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Subject: The Woman Who Wore Black Stockings (Sachi Mizuno m/f 1/1)
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This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
from Sachi Mizuno: SHINJUKU NIGHTS
Copyright (c) 1997 Sachi Mizuno
All Rights Reserved
Published by Spectrum Press Inc.
ISBN 1-57138-349-2
<specpress@earthlink.net>
The Woman Who Wore Black Stockings
After lunch, Eliot left his hotel and took a long walk down
Uchibori Road to Hibaya Park. It looked like it might rain. The
rainy season would be the beginning of summer. The clouds over
the city looked dismal.
He walked ten minutes in the park, as he did every day, and
then he passed through the west gate and he crossed the street.
Humming a tune under his breath, he stepped into the entrance of
the Sugashi Chemical Company headquarters building.
Would it rain today or tomorrow? He thought about that as he
rode the elevator to the conference room. He had been in Japan
less than a month. People talked about the coming rainy season as
though it were the most important event of the year.
The floor receptionist smiled at him. Eliot nodded and
walked through the door into the inner office corridor. Everyone
was Japanese. He was thankful the corridor was empty. He always
found it uncomfortable when people stopped and bowed while he was
walking. The guidebook said it was proper to give a perfunctory
bow in such a situation. Then ten pages later the guidebook said
Westerners were not expected to bow. It was too confusing.
They were waiting for him. Mr. Kawabashi, Mrs. Tasaki, and
two new Japanese gentlemen. Everyone bowed. Then the two new
gentlemen shook Eliot's hand. Then they all sat down at the table
to work.
* * *
Late in the afternoon, a thunderclap pounded from the
heavens at the moment Mrs. Tasaki caught Eliot staring at her
knees.
Everyone in the room muttered. The next moment rain started
falling against the windows. Spring was over and the rainy season
had finally begun.
Eliot felt a mild embarrassment that Mrs. Tasaki had noticed
him staring at her knees. She sat between him and Mr. Kawabashi,
acting as an interpreter during this conference that seemed
interminable. As Mr. Kawabashi talked at length in Japanese about
the charts in front of him, Eliot had slumped in his chair with
nothing to do but wait for the translation. His eyes came to rest
on Mrs. Tasaki's knees. They were round smooth knees, covered by
sand-colored nylon, revealed only because the dress she wore
hardly covered them. She was not at all young, at least forty.
She was a competent interpreter, obviously a university graduate.
He was quite surprised to discover that her knees were
attractive.
All afternoon the same five people had sat in the room
around the square table: Eliot, Mrs. Tasaki, Mr. Kawabashi, and
the two other Japanese gentlemen who had appeared for the first
time today. The table was covered with charts and blueprints.
Eliot was a consulting engineer sent by his company to assist in
the planning stage of the construction of a large chemical plant
outside Osaka.
The rain continued pattering against the windows. There were
lights in the windows of other office buildings. Tokyo would be a
thoroughly wet city this evening.
After another hour of discussion, the meeting finally came
to an end. Eliot and Mrs. Tasaki were the last to leave. "Do you
have an umbrella?" Mrs. Tasaki said. "If you don't, you can share
mine." He would need to walk a few blocks to the small hotel
where he lived.
"I don't want to trouble you."
"It's no trouble at all, Baker-san. I'm walking to the
Yurakucho Line Station."
She allowed him to hold the umbrella. As they navigated
along the streets and through the traffic, the rain increased in
intensity. It was now a deluge of falling water blown about by
gusts of wind. At the door of his hotel, Eliot regretted that she
would have to walk alone in such a downpour. She was a small
woman and he doubted she could hold the umbrella against the
wind. "Why don't you wait here until it stops raining so hard?"
he said. "We could have some tea."
She hesitated. She gazed at the wet street and at the rain.
"Would it be a bother, Baker-san? Perhaps I could wait a few
minutes in the lobby."
"No, no, we'll have tea. I'll have it brought to my room."
He considered whether his insistence was impolite. That was
one of the problems here. A foreigner never knew when politeness
was more formality than necessity. She had been acting as
interpreter at the daily conference for nearly two weeks, and he
felt a measure of obligation to her. The translation job was made
easier by her technical training, but it was still difficult. She
had lived in California several years as a girl, and her English
was quite good.
He had a large Western-style room on the second floor. Mrs.
Tasaki was surprised. "It's quite nice, Baker-san."
"And expensive. If I'm to stay here much longer, I'll need
to get an apartment."
"But aren't you staying?"
"I don't know yet. It depends on how the planning stage
develops. Do you want to use the bathroom? I think the towels
have already been changed."
He ordered the tea while she went into the bathroom and
closed the door. The rain continued splashing against the
windows. He sat and watched the blinking of the neon signs across
the street.
The tea arrived as Mrs. Tasaki came out of the bathroom.
"Please let me pour the tea, Baker-san." She said something to
the maid in Japanese and she took the tray in her hands. The maid
bowed and closed the door, and Mrs. Tasaki brought the tray to
the table near the window. "You're most kind to have me as a
guest while it rains."
As she bent forward to pour the tea, he gazed at the fine
tendrils of hair on the nape of her neck. Her pale skin looked as
smooth as ivory. For the first time, he was aware of the faint
jasmine scent that came from her body. In the conference room,
everything had been obscured by the cigarette smoke.
After the first cup of tea, she wanted to look at the
photographs on the dresser. "Do you mind, Baker-san? Are they too
personal?"
"Not at all."
"Is this your wife?"
"No, it's my sister. I'm not married. All the others are
friends." The people in the photographs were his only roots, a
string of memories that nailed him to the earth.
He stood behind her, almost touching her, aware again of the
scent of jasmine that seemed to float upward from her body. Was
he too close to her? When their eyes met in the mirror, she did
not move. Her face expressionless, she merely looked downward.
This revealed more of the nape of her graceful neck, the smooth
skin and tendrils of black hair. He thought she would move away,
but instead she remained motionless and appeared to tremble. It's
absurd, he thought. But the next moment he bent his head and
gently kissed the nape of her neck.
As if to punctuate their contact, a booming thunderclap
shook the windows. Eliot's immediate thought was that he had
deeply offended her and now his work in Tokyo would be
compromised. Confronting her each day in the conference room
would produce embarrassment. He expected her to pull away and
complain.
But she said nothing. Instead, she shifted backward until
her body touched his. Then she spoke softly: "Do it again, Baker-
san."
An absurdity was suddenly transformed into a miraculous
accomplishment. His surprise left him paralyzed a long moment.
Then he bent his head and he kissed her neck again. This time he
kept his lips there, his nose filled with her scent as he sniffed
her skin. She murmured something. He pushed forward, his loins
pressing lightly against her buttocks. He kissed the side of her
neck as he slipped his arm around her waist and then moved his
hand upward over her dress to cover one of her small breasts.
She seemed to melt. When he glanced at the mirror, he saw
that her eyes were closed, her lips slightly apart. Realizing now
that she wanted him, he pressed more firmly against her buttocks.
She pushed backward, gently sliding her hips from side to side.
He pulled his hand away from her breast. Using both hands, he
slowly lifted the skirt of her dress.
"Wait," she said.
She pulled at a zipper at the side of her dress. Then she
lifted the skirt herself, raising it to her waist so that her
backside was exposed. She wore beige pantyhose, and under that
white panties. She held her dress at her waist and waited. He
found the waistbands of both the pantyhose and panties, and he
pulled them down together until her buttocks were bared.
Fumbling in his urgency, he unzipped himself and brought his
cock out. She bent forward over the dresser to accommodate him,
and when he pushed the tip of his cock against the opening of her
cunt, he found it wet and yielding. She gave a slight gasp as he
pushed into her. Then she moaned and moved against him. She
rolled her hips as he gave several quick thrusts. He was too far
gone to dawdle. He continued thrusting. He came hard, deep inside
her sheath, a series of sharp spurts as his belly pressed against
her buttocks.
* * *
She came out of the bathroom with her clothing back in order
and a damp towel in her hands. "You should undress, Baker-san.
Let me clean you."
She urged him to removed his trousers and shorts. He lay
back on the bed wearing only his shirt. She sat on the edge of
the bed and slowly moved the damp towel over his belly and
genitals.
"Your trousers must be ruined," she said.
"I was in a hurry. I'm sorry."
"Will you get hard again?"
"Yes, but it takes time."
"The rain is still heavy. May I make a telephone call?"
"Of course."
She dialed a number and spoke to someone in Japanese. When
she put the phone on the cradle, she returned to him. "I told my
daughter I'll be delayed. So now I don't need to rush."
He said nothing. He did not want to question her about her
family life, her daughter, her husband, her home. He was afraid
any talk of her domestic affairs would somehow break the spell.
She sat down on the bed beside him again. She touched his
limp penis, lifting it to study the glans more carefully. Then
she bent her head and she took him in her mouth.
He was amazed, his brain befuddled. But the reality of what
was transpiring was before his eyes. A few hours ago he would
have called the present moment a bizarre fantasy. It seemed
absurd that he was lying half-naked on the bed in his hotel room
while Mrs. Tasaki sucked his penis.
He watched her mouth. She had sensuous, fruit-like lips. She
seemed totally engrossed in what she was doing, as if all that
existed was her mouth and his penis. She moved her mouth over the
tip, then down along the shaft, then back to the tip again to
engulf it and gently suck it. He could feel her tongue swirling
over his glans. Then she pulled her mouth away, and she
delicately pinched the slit open with her thumb and forefinger.
She looked at the opening as though peering inside his organ,
then closed her mouth over the knob and started sucking again.
She took hold of his balls and fondled them. Her lips and tongue
continued to massage his penis as if to draw his blood into it.
Before long he felt himself throbbing again. His cock was erect,
swollen, the head bloated. He thought she would mount him, but
instead she continued sucking. She closed her forefinger and
thumb around the base of the shaft and she masturbated him as she
sucked the tip. Her technique was perfect and it did not take
long. He raised his hips from the bed and groaned as he spurted
in her mouth. She continued masturbating him, sucking his glans,
pulling at it with her fingers until he was drained.
When it was finished, he rolled over on the bed and closed
his eyes to rest. He heard her movements in the room, but he was
too spent to be curious. After a while he opened his eyes again
and discovered she was gone. The rain had stopped. He thought by
now she must be at the Yurakucho Station...
------------------------------
End Extract
This is an extract from an Obelisk Library Etext title
available via Email or on disk. For more information
about this and other Etext titles, ask for the
Obelisk Library Catalog at: <specpress@earthlink.net>
This text is for adults only.
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