Things went so nicely that first night with Saori, I made the decision to have her stay the night as often as she could during my fortnight in Tokyo. It would save her from having to deal with any other leery businessmen – just me, and as I already explained, my intentions were pure (ish). I didn’t want to sleep with her. I just wanted her around, and wanted her to stay the night with me, but in her own bed, and get paid for it.
So I rang her up and invited her to come and have dinner with me, and she sounded pleased, and accepted straight away. She showed up very early, at five thirty, wearing a different kimono to the one she’d had on last night. I was immediately curious to know if she had anything on underneath this time, but I manned up, and restrained myself from asking or peering.
‘Good evening, sir,’ she said demurely, no eye contact, but much warmer than she had been the night before.
‘Won’t you call me Pete?’ I said. ‘You did last night.’
‘All right, Pete. And you can call me Saorin. A name for friends,’ she said.
‘Saorin,’ I said, relishing the name. ‘What do you want to do tonight, Saorin?’
‘Oh. I thought we were to stay here,’ she says. ‘I am not dressed for anything else.’
‘Right. We’ll order from the room service menu. But tomorrow night, we’re going out to dinner, OK? I want you to take me to a great restaurant. Somewhere the guide books don’t know about.’
Saori looks very confused, and blushes slightly. She sits down in the bench on the sunny side of the room and asks: ‘Pete…you are buying me dinner?’
‘Yeah, sure. Why not? A girl has to eat, right?’
‘And you want me to stay again tomorrow night? I didn’t have plans to work.’
I hadn’t expected this and forgot she only works two nights a week. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘No, it’s good,’ she says. ‘I’d like to stay. I’ll just have to arrange a few things.’
So she sits down and gets comfortable and we get talking. I ask her about her background and she tells me she is actually a quarter German, which unfortunately means the local businessmen think she will be “exotic”, and also, easy. I find it strange to think of German as being exotic, but different strokes, I guess. Then I tell her that I am a typical Aussie, part Irish, part mongrel, and she laughs at my freckles. We drink tea, then wine, and I start to order the meal.
I ask her what she wants and she explains she already ate because she was not expecting to be fed. I remind her that I am taking her out again tomorrow and tell her to come hungry this time, and also, not to show up til it is dinner time, and to come dressed to go out.
She laughs. ‘Yes, I will do all of that. But, I do not know high class restaurants. I only know student places. You want to go to somewhere like that? I know a place with good gyoza.’
‘Sure, that sounds great.’ (I don’t want to admit I have no idea what that is).
‘What do you want me to wear?’ she asks.
‘Whatever you are comfortable in,’ I say. ‘Just what you would normally wear out.’
‘All right. Pete, thank you. I’m not really used to being treated like this by customers,’ she admits. ‘Some are very nice, but a lot of them they want me to act submissive.’
‘Hah!’ I laugh, and try to parody the domineering businessmen. ‘Drop that kimono and show me some respect, woman!’ I say. I am joking, but it is way off base, and she takes me at my word.
‘Like this?’ she asks, and lays back, letting the kimono expose her shoulders.
‘Uh…’ I am momentarily speechless. ‘Saorin, I was kidding. I didn’t actually…’
She sits up and the kimono falls gracefully off her shoulders. ‘Or like this?’ she asks.
‘That’s enough,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry. It was a joke that went wrong.’
She smiles and covers herself, slowly. ‘Pete, you should remember what I do for a living,’ she says. ‘And, you should remember that I sometimes enjoy it.’
The food arrives, and I get left to think about that for the rest of the evening. In particular; if she knew the date was just for conversation this time, then why is she still naked under there?
Not that I am really complaining.