Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1) (9 page)

“Are people in Japan more accepting of this than they are in Australia?” asked Thomas.

Shinji shrugged. “That’s a hard question. Yes and no. It’s long been a part of Japanese culture, as has homosexuality. Did you know the samurai thought sleeping with a man made them purer, more powerful, and more manly than sleeping with a woman? And there have been cross-dressers as long as there’s been
kabuki
theater. Kind of like men dressing up as women to act out Shakespeare.”

I frantically took notes, trying to observe the activity around me as well. “Tell us more about the mizu shobai
.
How does a bar like this fit into it?”

“Everything in the mizu shobai
is interconnected. Even the seedier elements, like the pink salons and the image clubs.”

“I’ve heard of soapland, but not those.”

He leaned closer to explain. The bar had gotten noisier as more customers came in. Some dressed in drag. Others wore business suits. “Pink salons offer basically one service. The women perform oral sex on the customer. Image clubs can be pretty clean, just a bit of role-play and costumes, but it gets nasty, too. A lot of Japanese men fantasize about schoolgirls. They can act that out in an image club.”

I felt sick to my stomach. “With actual children?”

He shook his head. “Just women who look like children. Disgusting, but big business. I know a girl who works in a pink salon. Would you like to talk with her?”

He promised to put us in touch with her, and we got up to leave. Aki came over to give Thomas a big hug goodbye, squeezing his butt in the process. Watching him trying to wriggle out of Aki’s grasp cracked me up.

“I feel violated,” he said as we walked back to campus.

“Poor you, getting your butt grabbed.”

“It wasn’t just my bum, Sam. Aki tried to fondle something else, too. Shinji warned me he has a thing for Scottish men, but I didn’t think he’d try to grab my baws in the middle of a pub.”

I started laughing so hard I couldn’t walk, doubling over. Thomas pulled me aside so people could walk past. When I could finally speak, I could only get out two words, “Your
boys?”

He looked confused. “Not boys. Baws. My nuts.”

I wiped away a tear. “Sorry. It’s terrible that I’m enjoying this so much.”

He grabbed my hand and we walked back to the dorms. “It is terrible. I was attacked by an arse bandit, and you think it’s hysterical.”

After that I was useless, unable to stop giggling or even walk normally. Thomas laughed just as hard as me. Every time we tried to calm down, I said, “Arse bandit” and we’d start again.

He walked me to my door, both of us suffering from residual giggles. He pushed a lock of hair away from my face. “It’s good to hear you laugh like that, Sam. It’s a sound I don’t hear quite enough of.”

I stared at him, knowing he wanted to kiss me. His eyes locked on mine, and I saw the question in them. The doubt. In an instant, I knew what to do.

I reached up, laced my hands through his gloriously thick hair, and pulled him closer. “I’m going to kiss you now, Thomas MacGregor.”

Our lips were only a hair’s breadth apart. “Please do.”

I touched my mouth against his. Once. Twice. The lightest of caresses. Then I got bolder, nibbling on his lower lip. Sucking on it gently. Touching it with my tongue.

Thomas tried to hold himself back, I could tell. I felt it in the tension in his muscles and the stillness of his massive body. As soon as my tongue touched his, though, he gave up, wrapping his arms around me and slanting his mouth across mine. His kisses were powerful but sweet. Rocking me to my core. Unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

When the kiss ended, we stared at each other in shock. I’d known I was attracted to him. That had been fairly obvious for a very long time. What I didn’t realize was I had an answer to the question I’d asked myself only a few hours before.

Did I love Thomas Alexander MacGregor?

The answer was yes, but I couldn’t tell him that. Not yet. Not now. Instead, I did the only thing I could think of to lighten the moment and make things less intense. I went up on my tiptoes, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, “Arse bandit.”

CHAPTER NINE

O
ver the next several days, we ate together, studied together, and went to bars together every night. Some were classy jazz clubs. Others pulsated with loud music like a disco. A few looked like pubs and reminded Thomas of home.

Afterward, he’d walk me home and we’d kiss. It became a routine. He never asked to come in. I never invited him. But our kisses became hotter and more out of control every night, and my desire for him grew with each passing day.

We went to the ikebana show. Every single Japanese girl flirted with him, making me feel a level of possessiveness I’d never experienced. I watched him play rugby, and felt every slam or hit he took. After one particularly vicious match, he came out of the locker room with a bandage on his forehead. I winced.

“Is it bad?”

“Old Tommy just gave someone a Glasgow kiss,” said Malcolm. He laughed at my blank expression. “A head butt. Not a real kiss. No need to be jealous.”

After Malcolm left, I reached up and gingerly touched the area around the bandage. “Ouch.”

Thomas pulled me into his arms, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do you know what would make me feel ever so much better?”

“A kiss?” My eyes went to his mouth and I pressed my body close.

He considered it. “I was going to say a pint, but a kiss will do.”

I swatted his chest, but didn’t pull away when he gathered me close for a kiss. I’d stopped pulling away at all.

We walked hand and hand back to my dorm. “What shall we do tomorrow?”

I thought about it. “Well, we still haven’t gotten in touch with Shinji’s friend. The pink salon lady. Friday might be her busy night, though.”

I shuddered at the thought of someone performing oral sex for payment. It seemed like such an intimate act, more intimate than sex in many ways.

Thomas looked down at me, frowning. “We are not going to a pink salon tomorrow, Sam. Don’t be daft. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m taking you somewhere nice.”

“Valentine’s Day?”

Thomas must have seen something on my face that made him worry. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Let’s do something fun.”

I’d lost track of my days. A pang of guilt went through my heart thinking about the Hunters and how hard Friday would be for them. I wondered if Dylan even knew about his birthday. I wondered what he thought about inside the dark and terrible place where he now resided. He’d described it before as a torment, a nearly unbearable and painful agony. It hurt me to even think about it. 

Mom said very little about him when I called her. I no longer asked. It felt too hard to hear the same thing over and over again. He had to get better soon. I’d never expected it could go on so long.

The next day, I got ready for our date slowly, spending extra time on my hair and makeup. I took a black dress out of the closet and Hana huffed.

“You can’t wear that.”

She pulled a beautiful red A-line dress out of her closet and handed it to me. I slipped it on. It fit like a dream.

“It’s gorgeous, but won’t you need it tonight?”

She shook her head. “Hiro had to go home. Again. I’ll see him tomorrow. I’ve never been all that into Valentine’s Day anyway. All that love and chocolate. Ew.”

I saw the hurt behind her eyes, but knew she really didn’t want to talk about it. I thanked her, grabbed my coat and Thomas’ gift, and waited outside.

The weather felt warmer than it had it weeks. I sat on a bench, watching happy couples stroll past. Knowing Thomas would soon appear around the corner with his loud voice and smiling face. Feeling something strange.

Contentment.

Just the thought of spending time with him made waves of contentment flow over my body. When I was actually with him, the feeling amplified.

I frowned; worried if the sensation came from Thomas, it could go away just as easily, but then I realized something important. I’d grown content in other areas, too. With my studies. With my roommate. With my teachers. With my life.

It came from me. Not from anyone else.

I needed to go and see Mr. Ando tomorrow. I wanted to share with him what I’d learned, including something else. Something I understood as soon as Thomas rounded the bend and I saw his face.

The partner of contentment was joy.

I stood up and ran into Thomas’ arms. He looked a bit shocked at the enthusiasm, but gave me a warm kiss. “That was quite the greeting.”

“I’m happy to see you, ox.”

“And I’m happy to see you as well.”

He tried to peek into the bag I carried, but I refused to let him, scolding him and swatting his hands away. We walked to a place not far from the university, and when I finally figured out where we were going for dinner, I laughed.

“An American diner?”

“I thought you might be craving beef burgers,” he said.

I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Thomas.”

The diner had a retro feel, with waitresses on roller skates and oldies playing in the background. He helped me into a booth, and slid in across from me. After we placed our orders, I handed him his gift.

He opened the card, a bit silly and sentimental, reading it aloud and making me blush. “Stop it,” I said. “Open your present.”

He did, slowly and rather dramatically, but seemed genuinely pleased with the chocolates.

“Oh, whisky. That’s grand. Wait. This isn’t
giri,
is it?”

Giri
was the term for a gift you felt pressured into giving, something obligatory.

I rolled my eyes. “No. It’s
honmei.
I’d only give you the most genuine and heart felt chocolates, Thomas. Surely you realize that by now.
”

He gave me a crooked smile. “All the kissing we’ve been doing has given me a reason to hope, but I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch.”

He slid a small box across the table. I looked up at him in surprise. “You got me a present?”

“Of course I did, bampot. Open it.”

I picked up the package. “Thistle. Daft. Bampot. You positively overflow with compliments, don’t you?”

I pulled off the ribbon and opened the box, not sure what I’d find inside. I was surprised to see a silver necklace, the charm depicting a thistle. I started to laugh.

“Really? A thistle?”

He looked worried. “You don’t like it?”

I reached for his hand. “I love it. Honestly. It’s so perfect.”

I turned sideways in the booth and pulled my hair aside when he stood up to put it around my neck, stroking the delicate skin of my nape as he did it. He leaned forward, his hands on my shoulders, and whispered in my ear, “You know, Shinji told me this part of a woman’s body is considered to be very sexy by the Japanese. That’s why the geishas leave it exposed and not covered in paint. I think he might be right.”

I swallowed hard, composing myself. “Maybe we should put that in our paper.”

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small book. “This is for you, too. Not really a gift. I just thought you’d like it.”

“A Gaelic dictionary?”

He nodded. “It might help you understand me a bit better.”

I gave him a skeptical look as I leafed through the dictionary. “Doubtful, but I appreciate the thought. Where did you get this stuff?”

“I asked my mum to send it ages ago. Not long after we first met, when I called you a thistle. I thought a little apology might be in order, so I enlisted her aid. She was quite excited, actually. She doesn’t get many chances to shop for girls.”

I put my hand on the thistle necklace, touched that he’d put so much effort into my gifts. “Now I feel bad. I just bought yours at Mitsukoshi.”

He looked at me in surprise. “They’re whisky. They’re perfect.”

We ate our burgers and fries, put coins in the jukebox to play some songs we liked, and laughed and chatted over milkshakes. Later, we went to a bar and had a few drinks, listening to a woman sing love songs in French. It was incredibly romantic, and soon I felt a bit tipsy. Thomas kissed the top of my head.

“We’d better go before you get all blottoed.”

I nodded. “I hate being blottoed. I think. I’ll have to look that one up in my dictionary.”

As we walked home, my hand kept going back to the thistle necklace.

“You like it,” he said, pleased with himself.

“I do.” I slipped my arm through his and paused when I noticed the building we’d just passed. “Is that a love hotel?”

Love hotels were extremely popular in Japan, a place with themed rooms that could be rented by the hour. I’d heard about them, but had never seen one.

He came to a dead stop. “It is. And they’re having a Valentine’s Day special. Do you want to check it out?”

My jaw dropped. “Well, I don’t know…”

He gave me a little nudge with his elbow. “I’m not talking about shagging. I’m saying we should go in for research purposes.”

“Research purposes. Good idea.”

He looked a bit surprised I agreed so quickly, but didn’t waste any time. He paid for the room, going to a small window, pointing at a photo of the room he wanted, and getting a key. When he came back, he seemed to choke back laughter.

“What happened?” I asked.

“They have a Mickey Mouse themed room. I thought you’d like it.”

“You didn’t,” I gasped.

“I didn’t,” he said, “but I was bloody tempted. I decided you’d prefer something a little different.”

He unlocked the door and opened it, letting me walk through first. My eyes widened at the sight of the subdued lighting, elegant furnishings, columns, huge bed, and bath big enough for about five people—if they were close friends. The bed, covered in a plush, white comforter, had tons of pillows.

“Eee. This is posh.”

“No kidding.” I put my purse on a chair and slipped out of my coat. “I didn’t expect it to be so nice. And romantic. I thought it would be tacky or trashy or something.”

“Me, too. There were trashier rooms, mind you.” He found a catalogue of the other rooms available. I sat down on the edge of the bed to look at them. He sat next to me.

“Holy cow,” I said. “Is that a cage?”

He squinted at the photo. “I believe it is. I can’t quite figure out that chair, though.”

A strange chair with two seats facing each other sat next to the cage. I studied it a moment, confused. “It’s for…oh, my.”

“Oh, my indeed.”

My thigh brushed against his and, suddenly, I found it a little hard to breathe. “How long did you reserve it?” I asked; my eyes still on the photos.

“A few hours,” he murmured, his voice husky. “For research purposes.”

I tilted my head up and looked at him. His eyes seemed a darker blue in the dim light of the hotel room. I reached up to place my hand gently on his face, my fingers caressing his jawline. I felt him swallow hard as his pulse quickened. Thomas, such a big, powerful guy, somehow made me feel so strong.

“Whatever are we going to do?” I asked softly. “We have so much time to burn.”

“I can’t come up with a thing. We’ll just have to sit here. Bored to pieces.”

He leaned down and kissed me. Once. Twice. Three times. My entire body tingled in anticipation, waiting for more.

The first time I’d had sex with Will, it had been an awkward and uncomfortable affair. We’d done it on the floor of his room, on top of his dirty carpet. Both of us were a little intoxicated, and his roommate, Jeff, was passed out in a nearby bed. In the same room. We were hidden from view behind a couch, but if Jeff had woken up, he would have seen us.

I’d waited a long time to lose my virginity, but I felt nothing. Just a little strange and detached as Will moved on top of me, finally shuddering to a climax. I thought I loved him, but now I knew better. He’d been a terrible lover, and he always smelled kind of bad as well. He had a thing about saving money by not washing his clothing. He was a weirdo.

With Rob, the more I pondered it, the more I had to guess he’d never exactly been able to reach his goal of penetration the one and only time we attempted to have sex. Once again, I’d been drunk, but it seemed like it had been a clumsy and unsuccessful attempt at intercourse, but not intercourse itself. I guess I’d never know for sure. I probably had to keep counting him as a former lover just to be on the safe side.

I’d definitely slept with Max, but I’d known from the start I didn’t love him. While we were together, sex had been mechanical. A method of satisfying a physical need and nothing else. After we broke up, it became a bit more exciting, but I always felt dirty afterwards. I knew it was wrong, but I just kept doing it.

And then Dylan. Poor, sweet Dylan. We’d been great together in bed, but something always held me back from letting myself go. From fully committing myself emotionally or physically. As good as it had been, it had never been quite right.