'Not often enough,' he said shortly.
CHAPTER 28
Tawny Greystoke
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mN9Dipgqdtw
We arrived in the City where Ivan found a parking space on a side street. It was nearly six in the evening. There was hardly anyone on that street. We got out and walked down it, side by side, but not touching.
'Here we are,' he said, stopping outside the faded entrance of an old-fashioned Japanese umbrella shop.
'Mysterious and intriguing,' I said looking at the disguised façade where the club was apparently hiding in plain sight.
'Ready?' he asked softly.
'Definitely,' I said, a swirl of excitement beginning to run up my spine.
To access the club, Ivan dropped his American Express black card into a metal container that had been painted to look like a letterbox. A whirling sound came from the box.
A few seconds later the lock on the door clicked. Ivan pressed open the door and we went in. He closed the door behind us as lights flickered on. We seemed to be in a small shop full of umbrellas. From speakers came orchestra music. A woman with a fierce and darkly hued timbre wailed hauntingly to it. Her voice had such power that it made me shiver. That would be exactly how I would have imagined the betrayed Butterfly would sound.
'That's Maria Callas,' Ivan said. 'A bit different from Dolly Parton, huh?'
'Completely,' I said softly. 'I've got goose bumps.'
'Some people say it is like having a Goddess look right into your soul.'
'I agree. It's emotionally devastating,' I said.
To be honest I couldn't imagine how this could be the entrance to a sex club. It was somber and dowdy, nothing like The Dirty Aristocrat. The last thing I wanted to do here was have sex.
He pressed a panel within an illuminated glass case, which activated a mechanical steel door that slid back to reveal a lift. As soon as we got in the doors closed and we started travelling down. The doors opened to reveal a small area with Japanese screen doors. The silhouette of a woman in a kimono appeared on the screen. She parted the screen and revealed a vibrant green room.
'Welcome, Pinkerson san and cio cio san,' she said.
Ivan nodded in greeting and I did the same. Right, we were role playing. He was the horrible officer and I was the betrayed Butterfly.
It was like peeking through a keyhole into someone else's life. It had memorabilia that made it seem like Butterfly's bedroom. Kimonos, a child's wooden toy, sandals, a waxed paper umbrella, beaded flower decorations and, inside a glass box, a dagger on a velvet bed. There was real pathos in the little shoes and the face paint we were meant to think Butterfly had used.
The woman who had opened the screen slid another screen open. We followed her down a corridor. She went through a door, ushering me in with her. It was a small room, more like an ante room.
'We will prepare Butterfly for you, Officer Pinkerton, while you have some hot sake in the Gentlemen's room,' she said, bowing her head.
'You're going to leave me here?' I asked, my eyes saying don't you dare and a small whine of panic in my voice.
'Relax and enjoy it. It's truly a treat,' he said coolly with a smile. With a quick kiss on my lips he casually strolled away.
'This way please, Butterfly,' the woman said opening another door. The place was like a maze. We entered another room with a long steel table that looked like one of those tables they have at the morgue.
She opened a plastic packet and took out a red silk bed sheet that she covered the metal table with. She made sure the amount of material falling over the metal table was exactly the same on both sides. Then she turned to me.
The lighting in this room was much better so I got a better look at her. She was at least fifty. Considering Asian people never looked their age, she must have been much older.
'Please take all your clothes off and put them in this box,' she said, indicating a plain cardboard box on the floor.
'You want me to undress here?' I asked, a little surprised by the whole set-up. Where was the velvet and the sumptuous furniture, the throbbing music? It was all so sterile. So unsexy.
She bowed her head again. 'Yes, please cio cio san.' I must admit I didn't too much like her calling me by the name of the woman who had slit her own throat. I began to silently curse Ivan. Where on earth had he brought me? This was easily the least sexy place I had ever been to in my life.
She patted one end of the metal table. 'Head up here, please. We have much to do.'
'We have?'
'Yes, Pinkerton san is waiting.'
I sighed inwardly. I suppose I was here now, and Ivan had obviously paid a great deal of money for this experience, so here goes. He did say it would not involve anyone else but me and him.
'Right,' I said, taking my clothes off and folding them before putting them into the box.
'I will go and get the fruit now,' she said as she slipped out of the room.
It was warm in the room so at least I was not cold. Gingerly, I climbed on the silk covered metal table and lay down. First I laid my hands on my stomach and then laid my hands down my sides. I wriggled around uncomfortably.
The door opened. I lifted my head nervously, but it was only the woman returning with a very large tray. I craned my neck to look at its contents. It was filled with an array of fruit sliced so thin the pieces were almost transparent.
'You're going to cover me in that fruit, aren't you?'
She smiled and followed it with that little bow she had going.
I lay back down. How sexy? I was going to be covered in cold fruit!
It was such an anticlimax that I almost giggled. If my grandma could see me now! Less sense than a wet bag of flour, she'd say. I considered hopping off the metal table and demanding that I be taken to the Gentlemen's room so I could just down a couple of sakes before going home with Ivan. We could have sex there instead of this crazy place, but some part of me thought, what the hell. I'm here now. If it's such a great fantasy of Ivan's to see me dressed up in fruit, so be it.
The woman set the tray on a folding metal stand. Then she opened a little drawer and took out a plastic shower cap that she carefully fitted around my hairdo.
She looked at me with a smile. 'Are you ready?'
'Yeah, sure,' I said, hoping I didn't look as big a fool as I felt.
'This will not hurt even a little bit. It is an ancient technique. Older than Buddha.'
I smiled at her tightly. Was she kidding me? Sticking fruit on a human body was older than Buddha?
'Ready?' she asked again.
I sighed. 'Yeah, go for it.'
She put the heels of her hands firmly on the mound above my sex and started moving them in small circles.
'Hey, hey, what are you doing?' I asked, sitting up.
'Be patient. This is the ancient way.'
'Look,' I said.
'No pain,' she insisted.
I opened my mouth to say thanks but no thanks, but she nodded, saying in quite a stern voice, 'Ancient way. Must do.'
Oh sweet Jesus!
'Try. Please. Always good to try new things. Ancient things.' Her face was like a closed door. I was not going to win this argument.
'Fine, fine, go on,' I mumbled lying back down.
She carried on doing the same action. It helped that there was no expression at all on her face. It was more like being at the gynecologist. Totally unerotic. I stared at the ceiling and hoped her ancient way would soon be over.
Then a strange thing began to happen.
A slow wave of heat began lapping at me, and I started getting hot. The heat did not come from her hands, but somewhere at the base of my spine. At first I thought it was the friction of my body against the table, and then I realized that it was almost like an electric current that was running up my spine.
'Is it OK that I'm feeling a bit … strange?' I asked her.
She nodded. 'Ancient way,' she said sagely.
I swallowed. The sensations were becoming stronger and stronger. I could feel my skin getting warmer. In fact, the air in the room suddenly seemed cool compared to the heat emanating from me. To my alarm, a tingling started inside my vagina. Jesus. What the hell? I was getting turned on! I pretended to clear my throat.
'OK. That's enough now. Can we get on with the fruit?' I asked with a strange tremor in my voice.
'Body not ready. Ancient way,' she said.
'No, no, I'm ready.'
'Nearly,' she said. It occurred to me that I might climax if she carried on much more and I really didn't want to. I thought I was here to have sex with Ivan not get into some lesbian shit.
'Listen, there might be some mistake here,' I said, as I felt my sex begin to contract and tighten.
'Ah, ready,' she pronounced.
Thank God. My skin was flushed. I could see how hard my nipples were and I could feel juices pouring out of me. She reached back into the drawer and took out a brush.
Yeah, that's right. She dipped the soft bristle brush into me and painted my slickness onto my body. She used that as the glue to stick a fruit slice on me. It was strangely hypnotic and addictive. The smell of the fruit as she carried it from the side of my head to its destination on my body. The extraordinarily erotic sensation of being painted on with my own juices. I began to wait for the soft brush to enter me.