The Scent of Sake (7 page)

Her mother’s response to most problems was, “Can’t you try to endure, Rie?” Her mother was an authority on endurance.

Rie closed the wooden outer shutters and lay down on her futon. Where Jihei was at this hour of night she could only imagine. It dawned on her that she could not count on her husband for anything, that the future of the house rested with her alone.

She turned and closed her eyes.

One blustery evening Jihei managed to once again elude Rie and other family members on the pretext of an errand. He hailed a ricksha at the corner bridge. As he stepped up into the seat he said, “The Sawaraya,” and the ricksha puller made off down the road at a run. The Sawaraya was one of the more elegant teahouses where patrons could ask that their favorite geisha be called for an evening’s entertainment. Jihei had sent a clerk ahead to make sure that O-Toki would be called from her
okiya
this evening. A cold drizzle began and Jihei drew the collar of his gray cloak closer around his ears. He peered into the darkness as the ricksha drew into the brighter entertainment quarter of the city. The rain could not dampen his spirits as he took in the

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lively activity of the district, listened to the voices of gesticulat-ing, shouting hawkers, and watched brilliantly kimonoed geisha fluttering through narrow lanes to their evening’s assignations. He alighted quickly at the carved wooden gate, handed coins to the puller, and announced himself at the entrance hidden from the street behind a high wooden wall.

He heard footsteps scurrying toward the front entrance. “Yes! Yes! Please come in!” O-Haru, the ample, faultlessly

groomed owner, greeted Jihei effusively and bowed again and again. “Ah, Master! Welcome! How pleased O-Toki will be to see you this evening!”

Jihei felt a sense of relief as he appraised the most fashionable house in the whole district. Raku ware stood on the cabinet that held guests’ getas. Above the shoji, beyond the entrance, was a cryptomeria carving that extended the length of the shoji leading to the reception room. An
ikebana
arrangement of three white lilies in a flat obsidian vase was visible on a corner cabinet. The aroma of freshly polished wood assailed him.

Jihei slipped out of his geta and stepped from the stone entryway up to the highly polished cedar floor. O-Haru leaned over to place slippers in front of his feet, then swished down the long corridor, motioning Jihei to follow. Up the slippery wooden stairway she led him along the plaster-walled corridor, down another hall and around a corner to the most exclusive private tatami room at the rear of the house. She opened the sliding screen and ushered him to the low table at the center of the room, indicating the seat of honor that backed to the tokonoma alcove, adorned with another ikebana arrangement of the season’s yellow chrysanthemums in an oblong white vase. She opened the shutters that looked out on the koi pond and garden, lit so it glittered like a flight of fireflies.

“Won’t you have a bath while you wait?” she invited. “O-Toki will be here shortly.”

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Jihei acknowledged her invitation, and O-Haru hurried out. He inhaled the distinctive mown-grass aroma of fresh tatami and turned to admire the white crackleware vase holding the chrysanthemums, above which hung a kakemono of a misty Chinese landscape. If there was one thing Jihei appreciated, besides O-Toki, it was fine pottery. He sighed, felt his senses quicken. Again he heard the sound of slippers rapidly slapping toward the room. A maid entered with towels and a house yukata and bowed as she held the robe for Jihei to change.

“Please come to the private bath downstairs. This way, you know.” She bowed gracefully and swayed as she guided Jihei down the back stairway, polished until it was slippery, opened the door to the steamy outer room and placed towels in a straw basket, then slipped out. Jihei shrugged off his yukata and dropped it carelessly over a basket, opened the sliding door to the bath and entered. Immediately he was enveloped in a warm earthy mist so damp that everything in the room dripped. He sat on the small wooden stool to wash and rinse at the tap, then put his toes gingerly into the bath. The water was close to boiling, and his foot soon resembled a lobster. He inched himself slowly into the steaming water, slapped a hot towel on top of his head, closed his eyes and sighed.

A bath at the Sawaraya was so much more relaxing than one at home, with Kinzaemon preceding him, maids hovering about, and Rie following him, dropping hints about this business deal or that one. He felt eternally on inspection, judged. He had to be cautious at home, always on guard. The house was growing more and more oppressive. It was like a cage, a trap that brooked no escape. They had no appreciation for his talents. He felt overshadowed by Kinzaemon and Kin, with Rie ever ready to catch him in an error of some kind. What a woman to have as a wife! But what could he do about her? The Sawaraya was his refuge. Here they treated him with the respect befitting the heir to the

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Omura House, one of the largest and most prestigious in the city.

“Excuse me!” The mellifluous voice of O-Toki wafted into the room. Jihei opened his eyes and saw her emerge like a vision through the vapor, a young woman whose impeccable grooming and stark white face and neck only enhanced the sinuous eroticism that she exuded. He smiled.

O-Toki knelt at the edge of the tub, tied up the sleeves of her kimono, and began to massage Jihei’s shoulders. He moved them in appreciation.

“
Ah!
Your wonderful touch!”

“You have a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders. You must have had a difficult day.” She continued kneading his shoulders and arms.

“What day isn’t difficult at White Tiger? But I can forget it here, can’t I?”

O-Toki moved her hands down Jihei’s back and around to his stomach, just below the navel.
Ah.
And Rie was so unresponsive, even resistant. Hardly what a man needed.

“Of course you know you can.”

She stopped with a final thrust toward his groin, then rose and handed Jihei a dry towel.

“Excuse me. I’m going to bring sake to your room. I’ll be right there.”

As O-Toki left, Jihei emerged from the tub, dried himself in the outer room, and put on the geometrically patterned blue-and-white cotton yukata. He swaggered back to the room and stood a few moments gazing down at the stone garden. He enjoyed the hollow sound of the bamboo dipper as it emptied of water, filled, then emptied again in endless motion. O-Toki’s returning footsteps prompted him to take his seat at the table.

She entered bearing a black lacquer tray with a heated sake bottle and two small cups. She knelt and placed the tray on the

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table, every gesture part of the well-rehearsed tableau Jihei knew so well. Then, hands before her on the tatami, she bowed her head to her hands. Raising her head, she greeted Jihei formally.

“Welcome, Master! How good to see you!” Again she bowed. With both hands she handed Jihei a small cup, then filled it with White Tiger as she smiled and bowed again.

“I have a special treat for you tonight.”

Jihei downed the sake in a single gulp. “A special treat? A surprise? Something to eat?” Some delectable concoction?”

O-Toki laughed. “Yes, all of those.” “Well, then?”

O-Toki smiled enchantingly. “A surprise can’t be rushed if you really want to relish it.”

“Oh, I see you mean to keep me in suspense, right?”

O-Toki’s smile became more coquettish. “Of course. That’s the only way to really enjoy a surprise. But I guarantee you will be very pleased, maybe even happy.”

She filled his cup again. After emptying it he handed a cup in return to O-Toki and filled it. She sipped delicately, glancing at Jihei between sips.

He leaned forward. “
Ah,
you said happy. Now that sounds most promising!”

Jihei admired the way O-Toki’s peach-flowered kimono and collar revealed an enticing amount of flesh at the nape of her neck, the most erotic part of a woman’s anatomy.

“You must be hungry after your bath. Please excuse me while I bring your food.”

“Your sense of timing, O-Toki! I’m more interested in happiness. That is much rarer than food, in my experience.”

“Well, there is no reason you can’t have both, is there? I’ll be right back.” She smiled as she glided from the room.

Jihei continued to sip slowly, his face reddening as he antici—

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pated O-Toki’s touch again. Then he rose and went back to the window overlooking the garden. He hummed a drinking song off-key, then turned back and sat down heavily at the table.

O-Toki returned with a large tray on which were numerous small dishes, followed by a maid with more items. O-Toki set these out on the table one by one, each arranged like an ikebana exhibit with a tidbit of fish or vegetable on it. She bowed and looked at Jihei expectantly.

“You really know how to tantalize a man, don’t you?”

O-Toki’s hand did not muffle her throaty laugh. She focused her attention on serving food and sake rather than responding. She picked up a delicate mountain mushroom and held it out toward Jihei on a pair of lacquer chopsticks.

“Here, try this.” She popped the choice morsel into his mouth. “You’re right. Delicious!” He grinned, food and juice dripping down his chin.

When Jihei finished eating he sighed, belched, and picked his teeth with a toothpick from a small red lacquer box O-Toki opened and offered him. He leaned back as O-Toki continued to pour sake for him. His face was by now bright red from the hot bath, hot sake, and hot food. He loosened his yukata. O-Toki reached over to fan him with a gold-leaf fan.

“
Ah!
This is always the best time of day, or night. I feel so good!”

“Are you happy?”

“As nearly as is possible in this life.”

“You sound philosophical. And speaking of night, I was hoping you would stay tonight. It has been a while.” She smiled and bowed.

Bemused, Jihei asked, “Is this a bribe? No surprise unless I agree?”

O-Toki tittered. “Well, I do have a surprise, as I said.”

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Jihei always enjoyed the repartee, something O-Toki, like all geishas, was skilled at as a qualification. “And will it take all night?” he asked.

“Well, part of it anyway.” O-Toki relaxed, leaning on one hand.

“You are always so persuasive.” Jihei smiled.

O-Toki straightened, as though sensing she had won. “Your wife won’t expect you?” It was a question she did not ordinarily ask of customers, but with Jihei, who was, after all, her patron . . . “I doubt she’ll even notice my absence. Her mind is always on sake, producing, not drinking.” Jihei’s speech was becoming slurred and his yukata fell open further. They both laughed. “She’s always trying to stick her nose into the business, to influence decisions, increase our production. I’ll stop her the next time she tries to influence a business decision. You know women can’t manage