Japan Tour, pt 1: Mistaken Identity

Japan Tour, pt 1: Mistaken IdentityWe were about to land in Tokyo but I couldn’t see a thing from my middle row coach seat. It would be my first time in Japan. Fllight was pretty boring other than when the First Class people came up to ask me what I was doing in coach, moved me up to First Class, gave me a glass of champagne, then took it away and said they made a mistake, moved me back to coach. I watched a movie and took a nap. I woke up just before landing when some guy was throwing a fit in First Class, saying something like “fuck this shit” and “I’m done, I can’t do this any more.” We tried to ignore him. I started worrying how I would figure out the trains and find my hotel and if I could take an actual real shower in my tiny cheap-ass hotel in Akihabara. I wanted to check out all of what Japan had to offer but the most exciting thing had to be the women. I couldn’t believe that in an hour I would be in a city with millions of beautiful Japanese women. I was sort of shy though, so I was afraid of the red llight district. I was just hoping I would get at least some sort of lucky hookup.As soon as I went through customs there was a guy with a sign and my name on it. Me? I asked him. Welcome to Japan! he said with a huge smile. This way! He took my bag and we went to a beautiful limo on the curb. How much does this all cost? I asked him. He just laughed and said to relax, my company had it covered. My company? Yeah, right. We pulled up at the Four Seasons and four or five people ran up and welcomed me. I tried to find a couple of bucks or yen or something for a tip when a stunning Japanese woman with long straight silky hair, perfect black skirt, black tights and heels ran up and bowed. Was she actuall blushing? She said how wonderful it was to meet me, and that she regrettably was sorry to not meet me personally at the airport but preparations had kept her busy. Please, she said, humbly accept this today’s stipend for incidental. And then she handed me a stack of 10,000 yen notes beautifully wrapped in red tissue paper. I started handing out the 10,000 yen notes and there were plenty left. I was whisked into a glass elevator, all the way to the top, into a suite that looked out over all of Tokyo and Mt. Fuji. I wasn’t sure if this was a scam or what was happening exactly but there was no time to think about it. Mayako, that was the name oof the girl in the black dress, was still talking. Her accent was so achingly attractive I couldn’t focus on a single word. I got this much out of it: Freshen up, a tailor would be here in a while, then we were getting the car to somewhere. Mayako left and I could concentrate again. Everything was five star. I turned on the TV and an amazing sound system kicked in, prompting me for a voice command. In a few seconds I had the Champions League on in high definition on a curved 65-inch screen and Iron Maiden on the sound system. There was a huge bar in the room. I fixed myself a drink, all top-shelf stuff back there, and got in the marble shower to cleanse the coach plane smell off of me. I wandered out, naked, and started unpacking my four t-shirts and two pairs of jeans into an antique cabinet. There was a knock at the door. Who’s there? I asked. It was definitely someone coming to explain there was a mistake and kick me out on the street. No, it was Mayako. Classical music, I told the sound system, and it went over to Vivaldi. I grabbed a towel and let her in. She was with an old man and his two beautiful assistants. I need to change, just a moment, I told them. No, no it’s okay the old man said. It was the tailor. Twenty seconds later they were all in the room fitting me for a suit. Oh, I just love Vivaldi, Mayako was saying. My eyes kept running up and down her legs, then over to those of the two stunning assistants, who couldn’t have been more than 19 or 20, both in matching lilac dresses and light stockings, pink heels, perfectly cut of course, to show their curves. They kept giggling and looking over at me, then bowing and lowering their eyes. Mayako was saying, so the book is still #1 in English book sales for this week, 25,000 copies were sold. Wow that’s good I said. Also, Mayako was saying, sorry to be so rude but the publisher asks if your comments could be very short. It would be best. Sure, I said, I’ll do whatever you say. Please, please, the tailor was saying, pulling at the towel, we must remove. No, I said, I just got out of the shower and . . . . It’s okay he said, and pulled it back and I was standing there naked. I just went with it and tried not to blush. This was Japan and I guess they had different deals when it came to nudity. I almost said “who’s next” but I didn’t want to fuck it up now. He was done measuring in another minute or two and then he and the two girls packed up and I was covered up again with just Mayako there. I said something stupid like “thank you very much for everything, I bet you have been working really hard today.”. She bowed and smiled. This is such a pleasure, she said, I heard you were terribly difficult to work wiith. Some people said you were mean and violent. But you have been so sweet. I think my employers will give me a substantial bonus if your behavior on this tour is so good. Sure, I said, I want everything to be perfect. She bowed again and said something softly in Japanese. So if it’s convenient to you, we will bring you to the car in one hour, okay? I said sure, she turned and was gone. I paced the room, made another drink, trying to figure out what would happen next. In 20 minutes the tailor and the two girls were back. In another five minutes I was wearing a great looking suit and they were bowing their way out again. What next? Another knock at the door and two guys brought in a heavy box, set it on a chest at the foot of the huge bed, bowed, accepted a tip, and left. I opened the box and looked Dikmen Escort inside. The room started to spin. It was That Book. The one I saw in the U.S. that had been pretty popular for a while. Not my kind of book but chicks really seemed to like it. The only reason I remembered it was this: The author had the same name as mine! Yes, it had been a conversation starter a couple of times but everyone back home knew I wasn’t That Guy. Apparently here in Japan, they did not know that. I got my phone out, spent five minutes cursing while I got the wifi, and googled the shit out of the author. I went to images and blinked a couple of times. His hair was different, but our faces were about the same. I pulled up a youtube of some interview. Yes, we could pass for each other if you didn’t know us personally. But he was such a caustic asshole. How could anyone deal with this guy?! I decided I was not going to imitate his personality, fuck it. I looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes to figure out his bio, what this book was about, why people liked it. I flipped through one of the books. Good writing, but I just couldn’t get into it. Way too intellectual sounding, every page was about women exploring their feelings. How could that jackass write this deep-feeling stuff? I tossed the book down on the bed and got ready to go face a crowd. I supposed I was going somewhere for an interview or book signing or something. Book signing . . . I googled autographed copies of the book on ebay. They were going for around $100. I guess he didn’t give many autographs. I studied the signature. A “related news” link caught my eye. The guy was some sort of Professor of LIterature at a college in California and he had gotten into a Twitter war with other academics and left one final cryptic tweet and deleted the account. I didn’t really understand what it was all about. I hoped no one asked me to comment. Then I remembered Mayako’s suggestion that I keep it simple. The door. They were back for me and we went down to the car, to a big book store in Shinjuku. There was a red carpet and a line of mostly women standing behind a rope. I was escorted to the back and greeted by about a hundred people, offered a drink, shown to a cushy chair in front of a cluster of about 30 chairs. The chairs filled quickly, at least two dozen of them were Japanese women, all looking at me with absolute adoration. I would have crawled through broken glass just to meet most of them. Mayako and the store owner were saying things I didn’t understand in Japanese. Then they were clapping politely and looking at me with anticipation. Mayako repeated herself this time in English. “Now our honored guest will say a few words. Please no questions and you know he has wishes that no one asks him for an autograph. Please respect our guest’s wishes.” They all clapped again. “Go ahead,” Mayako said, “I will translate.” The room was absolutely silent and everyone was looking at me. I had no idea what to say, so I just opened my mouth and started talking. I said how nice it was to be here, and how wonderful it was to see them all, that I was so happy if they enjoyed the book. I said I didn’t really feel like talking about the book much, that I hoped they understood. I said that I thought everyone and anyone could be a successful writer if they set their hearts on it. I told them that if they wanted to be a writer too, I thought they could do it. And, I said in conclusion, Japan is such a wonderful place that I think I would like to change my habit. I would be happy to autograph alll of your books today. I sat down and they gave me thunderous applause, then I watched a room full of Japanese women scramble to line up to be the first to meet me. I gave each one an autograph and got a thrill each time as they bowed and thanked me. A few times we mutually devoured each other with our eyes. One woman broke the gaze and said in halted English, your message inspired me to keep writing. I am glad, I said. What is your name? Izumi, she said. She looked early to mid twenties which meant she was probably older. She had a girl-next-door look that always drove me wild — yellow and red floral dress, sort of low cut, small swell of breasts underneath, pearl necklace, bobbed black hair and an angel’s face. I offered my hand. She shook it and bowed. Well, Izumi, I said, I would love to hear what you have written. Her hand went to her neck and her eyes doubled in size. “Really?! Oh wow you are so kind to say such a thing.”. I mean it, I told her. I am a stranger in this country, I could use some company. Do you know the Four Seasons? She nodded. We could meet in the bar in a little while? She nodded again and moved out of the line. I watched her go, slender long legs in sensible stockings and heels. I autographed for the others and Mayako and the store owner were both congratulating me and thanking me profusely. This was so successful, Mayako said, thank you for being so kind. It was nothing, I said. In the car back to the hotel Mayako thanked me again and again. Just . . . she began. Did I do something wrong? I asked. Only, she said again, only be careful of meeting fans. There are lots of fans of you here in Japan. I think they could wear you out quickly and tire you. I have heard you have a dellicate disposition. I laughed and told Mayako that I was turning over a new leaf. I felt fine and I really enjoyed meeting fans of the book. Really? Mayako said. Sure, I said, why not. Well, Mayako said, you know those girls are not really so much a fan of the book as a fan of you. They think you are the ideal man, a sensitive poet who is also strong and able to speak his mind and uh . . . you are not shy about your desires and need to control. I tried to think of the right thing to say. I guess I never thought of it that Eryaman Escort way, I told her. The publisher told me that you like to write but you hate fans and hate these tours because you don’t like the attention. I smiled at her and told her I was trying to have a better attitude. Mayako went to the door of my suite with me and said she would be back at 10 a.m. the next morning for the next event. Did I need anything else? she asked me. Anything at all? I couldn’t tell, with the different culture, if she was just being nice. Or was she offering something else? Was she a fan of the book and of . . . me, I guess? I decided not to risk it. I said no thank you Mayako, I will be fine on my own this evening. That seemed to satisfy her and she left. I watched her legs from behind one more time. “Oh Mayako,” I callled after her, and she turned, “that is a beautiful suit!” She seemed thrilled and thanked me for the compliment. I went in the room, turned on the TV, fixed another drink. Someone had been busy building out an entire wardrobe for me. I changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, got my own trainers out from under the bed, went down to the bar. I didn’t really think I would see Izumi there, but yes, that was her, in the corner. When she saw me she stood up and bowed deeply. She had pulled her hair up and she smelled wonderful. Had she done that for me? Definitely, she had. For a fact. I asked her what she was drinking. She looked at the table and shyly said she was not sure. What would a character in one of your stories order, Izumi? She smiled and said “Margarita!” I told the bartender to make two margaritas. Izumi was so flustered to be sitting with me that I had to get her calm. It took half of the first margarita and then she sort of leveled out and was at peace with where she was and with who she thought she was. I told her that I was serious, that I really wanted to hear her story ideas. She took a few pages from her purse and said, “unfortunately it is in Japanese.” She tried to read some but the bar was kind of loud. I put my hands over hers and closed the pages. I looked into her eyes and said, “tell me your ideas, I want to hear those.” She had some good ideas. The characters were complex and interesting. She talked for a while about the main character, who she called Z. I asked her if Z was a little like her, but she blushed and looked down. Z was sort of a secret agent according to Izumi, but the plot was fairly compicated. I asked questions and showed interest. It was easy because the ideas were pretty good, and she was beautiful to look at and listen to. The bar was crowded. Some guy was standing with his ass about four inches from my face. I told Izumi, I would love to have another margarita and hear more, but it is too crowded for me. She looked down at the table and said it’s okay, I understand. Or, I said, if you would not mind, we can ask them to bring the drinks to my suite. She nodded and we went to the elevator. The suite had kind of a sitting room adjoining the bedroom. We went in there and I called down for the drinks. In five minutes a guy was there with two margaritas and a tumbler with some more in it, which I put on the bar. We left our shoes at the door of course. I looked Izumi up and down, from her stockinged toe, up her perfect calves and hips, to her angel’s face. We sat and looked out at the lights as she told me more about her character, Z. Is Z very beautiful? I asked her. She is only normal looking, Izumi said, her personality is what makes her stand out. Then Z can’t be you, if she isn’t beautiful, even if you do both have wonderful personalities. She blushed and thanked me for so kind of a compliment. I only am saying what I really think, I told her. The second margarita was gone and we went to get the tumbler. I poured us two more full glasses and she saw the book I had tossed on the bed. She jumped onto the king sized bed on her stomach and opened the book, her feet pointing up at the ceiling, swinging her legs as she read the parts of the book she said were her favorite. They give me these books so that I can hand them out, I told her. I want to autograph one for you especially. I wrote in the cover: “To my dear Izumi, my most cherished friend in Japan. Love always.” She had some trouble reading the sloppy writing but when I helped her read it her face went fully red. I apologized if I embarrassed her. She clapped her hands and said no no no. Okay then, I thought. I went back to the bar and watched her as she rolled back over onto the bed looking at the book. Tell me more about Z, I asked her. I want to hear about Z’s adventures. Izumi started saying more about her personality. I stopped her and said, yes but I want to hear some of the things she does. Tell me something about that. She was turning shy. I said, this is just a character we are talking about, and you have to get used to the idea of people reading your stories. So start big, telll me about Z’s romances. Welll, Izumi was saying, she only has fantasies of them but they are never fulfilled. Why not fulfilled? I asked. Well, she is too careful to show her true desires, Izumi replied. True, I said, I know how careful Z is. But sometimes she could be on a mission where she loses control and has to react. Yes, true Izumi said. Like, for instance, I said, if she encounters a situation where she needs to get information from a villain, a bad guy? Does she ever need to do that? Yes, sometimes, Izumi said. Well, I said, she might find herself in a situation where she has to be intimate with him in order to get what she wants, right? What then? She turned on one elbow to look up at me from the bed. Z would do what needed to be done, she said. And, I added, she would need to be very seductive too. Yes, Izumi agreed. I went on: When Esat Escort they were alone together the bad guy would be like “Z, you are a very beautiful woman.”. And what would Z say? I asked her. I think she would be attentive and patient, Izumi answered. And what, I asked her, if the villain said to Z: I think I could learn to trust you, with my closest secrets, but as the villain was doing that, he ran his hand over Z’s leg, signalling what Z would have to do to earn this trust. Things like that would never happen to Z, Izumi said quietly. But it’s your book, I replied. Your story. I went to the edge of the bed and took her tiny foot in my hand and gently massaged it. You get to write the story. I forgot, Izumi said, yes I write the story but sometimes unexpected inspiration is needed for a good plot.So, I said to Izumi, still gently rubbing her foot, the bad guy is saying to Z, you will earn all of my trust, but something is expected in return, what does Z do to respond? Hmm, Izumi said, if it was her mission, she could not refuse. The villain, I said, has to be a very demanding guy. He won’t be content to just use her. He wants to own her and control her. What would Z think about that? Z would do what the mission required, Izumi responded. My hand slid along the back of her leg and her eyes closed. When she opened them again I said: Z, go and bring another drink.Yes, Master. Izumi went to the bar and brought me whiskey. I guessed that was what her Villain drank. I took it and leaned against the bar, looking at her with a proprietary stare. “You are the most beautiful woman in Japan, Z, though you hide it well in that dress.” I sipped the whiskey. “Take it off.” I watched as Izumi, as Z, reached behind and unzipped her dress. It fell too the floor and she stood in her pearl necklace, bra, pantyhose over white panties. “Yes, I thought so,” I said, regarding her. “Turn around.” She did. “Now take off the rest of your top.” I stared hungrily at the nape of her neck, bare shoulders and back as she shrugged out of the bra. “Turn again,” I commanded, and she did, hands shyly over her nipples, but with one look from me she slowly moved them away. Her A cup breasts had a perfect shape, dark hard nipples. I said: “You are not only the most beautiful woman in Japan, Z, but also the second most desirable. Remove the rest and become number one.” I was slipping into the role now too. Z willingly bent down and rolled her stockings over her legs, then slid her panties to the floor, standing three feet away froom me, naked except for the pearl necklace and red tie holding up her hair. “Show me how you would serve me, Z,” I ordered her. Izumi dropped to all fours and cralwed over to me, pulling hersellf up by clinging to my thighs, until her head was level with the fly of my jeans. She unzipped slowly and I watched as she pulled my cock out and started to slowly lick the shaft. Had I really just met this girl three hours ago?! She had all of my cock that would fit now in her mouth and was delivering a passionate blowjob that would soon make me cum. “No, Z, before you please me you must please yourself,” I told her. She stood up, nodded and without hesitation went to the bed and spread her legs open. I watched this shy girl brazenly open her tiny pussy lips and begin fingering her clit and hole, biting back a moan with each circling and darting gesture. I realized that she was bearing every repressed desire with me that she had put into her character, Z. Now she slid over to the bed post — it was a smooth wooden post that stood up from each corner of the bed about three feet above the mattress. She grabbed the top of the post and straddled it, grinding her pussy hard on the pole. I sipped the entire whiskey watching her slam her pussy on that pole, crying out as she came. Even in the suite it was loud enough that I was worried about the noises in the hall or on the floor below. “Are you ready to pleasure me now, Z?” I asked her. In response she crawled on her hands and knees to the middle of the bed and pointed her ass at me. I shrugged out of my clothes and was between her legs, mounting her from behind in a matter of seconds. She moaned as I slid into her. Her Japanese pussy was so tight but thankfully equally wet, so we were fucking fast and hard right away. It had been a long day. I remembered thinking on the jet that as soon as I got to my shit hotel room I was going to find a quiet place to jack off. I had never had the chance and now here I was buried balls deep in Izumi’s pussy — a girl I had met in a book store — pounding her from behind. Then I realized this was not Izumi, it was Izumi as her character Z. And I was not me, I was a famous author pretending to be the Master in Izumi’s book. And the Master was not just going to cum inside Z and call it a day. The Master had a reputation to keep and I was going to keep it. “Pleasure and control, Z, that is my way. If you serve me it is always pleasure,” I pulled out and pulled on the back of her hair until she was upright, in a sitting position, “and then control.” I pointed my cock to the dead center of her face and then wrapped her hand around the shaft and watched as she jerked me off to orgasm, blinking only once as a huge load coated her face and ran down her chin. I got Izumi a hot rag but she had already fallen asleep on the bed, face still drenched in cum. I wiped her up and rolled her sideways and got in bed next to her under the covers. I woke up when I heard her gasp and sit up like a shot. She looked at me and said: “Please don’t tell my husband. I never would do anything like this. Not even to him.” I replied: “You didn’t do anything, Izumi. Z did it. Remember that.” Ohhhhhh, Izumi said. Okay. “But now you have to go, Z.” She replied “Yes Master.” But. before you do, I told her, I have one more mission for you. You have to go find Izumi’s husband and seduce him, the same way you did to me. She said yes, she understood. She gathered up her clothes but didn’t say another thing other than “thank you” several times. She remembered to take the book I gave her. As the door shut behind her I saw that it was 5 a.m. The car would be coming in five hours. What would the new day bring?