Stephanie's Trial (8 page)

'Which do you
prefer?'

He smiled to
himself. 'I like of course, you sophisticated Western women. So
confident. So stylish.'

'But?'

'If I am
honest, of course I prefer the old ways. It is natural. Japanese
men were privileged. They were honoured. They were feted. Women
were servants to men, even wives were servants. I would be
hypocrite if I say I did not like this. I did. I do. But I know
things will change. And I like also the Western way. I find the
women, women like you... interesting.'

'Tell me about
geishas,' Stephanie said as the coffee arrived.

'That is a
very complex question.'

'Is it? I
thought they were a sort of prostitute.'

Kanjii laughed
out loud. 'You are very direct.'

'Aren't
they?'

'Oh yes. Yes,
that is precisely what they are. But much more also. More
honourable I think. And especially more trained. It takes some
years to become a geisha, the system is very regulated.'

'And that
still exists.'

'Oh yes. Not
as much perhaps. And it is now very expensive. Now in Japan there
are prostitutes like anywhere in the world. You pay only for sex,
quick sex. In the geisha house it is not only sex. It is ritual and
respect. The old ways...'

'Old
ways?'

'Ways to
please a man, ways to honour a man.'

'Sexual
ways?'

'Yes of
course. But in the old Japan sex was regarded as an art or perhaps
a science. It was taken very seriously. Here in the West I think it
is often regarded in the same way as you regard fast food,
something to be dealt with quickly.'

'I don't like
fast food,' Stephanie said, gazing into his eyes.

Kanjii
returned her stare while he took a sip of his coffee. She noticed
he had very long eyelashes.

'The arts of
sex belong to the geisha. That is why they must study. If a man has
been with the geishas it is something he will never forget.'

'And a
woman?'

He looked her
straight in the eye. There was a silence before he said, 'The arts
of the geisha were designed for men. I see no reason why, in these
modern times, they cannot be adapted to a woman.'

'Sounds
fascinating.'

'You will
excuse me for being a little slow. I still find you Western women
very...'

'Direct?'

'Yes.' He
paused. 'Perhaps you would like to judge for yourself?'

'How can I do
that?' His dark eyes seemed to be making her heart beat faster.

'I invite you
to my penthouse. The view is spectacular.'

'And?'

'I think you
will be surprised. Pleasantly surprised.'

'When?' she
said bluntly.

'Why not this
afternoon?'

'Why not?' The
prospect of spending the afternoon with Kanjii was a thousand times
more interesting than more shopping. And she was intrigued.

Stephanie
finished her second cup of espresso and made the universal sign for
the bill - pretending to write with one hand on the palm of the
other - to a distant waiter who nodded and disappeared through the
kitchen entrance.

'I will buy
the lunch please,' he said quietly.

'No, let
me.'

'This is a new
experience for me.'

'Then perhaps
we are both in for new experiences this afternoon,' Stephanie said
as she dropped a credit card onto the plate on which the bill was
neatly folded.

They left the
hotel together. Stephanie's chauffeur was waiting with the rear
passenger door open. He must have spotted her walking down the
corridor towards the revolving doors. Kanjii also had a chauffeur,
who stood by a smart claret-red Bentley. He dismissed him with a
wave of his hand and they both climbed into the Cadillac. Kanjii
gave the chauffeur his address, an apartment building in Lowndes
Square, and the big car headed off down Piccadilly.

The journey
took no more than ten minutes and they both said very little,
Stephanie wondering what on earth she had let herself in for and
feeling a distinctly pleasant sensation in anticipation. Kanjii
contented himself with looking at her knees, clad in ultra-sheer
nylon, with a slightly creamy colouring to match the dress.

The doorman at
the building opened the Cadillac door almost before the car had
come to a standstill. 'Afternoon, sir,' he said, saluting with his
other hand.

'Afternoon,
George,' Kanjii said, leading the way up a short flight of steps
and holding open a large panelled door for Stephanie to enter.

The entrance
hall of the building was luxurious, suggesting the cost of the
flats it contained. Speckled granite in an orangey black formed the
floor with the walls lined in a light peachy silk. A modern
stainless steel lift stood opposite the entrance doors. Between the
two a fake gas fire burned brightly in a fire-surround made from
another and contrasting slab of granite.

They took the
lift to the top floor. The lift doors opened to reveal a short
passageway with only one door.

'You have the
whole floor?'

'I need the
space,' Kanjii said, punching numbers into a combination lock on
the doorjamb. The door sprang open.

Kanjii led the
way down a long wide hall decorated with small framed Japanese
tapestries, into the living room. One side of the room was made
entirely of glass and beyond it was, as promised, a spectacular
view over the rooftops of London. Stephanie went to the window and
stared. On the street below she could see the black Cadillac parked
outside the building, the chauffeur leaning against the bonnet
talking to the doorman. She suspected he was going to have a long
wait.

'So here we
are,' she said. 'You were right about the view.'

It was a
spectacular apartment too, with absolutely no expense spared. The
furnishings were sparse but every item, from the huge white silk
sofas to the modern black lacquered cabinets, were superb examples
of craftsmanship. Not all the paintings, as with the decorations in
the hall, were Japanese or even oriental. But all the Western art
was post-impressionist. Stephanie recognised a Rothko and a
Miro.

'Would you
like another drink?' he asked.

'No, I don't
think I would.'

'That is
good.'

'So what
happens now?' She sat on one of the white sofas and crossed her
legs. She watched Kanjii's eyes follow the movement with
interest.

'That is up to
you.'

'Is it?'

'You are
interested in the geisha experience?'

'Yes, but
we're a long way from Japan.'

'I adopt many
European ways. But I also like to have something of my country
always with me. I am a rich man. I can afford what for some men,
certainly men in Japan, would be only a dream.'

'Geishas?'

'Precisely
so.'

'Here? In your
penthouse?'

'If you wish,
please come with me.' He indicated a door at the far end of the
room. 'You do wish, I think.'

Stephanie got
to her feet with no hesitation. Kanjii led her to the door, then
opened it and stood aside for her to enter. For a moment she was
disorientated. She had been expecting the door to lead to another
room; instead it lead directly onto a huge roof garden, a Japanese
water garden with a wooden bridge over a quite deep pond stocked
with ornamental carp, and full of large white water-lilies. At one
edge of the pond a waterfall led down to another pond, only
slightly smaller than the first, equally well stocked with fish and
flora.

All around the
edges of the pond were miniature trees, their branches carefully
pruned to encourage artful growth. In the lower pool a series of
rocks were assembled in a strict pattern and a bamboo water-clock
clunked regularly as its water level rose and fell. A miniature
pagoda stood on one shore. Wind chimes hung down from the
trees.

Kanjii led the
way across the bridge and down a series of wooden steps made from
logs to the lower level. To one side, actually set in the side of a
grassy bank, was a wooden door, fronted with the bark from some
exotic tree.

'This way,' he
said.

'It's
beautiful,' Stephanie commented.

'I come here
for peace. Gardens in Japan are like art too.'

'I can see
that.'

He opened the
door for her and she stepped through into a small narrow hallway.
This was totally Japanese, white paper walls framed in thin black
lacquered wood.

'I leave you
here for a moment. I must make an arrangement. It is not usual for
women to be entertained by geishas.'

'I suppose
not.'

'In Japan we
have a saying: "Take only what you are given and give only what you
cannot take". You wait here please.' With that Kanjii slid one of
the white panels aside, slipped through it and drew it back into
place.

Stephanie
looked around the hall but there was nothing to see. The carpeting
was black, and there were no decorations or pictures other than the
white paper walls. She could hear her own heartbeat. It was more
rapid than usual. Then one of the panels slid open and a petite
Japanese girl came out into the passageway. She was dressed in
white cotton knickers of an old-fashioned design, the cut so low on
the leg and high on the waist they looked almost like shorts. Apart
from the knickers the girl was naked. Her breasts were virtually
non-existent, no more than slight inclines on her chest, and even
her nipples were tiny, the size of cherry stones and just as hard.
They were an extremely strange colour too, a red so dark it was
almost black. Her jet-black hair was cut short and parted in the
middle. It was absolutely straight without a hint of a curl and she
had a fringe below the parting that covered most of her
forehead.

She put her
hands together in an attitude of prayer and bowed deeply to
Stephanie. Stephanie bowed back but only slightly. The girl said
something in Japanese. Stephanie looked puzzled. The girl gestured,
obviously meaning for Stephanie to follow her as she turned and set
off through the sliding paper panels.

Stephanie
found herself in another small hallway, at the end of which the
Japanese girl slid open another panel and gestured for Stephanie to
step through. The room beyond was an authentic version - at least
Stephanie took it to be authentic - of a Japanese bathhouse. The
walls were faced in stone and the floor tiled in foot-square slabs
of slate. These same slabs had been made to form a rectangular bath
sunken into the middle of the floor. Water was pouring into the
bath from a large split bamboo pipe, the flow controlled by taps
mounted at the side in the floor itself. One side of this
rectangular bath was inlaid with steps, also made of slate and
leading right down into it. Everywhere the room was draped with
plants, ivy and palms and eucalyptus. The scent of the eucalyptus
filled the air.

Standing
waiting for her was not Kanjii but three more girls, all dressed
like the first, in white cotton knickers, all with the same short
jet-black hair, and all virtually the same height. But though one
of the girls had the same flat breasts as the first, the other two
had a much fuller shape and, though not large, they were firm and
round and topped by ample nipples.

In unison all
three girls greeted Stephanie, bowing with their hands together.
The first girl spoke in Japanese again. Then one of the other girls
came forward, one of those with the more rounded breasts and,
clearly, from her face, a little older than the others.

'She says
please to do nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'Is
custom.'

The custom for
men, Stephanie thought but did not say. She found herself
surrounded by the four women. She felt hands pulling off her dress,
taking down her tights and panties, unclipping her bra. In seconds
she was completely naked. The four pairs of hands remained on her
naked body, guiding her over to the steps of the bath. All four
women descended into the water with her, the white cotton knickers
immediately soaking up the water and becoming transparent.

The water was
well over waist-deep. Each woman took a large bar of soap and began
to work on different parts of Stephanie's body; one on her back,
one on her chest, one on her left leg and one on the right. To her
astonishment two of the women dived below the surface of the water,
scrubbing at her legs seemingly without coming up for air.

It may have
been her imagination but the geishas - because she knew, of course,
that was what these girls were - seemed to be concentrating their
attention on her erogenous zones. The hands that washed her back
moved to her breasts, the others worked at her buttocks, between
her thighs, and over her belly, soaping and rinsing her flesh over
and over again. There seemed to be hands everywhere, skilful,
sensitive hands, knowing how to make her nerves alternate between
being soothed and being excited.

Stephanie felt
herself swooning with pleasure. But they had anticipated that and
two girls stood behind her to support her weight as she swayed
backwards, losing her balance under the dextrous assault. Fingers
delved into her pubic hair now. Stephanie knew her cunt was wet but
the water sealed her labia. No fingers ventured to break the seal
but instead caressed her clitoris while other fingers pummelled and
nipped and pulled at her nipples, and lips kissed her neck on
either side of her shoulders. There was no pretence of washing now;
this was manipulation with only one purpose.

Slowly, almost
carrying her bodily out of the water and up the steps, they led
Stephanie from the bath. To one side of the room was a small
cubicle, its door made from split bamboo. As one of the girls
opened the door Stephanie felt a blast of heat, almost like a
sauna, and an even stronger smell of eucalyptus. Inside was a low
wooden frame like a long rectangular box which had been completely
filled with natural sponges to form a springy, soft mattress.