Authors: Nick Tanner
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery, #Retail, #Suspense, #Thriller
50 -
In which a fit middle-aged woman stumbles into a crisis
344
51 -
In which Inspector Saito experiences love’s sharp arrow and Junsa Saito loses her virginity.
347
52-
In which a night-watchman acts and another body is discovered.
359
61 -
In which the clouds darken and Inspector Saito confesses
408
63 -
In which Watanabe finds solace in the rituals of Sumo
429
66 -
In which the cogs within Inspector Saito’s mind reach an unassailable conclusion
443
The man in view, the man in subdued, soft focus, was short in stature, ruddy faced and as anonymous as you were ever likely to meet. He looked like a million other Japanese men who at that precise moment were walking down similar streets with a similar gait with a similar level of intent. But this man was special, pivotal and special, which in his conceited way is exactly how he would have described himself.
A year ago he would certainly have hesitated as he took the steps. A year ago he would have paused to seriously consider and re-consider the actions he was about to commit. But that was a year ago. Having said that, his present approach could neither be described as a swagger. Suffice it to say that it was with a casual air that he strode towards the eight story building, skipped up the steps and slipped quickly through the tinted electric doors that closed silently behind him. Once inside he strolled confidently through the lavish foyer, pressed the elevator button for the top floor and as per usual waited, experiencing without fail a sense of finely-tuned excitement and heightened anticipation. He did have lingering doubts, of course he did. There
were
others to consider in this delightful, and yet, dishonourable business but over the past twelve months he’d found no difficulty in putting these thoughts, quite significantly, behind him. But then there was the cost! That was proving to be much more of a problem, but by now he was more than considerably hooked and more than considerably in over his head. But by now, there was no alternative option. Not really!
At reception he humbly
proffered his membership card as had been demanded, undecided whether or not he was peeved to remain unrecognised. He was a man of some status after all! He was then escorted efficiently into the main lounge and as he took his seat, on reflection, he thought that perhaps it
was
best for him to remain partially anonymous.
‘Drink?’ offered one of the girls coming smoothly over to him and reeling off a comprehensive list of alcoholic beverages - whiskey, martini, sake, gin, shochu, vodka…’
He was familiar with the list. He couldn’t recall a time when it had ever altered.
‘
Shochu
,
onegai shimasu
.’
‘
Komejochu, Mugijochu or Imojochu
? And we do have other varieties-’
‘I know, but
Imojochu
will be fine.’
‘
Kori
(ice)?’
‘Neat. Thank you.’
He appraised the girl as she made her way back to the bar. He hadn’t seen her before and he marvelled at her sensational curves wrapped so securely in her pristine, white, figure hugging masseuse’s tunic. She wasn’t Japanese despite her fluency with the language.
He waited for a few more minutes. He knew who he wanted, who he had ordered. Girls came in and joined him in polite games of flattery tennis on the couch and other customers came in and joined him in their tentative sipping of the aperitif. This was all part of the side show before the main act. Finally the woman he’d been waiting for entered the lounge, looking exquisite as usual. She looked towards him and gently smiled. He smiled weakly back and then after she’d beckoned, followed her out of the room down the long, carpeted corridor into her own private room.
She, for her part, was cool and sexy dressed also in a white tunic, partially-unbuttoned, partially-revealing, down the front.
At this point he quickly changed out of his own clothing and into the
yukata
(Japanese pyjamas)
provided.
‘Would you like to lie down on the
futon
- on your front?’ She pointed to the comfortable-looking futon on the tatami-matted floor.
He hadn’t said anything up to this point, obeying her instructions mechanically and closed his eyes as she kneeled down beside him, her fingers gently massaging the muscles around his neck and shoulders.
‘Not too strong?’
‘Ummm…no, perfect. Very good.’
‘Just relax!’ She placed her hands on top of his
yukata
and continued to massage his shoulders with the tips of her fingers, working her way down towards the upper back – repeatedly and firmly.
‘Would you like me to undress you?’
‘Sure. You know the drill – the usual.’
‘I do indeed,’ she smiled, removing the belt that was binding his
yukata
and tugging gently at the
loose
material.
The massage continued for thirty minutes or so during which time the knots within his shoulders gradually began to be smoothed away in equal speed to his clothing. She worked expertly from his shoulders to his back and finally onto his legs and feet. He particularly liked it when she did his feet and even more so when she tweaked his toes, pulling them so that the bones almost popped.
He lay on his front on the futon relaxed and naked.
‘Would you like another drink?’ she asked once she’d finished.
‘Please. You having one yourself?’
She hesitated for a second. It wasn’t policy to drink while on the job, at least not to drink too much while on the job. ‘Sure, why not?’ she replied and
took a new bottle from a small cabinet in the corner of the room. He watched as she peeled off the seal. He always found this act so sexy. He found everything she did so sexy - after all it was why he was here. It was why he was hooked and why he continued to spend the money even when he knew he didn’t have it. She poured him half a tumbler and brought it over then sat in front of him. They clinked glasses.
‘
Campai!
’ she whispered before kissing him gently behind the ear and then taking a sip out of her own glass, leaving a deep red imprint of her lipstick on the rim.
She stood up and placed her now empty glass on the sideboard and then came back and straddled him. He felt the lissom movement of her bottom pressing down on his back.
‘Extras?’
‘You know you don’t need to ask.’
With his face pushed down into futon he could only listen to her actions but this was more than enough to raise his sexual desire. He could hear quite clearly as her fingers swiftly completed the unbuttoning of her tunic. He luxuriated in the noise - it bristled with erotic expectation. Finally he heard that fantastic sound as in one movement she opened her tunic, slid out her arms and then flung it wantonly onto the floor her thighs gripping his body more tightly as she did so. She then unclipped her bra before gently lowering herself onto his body so that he could feel the ecstatic pressure of her warm breasts upon his bare back. He couldn’t take his eyes off her silk bra as it too, lay seductively on the floor next to her clean, white tunic. He was in a state of complete and utter delirium and was now totally aching for her.
One hour later he was quite satisfied and more than quite relaxed. He dressed slowly and then without any fuss quietly exited the room.
He was just on the point of leaving the premises when he felt a heavy hand upon his shoulder.
‘Could you come with me, sir?’
He turned to see a thick-set man dressed in a dinner suit. He had feared this moment - feared it above anything else.
‘Fujiwara san would like a word.’
‘Sure, sure, no problem.’ The words caught at the back of his throat. On the whole however, he knew that it was a problem! He followed the man reluctantly to an office at the back of the building. The dinner suit opened the door and invited him into a room which was run-down and seemingly at odds with the premises out front. Fujiwara, he guessed it was him, sat behind a solid looking desk. He noted, particularly, the harsh scouring upon the desk's top. He noted too, that Fujiwara was a squat, ugly-looking man with a mass of curly hair and a wispy, black moustache. Fujiwara looked up from what he was writing. There was no emotion in his face and no severity in his tone of voice. He simply stated the facts - coldly.
‘You owe me money. In fact you owe me a lot of money.’
‘Yes, I know. I can explain-’
Fujiwara raised his hand to silence him. ‘You have two options. You either pay your debt by tomorrow or...’
‘And if I can’t pay by tomorrow?’
‘Weren’t you listening? I just told you that you had two options.’
‘Okay, if I don’t pay by tomorrow?’
‘Special measures!’
‘Special measures?’
‘You have a wife?’
‘Yes?’
‘Or a daughter? Say no more.’