Learning_About_Myself.15

THE MEGUMI STORIES
BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS

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

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. 
[21] "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 finger-nails - 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 a 
label beside the top button 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" [22] 
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 mouth as if trying to fuck his maddening 
tongue. And although I have never been any good at 
_shiofuki_ or gushing, [23] 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 strap-on 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 to 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 
brought the two halves of each sleeve tightly 
together. 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 body was flooded 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 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. 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." [24]

"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

[21] 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

[22] 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

[23] 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 enjoy 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 Japanese 
sex-film 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 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

[24] 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 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Bob_Williams
