Listen, I might only have been in Japan for two years, but even I know that Japanese guys with sleeve tattoos aren’t just hairless hipsters with a penchant for ironically named music groups. No, having a tattoo takes on a whole new connotation in the land of the rising Sun. More than not, any public display of tattoos indicated that that person was a member of the Yakuza. Certainly, my best friend Saki knew that. In fact, knowing her, that was a part of the guys’ appeal.
“Are you trying to get us sold into the sex slavery?” I whispered into Saki’s ear.
“You read too much fiction,” she replied in her posh Japanese reminding me of her family’s position in Japanese society.
“Maybe your family could afford to pay the ransom, but, I promise you, mine can’t.”
Saki laughed as if I was joking. I definitely was not. While her father was the CEO of the fourth-largest phone manufacturer in the country, my father managed a car dealership in Eugene, Oregon. The Yakuza could mail as many of my fingers to him as they wanted, and the best he could offer would be 5% below sticker price on the newest model on the floor. Granted, that’s near cost so they would be a fool to pass it up. But, it probably wouldn’t be what they were looking for.
“You worry too much,” she assured me. “He’s just a nice guy who wants to talk to us and buy us a few drinks. Loosen up, Lexi.”
When the guy returned to our table with shots, I could see that he still had all of his fingers, so I considered Saki’s advice. Maybe I was being a little uptight. And, wasn’t letting loose what tonight was supposed to be about? After all, it’s not every day that you find out that your boyfriend of four years has been cheating on you since the day you left town.
Did the bastard not remember the conversation we had before I left? I knew that me taking my junior and senior year at a University in Japan would be a strain on our relationship. I was the one who offered him a way out. I told him that I wouldn’t be able to afford a ticket back home and that no matter how much we talked, he would get lonely. But, he was the one who insisted that he loved me enough to make it work. Since when did making it work include his dick in an untold number of skanky women?
So, while he was getting it on with anyone with a pulse back home, I was being loyal to him in a country full of beautiful men. Granted, none of those beautiful men ever seemed interested in me. But, that wasn’t the point. I should’ve been able to flirt openly and then shyly turn down guys for dates. Instead, I played wing-woman to my best friend Saki as she flirted with every bad boy she met.
Tonight was supposed to be a reversal of that. Saki had insisted that we go out and celebrate my freedom. Clearly, she had no idea what ending a four-year relationship felt like. But, to be honest, having sex after a two-year drought, didn’t sound that bad. I wasn’t horny enough to get myself sold into sex slavery in exchange for a few free shots, but, the night was young. And, it has been two years since I’ve had sex.
“O-ka-mi! O-ka-mi! O-ka-mi!”
If there is one thing I hadn’t heard in my entire two years in Japan, was a bar crowd chanting. Hearing it pulled me out of my horniness-versus-sex slavery analysis and pointed my attention to the folks around me. Such outbursts never happened in Japan. There chanting was practically a full-scale riot. There were so many cultural rules about speaking quietly and blending into the crowd that an American-style chant was beyond comprehension.
“What’s going on?” I shout whispered into Saki’s ear, drawing her out of her conversation with sex slavery Mike.
Saki looked at me and then the TV screen surrounding the bar.
“It’s baseball. Have you never heard of Okami?”
“Was I supposed to?” I said about to remind her that not every American cared about baseball.
“You should. He is the most famous baseball player on the Tokyo team.”
“Okay,” I reply as if that was supposed to mean something to me.
“He’s a big deal,” sex slavery Mike interjected.
How could he possibly hear me? And was this how my life in the sex trade was about to begin?
“He’s an American like you. Don’t all of the Americans in Tokyo know each other?” sex slavery Mike said with a smile.
Putting his glaring racism aside, I looked up at the nearest TV. My ability to read Japanese wasn’t great, but from what I could tell, the guy up at-bat was named Forrest Wolf. That made sense. Okami was Japanese for ‘wolf’. It was also Japanese for ‘landlady’, but I didn’t think that was what the crowd meant.
Being sucked into the action on the screen, I could see why everyone was so excited. The Tokyo team was down by two runs with all the bases loaded and Forrest Wolf at-bat. Apparently, he had two strikes and no balls. I didn’t know that much about baseball, but even I knew that, in the ninth inning, that was a big deal.
“He is going to go for it,” sex slavery Mike explained. “Okami always swings for a home run.”
“O-ka-mi! O-ka-mi!” The crowd chanted.
Okay, I couldn’t give two hoots about baseball, but I could see why it was so exciting. Every person in the room was transfixed on their American wolf who they knew would swing for the fences. As the pitcher wound up, there was an audible sound of everyone holding their breath. When Wolf’s bat hit the ball it did with a crack. Watching the ball climb higher and higher into the air, the crowd screamed. Everyone in the bar was elated. Even Saki seemed excited and I was pretty sure she knew less about baseball than I did.
“You Americans always come through,” sex slavery Mike said joyfully. “We need more shots to celebrate.”
This was something I could never get used to during all of my time in Japan. Going out was never just you and a friend nursing one cocktail for the entire night and then going home. People drank here. This was a Tuesday night and most of the people in the bar were businessmen uniformly dressed in white shirts and dark navy pants. Everyone in this room was going to drink until they stumbled home and then they were going to drag themselves into work the next day hungover.
If that wasn’t bad enough, they were going to do it again on Thursday night and once more on Friday. This was just their custom. In fact, when your manager invited you out, you dishonored them if you refused. Working for ten hours a day and then drinking for three was what you did here.
Maybe, considering the circumstances, it was time for me to get with the program. After all, when in Rome, get shit-faced and sex up an Italian guy, right? I’m fairly certain that’s how the saying goes.
“Fuck it. Yeah, we need some shots,” I tell sex slavery Mike letting my small-town roots show.
After the third shot, I really did start to loosen up. What had I been thinking staying loyal to my asshole boyfriend for so long? After all, I wasn’t even sure I was in love with him. I mean, he was okay. And, being with him was better than being alone. But was he really worth two years of celibacy? Hell no!
It really was time to change that. I needed to be bellybutton deep in some love hotel by the end of the night, and I needed it bad. The only problem? My only real options were a room full of Japanese businessmen.
Don’t get me wrong, I have always found Japanese guys to be super hot. With a few shots in me, I could admit that their hotness played a large part in me deciding to take my junior and senior years abroad. The problem, however, was cultural.
Number one, Japanese men had to be the shyest creatures on the face the planet. I can’t even explain to you how the country procreated for so long.
The second problem, and I’m sure that this was an even worse problem than the first, was that Japanese men were exceptionally body-conscious. Their ideal woman pretty much looked like a fourteen-year-old girl. I was not that. I was a woman with curves, a lot of curves. I outweighed half of all Japanese men. So, how could I not feel like Godzilla talking to one?
Could that be the real reason I never cheated on my asshole ex? Maybe. But there was no way I was going to give him any slack. He cheated, I did not. Nothing mattered past that.
Feeling buzzed and a little depressed, I turned to Saki who seemed to be having a great time.
“I don’t want to stay here. There’s no one for me here.”
I was expecting Saki to push back. To her credit, she didn’t. Instead, she scanned the crowd, nodded with agreement, and spoke to Mike in very fast Japanese. Staring at them like I knew what they were talking about, I contemplated how quickly she agreed that there was no one for me. I mean, it was one thing for me to think that no one here would think I’m attractive. It’s another when your best friend agrees with you. Japanese were just waaayyy to direct.
“Haruto says he knows another place we can go to. It’s Japanese-only but he says he can get you in,” Saki explained.
After figuring out that sex slavery Mike’s real name was Haruto, I wondered if Saki understood why I wanted to leave. How would going to a Japanese-only bar help me make really bad decisions tonight? Sure, going to a second location with a member of the Japanese mob qualified as a bad decision. But that wasn’t the type of bad decision I was looking for.
“Fuck it. Sure, let’s go,” I tell her settling on at least a change of scenery.
“Yay,” Saki replied in a way that reminded me of anime.
“I will have them bring my car,” Haruto said removing any doubt that he was Yakuza.
Nobody owned a car in Tokyo. Nobody! Okay, maybe Saki’s parents both owned cars. But no one even close to our age could afford one in the city. So, this was Haruto trying to impress Saki. And from everything I could tell, it had worked. She was pretty, but boy could my best friend be dumb, I think… as I follow her to a mafia member’s car.
“I’m not going to stay long,” I tell Saki as we approach the door to the bar.
“Oh. Why?” She replied genuinely disappointed.
“I don’t know. I’m just not feeling this place. Besides, are they even gonna let me in?”
“Haruto says he will get you in.”
“Saki, you know he’s Japanese mafia, right?”
Saki giggled. “Don’t be silly. He is not Yakuza. He is just a normal guy.”
Like I said, she was pretty, but pretty dumb.
“Okay. Whatever. But, I don’t think I’m gonna stay long.”
This time Saki didn’t fight me. Instead, she wrapped her tiny toothpick arm around mine and rested her head on my shoulder. Yeah, she was pretty dumb. But she was also pretty sweet. Her heart was in the right place and I appreciated that.
Now, I can’t tell you everything that was said between Haruto and the bulky doorman, but I can describe what it looked like. Imagine a bald sumo wrestler dressed in a suit. Now imagine a young, skinny, Japanese guy shouting at him belligerently as the nonplused sumo wrestler gave him the side-eye. As uncomfortable as it was, I had to give Haruto credit. He really wanted to get into Saki’s pants and he was willing to do what was necessary to get there.
Did any of this make me feel better about my night? You know what? Kinda. Here was a guy who was willing to fight for me. Sure, it might have been so he could sell me to the highest bidder. But, it felt nice to be wanted.
When the sumo sized bouncer finally gave in and we walked by him, I had to admit I was feeling a little good. My ex would never have done something like that for me. Maybe Saki had it right when it came to men. Maybe, who I needed was a nice bad boy. Someone who would fight for my affection and teach me what it feels like to be a woman.
“Shots?” Haruto asked about to head to the bar.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I told him in English.
He had had no clue what I was talking about.
“Yes, please,” I repeated in Japanese.
“See anyone you like?” Saki asked me when we were alone.
I had no idea why Saki wanted to play this game. But, alright. I would play along.
Scanning the room, I was not impressed. Sure, there were more than enough hot guys to go around, but what good did that do me. None of them would be able to see me as anything other than as a way too curvy foreigner. And, I was about to tell Saki that when I looked across the bar and saw one non-Japanese face.
Did my eyes linger on him because he was the only other non-Japanese? Nope, that wasn’t it. My eyes stopped on him because he was incredibly hot. He looked to be about twenty-five and he was solidly built. Looking at the squareness of his jaw, I could only imagine how his chest rippled under his T-shirt. How the hell did he even get in dressed like that? And why did everyone around him seem to be hanging on his every word?
“Do you know who that is?” Haruto asked returning with six shot glasses for the three of us.
Holy crap, how long had I been staring at him?
“No, who?” I asked him still barely able to look away.
“That’s your American friend. Okami.”
My eyes bounced back to Haruto to see if he was serious. Haruto seemed excited. It looked like he was.
“That’s the baseball player?” Saki asked suddenly focusing her feminine wiles on him. Haruto must’ve noticed it because his attitude instantly changed.
“He’s not that special,” Haruto protested. But I had to disagree.
You know that feeling when you are comfortably staring at some scrumptious eye candy and the eye candy has the nerve to catch you staring? Well, let me tell you, it doesn’t feel great. And, you know that feeling when you had five shots too many and your reaction time slows down to a crawl? Yeah, me neither. But, according to a friend, it feels like you’re being eye fucked by a famous baseball player in a Japanese-only bar.
“Is he staring at you?” Saki asked making me feel so proud.
“No,” I replied finally able to look away, but knowing that he totally was.
“Lexi, he was staring at you!” She said way more surprised than I felt she should have been.
“Come on. Stop it. He wasn’t staring at me.”
He totally was.
“You should go talk to him,” Saki suggested.
I get that Saki assumed that all Americans were very forward, but what the hell did she take me for? I wasn’t about to go up to some hot, famous baseball player in a bar. I had some self-respect. Sure, those shots were doing a great job of convincing me otherwise. But, as of this moment, I still had some self-respect.
As I considered how many more shots it would take to unburden myself of that self-respect, I looked up at Saki to see her eyes enlarge.
“What? What is it?”
Was something happening with Haruto that I wasn’t seeing? Was he trying to touch her under the table, that bastard?
When Saki’s eyes darted to something behind me, I realized that wasn’t it. Something was happening and Saki seemed to be using every ounce of girl telepathy she had to get me to not react. My heart thumped as I felt doom overtake me. Was this it? Was this when my new life as a sex slave worker was about to begin? I hope it came with healthcare.
“Hi, can I buy you all a drink?” The most gorgeous voice said in English.
My skin tingled with awareness before I consciously knew what was going on. Feeling my chest slowly pound, I felt lightheaded as the realization washed over me. I was hearing perfect American English. There was only one person in the bar it could be coming from. Holy crap, the hot baseball player had just crossed the room and was now talking to us.
Was he here for Saki? That could definitely be the case. He wouldn’t have been the first guy to cross a room for her. Was it the case now, though?
As I turned around and met his incredible green eyes, I discovered that it was not. Holy crap, the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen in my life was staring down at me. Man, did I need to pee.
“Do you speak English?” The disturbingly attractive guy asked me.
All I could do was shake my head like one of those big-head bobbleheads. And then I remembered that he was a Japanese baseball player, so there was probably a bobblehead of him. Man, my bladder was about to explode.
“American?” He asked.
I shook my head again.
“I knew it. I can spot another American anywhere. Hi, Forrest Wolf,” he said in the cockiest way possible.
Staring at his extended hand, I knew what I was going to do before I did it. Why, oh why would I choose to do something like this? Was I secretly hoping that my vajayjay would shrivel up and fall off? I must have been. Because instead of just taking his hand and accepting his cocky little gesture, I looked him dead in the eyes and said,
And I didn’t just say it once. I started a chant. That’s right. The fat, foreign girl who was barely let into this Japanese-only bar, lifted her fist into the air and screamed the chant, “O-ka-mi!”
To my surprise, by the third chant, others joined in. Quickly, it wasn’t just me humiliating the hottest guy who had ever talked to me in my life, it was a room full of drunk Japanese mafia and businessmen.
Continuing to stare into his eyes as I did it, I could see the exact moment as the swarthy arrogance left his face and he turned into a guy I might have run into back home. Sure, he was still the hottest guy I would ever run into back home. But at least he wasn’t presenting himself like some crazy Japanese icon anymore.
And, when his face started to turn from hot smalltown boy to humiliated, insecure teen, I stopped the chanting and felt bad about what I had done. I really hadn’t meant to embarrass him. Well, okay. Maybe I did. Maybe that was exactly my plan. But, in that moment, my heart was breaking for him, and I had to figure out how to bring the chanting to an end.
“Okami,” I said quickly before clapping my hands and blowing a wolf whistle.
To my relief, as well as Forrest’s, the chanting immediately came to an end. Still staring at him, I was trying to hold myself together. I now felt really bad about what I had done and I was doing everything I could not to run away embarrassed about it.
It was just as my eye twitched and my plastered smile began to loosen, as he said the one thing that I never expected.
“So you’ve heard of me. Great. I was scared I was going to have to start that chant on my own,” he said as his bright red cheeks rounded into an embarrassed smile.
“No, I sensed that,” I replied more grateful for his gesture than I could ever express. “Do you want me to do it again?” I opened my mouth fully ready to shoot myself in the foot with both barrels when he mercifully stopped me.
“No, that’s okay,” he said quickly. “Once is plenty. You wouldn’t want me to get a big head or anything.”
“No. I guess I wouldn’t want that.”
“No, we wouldn’t. So, now that we have established that you are definitely American, how about telling me your name.”
I stared at Forrest amazed. After I had done all of that, he was still trying to talk to me? This was insane. He was a crazy person. Did I really want to get involved with someone who was clearly off his rocker?
“Lexi Rubin,” I told him suddenly learning that I liked them crazy.
“Nice to meet you,” he said extending his hand again.
Wow, his hand was so big in comparison to mine. My hand was lost as it was engulfed by his. My next thought was, of course, how his large body would engulf my own. I couldn’t help it. It had been two years since I had had sex, and he was so hot that children and old people burst into flame as he walked by.
“I would ask you if you’re visiting Japan, but you’re a foreigner in a Japanese-only bar. So, that answers that question.”
“No, I’m going to school here. I’m with my friend Saki, and Haruto got us in.”
Forrest turned to Saki and Haruto acknowledging them. Haruto clearly didn’t regret the effort he made to get me past the bouncer. The man was smiling from ear to ear. The Japanese loved their baseball.
“Thanks for getting her in,” Forrest told Haruto.
“Hai,” Haruto replied probably incapable of saying anything else.
“Why are you thanking him for getting me in?” I asked finding it a little odd.
“Because otherwise, I would never have met you. And you wouldn’t have given me that wonderful chant,” he said clearly needling me.
“Listen, sorry about that. I don’t know why I did that. I’m sure that must really annoy you.”
“No, don’t worry about it. On the field, I love hearing it.”
“In a bar?”
Forrest gave me his answer by looking into my eyes with a smile. He clearly hated it, but was being the best sport possible about it. Man, did I want him in my pants. Moving in would be a tight fit, but I knew where he could store his junk.
“Good game tonight, by the way,” I told him wanting to change the topic.
“Thanks, did you watch it?”
“I saw a part of it,” which was kind of true.
“Are you a baseball fan?”
I paused wondering what he was hoping to hear. “Not really. I barely know the rules.”
“Seriously? Then how did you know exactly how to embarrass me?”
“Instinct honed from years of humiliating men?” I offered with a shrug.
Forrest laughed. “Wow! Should I be scared?”
“Yes?” I offered with a shrug, because clearly I wanted my vajayjay to dry up and fall off.
“Then why aren’t I scared?” He asked with a smile.
“Poor judgment?” I suggested committing fully to self-sabotage.
Forrest laughed again. “That wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Wow! You really don’t follow baseball, do you?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“I like that,” Forrest said with a smile.
“To poor judgment,” I said raising my glass.
“Wait, I don’t have a drink.”
As soon as he said it, Haruto leaned in and handed his drink to Forrest bowing his head continuously after he did.
“Thank you,” Forrest said as if people gave him their drinks all of the time. “To poor judgment,” he said clinking his glass to mine and taking a swig.
I watched the gorgeous man in front of me as he drank from some stranger’s glass. At that moment a few things became clear. First, he really did have poor judgment. I mean, he was drinking out of stranger’s glass. How had he not already woken up a Japanese sex slave?
And, second, Saki and Haruto were listening to every word of our conversation. I looked back to confirm. Yep, they weren’t even hiding the fact. You gotta love the Japanese.
“Hey, do you wanna dance?” I asked him hoping to give us some privacy.
Forrest looked back at the dance floor and turned back. “There’s literally no one dancing.”
“Yes, but you’re Okami. If you dance… everyone will dance,” I said making a mystical gesture with my eyes and hands.
“Stop,” Forrest said embarrassed again.
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“Come on, stop it.”
“How about I bet you on it?”
“Okay, what should we bet?”
I thought about it for a second. And, it really was hard to think over the deafening screams from my yearning loins.
“If you’re right, then you get to choose what we do next,” I told him feeling bold.
“And, I can choose anything?”
I paused considering what it would feel like to massage men with my soaped-up naked body for the rest of my life.
“Anything,” I confirm with a smile. “But, I’m only saying that because I know you’ll lose.”
“Okay. Fair enough. And, what do we do if you win?
“You mean when I win?”
“Okay, Miss Confidence. What do we do when you win?”
“Then, I get to choose what we do next.”
“I guess you’ll have to take the bet and find out,” I said turning towards the dance floor while giving him a flirtatious smile.
“Good enough. You got it. The bet’s on.”
Honestly, I had no idea what was going to happen once we started dancing. Did this type of crowd dance? I knew they drank. I knew they sang karaoke like they were in the final round of ‘American Idol’. But, did they dance?
It didn’t take long for me to get my answer. As I lifted my arms into the air and swayed seductively, and he made his awkward movements which I was sure he was mistaking for dancing, the floor started to fill.
At first, it was just one guy who could have possibly been there before we got there. But quickly others joined. Did this crowd dance? Yes, of course they did. As drunk as most of them were, there was only one explanation for why there was no one dancing before us, Japanese men are the shyest creatures on the face of the earth and no one wanted to be first.
Wrapping my arms around the hot guy with poor judgment, I savored my victory. I was about to get anything I wanted from him. Him! The hottest guy I had ever seen in my life. Where did I even begin?
“Okay, so you win,” he told me leaning into my ear. “What do we do next?”
I blame the alcohol on what I said next. “I say we ditch our friends and get out of here.”
Forrest looked at me pleased. “If you say it, then I guess that’s what we have to do.”
Okay, I know that this was not the responsible-friend thing to do. I was leaving Saki with someone I was still convinced was a member of the Japanese mafia. And, more than that, I wasn’t even telling her where I was going, or if I was coming back.
I was being a bad friend. But, on the positive side, didn’t she take me out so that I could get laid tonight? So, by taking off with Forrest, wasn’t I doing her a favor? Wasn’t I making things easier for her? Yes I was. In fact, I was being a practical Mother Teresa. I tell you, I just give and give. You’re welcome, Saki.
With my rationalization and justifications out of the way, Forrest and I headed to the exit and stepped out into the night. It was still relatively early, so there were quite a few people out on the streets. We were in Shinjuku, the coolest part of town. Nearby were night clubs. A little further was the Red Light District. But, none of those were what I had in mind.
“So, where to?” Forrest asked me unsure where to go.
“How about if we just walk?”
“You got it?” He said extending a hand in either direction.
I chose a direction as if I were choosing randomly and he followed.
“So, how long have you been in Japan?” I asked him.
“A little over two years.”
“Oh, then just a little longer than I have? Did you come here to play baseball?”
“Yeah. I entered the draft after a year of college. I played in the minors for a little while. And when I got the offer to play in Japan, I took it.”
“Why Japan?” I asked walking close enough for him to put his arm around me.
“It’s a top-three market in the world for baseball. The pay is good.”
“And, how do you like Japan?”
“It’s an amazing place.”
“I agree. But…” I said sure that there was a but coming.
“But what?” He asked confused.
“Aren’t you going to say, Japan is nice, but…?”
“No but. I like it here. I needed to get away. I wasn’t doing well living in the states. I needed a change of scenery.”
“This is definitely that.”
“Yeah, there’s no mistaking here for America,” Forrest said as we shared a laugh.
“You’re right about that. There are so many cultural differences here. It took me forever to figure out them all. Some of them still don’t make sense to me.”
This was when Forrest finally got the hint and wrapped his arm around me.
“I think I’ve figured everything out here. Tell me what you still don’t understand. I’ll explain it to you.”
“Oh, so you’re an expert?” I asked seeing his cocky side poke through again.
“Yep,” he said confidently.
“Okay. Then, why is it that no one talks on the train? During rush hour, there’s like 100 people jammed into one car and no one is saying a word. It’s creepy.”
“That’s easy. It’s because there are a hundred people jammed into one car. The Japanese have a genuine respect for community. Imagine how loud it would be if all 100 people were talking at once. So, to spare themselves that nightmare, they have all collectively agreed that no one would speak.”
I thought about it never having thought about it before. “That’s very polite of them.”
“What, are you new here? Welcome to the land of polite,” Forrest said with a broad smile.
“Okay, you’re probably right about that one. But, I mean, that was probably easy. If I would have given it any thought, I would have figured that out.”
“Then give me a harder one,” Forrest insisted.
“Alright. Love Hotels. Explain that.”
Okay, here’s the thing. In Japan, Love Hotels are about as ubiquitous as McDonald’s. Although they aren’t clearly marked, you start to be able to pick them out after a while. They were usually tall, modern buildings, with English names.
For example, in the middle of Tokyo, there’s Hotel Bianca. Not everyone in Japan speaks English. Yet, there’s a hotel named after a girl I went to school with in Eugene, Oregon. It’s just weird.
“Ah yes, Love Hotels,” he pondered as he looked down at me. “How do you not already know this?”
“Maybe I don’t stay in as many of those hotels as some people do,” I said making up an excuse for my question.
“Yeah, but, they’re Love Hotels. How do you not know about them?”
“I know about them. I just don’t know ABOUT them.”
“Ahhh,” he said as if he were finally picking up what I was laying down. “Okay. Because people our age live with their parents longer here. And because the walls in traditional Japanese homes are very thin, it is hard to let loose, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean orgasm?”
That made Forrest blush. I did not expect that. Who was this guy? Was he an obnoxious baseball star who was used to getting any woman he wanted, or not?
“I guess, yes,” he explained. “But, I meant just relax and enjoy being with someone. If you’re a 22-year-old girl and you’re dating a 22-year-old guy, and both of you live with your parents, then…”
“Where are you gonna have sex?” I offered to complete his thought.
“Where are you gonna lay in their arms if that’s what you want? Where are you gonna do anything? You know how small the homes here are. Some of these places don’t even have real doors inside.”
“So, if you’re dating someone, you need to go to a Love Hotel to do anything with them at all.”
“Yeah. It’s impolite to even do PDA here,” Forrest explained.
“So, what we’re doing now, would be frowned upon?” I said feeling very comfortable in his arm.
“Well, we could get away with it because we’re foreigners. There’s a different set of rules here for us.”
“I do know about that one,” I confirmed. “Even still, though, maybe we should take our PDA elsewhere.”
“Where were you thinking?” He asked as if he had missed where my whole line of questioning was leading.
“Well, like I said, I don’t really know much about Love Hotels.”
“So, you’ve never been in one?”
“No,” I admitted.
“I mean, it might be interesting,” I said instead of screaming “Hell yes” at the top of my lungs.
“Then, I’ll find one,” Forrest said with a smile.
Forrest let go of my shoulder and pulled out his phone. As he did, I did the same. There were messages from Saki. The first asked where I was. The second came in a few minutes later and said that she was going to assume that I was fine.
Really? She’s going to assume I’m fine. What if I wasn’t? What if Forrest had actually kidnapped me?
I took a moment to consider what it would be like to be kidnapped by the most gorgeous man in the world. Would he ravish me quickly? Or, would he use my body over hours demanding that I submit to his will? Would he pin my arms to the bed, spread my legs apart with his knees and plunge his throbbing cock into my pulsing pussy?
“So, how’s the Love Hotel search coming?” I asked suddenly feeling a wave of heat wash across my body.
“I think I found a foreigner-friendly one. It’s not too far from here. Shall we go?”
“I mean, if you want.”
“You did win the bet. So, it’s the least I can do,” he said continuing our coy game.
I wrapped my arm around Forrest’s as he lead me away. The flesh between my legs was on fire. I still don’t understand how my panties didn’t burst into flames.
I leaned in closer to him. He smelled like a man. He had clearly gone to the bar immediately following the game. So, although he smelled clean, there was that hint of musk that came after a warm male body left the shower. It was driving me wild. I wanted to get naked and roll my body all over his.
The hotel he had chosen appeared quickly. It was a very new, clean building that seemed to be the epitome of class. When we entered, I hung back allowing him to do what he had to do.
As a famous baseball player, this couldn’t be anywhere close to his first time in one of these. And when he selected a room from the big board on the wall and paid for it through a vending machine, of course, he waved me to him as he headed towards the elevator.
God, I wanted to feel his hand between my legs. His fingers were so thick. I had to wonder what that meant about the rest of him. And, after entering what looked like the room of a five-star hotel, I didn’t waste any time in finding out.
Pushing my breasts against his stomach, I tilted my head back waiting for his lips. I didn’t have to wait long. He kissed me. His lips were firm and full. When he pushed his tongue into my mouth, I offered him mine. The sensation as our two tongues danced together was heaven. Sliding my hand down his body, I felt even more.
What I felt this time was a little hard to believe. Did baseball players wear cups in their underwear or something? Because that was the only thing that could explain what I was feeling. It was thick, so thick. And, god was it hard. The only thing that finally made it clear what I was touching was its shape. There was no mistaking a cock, no matter how thick it was.
As I stroked his clothed cock, I felt his energy change. What I was doing was driving him wild. I could tell. Wanting to see what would happen, I pressed my palm against him harder. He sighed, almost groaning. Then, when I slid my hand further and cupped his balls, that was all he could take.
Gripping my shoulders, he lifted me off the ground like I was nothing. I was a big girl, but in that moment, I felt so small. There was a powerful man taking control of me. I knew I couldn’t stop him even if I tried.
I didn’t try, though. In fact, I wanted him to do more. I got more when he laid me onto the bed and roughly removed my clothing. For a moment I did try to interfere with his conquest by spreading my legs apart. I may as well have been trying to tip over a building.
He clamped my legs together and my pants were off. My panties were still on, though. I didn’t know why. Comfortably gripping my chin with one hand, he slipped the other between my flesh and the lace. The feeling was fantastic. His thick fingers found my clit and pressed hard. It was almost too much. It was my turn to sigh and moan. It felt so fucking good. Well, not quite “fucking good” I would learn. Because fucking good would come later.
For now, with his hand still caressing my button, he used his free hand to unclasp my bra. It was off of me in an instant. Forrest was only the second boy to ever see my bare breasts. More than anything else, this made me feel vulnerable. So, when he engulfed my full breast in his large hand and squeezed, my body flinched. It felt amazing. When he lowered his lips and flicked my nipple with his tongue, my pussy spasmed.
Every time he flicked, my body twisted. I couldn’t help it. He was the puppet master and he held my strings. Sex with my ex was never like this. What had I been missing this entire time? When he finally spread my legs apart and pushed my panties to the side, I found out.
Oh my fucking god he was good. And it wasn’t just that he was big. And, yeah, he was big. It was that he eased his massive size into me with the expertise of a master craftsman. It hurt. Yeah, it hurt, but only a little, and the pain felt good. I opened up for him like I was welcoming home someone who had always lived there. He filled me exactly how I needed to be filled. And then when he thrust, it was like I was contracting under waves of electricity.
He thrust. I moaned. Then we did it all again. I didn’t want to stop. But as he was doing it, I felt my insides being drawn closer and closer to orgasm. Again, I couldn’t resist. He still had hold of my breast and wouldn’t let go.
All of the sensations were getting to be too much. He was so thick and so strong, all I could do was quiver. And finally, when a spark of electricity shot up the inside of my thigh and landed somewhere deep in my pussy, I let go.
“Ahhh!” I screamed as my chest heaved and my body shook. I could barely breathe. I had never felt anything like this before. Was this what a real orgasm felt like? What had I been having before?
Oh god, I felt light-headed. Was I about to pass out? Seriously, what had I been experiencing before? I didn’t want this wave of warm-caramel pleasure to end. It almost didn’t. He kept thrusting and it went on and on.
The orgasm didn’t stop until he stopped. And the only reason he stopped was that he was locked in the throes of orgasm himself.
Why hadn’t anyone told me that sensations like these were possible? Why had I stayed with my loser ex for so long? Forrest had to be the greatest lover in the world. I never wanted to be apart from him again. I couldn’t be positive, but I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him. That had to be what this feeling was, right? Love?
Whatever it was, I was now Forrest’s to do with as he pleased. He had me, hooked like a line drive. That was a baseball term, wasn’t it? Which reminds me, I had to learn about baseball. It was definitely the small white ball with the red stitching. I remembered that.
But, whatever I had to do, I was never planning on leaving Forrest’s side. That is if he would have me. Oh god, I hope he would have me. I was falling in love with him. I was sure of it. And I didn’t want to be separated from him for the rest of my life.
God, this felt good. This felt sooo good. Her lips. Her breasts. Her warm pussy that wore my dick like a glove. How could I not want this for the rest of my life? This was everything I ever wanted.
What was her name again? Did she say, Lexi? Or, Betsy? That place was so loud. Crap! How do I ask her her name again after we just did that? Oh, wait. I know.
“By the way, I’m gonna need your number,” I said still out of breath.
“Now?” She said with a laugh. “You still have your dick in me.”
“Right. Just letting you know that I will be getting it.”
“Alright,” she said with another giggle.
You know, a funny thing happens to guys like me right after they have sex. At first, I’m all like, this is great. How could I not want this for the rest of my life? But, as the minutes pass, something in me changes. I can’t figure out what. And by the time I’m ready to leave, I don’t care if I see the person again.
I don’t understand it. It’s like a curse I can’t lift. But I’m sure that’s not going to happen to me with Lexi/Betsy. She’s different from everyone else. She has so much spirit. I don’t know, maybe I like the mean girls. God, what does that say about me? How fucked up am I?
Well, I guess I already know the answer to that question. I’m pretty fucking fucked up. But, that doesn’t mean I can’t change, right? That was what that sports psychologist said when I saw him that one time.
So, Lexi/Betsy is going to be the girl I change for. I’ll lay here with her for a few more minutes, then I’ll get her number, then I’ll walk her back to the subway… No, even better. I’ll get a taxi to drive her home. Then I’ll rush back to my place, pack my travel bag, try to get a few hours of sleep, then get up at 6 am to get on the team bus.
“What are you thinking about?” Lexi/Betsy asked drawing me out of my planning.
“You’re not in me anymore.”
I scanned my body to confirm what she was saying. Yep, I had shrunken out of her. Wait, why is she pointing that out? Isn’t that what normally happens with guys? I mean, it didn’t happen that one time I took Viagra. I was still hard for like an hour after. But, isn’t shrinking out afterward pretty normal?
“Yeah. I was thinking that I had to go, but I didn’t want to leave you.” That was close enough to the truth.
“Ahhh! We could stay here all night if you want.”
“I would love that. But I need to be on a 6 am bus tomorrow. And I need to go home and pack and stuff. But, I’ll get your number and I’ll text you. When I get back into town, we’ll pick up where we left off,” I said giving her a kiss.
“You sure we can’t stay here a little longer?”
I thought about that. Technically, I could. It was really just the difference between whether I get 4 hours of sleep or 5. And, I could always sleep on the bus and train. But, to be honest, I kind of wanted to go. Not in the crazy way I usually do, where I will never see her again. But in the, I’m only going to screw this up if I keep talking, sort of way…
At least, that’s what I think is going on. God, I am so fucked up.
“No, I gotta go. My coach is all over me when I show up to practice tired.”
“Okay,” she said clearly disappointed.
“But, when I get back… Okay?”
“Okay,” she said lifting her head for another kiss.
I took that opportunity to roll off of her and reach for my clothes. She didn’t do the same. She just laid there naked and beautiful. Did she want to stay here? I only got the three-hour option. But I could go back down and get her the all night one.
“Did you wanna stay?” I asked unsure what I should do.
“No, I’ll go. I’m just admiring the view,” she said with a flirty smile.
Should I get into bed and fuck her again? Would I be up for that? Naw, I probably shouldn’t push my luck. I loved the way my body responded to her. It probably wouldn’t be up for a second round.
“Thanks. So am I,” I told her inspiring her to touch my still naked ass.
I smiled back at her. I really did like her. I was about 75% sure that I wanted to see her again. That’s practically marriage material for me. I just needed to figure out how not to screw this up. You know, because that will happen.
Deciding to push through with getting dressed, I was fully clothed by the time she made a move to get up. I had to admit, this was getting awkward. It was starting to feel like every other experience I had with women. I was rushing to get out while she laid in bed not wanting to leave. This was not a good sign and that was worrisome.
“So, where do you live?” I asked her not intentionally trying to rush her out.
“I have a place on campus.”
I searched my mind trying to remember if she mentioned anything about being a student. Nothing came to mind. But the bar was so loud. I decided to just go along with it.
“Oh, that’s right. Where was it, University of Tokyo?”
She paused before she answered. “That’s right. Did I tell you that?”
Ahhh, did she tell me that? “Yeah. Didn’t you? Or, maybe I’m just a good guesser.”
Okay, this night really needed to come to an end. I was not doing great here. Over text, I could ask her anything I wanted, and I’ll have time to think about what I’m supposed to say in reply.
“Should I call you a taxi?” I asked abruptly.
“Umm, that’s okay. I can take the train,” she said looking disappointed for some reason.
“You sure? It wouldn’t be a problem.”
“No, that’s okay. The train stops a block from my place.”
“Okay,” I said awkwardly waiting for her to get dressed. This night needed to end quickly.
We didn’t say much else until she was dress and ready to leave. Heading out the door, I asked her for her number again. I handed her my phone so she could enter her contact info.
Her name was Lexi. I knew it was Lexi. I don’t know why I second-guessed myself. And leaving the Love Hotel by the traditional back entrance, we exited into an alley a short walk from the street.
“So, that was a Love Hotel. What did you think?”
“I didn’t see much of the hotel. But the view I had was fantastic,” she said with a flirty smile.
No, I definitely did like this girl. I was definitely going to text her tomorrow. She is just a good time, and I didn’t just mean sexually. I mean, even if things didn’t work out between us dating-wise, she could end up being someone I could hang out with.
“So, this is the train station,” I told her as we approached the entrance.
“Are you taking the train?”
“No. My place isn’t super far. I’ll just walk there.”
“You sure you don’t need me to walk you home?” she asked suggestively.
I thought about that for a second. It was tempting. “No, I really need to pack.”
“Okay,” she said clearly hurt.
“I mean, but, as soon as I get back. There’s a lot of things we can do.”
Christ! What did that even mean? ‘There’s a lot of things we can do’? What am I, a set of kitchen knives?
“Anyway, I should go. I had a lot of fun,” I told her needing to end things now.
“Yeah, me too,” she said before I kissed her again and I walked off.
Once she was headed in the other direction, I didn’t even look back. I made such a fool of myself. And, she was so cool. Like, she was exactly the type of woman I could see myself with. And, the way my body reacted to her… man, she could definitely be the one.
Walking home, I thought about all of the things that had happened that day. It was a big win. The Osaka team is our biggest rival. That was the team that beat us last season in the Japanese World Series, and I was the one who struck the winning home run tonight. There is no greater feeling than that.
Then I decided to go out for once and I met Lexi, the coolest girl in the world. And, we had sex. Seriously, this had to be the best day of my life.
Things got a little iffy in the end there, but I think I stuck the landing. I mean, I was super ready for her to take off afterward, but I still want to see her again. So, that’s more than I can say for any other girl I met in Tokyo. Hell, that’s more than I can say for any girl I’ve met ever. Things are good!
When I got home I realized just how tired I was. My right shoulder had been bothering me for a while. It was probably the adrenaline from the game and everything else that made me forget it. But it was back now and I really needed to rest it.
Quickly throwing a few things into my travel bag, I pulled off my clothes and climbed into bed. I could smell Lexi on me. She was wearing a light perfume that I didn’t notice until I was on top of her. The scent of it relaxed me. Thinking of her, I fell asleep.
When I woke up the next morning, it wasn’t to the alarm. I know that because I kept touching the alarm clock and it wouldn’t turn off. It was given to me by my mother after my parents separated when I was nine, and the buttons stuck. That’s why I kept pressing. But as my mind cleared, I recognized the sound for what it was, my phone.
Wondering how many rings I had heard and trying to remember how many I had before it went to voicemail, I picked up my phone. The caller ID said, Vince Lowry. He was my agent. What was my agent doing calling me before 6 am? I wouldn’t normally say things like this, but, let’s be real, somebody better have died.
“Hello,” I said not hiding my exhaustion.
“Hey Forrest, it’s Vince. Why aren’t you up yet?” He said sounding way to awake himself.
“Because it’s…” I looked at the time. “5:30 in the morning.”
“And you need to be on the bus by 6. You can’t be late this morning, my man.”
“First of all, how do you know my schedule that well?”
“They copy me on the email when they send it to you. You know the drill, man. You gotta wake up.”
“I don’t know if you know this, but I hit the winning home run in last night’s game. If I’m late, they’ll wait for me.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want to be on management’s bad side today of all days.”
That was a weird thing for him to say. Hearing that woke me up a little. “Why today of all days?”
“Because I wasn’t the only one watching your game last night. And after you made that game-winning home run, I got a call.”
I was definitely awake now. “A call from who?”
“Well, you know how Portland, Oregon doesn’t have a major league team and how people have been trying for decades to get one there?”
“Well, guess what? It’s happening. It’s still under wraps but they’re trying to assemble a team.”
“And, they’ve been able to find some good, pieces, but no star players.”