A Sip of You(60)

I nodded, and my head felt as though it was attached to marionette strings. He kept his warm hand on my back and moved it in small circles. “It’s an art form, Catherine.” His breath was hot on my ear, his lips almost brushing my skin. “It’s called nyotaimori.”

I repeated the word in my mind, liking the sound of it. As I was propelled into the room, I noticed an older Japanese man in a black chef uniform standing at the far end of the table. Midori was standing by his side, and William stepped away from me and approached the couple. The chef bowed and William bowed back. They exchanged a few words I didn’t quite understand and then both men broke into wide smiles. I realized William had spoken to the chef in Japanese—I could add that to the growing list of his accomplishments.

William beckoned me to come closer and then he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. It felt so weird to be standing here normally, as if two naked women weren’t lying on the table right in front of us, but his touch was reassuring. I needed to follow his lead.

The chef, whose name was Junzo, and Midori bowed and smiled, and I bowed in return. Then Junzo began to speak. He gestured to Midori to translate, and she started to speak in a soft voice.

“Chef Junzo says that nyotaimori is about beauty. The beauty of woman and the beauty of food, together in perfect harmony.”

I kept my gaze on her as she gestured and spoke of the women as though they weren’t there.

“In traditional nyotaimori, the model trains many hours. She learns how to remain absolutely still and to tolerate the coldness of the food. Before performing, her body is specially prepared so she may serve as a plate for this feast.”

I turned to study the table again. The women had not moved since we entered the room. Both were lean and small breasted and completely shaved. Their eyes were open, but their faces were expressionless. The closer I looked, the more my artist’s eye saw the careful artistry in the presentation. The woman on her back had a line of alternating orange and green rolls from her navel to her smooth mound. The woman on her stomach had several pieces of nigiri-sushi nestled in the small of her back and then trailing up the curve of her buttocks. “Nyotaimori is meant to be the highest compliment to woman. Only nature’s most beautiful creature can breathe life into the dishes created to honor her. The warmth of her body perfectly warms the cold fish, allowing its ideal taste and texture to be revealed. This state cannot exist without woman. Woman makes perfection.”

I began to understand and, as I kept looking at the beauty of the women with the colorful sushi, the eroticism of William’s surprise dinner started to affect me. My fingers ached to grab my camera and capture the way the exquisitely prepared food caressed the curve of the woman’s hip, the slope of her breast, and the taut point of her nipple, but I ached to grab William too. I was starting to get turned on. Very turned on.

I realized no one had spoken for several minutes, and I glanced at William. His gaze was on me, his eyes twinkling. Obviously, he was enjoying watching me appreciate his surprise and seeing what it was doing to me. He knew. By some unspoken signal, Midori and Junzo exited. I felt William’s arm come around my waist, and he pulled me close into the warmth of his body. “Isn’t it gorgeous? I knew you would appreciate the visual presentation, which is why I asked you to bring your camera.” He bent down and kissed me softly, urging my lips apart with his tongue while his hand began to gently knead my breast. I moaned quietly into his mouth as I kissed him back, arching into his hand.

“It’s stunning,” I said as I pulled back from his lips. I was excited now for so many reasons. “Do you mind if take some—”

“That’s exactly what I’d like you to do,” he answered before I could finish.

I set my bag down and withdrew my camera. I needed to photograph this. William continued to talk as I prepped my digital to accommodate the dim light.

“Junzo is a shokunin, a traditional master sushi chef, and perhaps the most famous one in Japan. He’s in his seventies now, and Midori is his daughter.”

I glanced up at him. I hadn’t realized Midori was the chef’s daughter. Was this a tradition he was passing on to her?

“Sushi chefs are heirs to the samurai tradition.”

Maybe I should have read Shogun before coming. I didn’t know much about samurai other than they were warriors. William continued to talk, his voice warm and velvety.

“They value scholarship and have unshakable self-discipline. A sushi chef's knives are as important to him as a sword was to a samurai. Junzo’s knives are legendary. I’ve heard it said that they’re sharp enough to literally split a hair.”