Woe in Kabukicho (2 page)

We rise, and Taiko scowls in our direction. Is that the key to her malaise? Has he refused her in the past? She appears demure but I suspect she’s not the sort to take rejection well.

“Champagne,” she calls, lifting her empty glass high and getting to her feet. She calls the name of a bottle from the ludicrously priced end of the list. Immediately, her cry is echoed around the room. Most of the chatter ceases and the hosts all gather around her. Sky is nudged into line with all the others, and I find myself back upon the banquette.

A cork is popped and the resulting froth poured into a tower of crystal glasses. The men each take a glass, and offer up a song and a litany of praise.

Taiko blushes and beams. She smiles politely at their adulation, while I watch on in mortified horror. Not only is this toe-curling schmaltz, she did it deliberately to tear Sky away from me.

“Princess.” Each in turn they toast her and offer up bows. But she’s no Snow White.

When Sky kneels before her, it takes her all her effort not to scowl. I swear she contemplates spitting in his face, but that would hardly be a fitting end to this procession of praise.

“Time to go?” I ask the moment Sky reaches me.

“Let’s walk.” He says something to the guy at the front desk before we leave, then stalks ahead of me into to the night. I clatter along behind in my heels trying to catch up, soon growing warm with the effort despite the cool breeze. The night air smells of a musky blend of candy and gasoline. The scent of noodles and chunks of tofu briefly turn my head, but there is no time to stop.

It’s not until we’re well clear of the bar that he stops and takes my hand. A little jolt of pleasure runs up my arm at the contact. Flummoxed, I wonder if what I’m doing is absurd. It’s risky and taboo in so many ways. And I seem to have landed in the middle of a battleground.

Despite the ungodly hour, the streets are busy and bright. Pink Lolitas crowd one corner, their girlish innocence, and frilly, pseudo-Victorian, child-like dresses seemingly out of place in this night-time world. They draw the stares of bespectacled businessmen. Rockabillies, hair swept back in an exaggerated version of 1950’s pompadour styling, occupy another corner. We walk past an area cordoned off with fluorescent yellow tape.

The scene of a shoot out, Sky informs me. Apparently, the
yakuza
have less of a presence here in Kabukicho than they did in the past, but they are still around, running the odd illegal pachinko parlor.

“Where are we going?”

Yellow and blue lights from the countless billboards alternatively illuminate his face. “There’s a park near here. It’ll be quiet. Unless you’d prefer a seedy love hotel?”

I shake my head, but again I doubt my sanity. We keep on walking and I don’t look back, I just hold his hand tight and allow the anticipation to trickle through my limbs.

The park is like an enchanted garden straight out of a storybook. It’s April, and the pathways are scattered with cherry blossom. Sky takes me down to the water’s edge, and we watch the ripples the fish make as they glide below the surface.

“I expect you think me a very naïve
gaijin
?” I say.

Sky shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re naïve, and I’m an outsider myself. You realize I’m not actually Japanese.”

“You’re not?”

“I was born in a hamlet in North Yorkshire.” When he slips into English, I can hear the accent in his voice. His smile broadens, shows off his teeth. “You never told me where you’re from.”

I grin in turn. “I’m not going to. If I wanted to exchange life stories, I could have stayed in the bar.”

“So it’s purely my body you’re interested in?” He backs away a little as he delivers this tease. “Guess you’ll have to catch me then.”

“No-ooo!” I squeal as he darts away. He peers back at me from around a tree trunk.

“Dammit!” I slip off my shoes and swinging them from my fingers, scamper after him.

We dodge and dart, grow breathless and red cheeked. Eventually, he dances close, and allows me the victory. I drop my shoes and shove him up against a tree.

“Bastard,” I curse. I lean into him on tiptoes, and tease my tongue slowly along the seam of his lips. He’s resistant at first. “You’re such a tease,” I say. Gradually, he opens up to me, and lets me ravish his mouth.

He tastes both sweet and sour. I love the fact that he lets me dominate. I rub up against his torso and gradually let my hands stray to the hem of his T-shirt, then under, circling the waistband of his trousers. I thumb across the lean muscles, working upwards, exposing his straw-coloured skin to the air. His nipples are so dark, brown like chocolate. They crinkle as I flick them with my tongue.

“Now who’s teasing,” he says, a purr of approval underscoring his words. He takes my hand and drags it down to where his cock is standing firm within his underwear. I squeeze and stroke along his length, enjoying the feel of him in my palm, even separated by the fabric. He bites his lip in response and his eyelids flutter closed. Slowly, I lick my way down his body to his navel. He is virtually hairless.

“Is this what you did with Taiko?”

“What?” He gasps. “No.”

“Then why does she hate you?” I continue to stroke his cock, which jerks, growing taller.

Sky pushes one hand into my hair. To steady himself, I think.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk.”

“I don’t mind a little light banter.”

He scoffs at that. “Undo my fly and maybe I’ll tell you.”

I get to my knees. “Is it that exciting?”

Sky looks down at me, his cheeks flushed with arousal, and his teeth still troubling his lip. “She’s a spoilt lonely princess. I said no, and she didn’t like it.”

“Was that before or after you did something like this with her?” I coax his trouser button through the hole and draw down his zip. His underwear is black, his cock greedy and already straining against the elastic. I free him and he bobs towards me in greeting.

“She tried to buy me. But you can’t buy affection, only obligation. She expected way too much of my soul. I’m not interested in her presents. I don’t need an apartment or a car. I’ve no wish to become one woman’s concubine.”

“How about becoming my plaything for one night?” I flick my tongue against his cock tip, then at various points along the stem. I’m as eager as he is to taste him properly, but I’m also enjoying the slow burn. Too often things are over before they’ve properly begun. Perhaps this isn’t the ideal location to test our endurance, but I’d rather run the risk of being caught out than being rushed and failing to savour everything about this night that I might enjoy.

“When was the last time you made love?” I ask, as I nuzzle against the long muscles of his thigh.

His reply is ragged and needy. “Not since I left the UK. Everything since has just been sex—drunken fumblings, a few quickies in alleyways.”

“Tell me about the alleyways.” To add persuasion, I finally take him within my mouth.

He sighs and squeaks, “You expect me to communicate while you do that?”

I curl my fingers into his arse, and draw him in deeper.

“Okay, it was with another host, and more mutual masturbation than sex per se.”

“A guy?”

“Yeah, another guy.” He holds my head in both hands now and pulls me back towards his cock. “Don’t stop.”

There’s no fear of that. I’m enjoying the taste of him too much, all musky and sharp. I love the way he rubs against my lips, the groans he makes as I swipe my tongue across his glans. It causes a flood of arousal to dampen my knickers every time he sighs and his fingers tighten on my scalp.

“I’m not saying who it was. But he’s fit. Let’s call him Angelo as he has a cross tattooed across his abs. We were both horny and taking a breather out the back of the club. It must have been 6 a.m. Still dark, cause it was winter. I’m not even sure how it started.”

I can sense the smile within his words. He does remember, in perfect detail. He’s just not prepared to share.

“Anyway, we didn’t kiss. We just rubbed each other’s cock, and then I came between his thighs. I offered to let him do the same, but he didn’t want to get off like that. I think he was hoping I’d turn about and let him do me in the arse. But it’s not my scene. So I just continued to jerk him off until he came.”

The lapse into crudities amuses me. It’s so far removed from his polished and polite tone earlier. Still, I wonder if this little vignette is true, or if the ending is merely tweaked for my benefit. Does he imagine a man as a bedfellow is less discomforting to my ears than hearing of his other female conquests? Has he factored in my curiosity, the tingle that rushes under my skin when I visualize him with Angelo?

Two men entwined together—Lord, how it calls to the voyeur in me. Naughty me, I’ve always had a thing for men who swing both ways.

I pull away from him at the taste of his seed upon my tongue. “Kiss me.” I rise and push against him. My hands close over the exposed cheeks of his arse and bring our hips together. The contact makes me smile. Especially the feel of his bare erection pressed tight to my stomach. It doesn’t matter if the tale is real or pure fantasy. What matters is that I have him here.

A half-formed protest at my roughness dies upon his lips as I ravage his mouth. He bites back as my hands rake across his body. There’s nothing tentative about his second exploration. I touch and pinch wherever I please, and he does just the same, until I’m writhing against his thigh, bringing welcome friction to my cunt.

Sky steadies me, and we waltz around the tree until it’s I who is pinned. He drags the shoelace straps of my dress from my shoulders and leaves them dangling against my arms. He licks his way down the side of my throat, bites and kisses. Lower… His hands cup my breasts. His nose presses into the channel between them so that his hot breath scalds my skin.

He drags the neckline of my dress lower, until my bra is exposed, and then pulls that down too, exposing my breasts.

For what is surely a whole minute, he just stares at the tender white flesh. The pale nipples perk up, and point to him in greeting. He leans forward smiling, teases me three times before he finally sucks.

And it feels glorious.

Delirious, I thrash against the bark. I don’t remember the last time sex felt this good. Has it ever felt so bewilderingly intense? I want to still be here when the sun comes up. I want to see his skin by the light of day. I wish that just one person would walk past now and witness us, just so that I can prove to myself that this is real. In many ways being here with Sky seems too vivid to be real.

He doesn’t go down on me, just lifts my skirt and slides his fingers under the edge of my knickers. The touch is almost too intense at first. I wriggle against him, wanting both more and less. Sky slicks his fingers in my folds, and rubs back and forth. The scratch of the bark against my rear means nothing to me then, and I dance upon my toes.

“Sky,” I gasp. “Sky,” as I grab his arms, his shoulders, anything in fact that I can cling to.

“What is it? Don’t you like to be touched?”

He’s an infuriating tease, but I love it. Normally once their trousers are down, men are too direct. Sex is all about their cocks and nothing else. Sky isn’t like that. His brain is still firmly seated in his head. His fingers dance lightly one moment and firmly the next. They circle, but never quite touch my clit, so that the thread of desire grows tighter and tighter.

“Please,” I beg.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me,” I gasp against the side of his neck, my head now resting upon his shoulder.

“I am touching you.”

I clamp my teeth together, trying to keep some sense of physical reality. “Please…”

“Only if you’ll touch my cock.”

I imagine us mirroring his experience in the alleyway with Angelo, as I curl my palm around his cock. Two bodies rubbing up against each other, mimicking the rhythm of coitus. Hell, maybe it wasn’t a mockery. I have no way of knowing if anything Sky says is true.

I can picture them so clearly though. Angelo in the position I occupy now, his back to the wall, Sky against him, with his butt exposed to the neon glow of the surrounding advertisements.

It’s my opinion that Sky has a fetish for outdoor sex.

After this, I think I may develop one too.

Unlike his time with Angelo, we do kiss. Our tongues tangle and the taste of oranges explodes upon my tongue. The zingy citrus tang is elevating and shocking. I gasp, mouth open with desperate need.

“More,” I demand, pushing myself down upon his hand. His thumb finally glides over my clit, causing mini fireworks, while he slips two fingers into my more than willing core.

Normally I’d be embarrassed by how wet I am, but I feel none of that now. Joyous, I ride the tide of pleasure. Then, simultaneously, I realize I’m right on the edge and that I want more than mutual masturbation from him. I want him inside of me. This tide of pleasure is not enough. What I desire is physical and heady. It’s about heat and a lack of inhibitions. It’s raw, demanding and thunders, torrent-like through my veins. I pull him to me and writhe against his thigh.

Sky holds me steady, while he shoves his trousers right down. They no longer cling to his thighs, but coil instead around his knees. We tumble downwards together and roll upon the grass. Pink and white petals stick to our clothing and hair. We stop right by the water’s edge.

I imagine the fish nibbling our toes as Sky roughly manoeuvres me onto my hands and knees, him kneeling behind me. He hitches my skirt over my hips and pulls my sopping panties to one side. I feel cool air, then the tip of his cock, like a firm velvet baton against my plumped and eager sex. Unable to keep still, I jiggle encouragingly as he rubs himself back and forth coating himself in the evidence of my arousal. Just the sound of that makes my insides squirm too.

“Please, Sky,” I beg. I’m so high that my whole body is tingling. I’m going to come very quickly.

“It’s Kit,” he says, leaning over me so that his hot breath scalds my ear. “My name is Kit. Say it. It’s a long time since I heard anyone scream it in ecstasy.”