What Lies Beneath: Part One
Thoughts are bracketed by < > marks.
Tokyo
April 15 - 3 p.m.
Birman tucked the last bit of clothing into the large canvas duffle
and zipped it shut. She surveyed the room, mentally checking off the
items she would need for the night's activities. Satisfied, she
nodded, running a hand absently through her short brown hair before
hefting the bag over one shoulder.
As she walked toward the door, her eyes rested briefly on a framed
snapshot on a small table under the light switch. She swallowed
against the thickness in the back of her throat.
She closed her eyes, her stomach churning with a mixture of
anticipation and apprehension.
"Kyoko?"
Birman's eyes snapped open. Manx stood near the front door, absently
toying with the curled ends of her long red hair. Her electric-blue
jumpsuit rustled as she stopped her fidgeting and approached Birman.
"Hanae... did you bring it?" Birman asked.
Manx eyed her roommate with an uncharacteristic scowl, then nodded
curtly. "I still don't like this," Manx said.
Birman's lips curved in a small, bitter smile. "So you've told me...
repeatedly," she said, holding out her hand.
Manx bit her lip before snapping open the tiny purse that hung at her
hip. She withdrew a small silver key and placed it in Birman's hand.
Birman's fingers trembled slightly before closing around it.
"Thanks. And don't worry so much, Hanae-chan," Birman said, forcing a
bright tone. "It's bad for your complexion."
Manx snorted. Birman stooped to pick up her bag, huffing a bit under
its weight.
"Well, I'm off," the brunette said. Despite her best efforts, her
voice shook on the last word.
Manx muttered a curse before snaring her best friend in a fierce hug.
"At least promise me you'll call if you get into trouble," the redhead
said gruffly.
"You know I will," Birman said. Flashing her usual confident smile,
she shoved her feet into a pair of pumps and ducked out the door in an
effort to outrace her second thoughts.
"Matte!"
Birman stopped and turned, smiling as Manx came clicking down the walk
in three-inch heels.
"At least let me drive you to the station," Manx said breathlessly.
Birman's smile widened. "I'd like that," she replied.
......................................................................
...............
Yokohama
April 15 - 10 p.m.
Komatsuzaki Noritada leaned back in his favorite chair with a
contented sigh. It had been a very long day, but its end had finally
seen the successful culmination of the negotiations he'd begun nearly
two months before. The party planned to announce his appointment at a
news conference in the morning. He smiled triumphantly as he imagined
the frustrated outrage with which the news would be greeted by his
enemies. They'd done their best to prove him unfit for the position by
linking him with Japan's most notorious yakuza... but the evidence
they'd managed to uncover had been flimsy at best. The party had
dismissed it easily.
he thought, snorting derisively.
A soft knock on the heavy wooden door interrupted his reverie. "Come,"
he barked.
The door swung open noiselessly, revealing a young blonde dressed in a
black and white maid's uniform. "Shitsurei shimasu," she said, bowing
as she entered, balancing a tray with a snifter of his favorite
brandy, a Cuban cigar and a gold lighter. Silently, she approached
him, her eyes modestly downcast.
Noritada eyed her speculatively. "You're new, aren't you?" he asked as
she set the brandy on the table next to him, taking care to place it
squarely on the leather coaster.
She nodded, holding the tray with the cigar out to him. Noritada's
lips parted slightly as he observed the maid's long, fishnet-clad
legs, which her short skirt exposed almost to the hip. he thought with lecherous glee.
He shook his head at the proffered tray. "You give it to me," he said,
his voice deepening.
The maid bowed briefly. "Hai, Noritada-sama," she replied in a
breathy, girlish voice. She slowly took the cigar off the tray,
running slender, gloved fingers along its length before placing it in
Noritada's mouth. He felt the telltale prickles of arousal in his
groin as he studied the young whore's flawless porcelain skin and full
lips, which were painted a shimmering blood red.
"Now light it," he murmured, savoring the anticipation. Noritada
supposed some men would have thrown aside the cigar and gotten down to
business... but he'd long ago discovered that deferring one's desires
for a time made their fulfillment all the sweeter.
The whore flicked the lighter open and bent down to touch its flame to
the tip of Noritada's cigar, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of
creamy cleavage exposed by her crisp, half-unbuttoned white blouse. He
inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth with a
satisfied sigh. He picked up the brandy snifter, swirling the amber
liquid before taking a long sip.
"Look at me," he ordered the whore. She stood up straight, her
midnight-blue eyes calmly meeting his.
"What's your name?" he asked her.
"Ivory," she replied.
"Aibori," he repeated, grimacing. "Another gaijin tongue-twister. I
wish Une would start picking nice Japanese names for her girls."
The whore giggled. "If my name displeases you, Noritada-sama, you may
call me what you wish," she said. "After all, I am here to serve you."
Noritada allowed himself a small smile as he took another sip of
brandy. "Very well," he said. "I shall call you Yuki, for your
snow-white skin."
The whore flashed Noritada a grateful smile. "Arigatou gozaimasu,
Noritada-sama," she replied, bowing low enough to give Noritada
another good look inside her blouse. He took another puff of his
cigar, then a long sip of brandy, swirling it around his tongue to
better savor its complex flavor.
"Put that tray down and come here, Yuki," he demanded.
The whore smiled as she set the tray on the floor and approached
Noritada. He raised his glass, eyeing her over its rim, considering
what pleasure he would take from her first.
"Take your shirt off," he said. "I want to see what you've been
teasing me with."
Yuki obediently raised her hands to the first button, undoing it
slowly. She worked her way to the waistband of her skirt, then pulled
the shirt open, revealing ample, beautifully shaped breasts barely
covered by an off-white satin demibra. Noritada's lip curled into a
leer as Yuki shrugged out of the shirt, leaving it hanging around her
waist. He set his cigar in a nearby ashtray.
"Sit here," he ordered, patting his lap. Yuki slowly closed the
distance between them, her hips swaying suggestively as she stopped
just in front of his chair, then slid onto his lap, straddling his
growing erection.
"That's good," he breathed, his hands running up her back and fiddling
with her bra clasp until it popped open. He slid the straps down her
arms, freeing her cleavage from the bra's confines. He licked his lips
at the sight of her large, dark nipples, and quickly lowered his mouth
to one, sucking deeply.
"Aah," Yuki gasped, arching into Noritada's caress and sinking her
fingers into his hair.
After a few minutes, Noritada released her breast and picked up his
brandy glass, raising it in a toast. "To Yuki... who tastes every bit
as good as brandy," he said before draining the glass.
"You're too kind, Noritada-sama," Yuki murmured, her cheeks coloring.
Noritada beamed. It was part of Une's mastery that she was able to
select girls with the perfect blend of innocence and sensuality. They
knew how to stroke a man's ego as well as his body.
"Now that my brandy's done... I want another taste of you," he said.
Yuki's smile turned feline. "As you wish, Noritada-sama," she replied
as his lips closed over hers.
......................................................................
.................
Tokyo
April 16 - 9 a.m.
"... Komatsuzaki-san's body was found this morning in the study of his
home outside Yokohama. Authorities declined to specify a cause pending
an investigation, but hospital sources say the 55-year-old
chairman-elect appeared to have died of a heart attack.
Komatsuzaki-san is survived by his --"
Kurasuma Yoshio, the Commissioner of the Ministry of Justice, snapped
off the television and punched a few buttons on his cell phone,
tapping his foot as he pressed it to his ear.
He ground his teeth as the answering machine picked up again. This
time, he waited until Hanae's chipper voice finished giving the caller
her apologies and the beep sounded.
"Birman? Manx? If either of you are there, pick up."
Silence. Yoshio sighed in exasperation.
"When you get this message, call me immediately." Yoshio pushed the
send button and threw the phone onto the sofa.
"Dammit," he hissed, grabbing the edge of the desk and fighting to
regain control of his temper.
"Is there a problem, Kurasuma-san?"
Yoshio let out a long breath and turned to his secretary. "Not at all,
Etsuko-san," he said evenly. "Have you found the files I asked for?"
"I'm preparing them now," Etsuko said. "I'm sorry to disturb you at
this delicate time... but there's someone here to see you."
She stepped aside, revealing a redheaded woman in a copper suit and
matching duster. Yoshio had to hold his breath to keep from sighing in
relief.
"Ah, Hanae-san... thank you for coming," he said as Manx entered the
office. "We're not to be disturbed, Etsuko-san."
The secretary bowed and closed the door. Manx shook her head as Yoshio
motioned to a chair.
"I can't stay long," she said.
"I'm surprised you came so quickly," Yoshio said. "I just left the
message five minutes ago."
Manx raised an eyebrow. "Why... did you want to see me about
something?" she asked.
Yoshio frowned. "Don't be coy with me, Manx," he snapped. "I don't
have the patience for it. Where is Birman?"
"That's what I came to tell you," Manx said. "She's gone to Kyoto for
awhile. She's not been well, and she feels her work's been suffering
for it. So I told her to take a break and have some fun for a change."
"And you're going to tell me she left last night," Yoshio said
scornfully. He took a step toward Manx, his eyes flashing. "Do you
really think I'm going to buy a flimsy story like that?"
Manx shrugged. "This is exactly why she needed to get away," she said.
Her tone was calm, but her snapping blue eyes betrayed her anger.
"You've been pushing her too hard... asking too much of her."
Yoshio's jaw tightened. He advanced a step, shaking a finger at Manx.
"In case you've forgotten... I am your boss," he said, his voice
rising. "I am the one who gives the orders. You had no right to tell
Birman she could go anywhere without my permission."
"You never would have given it," Manx retorted. "Your selfishness
wouldn't allow it." She turned away from Yoshio, adding --
"Don't bother trying to reach her -- I've kept her cell phone, and her
friends in Kyoto are under strict instructions not to let anyone hound
her. She'll call you when she's ready."
Yoshio grabbed Manx by the shoulder and spun her around to face him.
"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear, Manx," he hissed, pushing Manx
into a chair. "I am your superior officer... you are bound by your
contract with Kritiker to obey me." Grasping the arms of the chair, he
leaned in until his face was inches from Manx's. "Now tell me the
truth... Birman didn't leave for Kyoto yesterday afternoon, did she?"
The redhead bared her teeth and drove her knee into Yoshio's stomach,
sending him skidding across the marble floor. She launched herself out
of the chair, brushing off the front of her jacket.
"I would have no trouble answering your questions if this was really
about Kritiker... or Birman," she said icily. "But it's not. It's
about protecting your precious government position. As usual... it's
all about you... Commissioner."
Manx stalked out the door, leaving Yoshio gasping on the floor.
~ to be continued ~
Author's Notes:
For anyone who's not familiar with Japanese, here's a
glossary of Japanese terms used in Part 1.
matte - wait
shitsurei shimasu - means something like "please excuse me;" a polite
expression normally used upon entering someone's home or office
hai - yes
Aibori - This is how an English word like "Ivory" would be translated
phonetically into Japanese, since there is no "v" sound in the
Japanese language
gaijin - "foreign;" tends to be used chiefly in reference to
Westerners, particularly Americans
yuki - snow
