild," he said pouring both of them more sake.

   "No, no.  I'm sure not." Mike said slurping the sake as Masahiro did the
same.

   Like magic, the girls reappeared and the mood lightened as they told
jokes and fed the men.  At one point, Masahiro leaned towards Mike, his
words slurred by the sake.  "I have told the mamasan to trust you.  Yes, I
think you are a man to trust." More sake and The Chairman burped before
pitching back and passing out.  Mike stared wide-eyed as Masahiro started
to snore.  The girls both burst into laughter and fanned themselves.  Mike
was still only slightly affected by the sake, feeling it, but still
coherent.

   The girls were still giggling as the shoji slid open.  A tall blonde
woman appeared.  Mike started to stand.  She waved him down.  "Sit.  This
is Japan." Two burly fellows followed her.  She shook her head, "Poor
Masu-san never can hold his sake.  It's always an embarrassment for him. 
You know, the Japanese revere a man who can drink everyone under the table.
You seem pretty well," she said.

   "Thanks," Mike said.  "You must be Sherry?"

   They shook hands as the two men carried Masahiro from the room.  Mike
started to stand.  "No, stay.  It would be rude for you to leave now."

   He settled back, "How long?"

   "Till morning," she said smiling knowingly "Don't worry.  You'll enjoy
yourself.  I'm very Japanese in this.  I understood the culture well before
agreeing to be married.  Have fun." She bowed herself out the door which
slid closed behind her.  The one woman had disappeared as well leaving
Norei and Mike alone.

   "Well, Norei-san.  That was something."

   She giggled.  "Ah so.  The Chairman makes a great splash sometimes,
neh?"

   He laughed.  "Yes, he splashed the sake certainly."

   Her face became serene and composed as she told him.  "We have special
pleasure rooms here at the tea house.  Would you like to see one?"

   He felt his chest tighten.  He had never imagined that he would be
honored enough to be invited to a pleasure room by a geisha.  This was a
special and unusual privilege.  "Yes, yes I would like that."

   She stood and he followed her across the garden on a special raised
path. The room was isolated from the rest of the tea house, set in the
garden, a small brook running before it.  She opened the shoji and he
stepped inside.  She followed.  The only light was a filtered light of the
moon through the paper windows.  His eyes quickly adjusted.

   Norei excused herself and disappeared into a back room.  When she
reappeared, she was in a light sleeping gown and all of the white makeup
was washed off, the wig was removed, and her long black hair tied into a
pony tail.  She helped him from his clothes, carefully hanging them up. 
She helped him into a sleeping gown.

   She knelt by the mattress and pulled back the cover, offering.  Mike
slid under the cover as Norei slipped in beside him.  Mike felt the soft
silk against his skin and the warmth of the girl under her silk gown.

   "I have never been with an American," she said.  "Is there anything
special you would like?"

   "I don't know.  I've never made love with a Japanese woman.  Is there
anything special you would like?"

   Norei giggled.  "I guess we'll have to teach each other, neh?"

   "Yes," Mike said.  His cock twitched at the thought, and rapidly grew.
Mike knew from his reading that the Japanese consider the back of the neck
especially sensual.  He also knew that the erotic is in the mind.  He bent
forward and kissed the girl on the neck very softly.  She shuddered as he
kissed again and again, moving around the back of her neck.  She sighed as
he kissed and nipped at her neck.

   Mike's hand found the opening in her kimono and slid in, finding her
small breast.  The nipple was hard as Mike gently fondled it.  His hand
moved from one to the other playing with her breasts as he continued
kissing her neck.  Mike pressed back and Norei laid back on the soft futon.
He opened her sleeping kimono to reveal her body.  The soft light of the
moon hid details but created a sensual glow.

   Mike paused and admired the naked woman before him.  She noticed his
pause and asked, "Mike-san?"

   "Nothing.  I was just admiring your beauty," he said.  He bent forward
and took a nipple between his lips, softly sucking and licking.  Norei
moaned in pleasure, her hand finding the back of his neck and pulling him
against her.  Mike made love to her breasts.

   His hand wandered south across her belly, the muscles trembling under
it, until it found her forest.  His fingers gently slid along her cleft. 
Her legs parted and his fingers slid into the opening finding her hot and
wet.

   "Oh yes, Mike-san," Norei moaned.

   The heat of her pussy spurred him on as he settled lower until he was
between her legs staring at her pussy which opened like a delicate night
flower, a cherry blossom, the sweet aroma wafting up at him.  He buried his
face in her, kissing, licking, and sucking, as the girl moaned and writhed
in pleasure.

   Mike rose up and over the prostrate girl.  She grabbed the belt of his
kimono helping him pull it off and throw it aside.  As he settled over her,
her hand found him and led him to her.  They joined together in the mad
dance of love, the air filled with the sounds of lust.

   Mike knew that with a geisha, the man was responsible for her pleasure,
just as she was responsible for his.  He made slow languorous love to her,
bringing her closer and closer to her peak while holding off his own.

   Their eyes met in the soft darkness as his shaft plunged into her again
and again.  Her legs went round him, urging him on, as his pace quickened,
their bodies meeting, faster, slapping together.

   Their eyes were locked as he felt something, alien almost, touch him,
and he felt her climax as she thrashed under him, her body spasming and his
own climax burst, the two in simpatico, each reaching for the stars,
carried out of themselves by the floating shooting pleasure that filled
them.

   *****

   In the morning, Norei served him tea and cold rice topped with fish. 
She helped him dress.  Mike felt better than he had in years, the
lovemaking the night before the best he had ever experienced, a woman
totally devoted to his pleasure while wholly experiencing her own pleasure;
no guilt, no worries, just fulfillment.  Now Mike felt he understood the
Clouds and the Rain, that idea that man and woman approach God at the
moment of climax.

   Norei walked him to the front door of the tea house and bowed him out,
giving him the traditional Japanese leave taking, of which he understood
nothing.  It didn't matter.  Nothing mattered.  He smiled and bowed again
as Norei bowed lower giving him great respect.  "Domo Norei-san."

   "Domo arigato, Mike-san," she said with a smile.

   The chairman's car was waiting.  Mike was surprised to see the black
Mercedes still there.  He was also happy since he had no idea where he even
was.  The driver took him straight to his hotel where Mike collapsed onto
his bed after taking off his coat, tie, and shoes and nothing else.

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