We Always Do It For Real 25 THE MEGUMI STORIES BY MEGUMI KATO AND FRIENDS VOLUME 01: WE ALWAYS DO IT FOR REAL BY MEGUMI KATO AND BOB WILLIAMS PART 25 CHAPTER XVIII An Invitation to Dinner When I agreed to write this account of my life for you, Bob, it was because you said it would help you with your own work, reporting on the Tokyo sex scene. So I am not going to describe the things you already know about, or could find out about from anyone. You know what my daily work in the film studio is like; and you've visited the more up-market strip shows and sex clubs, so you can easily imagine me spending occasional evenings there. The studio like me to do that when they have no other work for me: it helps the sales of Marucho products - not just the videos I have personally appeared in - if Marucho girls can be seen in the flesh, so to speak, around the Tokyo discos and clubs. Nor am I going to give you a detailed account of my sex life: the way I am screwed on camera, and what my lovers and I do together in my spare time. I don't suppose I do anything you haven't seen before; and while it would make me feel very sexy to imagine it and write it down, and I would enjoy that, I would frankly rather spend the time getting screwed for real. Still, I think there are some things that happen on the Tokyo sex scene which even you don't know about, and not long after we first met I was invited to take part in one of them. I suppose you could always turn this into an article or a story, and pretend you were there yourself. You remember Roido-san, of course - Mr Jerry Lloyd is his real name - the American businessman who gave the big party you escorted me to when we'd just met. You gave me a good time, but then you abandoned me to fuck Miss Takahashi: do you remember? But I've forgiven you for that! She's _very_ beautiful and I've made love with her a few times myself. It's not difficult to get invited to parties like that, where the guests are all welcome to take their clothes off and screw each other anywhere and any way they fancy. Plenty of people host them and invite their friends, though they can't all afford to hire professionals like me to set a good example to the newcomers. I expect you'd been to such parties often enough yourself before I took you to Roido-san's house, though if so you never told me about it. He and Kazuko Lloyd give sex parties because they enjoy them, of course, but also because it helps his business to be able to entertain important contacts like that. Sometimes they hold much more intimate affairs, and once I was lucky enough to be invited to one. It was the end of May, a couple of weeks after you and I first met, when Mr Niijima sent for me to his office. I was in one of the studios ready to go on set at the time, but as usual there was some technical hitch and the Director told me I could take ten minutes. I was wearing only high heels, so I quickly borrowed a wrap from Matsumoto-san's rack of costumes and went up to the fifth floor in the elevator. Mr Niijima peered at me across his desk in his usual disapproving way, then told me to sit down. "We have a job for you tomorrow evening, Kato-kun," he said. There was no question of asking me if I was free, of course. But I didn't mind much: I thought he was just going to instruct me to make a "spontaneous" appearance at some expensive sex-club to promote the company's videos - a selection of which would by chance be on sale at the reception counter. I rather enjoyed that sort of thing: surprising the customers by climbing up onto the tiny stage and volunteering to strip for them as if I had been carried away by the stimulating atmosphere; choosing my first partner with a coy show of modesty designed to contrast piquantly with the shamelessness of my nudity ... mm'mm, _such_ fun ... But Mr Niijima had something else in mind. "Roido-san has asked for you again," he said, somehow making it seem that no respectable girl could possibly have attracted the American's attention without some display of dreadfully sluttish behaviour. In a way he was right, and the only thing that is respectable about me is that I pursue my chosen profession with hard work and sincerity. But he probably did not realise that Roido-san did actually invite respectable and inexperienced girls to his parties too, so we could all enjoy watching as they were gradually overwhelmed by the sexy atmosphere, abandoning their innocence along with their clothes. "That is kind of him," I murmured respectfully. "I am glad I have given him satisfaction. Is it to be another big party?" "No, on the contrary," said Mr Niijima, delighted to prove me wrong. "You are to attend a small dinner-party. Mr Roido has a business contact from ... from Australia," he concluded, checking a note on the pad by his telephone. "It seems no business can be done with these _gaijin_ unless they are provided with girls to satisfy their uncontrollable appetites." He looked at me disapprovingly, as if it were my fault. "You are to meet him in the main lobby of the New Otani Hotel at seven tomorrow evening. He will be responsible for taking you to Mr Roido's house." I lowered my head modestly and looked up at Mr Niijima through my eyelashes. "Thank you, Niijima-san," I said. "I am grateful for this opportunity to show my devotion to the Company. I hope I shall be able to give satisfaction, however -" I managed somehow to make myself blush and continued with a slight break in my voice "- however ... er ... _immodest_ and _shameless_ the things I am required to do." I am afraid I rather enjoy teasing Mr Niijima. He swallowed loudly a few times. "Yes, well ... yes," he said at last. "I hope you will. Here are the details." He tore the page from his pad and put it on his desk beside me. "I have told the costume department to ensure that you are suitably ... er ... attired." I took the paper respectfully in both hands, and stood up. I thanked him again submissively. In my hurry I had tied the wrap rather loosely, and as I bowed low I made sure he got the best possible view of my breasts. He gulped. "Oh, _please_ forgive me," I murmured as I stood upright again. I undid the belt, then innocently pulled the two sides apart giving him a brief view of my nakedness before tying the wrap more tightly round my body. Wondering idly if he had actually come in his underpants, or just looked as if he had, I left the room and returned quickly to the studio. "We're waiting for you, Megumi," said the Director harshly. It was rather unfair: he had allowed me ten minutes, and I could see from the big red figures on the clock above the control room window that I still had a couple in hand. But of course it was not my place to argue. I apologised profusely to him and to the technicians, as Matsumoto-san quickly took my wrap and gave me a little grin of encouragement. I bowed to the male actor waiting for me on set, and a moment later I was kneeling between his legs. The Director might have been ready but he was not. I began to tickle his balls with one hand while holding his limp cock to my lips with the other. Very soon I felt it pulse into an erection as each heartbeat pumped more blood into it. "Thanks, Megumi - you're a darling!" he whispered. "Give me a good one," I murmured in reply. "Quiet on set! Action!" called the Director. During the next break in filming, while the make-up girl handed me a hot damp cloth with which to wipe the cum off my face, I told Matsumoto-san quickly of Mr Niijima's instructions. "Yes, dearie, I know all about it. You _are_ lucky!" "D'you think so?" "Oh, yes! You should have a lovely evening. But I'll have to dress you _very_ specially. Let me think about it overnight. Come and see me tomorrow afternoon, and I'll have something for you that Roido-san and his friends won't easily forget." I started to thank her, but the girl was anxiously waiting to repair my make-up and hair for the next take. By next afternoon I had a few ideas of my own of how I wanted to be dressed, but I had to admit that Matsumoto-san had as usual got it right. She had decided on a classical style, my hair pinned up in shining elegance, my pure white dress just a little Grecian tunic. It was gathered on the left shoulder, leaving my right shoulder and breast bare, and tied with a little gold rope on my right hip. Not that the two sides quite met: they were five or six centimetres apart, for one of the pretty things about her charming creation was that while, seen from one side, I seemed to be wearing a fairly modest mini-dress, seen from the other I was practically nude. The little skirt was just long enough to cover my bottom, its edges fluttering apart at the side and showing all of my right thigh and hip. Matsumoto-san had telephoned Kazuko Lloyd and checked on the _placement_ for the dinner - trust her for that! My Australian escort would be seated on my right and would get the full benefit of my semi-nudity. Under the dress I was to wear tiny gold bikini panties tied with little side-bows. The shoes were also gold, high-heeled sandals with long slender thongs which tied several times round my ankles before finishing in a bow. Matsumoto-san's secret technique of making one slim heel a touch higher than the other gave an agreeable wiggle to my bottom under the thin white material as I walked. At my suggestion we added gold slave bangles for my upper arms, and a broad gold collar to fit snugly round my neck. It was difficult to prevent the upper part of my dress slipping off my left shoulder and down my arm, so we hooked it loosely to my collar by a light chain. Even so I found I often had to readjust it to keep it on my shoulder. But I decided that was a pretty gesture and made no complaint. I was delighted with my appearance in the long mirrors. I had lost a little weight over the past few weeks - not because I had been dieting, but simply because when a girl has many lovers and a full sex life she is less interested in food - and I thought my legs looked wonderfully slim and shapely in the gorgeously short skirt and high heels. I preened and twisted in the mirrors, taking little steps in the high heels and admiring the contrast between my dressed and undressed sides, till even Matsumoto-san grew tired of her own creation and told me to keep it for my lovers. She extracted the usual promise of a full account the following morning of everything that would happen to me; and I changed reluctantly into my ordinary clothes before going home to prepare myself. At heart I am still the foolish young girl who used to enjoy showing herself off in the bathroom mirror at home, dreaming of being watched through the glass. So much has happened since then! Displaying my nudity, to a camera or a live audience, is now part of my job and I do it almost every day - but the thrill it gives me is as great as ever. If one day I start taking it for granted, it will be time to change jobs. I could never be a nudist, going without clothes on some theory that nakedness is natural. What could be more _un_natural than a girl delightedly showing herself off naked to a room full of sexually aroused men? Shamelessly flaunting her nudity, a clever girl can build up the tension to fever pitch and still hold her audience spellbound. Not knowing how long she can maintain the spell, or whether the tension will explode in a glorious orgy of lust, is exactly what excites me - her - so much! It's wonderful, but no one could call it normal behaviour. Fortunately, the Gods made me an exhibitionist, and I bless them for it every time I show myself off nude, loving the chance to stimulate and titillate my audience - and above all myself. So I felt wonderfully elated as the taxi-driver pulled the lever which flung open the car's rear door outside the main entrance of the New Otani Hotel, and I scrambled out feeling ready for a new adventure. For the moment I was wearing a short jacket over the upper part of my beautiful dress, but the knowledge that I was nearly naked underneath was already giving me the feeling of tingling excitement that I so loved. The piece of paper Mr Niijima had given me contained the name Horrigan written in careful Western capitals. At least, unlike most Western names, it was pronounceable. Underneath in Japanese was written "Main Lobby, New Otani Hotel, 1900" and a room number. The hotel is a very confusing place, built on a slope in the Akasaka district and in two linked buildings, so that it is easy to forget which part you are in or even what floor you are on. I walked through the lobby to the reception desk, and checked with one of the girls standing behind it that there was indeed a Mr Horrigan staying in the room Mr Niijima had specified, and that I was in the lobby serving his part of the hotel. I had plenty of time so I declined the girl's offer to ring him in his room, and instead settled down to wait in an empty chair with a good view of the elevators. My short jacket did not cover the skirt of my little white dress, which as I have already told you was wide open down the right side. I crossed my legs casually and pretended to ignore the admiring glances I was collecting from others in the lobby. As I waited I wondered about Australians. I did not recall ever having met any. But I remembered that a while ago I had seen on TV a movie about Australia called - what was it? yes, _Crocodile Dundee_. The star had been a very handsome man. Perhaps all Australians were like that. Not that that proved anything: bitter experience had taught me that just because a man had a handsome body, it did not necessarily follow that he had what was needed to satisfy a girl sexually, or knew how to use it. "May I join you?" said a man suddenly in Japanese. When, startled, I did not immediately reply he sat down in the chair beside me. I lowered my eyes modestly but could see at once that the newcomer looked very much like the star of _Crocodile Dundee_, even if more formally dressed. "Only if your name is Horrigan," I said in English, hoping so much it was. The man reached into the side pocket of his jacket and produced a card-case. He took out a card and handed it to me formally with both hands, the Japanese side uppermost. The name was not Horrigan. The Japanese letters on the card said "Rezu Baachi". I looked at his face in silence, betraying my disappointment. "Maybe one evening when you're not expecting the fortunate Mr Horrigan, we might meet again?" "'Rezu' is a strange name for a man," I said. He made no reply but watched as I slipped his card into my jacket pocket. He smiled to show he understood what I meant by accepting it, stood up and bowed politely. It was stylish of him not to ask how to contact me, or even my name. If I wanted him, I knew now where to find him. His self-confident courtesy showed he knew very well I probably would. "Miss Megumi Kato?" said a voice behind me. "I'm Bruce Horrigan." I twisted round in my chair, not minding how far my dress fell apart. The man I was waiting for was short and dark, broad-chested but hardly good-looking. The other man, having now learnt my name, discreetly withdrew. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting. Shall we go?" "Of course." I scrambled to my feet, straightened my skirt, and took his arm as we crossed the lobby. [Next in Part 26: Chapter XVIII continued] For complete series so far see /files/Authors/Bob_Williams