I AM NOT ASHAMED 07 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 03: I AM NOT ASHAMED BY KIMIKO KOBAYASHI AND MEGUMI KATO CHAPTER VII The First Test When I came back from my lunch-break one day a week later, I found an envelope on my desk, and a package. I was alone in the office - it was my turn on the reception desk, so I had taken my lunch early. I looked in the package first: thank the Gods, there were my photos and tape safe and sound. The envelope contained a note from my two colleagues, and a key with a numbered tag on it. Dear Kimiko, Last Friday we showed your video and photos to our friends as we promised. We all thought you were great. You have a natural talent for kinky sex. Some of us wanted to call you straightaway to invite you over to join us and share the fun we were all having that night, but the rest of us thought it would be amusing to set you some Tests first. After all, you held out on us for ages, pretending to be a virgin and a little _o-josama_ too superior to join us in our pleasures. Now we know you're nothing of the kind, but you'll have to prove yourself before we can accept you. Don't worry, the Tests won't be too difficult - in fact you'll enjoy them. There'll be three Tests. The first begins now. Next Saturday you are to go to Osaka by the Shinkansen Bullet Train which departs from Tokyo at 1014. You will be home again on Sunday evening. You can tell your parents you are going on company business, to help with a meeting of senior executives over the weekend. We'll make sure that story holds up if anyone asks. If your parents want to know where you can be contacted, tell them [there followed a number with the 06 code for Osaka]. A friend of ours will deal with any calls. But when you get to the place where you'll really be staying, call that number if you have time, and tell the girl who answers where you are. You can wear whatever clothes you like when you set out from home. We suggest you take a short coat. But you must wear our company's standard OL tights, and black shoes with the highest spike heels you can manage and an ankle-strap or -chain. If you haven't got shoes like that, go and buy some before Saturday. Don't take any luggage. Whatever you need will be provided. You may have to take an empty bag to satisfy your parents, but if so make sure it _is_ empty. Get to Tokyo Station in plenty of time. The key enclosed will open one of the lockers on the Yaesuguchi side near the entrance to the Shinkansen tracks. There you'll find further instructions. One final thing. This is very important. You are not to take any money with you. No cash, no credit cards, not even a telephone card. Nor even your commuting season ticket. If you haven't got any ordinary subway tickets valid from your home to Tokyo Station and back, buy some, and take just one for going and one for coming back on Sunday. Meanwhile, don't discuss this with anyone - especially not with us. Have fun. - Tomoko and Shizue What on earth was I going to do? On the one hand I admired my friends so much for being cleverer and more experienced in life than I was, and I did so want to be accepted by them and not to be treated as an outcast. On the other, the thought of being sent off to Osaka for a weekend with no idea of what I was supposed to do, and no money to do it with whatever it was, was pretty frightening. But it was the taunt of being an _o-josama_ - a stuck-up, nose-in-the-air princess type - which really decided me. I might have been reluctant, at first, to join in their sexual fun-and-games, but a snob and a spoilsport I was not. I would prove it. To show I was serious I went out that evening before going home and bought the sexiest and highest pair of stiletto-heeled shoes I could find: shiny black, with gold ankle-chains. (Alas, they were quite right in guessing that I didn't own anything of the kind.) Even wearing them and learning to walk in them, balancing carefully on the tall pointed heels and feeling my bottom wiggle at each stride, made me feel a different, more self-confident person, as if I had started a new life. As of course I had. I must have swung to and fro fifty times over the next few days, but finally decided I had to tell my parents about my alleged business trip. They were delighted to think I was being given such responsibility by my company. I felt dreadful about deceiving them; but having done it I couldn't back out. On the Saturday I set off in good time. I was carrying an overnight bag with almost nothing in it but a stack of old magazines to keep it from looking empty. I wore a conservative dark blue suit, the pleated skirt falling well below my knees, with the specified tights. My mother thought I was very suitably dressed for a business trip; of course she did not see the sexy high-heeled shoes as I put them on only when I stepped down into the little entrance hall of our house. I carried a short white coat with a little fur edging on the hem. The coat did not really go with the calf-length skirt, and nor did the shoes, but otherwise I thought I looked both respectable and smart. I did however break the rules laid down in one respect: ever since my life had changed so completely at Megumi's wedding reception, I had never been parted in bed from my ropes, my gag and my blindfold. I didn't usually wear them: normally I just put them under my pillow where I could feel them before drifting off to sleep, hoping their touch would grant me happy dreams. Sometimes, very daring, I tied one of the ropes loosely round my waist and passed the ends between my legs, luxuriating in the feel of its masterful firmness against my delicate skin. In a perverted way these instruments of restraint and bondage, which I yearned to feel again biting into my eager flesh, enslaving me with irresistible pleasure, were the symbols of my new sexual liberation. So I slipped them into my bag. All the way to Tokyo Station I kept saying to myself: I am not committed. I still have a return ticket on the subway. I can tell my parents I had a message the so-called meeting is cancelled. But there seemed no harm in at least looking for the coin-locker and opening it. It contained a bag the same size as my own. It seemed about half full. When I looked inside I saw some clothes, with two envelopes addressed to me lying on top. I felt I needed somewhere quiet to read my instructions. But where could I go? There are no public benches in that part of Tokyo Station: everyone is assumed to be in a great hurry to get to a train. I was about to go to a coffee-shop but remembered in time that I had absolutely no money. I had never been anywhere in that situation before. At last I went to the ladies' lavatory and locked myself in one of the stalls. Dear Kimiko, Well done! If you're reading this, then you have started on your adventure. Your objective this weekend is to travel to Osaka and back with nothing but your tickets: no money, no hotel booking, no food, nothing. How can you do this? Well, the next instruction will give you a strong hint. In the bag are two outfits. The blouse and skirt, and the tights and panties, are for you to wear on the journey. Take off everything you are wearing, including your underwear and tights, and change just as soon as you have finished reading this. If looking at yourself in the mirror doesn't tell you what to do on the train, then we have over-estimated you and this has all been a misunderstanding. You will also find a video-camera. Find some way of taking photographic evidence of what you get up to. On Monday you must give us a full account of what happened, so we and our friends can decide whether you have passed your Test. Your Shinkansen tickets are enclosed. Good luck, and have fun. - Tomoko and Shizue The second envelope had the logo of the Sanwa Bank printed on it and was the kind banks give to customers who withdraw large amounts of cash. It was sealed, but there was a post-it note stuck to the front. Dear Kimiko, You didn't _really_ think we'd send you off with no money, did you, in case there's an emergency or things go badly wrong? This envelope contains Y50,000. But if you have to open it, you've failed. T and S I put the two envelopes down carefully on top of the lavatory cistern and pulled out the clothes they had chosen for the journey. There was a shiny white miniskirt with a row of three silver snaps down the front, lacy white g-string panties - tiny, but very dainty and feminine - a black, long-sleeved blouse and sheer tights with a wide black fishnet design. Well, there would be no harm in trying them on. Carefully checking that the door of the lavatory stall was still locked, I removed my frumpy suit and my bra. As instructed, I took off my high-heels, removed my tights and respectable white knickers, and put on the little g-string panties with the new tights over them. The tights had seams down the back of each leg and I had to be careful to ensure that they were straight. I pulled on the blouse and spent several minutes doing up its many buttons down the front and on the cuffs. It was only when I had finished that I realised how appallingly sheer it was: my plump breasts - firm even without a bra - and trim tummy were clearly visible through the thin, transparent material. This must be the see-through blouse Tomoko had described herself wearing, and had been so keen to lend to me. I wrapped the skirt tightly round my waist and somehow forced the snaps to meet down the front: Gods, it _was_ short - it didn't even fully cover my bottom! And the tights were no use: the revealing fishnet pattern continued all the way up, the seams following the curve of my bottom right up to the waist. Surely anyone looking at me in my new skirt, even when I was standing absolutely straight, would be bound to see my bottom quite clearly and the crotch of the little white panties too, peeping through the wide black mesh. And when I bent over or sat down ... it would be as if I were wearing no skirt at all! Well, dancers wore tights, didn't they, without anyone thinking it was improper? And I remembered that I had been far more shamelessly naked - and in public - at dear Megumi's wedding the other day. But somehow that had seemed appropriate. Everyone was doing the same, and shame didn't seem to come into it. Showing myself off like this on a train was different. Or was it? Everything I was wearing was fashionable among the young people I so wanted to accept me. Had I been with friends, rather than entirely alone, I would have been less concerned about how blatantly sexy I looked. That seductive inner voice my sister Fumiko had spoken of was telling me I really wanted to dress like that. But could I trust it? Suddenly I heard a motherly voice saying from somewhere, "The longest possible hair, the highest possible heels and the shortest possible skirt." Who had given me that advice on how to look my best? Oh, yes: the woman in Marucho's costume department who had been so kind to me. Well, if she too with her experience agreed with my inner voice and thought these clothes suited me ... I wondered if the dark-red dress at the bottom of the bag was less provocatively sexy. I glanced at my watch. Gods! only eight minutes till my train left! I scrambled into my coat and quickly packed my other clothes and the envelopes into the bag, dumped the old magazines in the waste-bin and folded up my own bag so that it fitted on top, the bondage implements still inside. I quickly checked my appearance in one of the mirrors over the wash-basins but in my coat I had no idea what I looked like in the blouse and skirt. I ran for the door, and the Shinkansen ticket-barrier, as fast as my smart high-heels would let me. == In my reserved window-seat in carriage no 11, I wondered what to do. Fortunately the train was not full, and there was no one beside me in my pair of seats to the right of the aisle. It was pretty obvious that there was only one way a sexily dressed girl with no money could make sure she was looked after for a weekend. Or, to be more accurate, there might be more than one way, but it was clear which way my examiners wanted me to take. And I was beginning to find that I wanted it too. The train soon hurtled through Yokohama Station. The conductor came through the train, inspected my tickets and bowed politely as he returned them. I still couldn't decide where to start. Did I choose a likely prospect and say to him, "If you will pay for my hotel room, I will give you all the sex you want in return?" Well, it might work. Probably would. But there must be a less obvious way. Surely Shizue had been a little more subtle in persuading a man to pay for her brooch. If only I had been less prudish and had asked her for the details of how a girl invited a man to consider a deal like that! The train rushed smoothly on towards western Japan at over 200 kph. The other passengers in my carriage started murmuring to each other, and looking out of the right-hand windows. I realised that we were passing Mount Fuji. We did not have a clear view but its snow-capped peak floated serenely over the other mountains, as if borne aloft by the clouds. Somehow I was inspired by the effortless beauty of the sacred mountain. It was for others to admire me, not for me to demand things of them. I stood up, took off my coat and left it folded on my seat, made sure the hem of my tight, short skirt was at least straight even if it covered almost nothing, and walked carefully up the aisle of the train. The next carriage was a Green Car or first-class carriage. There was hardly anyone there, but on the left near the front a man was sitting. I noticed him particularly because, although he had a pair of seats to himself, he had chosen to take the aisle seat rather than the window one. I walked slowly past him, balancing as best I could on my slender high-heels, allowing him to make the most of his seated view of the lower curves of my bottom. It was a nice sensation, I thought, being looked at. I was glad I had learnt to enjoy it: it felt as if my bottom and thighs were being stroked - very, very delicately. As I stood at the head of the carriage, legs modestly together, waiting for the automatic door to register my presence, I looked back at him for a split second. He was a _gaijin_, but seemed pleasant, even though he was gazing at me with the most extraordinary expression on his face, mouth sagging open, as if he had been struck by lightning. I blushed, and tried not to giggle as I looked away. The door swished open and I walked through, conscious as never before of the rustling sound my thighs made in their tights as they brushed against each other. Out of sight in the area between the carriages, I considered my options. Green Car passengers were obviously the most promising, and even if my admirer looked a bit mad he seemed pleasant enough. I decided to take a look in the second Green Car before committing myself. I walked through it, waited a while, then walked back. Nothing but Japanese businessmen asleep, eating boxed lunches or reading pornographic cartoon magazines. None of them even glanced at me. I stepped briefly into a washroom to check my appearance in a mirror. I looked over each shoulder in turn and did my best to make sure the seams in my tights were straight. Then I took a deep breath, feeling my erect nipples shift against the slinky material of the transparent blouse as my breasts lifted, and re-entered carriage no 10. My _gaijin_ was still there, and as the door hissed open he looked up with the same comically enraptured gaze as before. I hesitated, modestly showing myself off to him for a moment, my heart beating fast as I wiggled my bottom a little and shifted from foot to foot, then walked slowly forwards as if I had every right to be there - as of course I had - and was returning quite naturally to my seat further down the train. The Shinkansen tracks are modern and smooth but the speed is such that it is easy to lose your balance when standing or walking. I made sure I did so just as I drew level with my target, catching myself on the back of the seat in front of him, then lurching forward till only a hand on his shoulder could save me. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" I said, first in Japanese then in English, so as to give him a choice. He rose from his aisle seat and took me by the arm to steady me. "Are you all right?" he asked, choosing Japanese. "Yes, of course, I just lost my balance a moment," I stammered, confused. I tried another step. "Except ... I think ... it's nothing, but my ankle ... these heels are so high ..." "You must sit down for a moment," he said, swiftly removing his briefcase from the seat beside him, and keeping his hand on my arm as he guided me into it and then stood bending over me. "Which ankle is it? May I touch?" I lay back in the comfortable Green Car seat with a sigh as he lowered himself onto the carpet beside me. I closed my eyes and pointed to my right foot. He knelt between the seats and I felt his hands gently undo the ankle-chain, then slide first my heel and then my toes out of my shoe. One hand held my foot, while the other delicately probed and flexed my ankle. "Does that hurt?" "No, not really," I said, conscious that his position below me on the floor gave him a clear view up my tiny skirt of my dainty little g-string, and of the wanton wisps of hair which it was trying unsuccessfully to cover, curling shamelessly on each side and peeping prettily through the mesh of my tights. "You're being very brave, but you must sit here for a while till you feel better." He pulled down the elaborate padded foot-rest the Shinkansen trains provide for their Green Car passengers, placed my unshod foot delicately on it, got up off the floor and resumed his seat. He held my shoe caressingly with both hands. "These are such pretty shoes," he said, "and you walk beautifully in them, but it must be difficult to balance on these narrow heels." "Yes," I said. "Thank you." "Please tell me your name." "Kimiko Kobayashi." I should have asked him his, but I was more anxious to ensure that his destination was the same as mine. "How far are you going?" I added. "To Kyoto. And you, Kimiko-san?" I made a rapid decision. If I admitted my ticket was to Osaka that would be the end of our connection and I would have to start again with the other, rather unpromising, material on the train. I could only hope that by not going as far as Osaka I was not about to fail the Test. "I'm going to Kyoto, too." "Oh, good! Where are you staying?" "Well ... I haven't really decided ... I'm going to call a friend when I get there ..." I said lamely. "And what are your plans for the weekend?" "I don't know, really ... what are yours?" "I'm going to see the autumn colours," he said. "I try to get to Kyoto every year around this time for that. And other times too, of course. But I've got a meeting in Kobe on Monday and it seemed an ideal time for a weekend in Kyoto on the way." "How nice," I said lamely. "What do you do here in Japan?" "Oh, I work for a company," he said vaguely, not wanting to be distracted from talking about the weekend ahead. "What is your favourite place in Kyoto?" That was a tricky one. I had not been to Kyoto since a school outing years ago and could remember very little about it. But I had to say something, and try not to make him despise me. What was famous in Kyoto? "The Golden Pavilion," I said at last. "Really? Well, yes, though I always think it looks better on the tourist posters than in reality. Anything else?" I thought desperately. "The place with the rock garden." "Oh, yes. The Ryoanji. That is nice if you can see it when it's not full of people." "Tell me your favourite places," I said with sudden inspiration, "and I expect they'll be mine too." I was very conscious of his frequent glances at my breasts, clearly exposed through the transparent blouse. Suddenly he bent down again and placed my shoe on the floor beside me. I leant back in my seat, my heart pounding as I waited for him to touch me, watching under my lashes as he gazed longingly at my thighs and at the mound of my pretty g-string panties, speckled with the black mesh of my tights, peeping below the hem of my shiny white skirt. Then he was sitting beside me again, while my skin thrilled as if he had taken me for the first time. As, in a way, he had. I returned to the reality of the speeding train. There was nothing I could do about the shameless display of my breasts, but I thought I looked a little too relaxed sprawled beside this man in the comfortable seat with one foot on the rest. I crossed my legs, turning towards him in what I hoped was an attentive and deferential posture. "My favourite places?" he said, as if nothing had happened between us. "Well, one of the nicest parts of Kyoto is the Katsura Imperial Villa. I've been there a couple of times, but I'm not planning to go this weekend as you have to get special permission in advance from the Imperial Household Agency in Tokyo. There are lots of little temples around Arashiyama and western Kyoto where no one ever seems to go. One place I always try to see is the Silver Pavilion - preferably in the afternoon when the light is best. Have you seen it when the autumn leaves are out?" "No," I said cautiously. So far as I could remember I had never seen it at any time of year. "Is it like the Golden Pavilion - only silver, of course? It sounds lovely." He looked at me oddly. "No, it's quite different. Er ... if you honestly haven't any plans, would you like me to show it to you? I'd really enjoy that." "I'd love you to - if you're sure it wouldn't be boring for you." Suddenly the door slid open and the conductor entered. He looked at me with disapproval, knowing I had no business to be in the Green Car. I remembered my lack of money and began to feel for my right shoe. "Goodness, I really mustn't stay here any longer!" "Don't worry." Then, to the conductor: "I will pay for this young lady's Green Car ticket, if that is allowed." The conductor bowed, and pulled out his computerised ticket machine. "To Osaka, isn't it?" "No, no," I corrected him hurriedly, "only as far as Kyoto." "And if you really have nowhere definite to stay," he continued when the man had gone, discreetly not commenting on my change of destination, "I hope you will be my guest." "Oh, but I couldn't!" I said, knowing full well that I could, and must - and very much wanted to. He smiled, and reached into the briefcase at his feet for a portable telephone. Again, his eyes stroked me as he straightened up again; and I could not stop myself moaning slightly with pleasure, my skin thrilling as if he had really touched me. The railway company requests passengers to use phones only in the areas between the carriages so as not to disturb others, but perhaps he didn't know that. There was hardly anyone else in the carriage to be disturbed anyway. Or perhaps - it occurred to me later - he wanted me to hear what he was saying so that I had a last chance to object. He keyed in a number, beginning with 075 which I knew was the code for Kyoto, and then I could just hear a girlish voice announce the name of a celebrated hotel. "Hullo ... my name is Hunter, David Hunter." He spelt it out in Roman letters. "I have a reservation with you tonight ... Yes, but there has been a change of plan. When I booked I thought I was travelling alone. But I have decided to bring my wife. Is that all right? ... Thank you, and can you see if you can give us a superior room? It's a special occasion, you see." I said nothing throughout all this. It would be delightful to be Mrs David Hunter for the weekend. I heard the girl at the hotel say politely, "Thank you, sir. We look forward to your arrival." I lowered my eyes modestly and thanked him with a blush for looking after me so nicely. As soon as the approach of the brief stop at Kyoto was announced over the train's PA system, I dashed back to my reserved seat - forgetting that my ankle was supposed to be hurting - and fetched my bag and coat. There were taxis waiting outside the station and it was only a short drive to the hotel. Mr Hunter must have been a valued customer, because they had found us a very large room by Japanese standards, with a beautiful view over the garden and of the hills of western Kyoto in the distance. The porter carried our bags and I kept my coat tightly clutched round my body till he had left the room. Then I slipped it off, dropped it on the big bed, and examined myself in the long mirror. It was the first time I had seen myself full-length in my new outfit, and I was both alarmed and thrilled to see how provocative it was. I twisted round, examining my back view and then my front again. There was no doubt that my legs in the slender high-heels and sexy seamed fishnet tights, my little waist and the curve of my bottom in the tiny, jaunty miniskirt all looked enchantingly pretty. I suddenly realised something very important that I had never understood before: the best way to make my legs look slimmer and my thighs less plump was not to cover them up, but to show them off as much as possible! Because I was sensitive about my legs, I normally changed out of the revealing short skirt of my office uniform with a sense of relief. But now, looking at myself carefully, I saw the slim high-heels gracefully stretching my legs, the black mesh and long seams flattering them, and the tiny skirt emphasising their shapely length. For the first time in my life, flirting and trying out attitudes in front of that mirror, I looked at myself through a man's eyes - and really enjoyed what I saw. I felt grateful to Shizue and Tomoko for choosing my outfit so carefully, my newly graceful legs prettily complemented by my ripe breasts offering themselves so charmingly through the transparent blouse. It was strange: only a couple of weeks ago I would have been paralysed with shame to appear before anyone like this, let alone offer myself so blatantly to a strange man in return for a reward, and now I was doing it happily as if that was what I was made for. My clothes were appropriate to the Test I was undergoing; but more than that, I liked the way I looked in them. I had found a new style: flirtatious - even a bit tarty, perhaps - but pretty and self-confident. I remembered again the words of the nice, friendly woman in the costume department at Megumi's film studio about how a girl should dress to show herself at her best: "The highest possible heels, the shortest possible skirt." And there had been a third part: was it about showing off one's breasts? No, it was "The longest possible hair." Immediately I decided to let mine grow longer in future, so that it would complement the pretty high-heels and tiny skirts the new Kimiko would always be wearing from now on. In the mirror I saw David come up behind me. He rested his hands lightly on my hips. It was the first time he had actually touched me - except of course when I was pretending to have hurt my ankle - but I had been imagining his hands on my body for hours. "Yes, darling Kimiko, you do look utterly delightful like that," he said. "Oh, but I wasn't ..." I protested. "Oh, but you were, and why not? I was absolutely staggered when I saw you walking through the train. I've known lots of beautiful Japanese girls, but never one like you." He of course had never known the old Kimiko, the girl embarrassed because even in her frumpy clothes her body attracted attention. So far as he knew I had always been the smart, sophisticated young lady prettily displaying herself for his enjoyment - and for her own. The thought made me shiver deliciously. His hands slid gently up my body until they reached my breasts. Through the silky material his touch excited me wonderfully. I felt his fingers tweak and pinch my nipples, even though they were already fully erect. In my very high heels I was almost as tall as he, and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder. I closed my eyes and put my hands over his, encouraging them: I could feel my heart beating fast. So, no doubt, could he. Again, a memory teased me. Oh yes, the touch of Bob Williams feeling my heartbeat as he caressed my naked breasts at Megumi's wedding reception ... "I want to see the Silver Pavilion with you," I said, "but before we do that, let's be happy together." My hands were on his, helping him stroke my breasts, but I moved them slowly down my body; then showed his fingers how to pull apart the silver snaps of my shiny white skirt, turning it into a simple strip of material, and let it fall to the floor. As I moved, I felt his erection brushing against my bottom. That too brought back memories of Bob Williams, as I sat on naked on his lap after my first ever public performance. I wanted to be naked again. I began to undo the many buttons of my blouse. "Please help me," I said. He did, taking plenty of time as we watched each other in the mirror. The blouse slithered down to the floor to join the skirt. After long minutes in which he stroked and kissed my now fully naked breasts, I broke gently away from him and lay down on the edge of the bed, my legs in the air, while I gradually eased my tights over my hips and down my thighs. The feeling of being, for a moment, helplessly bound at the knees was very arousing, and I could feel how damp my little g-string was from the nectar now dripping from my cunt. I felt his hands on my feet and ankles as, for the second time that day, he delicately removed my right shoe ... then the left was off too ... then I felt my tights sliding all the way down my calves and feet. He had shed most of his own clothes while watching my performance on the bed, and kept my feet in his hands, massaging them, kissing and sucking my toes. At last he put my shoes on again for me, fastening the gold chains round my ankles. Yes, I thought, that is how a girl should show herself to her lover: in high-heels, and with little chains lightly and suggestively emphasising her nudity. I must remember. Then I felt him lower himself on top of me, kissing me passionately on my mouth. After our tongues had had enough of tangling and struggling with each other, he began to lick and caress a path down my body, one hand gently stroking my cunt through the tiny, soaked panties which, apart from my sexy shoes, were all I was still wearing. His mouth finally reached my crotch, tenderly kissing the delicate skin around the tendons of my upper thighs, then licking and nibbling my cunt through the scrap of thin cloth. At last I felt my panties being untied and tossed aside, and now he was kissing and sucking me without restraint, his tongue lapping up my cunt-juice while I wriggled on the bed and panted out my gratitude for the wonderful things he was doing to me. "Oh, Kimiko, I've been wanting you so much for hours!" he said. "I can't wait any longer." He picked me up and swept me into a more central position on the bed. My cunt was so drenched in juice and saliva that his cock slid easily into me. He lay over me, supporting himself on his elbows while I wrapped my legs untidily round his hips, desperate that he should never leave me. Our mutual lust was so strong that we reached our joint climax in seconds, clinging to each other as his streams of cum blended with my juice. We lay together, petting and stroking each other - the next fuck, we promised, would be longer, but could it be more wonderful than the very first release from tension, the expression of love and desire, we had just been granted? At last I put my clothes on again. "The first thing we are going to do," I heard him say, "is buy you some more suitable shoes. Those are incredibly sexy and beautiful, and I love the chains and the curve of your little feet and the way your legs look when you wear them, but they're no good for sightseeing." So I put on my coat, which served to cover my breasts but came down no further than the hem of my tiny skirt, and together we went downstairs to the lobby. Suddenly I remembered that my instructions from Shizue and Tomoko had included a requirement to obtain photographic evidence of my activities during this test. "I'm terribly sorry," I said, "do you mind waiting a moment while I go back and get my camera?" "Of course not. Here's the key. I'll wait down here." So, trying not to blush at the many glances attracted to my legs, so beautiful now in their seamed fishnet tights and high slender heels as I walked precariously back across the lobby to the elevator, I returned to our room and found in my bag the video camera my friends had provided. That reminded me of something else. I picked up the phone and called the Osaka number they had given me. A girl's voice answered after only a few rings. "This is Kimiko Kobayashi," I said cautiously. "I was given this number to call." "Yes, of course, Kobayashi-san," she replied. "I was expecting you. How are you getting on?" I explained that I was staying in Kyoto after all, and gave her the number of the hotel and the room number. At the last moment I remembered to say that if she needed to contact me she should ask for Mrs Hunter. "Oh, that's great, Kobayashi-san!" she said as she rang off. "You _have_ done well - so far!" [Next in Part 08: Chapter VIII: The Silver Pavilion] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams