I AM NOT ASHAMED 07

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

VOLUME 03: I AM NOT ASHAMED
BY KIMIKO KOBAYASHI AND MEGUMI KATO

CHAPTER VII

The First Test

When I came back from my lunch-break one day a week 
later, I found an envelope on my desk, and a package. 
I was alone in the office - it was my turn on the 
reception desk, so I had taken my lunch early. I 
looked in the package first: thank the Gods, there 
were my photos and tape safe and sound. The envelope 
contained a note from my two colleagues, and a key 
with a numbered tag on it.

Dear Kimiko, 

Last Friday we showed your video and photos to our 
friends as we promised. We all thought you were great. 
You have a natural talent for kinky sex. Some of us 
wanted to call you straightaway to invite you over to 
join us and share the fun we were all having that 
night, but the rest of us thought it would be amusing 
to set you some Tests first. After all, you held out 
on us for ages, pretending to be a virgin and a little 
_o-josama_ too superior to join us in our pleasures. 
Now we know you're nothing of the kind, but you'll 
have to prove yourself before we can accept you. Don't 
worry, the Tests won't be too difficult - in fact 
you'll enjoy them. There'll be three Tests. The first 
begins now. 

Next Saturday you are to go to Osaka by the Shinkansen 
Bullet Train which departs from Tokyo at 1014. You 
will be home again on Sunday evening. You can tell 
your parents you are going on company business, to 
help with a meeting of senior executives over the 
weekend. We'll make sure that story holds up if anyone 
asks. If your parents want to know where you can be 
contacted, tell them [there followed a number with the 
06 code for Osaka]. A friend of ours will deal with 
any calls. But when you get to the place where you'll 
really be staying, call that number if you have time, 
and tell the girl who answers where you are. 

You can wear whatever clothes you like when you set 
out from home. We suggest you take a short coat. But 
you must wear our company's standard OL tights, and 
black shoes with the highest spike heels you can 
manage and an ankle-strap or -chain. If you haven't 
got shoes like that, go and buy some before Saturday. 
Don't take any luggage. Whatever you need will be 
provided. You may have to take an empty bag to satisfy 
your parents, but if so make sure it _is_ empty. Get 
to Tokyo Station in plenty of time. The key enclosed 
will open one of the lockers on the Yaesuguchi side 
near the entrance to the Shinkansen tracks. There 
you'll find further instructions. 

One final thing. This is very important. You are not 
to take any money with you. No cash, no credit cards, 
not even a telephone card. Nor even your commuting 
season ticket. If you haven't got any ordinary subway 
tickets valid from your home to Tokyo Station and 
back, buy some, and take just one for going and one 
for coming back on Sunday. 

Meanwhile, don't discuss this with anyone - especially 
not with us. Have fun. 

- Tomoko and Shizue

What on earth was I going to do? On the one hand I 
admired my friends so much for being cleverer and more 
experienced in life than I was, and I did so want to 
be accepted by them and not to be treated as an 
outcast. On the other, the thought of being sent off 
to Osaka for a weekend with no idea of what I was 
supposed to do, and no money to do it with whatever it 
was, was pretty frightening. But it was the taunt of 
being an _o-josama_ - a stuck-up, nose-in-the-air 
princess type - which really decided me. I might have 
been reluctant, at first, to join in their sexual 
fun-and-games, but a snob and a spoilsport I was not. 
I would prove it. To show I was serious I went out 
that evening before going home and bought the sexiest 
and highest pair of stiletto-heeled shoes I could 
find: shiny black, with gold ankle-chains. (Alas, they 
were quite right in guessing that I didn't own 
anything of the kind.) Even wearing them and learning 
to walk in them, balancing carefully on the tall 
pointed heels and feeling my bottom wiggle at each 
stride, made me feel a different, more self-confident 
person, as if I had started a new life. As of course I 
had. 

I must have swung to and fro fifty times over the next 
few days, but finally decided I had to tell my parents 
about my alleged business trip. They were delighted to 
think I was being given such responsibility by my 
company. I felt dreadful about deceiving them; but 
having done it I couldn't back out. 

On the Saturday I set off in good time. I was carrying 
an overnight bag with almost nothing in it but a stack 
of old magazines to keep it from looking empty. I wore 
a conservative dark blue suit, the pleated skirt 
falling well below my knees, with the specified 
tights. My mother thought I was very suitably dressed 
for a business trip; of course she did not see the 
sexy high-heeled shoes as I put them on only when I 
stepped down into the little entrance hall of our 
house. I carried a short white coat with a little fur 
edging on the hem. The coat did not really go with the 
calf-length skirt, and nor did the shoes, but 
otherwise I thought I looked both respectable and 
smart. 

I did however break the rules laid down in one 
respect: ever since my life had changed so completely 
at Megumi's wedding reception, I had never been parted 
in bed from my ropes, my gag and my blindfold. I 
didn't usually wear them: normally I just put them 
under my pillow where I could feel them before 
drifting off to sleep, hoping their touch would grant 
me happy dreams. Sometimes, very daring, I tied one of 
the ropes loosely round my waist and passed the ends 
between my legs, luxuriating in the feel of its 
masterful firmness against my delicate skin. In a 
perverted way these instruments of restraint and 
bondage, which I yearned to feel again biting into my 
eager flesh, enslaving me with irresistible pleasure, 
were the symbols of my new sexual liberation. So I 
slipped them into my bag. 

All the way to Tokyo Station I kept saying to myself: 
I am not committed. I still have a return ticket on 
the subway. I can tell my parents I had a message the 
so-called meeting is cancelled. But there seemed no 
harm in at least looking for the coin-locker and 
opening it. 

It contained a bag the same size as my own. It seemed 
about half full. When I looked inside I saw some 
clothes, with two envelopes addressed to me lying on 
top. I felt I needed somewhere quiet to read my 
instructions. But where could I go? There are no 
public benches in that part of Tokyo Station: everyone 
is assumed to be in a great hurry to get to a train. I 
was about to go to a coffee-shop but remembered in 
time that I had absolutely no money. I had never been 
anywhere in that situation before. At last I went to 
the ladies' lavatory and locked myself in one of the 
stalls. 

Dear Kimiko, 

Well done! If you're reading this, then you have 
started on your adventure. 

Your objective this weekend is to travel to Osaka and 
back with nothing but your tickets: no money, no hotel 
booking, no food, nothing. How can you do this? Well, 
the next instruction will give you a strong hint. 

In the bag are two outfits. The blouse and skirt, and 
the tights and panties, are for you to wear on the 
journey. Take off everything you are wearing, 
including your underwear and tights, and change just 
as soon as you have finished reading this. If looking 
at yourself in the mirror doesn't tell you what to do 
on the train, then we have over-estimated you and this 
has all been a misunderstanding. 

You will also find a video-camera. Find some way of 
taking photographic evidence of what you get up to. On 
Monday you must give us a full account of what 
happened, so we and our friends can decide whether you 
have passed your Test. Your Shinkansen tickets are 
enclosed. Good luck, and have fun. 

- Tomoko and Shizue 

The second envelope had the logo of the Sanwa Bank 
printed on it and was the kind banks give to customers 
who withdraw large amounts of cash. It was sealed, but 
there was a post-it note stuck to the front. 

Dear Kimiko, 

You didn't _really_ think we'd send you off with no 
money, did you, in case there's an emergency or things 
go badly wrong? This envelope contains Y50,000. But if 
you have to open it, you've failed. 

T and S 

I put the two envelopes down carefully on top of the 
lavatory cistern and pulled out the clothes they had 
chosen for the journey. There was a shiny white 
miniskirt with a row of three silver snaps down the 
front, lacy white g-string panties - tiny, but very 
dainty and feminine - a black, long-sleeved blouse and 
sheer tights with a wide black fishnet design. Well, 
there would be no harm in trying them on. Carefully 
checking that the door of the lavatory stall was still 
locked, I removed my frumpy suit and my bra. As 
instructed, I took off my high-heels, removed my 
tights and respectable white knickers, and put on the 
little g-string panties with the new tights over them. 
The tights had seams down the back of each leg and I 
had to be careful to ensure that they were straight. I 
pulled on the blouse and spent several minutes doing 
up its many buttons down the front and on the cuffs. 
It was only when I had finished that I realised how 
appallingly sheer it was: my plump breasts - firm even 
without a bra - and trim tummy were clearly visible 
through the thin, transparent material. This must be 
the see-through blouse Tomoko had described herself 
wearing, and had been so keen to lend to me. I wrapped 
the skirt tightly round my waist and somehow forced 
the snaps to meet down the front: Gods, it _was_ short 
- it didn't even fully cover my bottom! And the tights 
were no use: the revealing fishnet pattern continued 
all the way up, the seams following the curve of my 
bottom right up to the waist. Surely anyone looking at 
me in my new skirt, even when I was standing 
absolutely straight, would be bound to see my bottom 
quite clearly and the crotch of the little white 
panties too, peeping through the wide black mesh. And 
when I bent over or sat down ... it would be as if I 
were wearing no skirt at all! 

Well, dancers wore tights, didn't they, without anyone 
thinking it was improper? And I remembered that I had 
been far more shamelessly naked - and in public - at 
dear Megumi's wedding the other day. But somehow that 
had seemed appropriate. Everyone was doing the same, 
and shame didn't seem to come into it. Showing myself 
off like this on a train was different. Or was it? 
Everything I was wearing was fashionable among the 
young people I so wanted to accept me. Had I been with 
friends, rather than entirely alone, I would have been 
less concerned about how blatantly sexy I looked. That 
seductive inner voice my sister Fumiko had spoken of 
was telling me I really wanted to dress like that. But 
could I trust it? Suddenly I heard a motherly voice 
saying from somewhere, "The longest possible hair, the 
highest possible heels and the shortest possible 
skirt." Who had given me that advice on how to look my 
best? Oh, yes: the woman in Marucho's costume 
department who had been so kind to me. Well, if she 
too with her experience agreed with my inner voice and 
thought these clothes suited me ... 

I wondered if the dark-red dress at the bottom of the 
bag was less provocatively sexy. I glanced at my 
watch. Gods! only eight minutes till my train left! I 
scrambled into my coat and quickly packed my other 
clothes and the envelopes into the bag, dumped the old 
magazines in the waste-bin and folded up my own bag so 
that it fitted on top, the bondage implements still 
inside. I quickly checked my appearance in one of the 
mirrors over the wash-basins but in my coat I had no 
idea what I looked like in the blouse and skirt. I ran 
for the door, and the Shinkansen ticket-barrier, as 
fast as my smart high-heels would let me. 

== 

In my reserved window-seat in carriage no 11, I 
wondered what to do. Fortunately the train was not 
full, and there was no one beside me in my pair of 
seats to the right of the aisle. It was pretty obvious 
that there was only one way a sexily dressed girl with 
no money could make sure she was looked after for a 
weekend. Or, to be more accurate, there might be more 
than one way, but it was clear which way my examiners 
wanted me to take. And I was beginning to find that I 
wanted it too. 

The train soon hurtled through Yokohama Station. The 
conductor came through the train, inspected my tickets 
and bowed politely as he returned them. I still 
couldn't decide where to start. Did I choose a likely 
prospect and say to him, "If you will pay for my hotel 
room, I will give you all the sex you want in 
return?" Well, it might work. Probably would. But 
there must be a less obvious way. Surely Shizue had 
been a little more subtle in persuading a man to pay 
for her brooch. If only I had been less prudish and 
had asked her for the details of how a girl invited a 
man to consider a deal like that! 

The train rushed smoothly on towards western Japan at 
over 200 kph. The other passengers in my carriage 
started murmuring to each other, and looking out of 
the right-hand windows. I realised that we were 
passing Mount Fuji. We did not have a clear view but 
its snow-capped peak floated serenely over the other 
mountains, as if borne aloft by the clouds. Somehow I 
was inspired by the effortless beauty of the sacred 
mountain. It was for others to admire me, not for me 
to demand things of them. I stood up, took off my coat 
and left it folded on my seat, made sure the hem of my 
tight, short skirt was at least straight even if it 
covered almost nothing, and walked carefully up the 
aisle of the train. 

The next carriage was a Green Car or first-class 
carriage. There was hardly anyone there, but on the 
left near the front a man was sitting. I noticed him 
particularly because, although he had a pair of seats 
to himself, he had chosen to take the aisle seat 
rather than the window one. I walked slowly past him, 
balancing as best I could on my slender high-heels, 
allowing him to make the most of his seated view of 
the lower curves of my bottom. It was a nice 
sensation, I thought, being looked at. I was glad I 
had learnt to enjoy it: it felt as if my bottom and 
thighs were being stroked - very, very delicately. As 
I stood at the head of the carriage, legs modestly 
together, waiting for the automatic door to register 
my presence, I looked back at him for a split second. 
He was a _gaijin_, but seemed pleasant, even though he 
was gazing at me with the most extraordinary 
expression on his face, mouth sagging open, as if he 
had been struck by lightning. I blushed, and tried not 
to giggle as I looked away. The door swished open and 
I walked through, conscious as never before of the 
rustling sound my thighs made in their tights as they 
brushed against each other. 

Out of sight in the area between the carriages, I 
considered my options. Green Car passengers were 
obviously the most promising, and even if my admirer 
looked a bit mad he seemed pleasant enough. I decided 
to take a look in the second Green Car before 
committing myself. I walked through it, waited a 
while, then walked back. Nothing but Japanese 
businessmen asleep, eating boxed lunches or reading 
pornographic cartoon magazines. None of them even 
glanced at me. 

I stepped briefly into a washroom to check my 
appearance in a mirror. I looked over each shoulder in 
turn and did my best to make sure the seams in my 
tights were straight. Then I took a deep breath, 
feeling my erect nipples shift against the slinky 
material of the transparent blouse as my breasts 
lifted, and re-entered carriage no 10. My _gaijin_ was 
still there, and as the door hissed open he looked up 
with the same comically enraptured gaze as before. I 
hesitated, modestly showing myself off to him for a 
moment, my heart beating fast as I wiggled my bottom a 
little and shifted from foot to foot, then walked 
slowly forwards as if I had every right to be there - 
as of course I had - and was returning quite naturally 
to my seat further down the train. 

The Shinkansen tracks are modern and smooth but the 
speed is such that it is easy to lose your balance 
when standing or walking. I made sure I did so just as 
I drew level with my target, catching myself on the 
back of the seat in front of him, then lurching 
forward till only a hand on his shoulder could save 
me. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" I said, first in Japanese then in 
English, so as to give him a choice. 

He rose from his aisle seat and took me by the arm to 
steady me. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, choosing Japanese. 

"Yes, of course, I just lost my balance a moment," I 
stammered, confused. I tried another step. "Except ... 
I think ... it's nothing, but my ankle ... these heels 
are so high ..." 

"You must sit down for a moment," he said, swiftly 
removing his briefcase from the seat beside him, and 
keeping his hand on my arm as he guided me into it and 
then stood bending over me. "Which ankle is it? May I 
touch?" 

I lay back in the comfortable Green Car seat with a 
sigh as he lowered himself onto the carpet beside me. 
I closed my eyes and pointed to my right foot. He 
knelt between the seats and I felt his hands gently 
undo the ankle-chain, then slide first my heel and 
then my toes out of my shoe. One hand held my foot, 
while the other delicately probed and flexed my ankle. 

"Does that hurt?" 

"No, not really," I said, conscious that his position 
below me on the floor gave him a clear view up my tiny 
skirt of my dainty little g-string, and of the wanton 
wisps of hair which it was trying unsuccessfully to 
cover, curling shamelessly on each side and peeping 
prettily through the mesh of my tights. 

"You're being very brave, but you must sit here for a 
while till you feel better." 

He pulled down the elaborate padded foot-rest the 
Shinkansen trains provide for their Green Car 
passengers, placed my unshod foot delicately on it, 
got up off the floor and resumed his seat. He held my 
shoe caressingly with both hands. 

"These are such pretty shoes," he said, "and you walk 
beautifully in them, but it must be difficult to 
balance on these narrow heels." 

"Yes," I said. "Thank you." 

"Please tell me your name." 

"Kimiko Kobayashi." I should have asked him his, but I 
was more anxious to ensure that his destination was 
the same as mine. "How far are you going?" I added. 

"To Kyoto. And you, Kimiko-san?" 

I made a rapid decision. If I admitted my ticket was 
to Osaka that would be the end of our connection and I 
would have to start again with the other, rather 
unpromising, material on the train. I could only hope 
that by not going as far as Osaka I was not about to 
fail the Test. 

"I'm going to Kyoto, too." 

"Oh, good! Where are you staying?" 

"Well ... I haven't really decided ... I'm going to 
call a friend when I get there ..." I said lamely. 

"And what are your plans for the weekend?" 

"I don't know, really ... what are yours?" 

"I'm going to see the autumn colours," he said. "I try 
to get to Kyoto every year around this time for that. 
And other times too, of course. But I've got a meeting 
in Kobe on Monday and it seemed an ideal time for a 
weekend in Kyoto on the way." 

"How nice," I said lamely. "What do you do here in 
Japan?" 

"Oh, I work for a company," he said vaguely, not 
wanting to be distracted from talking about the 
weekend ahead. "What is your favourite place in 
Kyoto?" 

That was a tricky one. I had not been to Kyoto since a 
school outing years ago and could remember very little 
about it. But I had to say something, and try not to 
make him despise me. What was famous in Kyoto? 

"The Golden Pavilion," I said at last. 

"Really? Well, yes, though I always think it looks 
better on the tourist posters than in reality. 
Anything else?" 

I thought desperately. 

"The place with the rock garden." 

"Oh, yes. The Ryoanji. That is nice if you can see it 
when it's not full of people." 

"Tell me your favourite places," I said with sudden 
inspiration, "and I expect they'll be mine too." 

I was very conscious of his frequent glances at my 
breasts, clearly exposed through the transparent 
blouse. Suddenly he bent down again and placed my shoe 
on the floor beside me. I leant back in my seat, my 
heart pounding as I waited for him to touch me, 
watching under my lashes as he gazed longingly at my 
thighs and at the mound of my pretty g-string panties, 
speckled with the black mesh of my tights, peeping 
below the hem of my shiny white skirt. Then he was 
sitting beside me again, while my skin thrilled as if 
he had taken me for the first time. As, in a way, he 
had. 

I returned to the reality of the speeding train. There 
was nothing I could do about the shameless display of 
my breasts, but I thought I looked a little too 
relaxed sprawled beside this man in the comfortable 
seat with one foot on the rest. I crossed my legs, 
turning towards him in what I hoped was an attentive 
and deferential posture. 

"My favourite places?" he said, as if nothing had 
happened between us. "Well, one of the nicest parts of 
Kyoto is the Katsura Imperial Villa. I've been there a 
couple of times, but I'm not planning to go this 
weekend as you have to get special permission in 
advance from the Imperial Household Agency in Tokyo. 
There are lots of little temples around Arashiyama and 
western Kyoto where no one ever seems to go. One place 
I always try to see is the Silver Pavilion - 
preferably in the afternoon when the light is best. 
Have you seen it when the autumn leaves are out?" 

"No," I said cautiously. So far as I could remember I 
had never seen it at any time of year. "Is it like the 
Golden Pavilion - only silver, of course? It sounds 
lovely." 

He looked at me oddly. 

"No, it's quite different. Er ... if you honestly 
haven't any plans, would you like me to show it to 
you? I'd really enjoy that." 

"I'd love you to - if you're sure it wouldn't be 
boring for you." 

Suddenly the door slid open and the conductor entered. 
He looked at me with disapproval, knowing I had no 
business to be in the Green Car. I remembered my lack 
of money and began to feel for my right shoe. 

"Goodness, I really mustn't stay here any longer!" 

"Don't worry." Then, to the conductor: "I will pay for 
this young lady's Green Car ticket, if that is 
allowed." 

The conductor bowed, and pulled out his computerised 
ticket machine. 

"To Osaka, isn't it?" 

"No, no," I corrected him hurriedly, "only as far as 
Kyoto." 

"And if you really have nowhere definite to stay," he 
continued when the man had gone, discreetly not 
commenting on my change of destination, "I hope you 
will be my guest." 

"Oh, but I couldn't!" I said, knowing full well that I 
could, and must - and very much wanted to. 

He smiled, and reached into the briefcase at his feet 
for a portable telephone. Again, his eyes stroked me 
as he straightened up again; and I could not stop 
myself moaning slightly with pleasure, my skin 
thrilling as if he had really touched me. 

The railway company requests passengers to use phones 
only in the areas between the carriages so as not to 
disturb others, but perhaps he didn't know that. There 
was hardly anyone else in the carriage to be disturbed 
anyway. Or perhaps - it occurred to me later - he 
wanted me to hear what he was saying so that I had a 
last chance to object. He keyed in a number, beginning 
with 075 which I knew was the code for Kyoto, and then 
I could just hear a girlish voice announce the name of 
a celebrated hotel. 

"Hullo ... my name is Hunter, David Hunter." He spelt 
it out in Roman letters. "I have a reservation with 
you tonight ... Yes, but there has been a change of 
plan. When I booked I thought I was travelling alone. 
But I have decided to bring my wife. Is that all 
right? ... Thank you, and can you see if you can give 
us a superior room? It's a special occasion, you see." 

I said nothing throughout all this. It would be 
delightful to be Mrs David Hunter for the weekend. I 
heard the girl at the hotel say politely, "Thank you, 
sir. We look forward to your arrival." I lowered my 
eyes modestly and thanked him with a blush for looking 
after me so nicely. 

As soon as the approach of the brief stop at Kyoto was 
announced over the train's PA system, I dashed back to 
my reserved seat - forgetting that my ankle was 
supposed to be hurting - and fetched my bag and coat. 
There were taxis waiting outside the station and it 
was only a short drive to the hotel. Mr Hunter must 
have been a valued customer, because they had found us 
a very large room by Japanese standards, with a 
beautiful view over the garden and of the hills of 
western Kyoto in the distance. The porter carried our 
bags and I kept my coat tightly clutched round my body 
till he had left the room. Then I slipped it off, 
dropped it on the big bed, and examined myself in the 
long mirror. 

It was the first time I had seen myself full-length in 
my new outfit, and I was both alarmed and thrilled to 
see how provocative it was. I twisted round, examining 
my back view and then my front again. There was no 
doubt that my legs in the slender high-heels and sexy 
seamed fishnet tights, my little waist and the curve 
of my bottom in the tiny, jaunty miniskirt all looked 
enchantingly pretty. I suddenly realised something 
very important that I had never understood before: the 
best way to make my legs look slimmer and my thighs 
less plump was not to cover them up, but to show them 
off as much as possible! Because I was sensitive about 
my legs, I normally changed out of the revealing short 
skirt of my office uniform with a sense of relief. But 
now, looking at myself carefully, I saw the slim 
high-heels gracefully stretching my legs, the black 
mesh and long seams flattering them, and the tiny 
skirt emphasising their shapely length. For the first 
time in my life, flirting and trying out attitudes in 
front of that mirror, I looked at myself through a 
man's eyes - and really enjoyed what I saw. 

I felt grateful to Shizue and Tomoko for choosing my 
outfit so carefully, my newly graceful legs prettily 
complemented by my ripe breasts offering themselves so 
charmingly through the transparent blouse. It was 
strange: only a couple of weeks ago I would have been 
paralysed with shame to appear before anyone like 
this, let alone offer myself so blatantly to a strange 
man in return for a reward, and now I was doing it 
happily as if that was what I was made for. My clothes 
were appropriate to the Test I was undergoing; but 
more than that, I liked the way I looked in them. I 
had found a new style: flirtatious - even a bit tarty, 
perhaps - but pretty and self-confident. 

I remembered again the words of the nice, friendly 
woman in the costume department at Megumi's film 
studio about how a girl should dress to show herself 
at her best: "The highest possible heels, the shortest 
possible skirt." And there had been a third part: was 
it about showing off one's breasts? No, it was "The 
longest possible hair." Immediately I decided to let 
mine grow longer in future, so that it would 
complement the pretty high-heels and tiny skirts the 
new Kimiko would always be wearing from now on. 

In the mirror I saw David come up behind me. He rested 
his hands lightly on my hips. It was the first time he 
had actually touched me - except of course when I was 
pretending to have hurt my ankle - but I had been 
imagining his hands on my body for hours. 

"Yes, darling Kimiko, you do look utterly delightful 
like that," he said. 

"Oh, but I wasn't ..." I protested. 

"Oh, but you were, and why not? I was absolutely 
staggered when I saw you walking through the train. 
I've known lots of beautiful Japanese girls, but never 
one like you." 

He of course had never known the old Kimiko, the girl 
embarrassed because even in her frumpy clothes her 
body attracted attention. So far as he knew I had 
always been the smart, sophisticated young lady 
prettily displaying herself for his enjoyment - and 
for her own. The thought made me shiver deliciously. 
His hands slid gently up my body until they reached my 
breasts. Through the silky material his touch excited 
me wonderfully. I felt his fingers tweak and pinch my 
nipples, even though they were already fully erect. In 
my very high heels I was almost as tall as he, and I 
let my head fall back onto his shoulder. I closed my 
eyes and put my hands over his, encouraging them: I 
could feel my heart beating fast. So, no doubt, could 
he. Again, a memory teased me. Oh yes, the touch of 
Bob Williams feeling my heartbeat as he caressed my 
naked breasts at Megumi's wedding reception ... 

"I want to see the Silver Pavilion with you," I said, 
"but before we do that, let's be happy together." 

My hands were on his, helping him stroke my breasts, 
but I moved them slowly down my body; then showed his 
fingers how to pull apart the silver snaps of my shiny 
white skirt, turning it into a simple strip of 
material, and let it fall to the floor. As I moved, I 
felt his erection brushing against my bottom. That too 
brought back memories of Bob Williams, as I sat on 
naked on his lap after my first ever public 
performance. I wanted to be naked again. I began to 
undo the many buttons of my blouse. 

"Please help me," I said. 

He did, taking plenty of time as we watched each other 
in the mirror. The blouse slithered down to the floor 
to join the skirt. After long minutes in which he 
stroked and kissed my now fully naked breasts, I broke 
gently away from him and lay down on the edge of the 
bed, my legs in the air, while I gradually eased my 
tights over my hips and down my thighs. The feeling of 
being, for a moment, helplessly bound at the knees was 
very arousing, and I could feel how damp my little 
g-string was from the nectar now dripping from my 
cunt. 

I felt his hands on my feet and ankles as, for the 
second time that day, he delicately removed my right 
shoe ... then the left was off too ... then I felt my 
tights sliding all the way down my calves and feet. He 
had shed most of his own clothes while watching my 
performance on the bed, and kept my feet in his hands, 
massaging them, kissing and sucking my toes. At last 
he put my shoes on again for me, fastening the gold 
chains round my ankles. Yes, I thought, that is how a 
girl should show herself to her lover: in high-heels, 
and with little chains lightly and suggestively 
emphasising her nudity. I must remember. Then I felt 
him lower himself on top of me, kissing me 
passionately on my mouth. After our tongues had had 
enough of tangling and struggling with each other, he 
began to lick and caress a path down my body, one hand 
gently stroking my cunt through the tiny, soaked 
panties which, apart from my sexy shoes, were all I 
was still wearing. 

His mouth finally reached my crotch, tenderly kissing 
the delicate skin around the tendons of my upper 
thighs, then licking and nibbling my cunt through the 
scrap of thin cloth. At last I felt my panties being 
untied and tossed aside, and now he was kissing and 
sucking me without restraint, his tongue lapping up my 
cunt-juice while I wriggled on the bed and panted out 
my gratitude for the wonderful things he was doing to 
me. 

"Oh, Kimiko, I've been wanting you so much for 
hours!" he said. "I can't wait any longer." He picked 
me up and swept me into a more central position on the 
bed. My cunt was so drenched in juice and saliva that 
his cock slid easily into me. He lay over me, 
supporting himself on his elbows while I wrapped my 
legs untidily round his hips, desperate that he should 
never leave me. Our mutual lust was so strong that we 
reached our joint climax in seconds, clinging to each 
other as his streams of cum blended with my juice. We 
lay together, petting and stroking each other - the 
next fuck, we promised, would be longer, but could it 
be more wonderful than the very first release from 
tension, the expression of love and desire, we had 
just been granted? 

At last I put my clothes on again. 

"The first thing we are going to do," I heard him say, 
"is buy you some more suitable shoes. Those are 
incredibly sexy and beautiful, and I love the chains 
and the curve of your little feet and the way your 
legs look when you wear them, but they're no good for 
sightseeing." 

So I put on my coat, which served to cover my breasts 
but came down no further than the hem of my tiny 
skirt, and together we went downstairs to the lobby. 
Suddenly I remembered that my instructions from Shizue 
and Tomoko had included a requirement to obtain 
photographic evidence of my activities during this 
test. 

"I'm terribly sorry," I said, "do you mind waiting a 
moment while I go back and get my camera?" 

"Of course not. Here's the key. I'll wait down here." 

So, trying not to blush at the many glances attracted 
to my legs, so beautiful now in their seamed fishnet 
tights and high slender heels as I walked precariously 
back across the lobby to the elevator, I returned to 
our room and found in my bag the video camera my 
friends had provided. That reminded me of something 
else. I picked up the phone and called the Osaka 
number they had given me. A girl's voice answered 
after only a few rings. 

"This is Kimiko Kobayashi," I said cautiously. "I was 
given this number to call." 

"Yes, of course, Kobayashi-san," she replied. "I was 
expecting you. How are you getting on?" 

I explained that I was staying in Kyoto after all, and 
gave her the number of the hotel and the room number. 
At the last moment I remembered to say that if she 
needed to contact me she should ask for Mrs Hunter. 

"Oh, that's great, Kobayashi-san!" she said as she 
rang off. "You _have_ done well - so far!" 


[Next in Part 08: Chapter VIII: The Silver Pavilion] 

For complete series so far see 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Bob_Williams
