The Rent A Man Blues

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Chapter Three

Suddenly the waiting was over. There was no longer time to be nervous. Raleigh had originally intended to stay home when the others went to pick up the Japanese industrialist at the airport, but at the last minute she decided to tag along.

There is an old saying in the military: "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy." Others might refer to Murphy's Law. In any case, things went off track rapidly.

Hamako had done her homework, and recognized Hiroto Nakimura as soon as he appeared among the disembarking passengers. She held up the sign with his name on it in Japanese characters. His smile told her she had guessed correctly that his sense of tradition would appreciate his native language being used.

But what they were not prepared for was the woman and young man who followed him off the plane, both of whom were obviously also Japanese.

Bob, Megan and Raleigh watched as Hamako bowed low, her upper body stiff and her face showing no emotion. Rapid words and phrases in Japanese were exchanged, and there was much bowing between the four countrymen. Then Hamako turned and addressed Bob, also bowing to him.

"Mister Tomlinson, may I introduce Hiroto Nakimura, and his nephew Akio Nakimura." Her hand swept grandly toward the two males. "Also Mrs. Nakimura has accompanied her husband on this trip," she added, as though it was of little, if any importance.

The Tomlinsons bowed. There was unspoken tension, however, primarily because that of the three visitors, Akio was the tallest at five feet seven inches. All three of the Americans almost literally towered over their guests. On top of that, both Japanese men's eyes were right at the height of Megan and Raleigh's breasts. Megan wore a 38DD bra. Raleigh wore a 36C. Consequently, there were what amounted to mountains of breast flesh for the men to stare at, and they did so, looking somewhat in awe.

They might have been able to cram three people into the car, but once they saw the luggage, it became obvious there was a serious problem. At the point where the pile of bags already pulled off the belt totaled fourteen, and it became obvious there were more, Bob pulled Raleigh to his side and handed her his credit card.

"Go rent us an SUV," he said, his voice low. "A big one. Get a Caddy if they have one."

"Got it," she said, looking excited.

Bob turned back to see yet another suitcase pulled off the belt by the young man. Apparently Hiroto Nakimura liked to travel in style.

Two redcaps with carts materialized out of nowhere, no doubt smelling a dilly of a tip, and began to load the baggage onto their carts without direction. Again, apparently by magic, they looked to Bob, instead of the foreign family, waiting for him to tell them where they were going.

By the time they got everyone but Raleigh into the Escalade, and all the luggage split between the back of the Caddy and the car they had come to the airport in, Bob had dropped over three hundred dollars in cash and credit, but all he did was smile and point out to Hiroto all the luxury features of the rental car. The man actually spoke English pretty well, but Hamako hovered at his side, always ready to be of service.

His wife and nephew took their seats in the back of the Escalade and sat, mute. It wasn't until Bob got in the driver's seat that he realized Megan hadn't said a word since Hamako had made the introductions. He looked around and found her standing beside one of the rear doors. She didn't look happy.

Bob opened the door for Mr. Nakimura and got him seated. Then he closed the door and went to Megan.

"Everything's fine," he said.

"Sure it is," she whispered sarcastically.

"Do I need to kiss you again?" he threatened.

She backed up. "No!"

"Then get in the car, woman, and let's get these people to their hotel."

"This isn't going to work," she said, her face falling suddenly.

"Nonsense," he said. "It's working already."

But it wasn't working very well.

With Bob and Hiroto in the front, Hamako had to sit in the second seat. Megan, deciding that the women would get to know each other, invited Mrs. Nakimura into the third row of seats. It was at that point that it was determined that Sinho Nakimura spoke almost no English, and was, for all intents and purposes, terrified. That meant that Hamako had to split her attention between the front and back of the car. Meanwhile, Akio, who turned out to be nineteen years old sat next to Hamako looking amused, watching her lean forwards, and then backwards.

There wasn't anyone to watch his face, but had they done so, they'd have seen extreme interest displayed there, concerning the translator in the car, and the Amazon woman she was translating for.

Hiroto wanted to talk baseball. Luckily, Bob was a Mets fan, so he could speak that language. That was good, because Hamako was needed to help Megan try to get Sinho talking, something she wasn't used to doing, especially with strangers. And so she resisted, trying to give monosyllabic answers to Megan's questions. Finally, Akio turned to face his aunt, and rattled off some Japanese that was heated, yet muted at the same time. It almost sounded like the boy didn't want his uncle to hear what he was saying. Hamako nodded, and spoke as well. The woman licked her lips and spoke rapidly, barely above a whisper. Akio looked at Megan.

"You must forgive my aunt, Mrs. Tomelson."

"Tom-lin-son," Hamako corrected immediately. "Meh-gan Tom-lin-son."

"As if I could call her by her given name!" he snapped. He started to say something else, but stopped, and looked back at Megan. "My aunt is very traditional." He glanced at Hamako. "Unlike Miss Fukuji, here. In Japan, the only time a traditional woman chats is when there are no men present. I have instructed her that while she is in America, she must adopt American ways, and that this includes idle banter with other women."

"I see," said Megan, trying to wrap her mind around the idea that a nephew could "instruct" his older aunt on how to behave. She was even more mystified when Sinho reached out and stroked Akio's hand, saying something that made Hamako look away for a few seconds. Then the woman turned to Megan.

"I try talk you ... okay?"

"I'd like that," said Megan, smiling.

For the next half hour, Hamako's attention was pulled different ways, as she translated mostly for the women in the back, and sometimes for the men in the front.

Meanwhile Akio sat and examined all three women, his eyes sparkling.

All the Tomlinsons felt exhausted by the time the Orientals were installed in their hotel, and the American family could finally go home. Bob decided to just keep the Escalade. They'd need a big vehicle to ferry people around, and it was only for three days. So he drove it home, followed by the family car, which had the three women in it.

What Bob did not hear might have interested him. It certainly riveted Megan and Raleigh.

"I was so surprised that Akio would just tell his aunt how to act," Megan mentioned.

"Things are very different in Japan," said Hamako. "Culturally, I mean."

"Of course," said Megan. "But I thought every culture required young people to defer to their elders, at least in public."

"That's true," said Hamako. "But there is a different dynamic going on here."

"That's obvious," said Megan.

"I mean really different," said Hamako, her voice sounding strained.

"Well spit it out, whatever is on your mind," said Megan. "I need to know everything, so that this all goes as well as possible."

"You must understand that what I'm going to tell you is just a guess," said Hamako.

"Okay, it's a guess," said Megan. "I still need to know."

"I'm basing it on the things they said, and the way they touched each other," said the girl.

"What do you mean?"

"Mrs. Nakimura hasn't had any children. I have to assume that's because she can't. In Japan, having a son is very important, especially to a man like Hiroto Nakimura. I do not know this for certain, but I suspect Akio has a brother, or brothers ... older brothers. And he has been ... loaned out ... if you will, to his uncle. This would have been done when he was seven or eight. Ten at the latest. There wouldn't be anything formal, but he is sort of adopted, I imagine. And she is treating him as if he is her son, and he is treating her as if she is his mother."

"That's sweet," said Megan.

"Yes ... well ... a mother and son are close in Japan." Hamako flushed. "Very close. It is quite likely that he has been ... um ... sleeping in her bed ... for many years."

"Sleeping in her bed," said Raleigh, turning to look into the back seat.

"Keep your eyes on the road," ordered her mother, who promptly looked back at Hamako and said exactly the same thing: "Sleeping in her bed."

"You must understand that, in Japan, a boy's future can be determined by which high school he gets into. And his grades must be exemplary to get into the right college. So boys are not allowed to be distracted by girls. And yet, they have ... um ... needs ... you understand?"

"I understand," said Megan, her face pale. "Go on."

"Well, it's not unusual that when a Japanese boy enters puberty, his mother sees to his needs ... so he isn't distracted. Everybody does it. It's normal in that culture."

"They have sex?" gasped Megan.

"Not necessarily," said Hamako, quickly. "He might just sleep with his parents, and his mother will masturbate him at night, so he will be relaxed and can sleep better. She might do that when he gets home from school too, if he got excited there. Or maybe before he does his homework. Sometimes more is done. It isn't talked about. But most families do that ... to some degree or another."

"But you're telling me that in Japan, some women have sex with their sons," said Megan.

Hamako looked away and flushed, but spoke firmly. "Yes. So the boy becomes dominant in that relationship, as he is served. Put on top of that the additional stress that in our culture it is believed the man should be in charge in all things, and soon even a boy may be scolding his mother, and telling her what to do."

"Oh my word!" sighed Megan.

"I probably shouldn't have said anything," said Hamako, sounding nervous. "I could be wrong about these particular people, but she seems so traditional, and the word she used toward him was one that often means lover. Plus he treats her like I have seen so many women treated. They just do what the men tell them to, and try to stay clear of any anger. That's why she didn't want to say anything to you. Her husband probably didn't give her any instructions. Too often a Japanese woman fades into the background and is forgotten by the men she is dependent on."

"Well that's just wrong!" barked Raleigh. "We're going to have to educate Mrs. Nakimura while she's here!"

"You'll be wasting your time," said Hamako. "This is the only way she's known her whole life, most likely. I'd bet that her marriage to Mr. Nakimura was arranged when she was only fourteen or fifteen."

"That's barbaric!" yelped Raleigh.

"Why do you think I tried so hard to get away, and came to America?" noted Hamako.

"Surely they didn't try to marry you off," said Megan.

"No. Things are changing, but only slowly. Japan thrives on tradition. My family is very modern, but if I had stayed, sooner or later I'd have run into some traditional man who would have tried to own me, one way or another. So I came here. And I have loved it, even if it was hard at first."

Megan lay in bed, waiting for Bob to come in. They had an appointment to pick up the Nakimuras for breakfast, after which they would come back to the house and "Bob" would demonstrate the Stitch Bitch. When he appeared, she experienced a number of emotions. She was anxious to begin with. Hearing about Japanese customs - whether the Nakimuras followed them or not - had made her think of Bob, who was the only man in her life that she thought of as a relative. Seeing him made her belly tingle, and she blushed. She almost told him what Hamako had related, but she felt panic at the thought of describing it, for some reason. She had a sudden impulse to tell Bob he didn't have to sleep on the floor, but the thought of him lying right next to her, within reach, caused just as much panic.

"I think things have gone well so far," he said, oblivious to the fact that she wanted to scream.

Quite suddenly she felt like shoving her hand between her legs. She didn't feel like anything was going well at all.

"You okay?" he asked, peering at her.

"I don't know," she muttered.

"You'll be fine," he said. "Tomorrow we'll wow them with your invention, get things negotiated, and all the pressure will vanish. We can take them to the museum, or wherever and entertain them for a day, and they'll fly back to the Orient and we'll get you started as a manufacturing magnate."

His smooth speech and confident attitude calmed her, to some degree. It would have been fine except in his enthusiasm to cheer her up, he kneed up onto the bed and bounced over her, straddling her body for a few seconds while she drew up her knees and flinched automatically. Then he was on the other side of her and his hand flashed out to slap at her exposed right buttock. It was just a playful one-stroke spank, and all it did was sting just a little bit.

But as he said "Get some sleep, woman. We've got lots to do tomorrow!" all she could think of was what his hand would feel like rubbing where he had just stung her.

Things continued to be difficult the next morning.

Granted, it wasn't Megan's fault. In fact, there was no way she or anyone else could have prepared for it. But once they got installed at a table in the waffle house, and got their menus, Hiroto tore off what seemed like five minutes of rapid Japanese. Hamako spoke back, looking anxious, first, and then upset. She was so rattled that she turned to Megan, as was her habit, instead of to Bob.

"Mr. Nakimura has an associate who owns a yacht, and has offered it to him for two days. Mr. Nakimura says that, if the presentation goes well, he wishes to do the negotiations on this yacht, while it goes sailing."

"We can't just drop everything for two days!" gasped Megan.

"Why not?" asked Akio, who was looking at both Megan and Hamako with great interest. He looked at Bob. "Why do you allow your woman to say what can and cannot be done?"

Bob smiled. "In America, we let the women air their opinions. It makes things a lot more pleasant."

"I see," said the boy. "I had heard of this, but could not believe it."

Megan opened her mouth, but Bob squeezed her knee hard, under the table.

"Different places have different customs," said Bob. "We'd be delighted to go for a little sail."

Again, Megan drew breath to speak, and again he squeezed her knee. She moaned in frustration and moved her hand to try to retaliate. Instead of landing on his knee, however, her hand ended up right at the juncture of his legs, where the bulge made by his genitals fit her hand perfectly.

"Oh!" she yipped, snatching her hand away. "I'm sorry!"

Akio nodded, sagely. "It is good that, though they may give their opinions, they still understand their proper place."

All Bob had to do was squeeze gently, this time. Megan drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting in her mind.

Then she drew in air again and held it as she saw Akio's glance take in where Bob's arm was ... which suggested where Bob's hand was. The boy, who was sitting next to his aunt, moved his own hand over to her lap. She jumped, and her eyes widened, but she made no sound.

"Let's order!" said Hamako, her voice rushed. She spoke in Japanese, obviously repeating herself.

Their guests were delighted with their American breakfast, which helped move things along. Megan kept worrying about how things were going astray, but when the Nakimuras seemed so relaxed, she finally relaxed a little herself. She wasn't so distracted that she failed to notice that Akio spent most of his time talking to the two teenage women at the table, his smile wide. She also noticed that, while he ate with gusto, his hand repeatedly dropped onto his aunt's lap. That woman seemed to be invisible, from time to time. She ate, also with gusto, but with her eyes cast only at her plate. She spoke to no one.

After breakfast, the itinerary took them to the house. Bob and Megan had no time to review, or say anything to each other. Once there, Raleigh said she would be happy to show Mrs. Nakimura and Akio around, while Mr. Nakimura was shown the Stitch Bitch by Bob and his "assistant," Megan. Hiroto shook his head.

"Akio must be with me," he said. "It is my wish that he will be the manager of the plant, when it is opened."

Bob stared at the man. He intended for his nineteen-year-old nephew to run an American plant? And this was the first time the boy had been outside of Japan? Suddenly Bob was glad he was involved with this operation. It was obvious Hiroto had come prepared to do some hard bargaining. Bob could handle that just fine, but he wasn't sure Megan was tough enough to run the risks.

"Come along, then," said Bob, smiling. "I'll have my wife demonstrate the device, and then we can go over the blueprints and patent information. I think you'll be glad you came all this way."

"What was it you called this thing?" asked Hiroto.

"It's just a working name," said Bob, smoothly. "We were thinking that one marketing scheme could be to have a contest and let the potential customers give it a formal name."

"Ahh," said Hiroto. He spoke rapidly to Hamako.

"He says it is an unusual, but clever idea," she said to Bob.

If anything, the demonstration of Megan's invention was the anticlimax of the whole trip. The machine worked flawlessly, and in minutes she produced a beautifully stitched likeness of a Doberman Pinscher's head on a piece of white cloth. There were six colors in the design, but her invention held eight spools, so she never had to stop the machine to change thread. Hiroto was so impressed that he had Akio fetch Sunho, who watched silently as Megan changed the design to a Monarch Butterfly, and stitched that on a pale blue square of cloth. Then Megan had Sinho pick her own design and, by simple sign language, showed her how to set the machine up. When the woman started it, and then sat back to watch as a songbird was created where only plain white cloth had been before, she clapped her hands and spoke rapidly to her husband.

Hiroto pulled Akio's head close and they conferred quietly. Hamako edged behind Bob, straining to hear what was being said, but said nothing herself. The conversation went on for a couple of minutes.

Then Akio turned from his uncle and said "We will go to the yacht now, and negotiate in comfort." He looked around and finally found Hamako behind Bob. "I would like you to wear a bikini on the boat," he said, as if that were the most normal thing in the world to say. "I hope Raleigh Tomlinson will do so as well."

He didn't bat an eye, or look at either Bob or Megan as he announced, basically, that he hoped he'd get to ogle the teenagers on the trip.

The Nakimuras were at their hotel, packing for the yacht. That left the American group free, so that Hamako and Megan could finally talk. Bob was there too.

"He is very interested," said Hamako. "He told Akio to entertain you and Raleigh, once we get on the yacht, and keep you both busy. He thinks he can dominate Bob in the talks."

"What?" Megan sounded upset. "Why?"

"He thinks Bob is weak," said Hamako, flushing.

"Why?" cried Megan again.

"Because in his mind, Bob lets you decide too many things," said Hamako, looking away. "He will demand that no women be allowed in the negotiations. Maybe not even me. He thinks that once we are out on the yacht, he will have the advantage, because there will be nowhere for Bob to go. He is going to offer his funding in return for seventy-five percent ownership of the company."

"The bastard!" gasped Megan. "He's trying to steal my invention!"

"He's trying to maximize his profits," said Bob, completely unruffled. "Don't take it personally, Megan."

"How am I supposed to take it?" she said, her voice tight. "He wants seventy-five percent of the action. That leaves me a quarter of the value of what I invented.

"Which is a quarter more than you have right now," said Bob.

"I own it all, now!" she yelled.

"You own an idea and a prototype," said Bob. "If he gets his way, you'll own twenty-five percent of a working business."

"That's not fair," said Megan. "It's not enough!"

"Then I'll get you more," said Bob.

"I want to call him up and tell him to stick it where the sun doesn't shine!" said Megan, hotly.

Bob pulled her to him, putting his arms around her. She was suddenly aware of the heat of his body, and his face only inches from hers.

"Darling," he said, in an exaggeratedly sweet voice. "As your husband, I simply must insist that you let us men make all these difficult decisions."

"This isn't funny, Bob!" said Megan, pushing at him with her hands on his chest.

"Honey," he said, all banter gone from his voice. "I know men like Hiroto Nakimura. I sold my company to men like Hiroto Nakimura. And I negotiated with them to get where I am now. These are waters I've swum in before. And if I can't get you at least half of the company, then I'll send him packing. Okay?"

"Half?" She still sounded upset.

"He's bringing the money to the table, Megan. He'll be building the infrastructure. He's taking all the risks. All you've got is the intellectual property that will be the basis for future profits. You could just sell him the patents, take the money and go on about your life. Or, you can strike a bargain, and then help him make a ton of money ... half of which will be yours."

She stared into his eyes. The feel of his arms around her was distracting.

"It does sound a little better when you put it that way," she admitted.

"And you girls can take care of one nineteen-year-old boy. You can drive him crazy."

"What? How?"

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're a stone fox, baby. And so is your daughter. And Hamako is no slouch either. He's nineteen, and full of hormones. He'll be helpless."

Megan got hot as an image of a naked Akio, hovering over Sinho in bed, flashed through her mind. She felt Bob's loins pressed against her own, and felt a stab of pleasure.

"Maybe not," she said.

"What?" Bob sounded confused.

Megan looked over at Hamako, who had been standing, watching the two Americans embrace. Being in America had loosened her up. She knew that ... had often been amazed at how much this huge country had changed her ideas of how life could, and sometimes should be lived. Bob's comment that she was "no slouch" had thrilled her, and she had been wishing it was she, in Bob's arms, instead of Megan. But the kind of man Hiroto Nakimura was, reminded her of what her life would most likely have been like had she stayed in Japan. And that was not a happy thought. So she shook off the pleasant feeling of having been complimented, and got back to business. She looked at Bob and spoke.

"I believe he might be relieving his hormonal stress with the help of Mrs. Nakimura," she said. "It's a Japanese custom that most foreigners don't know about."

"I see," said Bob, interest in his voice. Then he smiled. "So you think he might choose her over the three of you?"

"It's possible," said Hamako, flushing.

Now he grinned at his translator. "Then you're forgetting his not so veiled reference to bikinis. Sweetheart, no disrespect intended, but you put Mrs. Nakimura to shame in the looks department. And I don't know if you've noticed or not, but the Tomlinson women are somewhat, shall we say ... busty?

"You're not putting me in a bikini, to strut around for that little rooster!" snarled Megan.

"I thought you wanted half of the company," said Bob.

"I'm not a hooker, Bob!" she yelled.

"Nobody's asking you to do that with the boy," said Bob, calmly. "All I'm saying is that the three of you can overwhelm him. No man could think straight if he was around the three of you in bikinis."

"Not even you?" interjected Hamako, mischievously.

"Not even me," said Bob, blandly. "He's been told to distract my wife and daughter. All I'm saying is that we can turn the tables on him, and have all of you distract him."

"From what?" asked Megan, still not happy.

"I can play hardball with Senior," said Bob. "And you guys play hardball with Junior. When the dust settles, it will be a tie at the least, and maybe we'll be ahead."

"Does this mean I get to play with someone's balls?" asked Hamako. She looked innocent, but was blushing furiously. This was one of the things she loved most about America ... the freedom to say outrageous things.

Megan, still in Bob's embrace, though leaning back, suddenly imagined she felt Bob's balls pressing against her. She felt hot again.

"This had better work," she muttered. "Or somebody's going to own your balls."

She was instantly horrified when her hips punctuated her comment by thrusting at his.

"I can't wear this," said Megan, looking at the scraps of cloth her daughter had handed her.

"Yes you can. You know we can wear each other's clothes, and I tried it on, and it fit fine, so stop worrying."

"There isn't enough of it to fit at all!" complained Megan.

"Then you should have gone with us and picked out your own swim suit," sniffed Raleigh. "But wait until you see ours!" she squealed.

Ten minutes later Megan's eyes were wide and her jaw had dropped.

"You can't wear that! You're almost naked!"

Hamako looked nervous, and was flushed. "Confucius say, woman who wear something from Victoria's Secret, have no more secrets."

"Don't be silly. There were no bikinis in the Ming Dynasty," said Raleigh.

"Master Confucius was born in 551 B.C. The Ming Dynasty didn't start until 1368," Hamako corrected.

"And what's with you and all this Confucianism anyway?" asked Raleigh. "I thought that was Chinese, not Japanese."

"The words of a wise man may be treasured by anyone," said Hamako.

"Yes, but you make things up."

"That's true," said Megan. "My favorite is: Confucius say the useless skin around a penis is called 'a man'."

"You remember that?" laughed Hamako. "I was very angry at Professor Atkins that day. He had said the writing in my report was listless and uninteresting."

"Well, whether Confucius said them or not, sometimes those are very wise words," said Megan.

"And our wise words are that you should wear this swim suit on the yacht," said Raleigh.

"I don't know," said Megan. "I think this could backfire on you." Again, she held up the suit Raleigh had given her and looked at it critically.

"Trust me, Mom," said the girl. "We're going to own all that useless skin when they see us in these."

Megan stood, staring at the cabin she and Bob had been assigned. So many things had gone wrong already. But those were all things that, by comparison to this, seemed easy to overcome. But Mr. Nakimura had unilaterally extended the "pleasure cruise" as he called it, to two nights. Spending two nights ... in this little room, in that little bed ... with Bob ... was something she wasn't at all sure she'd survive.

"Nice," was Bob's comment.

She snorted. Leave it to a man to miss the obvious.

"How are we going to sleep in that bed together," she asked, with acid in her voice.

"Naked?" He grinned hopefully, sure she'd know he was just joking.

Her face flamed red, though, and she turned without another word and stomped up onto the deck.

But once up there, she calmed a bit. The boat was beautiful, and the day was beautiful, and the water looked glorious. The marina was full of beautiful boats, and the atmosphere made it impossible for her to stay angry. She'd think of something. They'd get through this. They'd gotten through Sam's death, and then the deaths of his parents. She trusted Bob implicitly, even though she was still nervous about the coming business negotiations.

She was also nervous about the bikini in her suitcase.

The three women had gone shopping together and while Megan was in another store, looking at blouses and skirts, she had foolishly let the two teenagers pick the swimwear for her. It had been fifteen years since she had worn a bikini, and back then she'd only had a thirty-four inch chest. Hamako had filled Raleigh in on what they intended to do to Akio, which was basically render him catatonic, if possible. Raleigh signed on to that mission with glee. She had no use for men who treated women the way Akio treated women, and her response had been summed up in one comment: "Make sure there are no guns on the boat, because when we get finished with him, he's going to want to blow his brains out."

What she meant was that they - this was Raleigh's plan - were going to tease him, suggesting that they were available, and then shut him down every time he tried to get anything.

"I'm not available!" snapped Megan.

"Of course not," said her daughter. "None of us are. But we're going to make him think we are."

"I don't even know how to begin to do that," said Megan.

"You just flirt with him," said Raleigh. "You smile, and lick your lips, and show off your charms a bit. You tell him how handsome he is, and how he makes you want to do naughty things. It's easy."

"It's slutty, you mean," sniffed Megan.

"Okay, it's slutty," agreed Raleigh, easily. "But that's what you do, and then when he wants a kiss, or to grope you or whatever, you say "Oh ... I want to ... but I just can't! And you bat your eyelashes at him and tell him you have to cool down, because he got you all hot and bothered, and then you jump in the ocean."

"Are you for real?" Megan arched an eyebrow. She was supported by Hamako, who laughed.

"Well, you do something like that, anyway," said Raleigh.

"Have you ever done this to a boy?" asked Megan.

"No," admitted her daughter. "But I've seen it done."

"That's an awful thing to do to a man," said Megan.

"Well?" complained Raleigh. "Look what he's trying to do to us?"

"He's trying to ogle us," said Megan. "Men do that all the time."

"And all we're doing is helping him do that, so he can't help his uncle take advantage of you," argued Raleigh.

In the end, though, Megan had known her own fashion sense was much too atrophied, and she submitted to the judgment of the girls.

Now she thought about the two scraps of purple cloth in her suitcase. They took up about the same room as one of her normal bras did. But at least they had conventional bottoms.

The girls had chosen thong type suits for themselves. Actually, Raleigh had chosen thong suits for the two younger women.

In any case ... Akio Nakimura was going to be in big trouble.

Except now she felt like she was going to be in big trouble too. Because pretty soon, she was going to have to put that suit on and try to flirt with a nineteen-year-old boy. And if that wasn't bad enough, Bob was going to see her in it too.

Once everyone had learned their way around the yacht, the lines were cast off and they backed out, to head for open water. The crew came with the yacht, and consisted of three men. Two were in their fifties, and one, the cook, looked to be thirty-something. But the crew was invisible for the most part, being used to staying out of the way of guests.

Eventually, Akio made a completely lame comment about how sunny it was, and how perfect the weather was for sunbathing. The girls didn't act like it was lame at all. Instead, they agreed loudly and said they couldn't wait to start getting some sun.

The reaction to the bikinis was indeed spectacular, though broken into segments.

Raleigh appeared first, in a yellow suit with brown polka dots on it. The upper part cupped her generous breasts, showing acres of cleavage. The front panel of the bottoms was modest, in terms of being thick enough not to reveal any of the detail that lay beneath it. But the back more than made up for that, exposing her entire bottom. Bob swallowed as she attempted to look casual, in sunglasses, carrying a bottle of Coppertone and a towel.

She had to return to the stairway that led below to the cabins and physically pull Hamako into the open. Hamako knew she'd be in the negotiation meeting, but the plan was for her to be a distraction to Hiroto. To that end she had been bullied into putting on her new bikini for the meeting. If Hiroto said anything about it, she was to say that she planned on sunbathing as soon as she was no longer needed in the negotiations.

Hamako's suit was pure white, which set off her straight, black hair beautifully. It looked more modest than Raleigh's, until you realized that it revealed just as much flesh. Hamako simply had small breasts, so it didn't look as skimpy. On the other hand, it was clear that Hamako had nipples that could not be tamed by the fabric in the suit, because they were very prominent. She looked down at the deck until Raleigh took her hand and pulled her toward the nearest rail, where they could gaze out at the water.

And their backs would be to the younger Nakimura.

Akio was more than satisfied. In fact, he was obviously delighted. Especially when Raleigh squirted some lotion into one palm and began massaging it onto her bare buttocks.

Mrs. Nakimura, however, was not. She frowned, spoke softly to Akio, and then took his hand, pulling him bodily toward the companionway to the lower deck. They ran into Megan coming up and, according to what she said later, he almost broke his neck looking at her as his aunt dragged him below decks.

For Bob and Hiroto, her appearance on deck was just as spectacular. So tall that she had to bend over in the opening of the companionway to leave it, her breasts hung, presenting a view that any man's knees would weaken because of. Both men unconsciously licked their lips. The suit chosen for her by her daughter wasn't really for swimming (as would be proven later in the day) but it showed off her body fabulously. Made of a reddish purple Dacron, the material showed off everything under it, including her nipples and her sexual lips. The only reason she had it on, in fact, was because there was no mirror in the cabin. Had she seen herself in the suit , she would never have left the cabin.

She stopped when Bob whistled softly, and looked to see both men staring at her.

"Where are the girls?" she asked, her voice shaky.

Bob pointed, and Megan walked stiffly toward the railing, where the two girls were talking softly while pretending to look out to sea. She didn't know it, but her tight-muscled, quick-paced walk made her ass cheeks jiggle as they rose and fell.

"Very nice," sighed Hiroto. It came out as "Velly nice," and he added "You are velly lucky man Bob-san."

"I am," said Bob, automatically. His thoughts and feelings were a mixture of feeling lucky to be around the women as much and as often as he was, and of feeling both lucky and guilty for being able to see them as they were now.

Hiroto wasn't as lucky, at least on a day-to-day basis, but he made the most of what was available to him at the moment. The ploy of making Hamako into a distraction worked. He could have negotiated without her translation skills. He was doing fine in English that was remarkably good for a man who had never been to America before. But the lure of being able to look at a beautiful young Japanese girl, in a scandalous American bikini, was too much. He barked at her in Japanese, telling her to come with the men.

Hamako, still shy, kept her eyes on the deck as she approached the men, both of whom stared at the bumps caused by her distended nipples.

Hiroto led Bob to what looked like a sun room of sorts, five or so feet above the main deck, and with a view toward the rear of the boat. It was ideally suited for watching the swimmers, and that wasn't lost on Bob. Hiroto went to a refrigerator and got two bottles of beer from it. He ignored whether or not Hamako might be thirsty. He arranged himself at a table and watched the two white women, who were rubbing suntan lotion on themselves, preparing to lay out. Bob noticed that Raleigh was peering around, as if she were looking for someone.

Hiroto proceeded to display how incredibly Japanese - and how incredibly insensitive - he was.

"This Hamako Fukuji is a good employee, yes?" asked Hiroto, without preamble. He didn't look at Hamako, even though she was standing within reach.

"Yes," said Bob, finding it very interesting that this man new Hamako’s last name. "Quite good."

"You know, in the old days, such an employee would also be available to the master for his pleasure." Hiroto's eyes stayed on the white women outside, rather than the Japanese girl he was actually talking about, a yard away. "One could have concubines in the old days. It is too bad such days are gone."

"We don't have much history of having concubines here in America," said Bob, dryly.

"Pity,” Said Hiroto.

“Keeping one woman happy is a big enough job,” suggested Bob. He darted a look at Hamako, who was flushed red, and still looking at the floor.

At this, the Japanese man looked away from the delightful scene outside the window.

“It is not our job to keep them happy,” he said, his face straight. “It is their job to keep us happy. This is something American men should learn.”

“American men know that,” said Bob, easily. “The difficult part in this country is achieving that goal without the women knowing they are being manipulated. If they become aware of that, they become intransigent, and more trouble than they’re worth.”

Hiroto nodded. “I do not know this word ‘intrangent’ but I get your meaning. We are men of similar tastes and understanding.” He took a drink of his beer, looked at the women and then back at Bob. Finally, he acknowledged Hamako's presence by speaking to her in rapid fire Japanese.

Still flushed, she listened, and turned to Bob.

"He says that negotiations are such a poor use of time, especially when one could be out there, spending time with beautiful women. What stake do you pursue in this venture?”

“I’m surprised he's asking such a frank question,” said Bob.

Hiroto spoke again to the interpreter.

“He says you understand each other. This is simply business, and business should be simple. How much must you have?”

Almost exactly half an hour later, the two men shook hands.

“I have a bottle of Scotch in my cabin,” said Hiroto. “It is one of the delights freely available in this country that is difficult to obtain in Japan. Shall we open it to seal our agreement?”

“By all means,” said Bob, standing up. Hiroto turned to leave. Bob looked at Hamako, who looked miserable. He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

"He's an asshole," he whispered into her ear. "Don't let it get to you."

Her hand came up to brush his arm, but then she pushed him away and moved rapidly to follow Hiroto. She had not been dismissed, and continued to play the part of a subservient Japanese female. It was good that she pushed Bob away, though, because just after she did so, Hiroto turned and looked at his new business partner. He beckoned. "Come, come," he said.

One minute later Hiroto opened the door to his cabin. He didn’t know his wife was in there, dealing with Akio's “hormonal issues,” which issues had arisen when he saw the scantily-clad sunbathers, and Raleigh's hand smoothing over her bare butt.

It must be mentioned here that, while Sinho’s life as a woman in Japan might seem less than desirable to most American women, she had a few advantages that most American women don’t have. One of those was that she had taught Akio everything he knew about sex, which included lasting a very long time before spilling his seed. This was one time she wanted him fully deflated, libido-wise, when he was finished and she had enjoyed five very quiet orgasms while urging him to continue his efforts.

As such, almost forty-five minutes after he had started his current activity, Akio was only now in the process of ejaculating, somewhat loudly, into his aunt.

What Bob expected was for Hiroto to yell angrily. That expectation was fulfilled.

But Bob’s further expectations were not. He tensed, preparing to keep Hiroto from attacking his nephew. But the boy jumped up off the naked woman and stood at attention, his penis beginning to droop, but still dripping semen. When his eyes saw that Bob and Hamako were also there, his hands came to join, palms inward, to cover his penis.

Sinho, interestingly, covered her eyes with both hands, but did nothing whatsoever to try to hide either her naked breasts, or her sex, which was leaking thick, white sauce. She did not, in fact, even close her legs. Bob got the distinct impression that she somehow believed that if she couldn’t see, then no one else could either.

Hiroto kept yelling in Japanese, and his nephew kept yelling "Hai!" and something that Bob thought might mean "I understand!" Eventually, the boy unfroze and went to a suitcase, where he pulled out blue swimming trunks and put them on. Then he bowed to his uncle, to Bob, and left the room. Hamako turned to face the wall as he slid past her. Hiroto turned to Bob.

"His mother wishes to keep him young forever. But he is grown now, and must go out into the world and learn how to appeal to women such as your daughter." Then he turned and barked at his wife, who tried to both keep covering her eyes and get dressed at the same time. Hiroto calmly walked past her to get the box containing the bottle of Scotch, and then motioned for Bob to follow him. When he saw Hamako, he blinked, as if he had just realized she was still there. He spoke to her, again in their native language, and she simply turned and ran to follow Akio.

Bob had been watching Sinho, since her husband didn't seem to mind. For a woman he assumed was well into her forties, she looked more like a twenty-something gymnast, with gentle curves and breasts that belonged in an A-cup. To the kind of man who lusted after girls in their middle teens, she would be irresistible.

What Bob noticed more than anything else, though, was that, once her husband was out of the room, she dropped her hands from her eyes, and stared straight into Bob's. He didn't know why he did it, but he smiled gently, bowed in an abbreviated manner, and then turned to follow Hiroto.

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>