A Box, a Woman and Time Ch. 03byLavared©
In the ensuing weeks your mind returned again and again to the sensuous experiences that occurred when you opened the box.
At night you relived again your stunningly erotic experience with the witch from Babylon, masturbating often in your lonely bed with the memory of what transpired replaying in your mind. During the day your thoughts turned more to trying to figure out the mystery of the box and the events that took place.
You wondered what happened to Suhaylah after your abrupt departure and this lead you to wonder if you did indeed depart. Obviously you, yourself, the person inhabiting your brain left but did the master of the castle leave? Was everyone stunned to see a man disappear or did a man stay? Did the master, assuming he stayed, have any memory of fucking Suhaylah? Did he suddenly find himself standing outside of a cave with no recollection of having gone there? Did Suhaylah take your advice and change her ways?
You tried to google Suhaylah and Betta but without any more information relating to the castle, its location or even the century you were in, you found very quickly how difficult it was to confirm whether or not they were real. But you went with the assumption that the castle, the cave and Suhaylah did truly exist because you knew that Anne had been a real person. So you continued to search, finally coming across an irritatingly brief reference to a Baroness Suhaylah, originally from the Middle East, who married an English Baron in 1337. The Baron inhabited Cairnvensey Castle in Sussex.
Your search turned up no further information except for a reference or two to the tapestries that hung in the great hall and a battle that took place near there in 1501. It was little enough to go by, but you knew in your heart that the Suhaylah mentioned was the same one you dreamt of almost every night and were glad to know that she found happiness, or at least a more settled life. Perhaps the "master" did recall what occurred after all. Or else he too found her very tempting at a later point and was able to overlook the tempestuousness of her personality.
You still remembered Anne and missed her and now you missed Suhaylah as well but in a much different way. Anne was beautiful inside and out and you knew that she was an once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman that any sane man could find himself eventually falling in love with. Suhaylah was too problematic with her temper and vanity to entrap your heart but she was also so intensely sexy and desirable that you knew she would haunt your dreams forever.
But the greatest mystery of all was the woman you didn't sleep with, the woman who was in both times/places, the woman who always seemed to be the catalyst to both begin and end your adventures. Who was Betty/Betta? Was she the same person? A real person in some time and place? How did she relate to the box?
You pondered both the inscrutability of her place within the scheme of your adventures and her, herself as a person. It seemed that each time you saw her you were attracted to her, very attracted to her, and comfortable in her presence. It seemed that she was attracted to you as well and each time became jealous when she found you with another woman.
Still, you were a different man each time. How could the same person be attracted to both? It boggled your mind to the point that you finally made a conscious decision to quit trying to understand it. At times it would intrude. Brushing your teeth you would wonder whether she was related to the enigmatic figure who first presented you with the box. Stirring your coffee at work you would puzzle over why, if she were fully aware of what was occurring, she would leave you alone with two such magnificent women.
And the box itself – still so strange and unearthly - but you weren't complaining. If this was an attempt by aliens to conduct some kind of mind control experiment on your species you were more than willing to be their guinea pig. Oh yes. You had no complaints at all in that department. In fact, your only concern now was longing for the privacy to utilize the box again and see what the next adventure would be.
After five frustrating weeks, you finally managed to get your wife out of the house for a long enough period of time. She was going for the afternoon to a birthday party and you begged off, claiming some much needed computer time to keep from having to work late that week
No sooner had her car disappeared from sight than you rushed to the closet to pull out the box. You thought for a moment of opening it in the bedroom or living room but having used the kitchen table twice successfully you felt strongly that you should follow the same procedure again. It was a superstitious notion but you didn't want to risk a different outcome by behaving differently.
You placed your hands on either side of the box and breathed deeply and slowly, deliberately doing your best to calm yourself before once more taking the plunge.
"Open Sesame." you said and immediately the box opened. As twice before, you slowly stood and looked down inside noticing a very interesting object just within that seemed to....
The kitchen disappears and you are surrounded by a milling throng of people in a huge space that is several stories high, surrounded by floor to ceiling windows. Your eye is drawn for a moment to the flowing ribbons that run along the ceiling and then down to the double bank of escalators at the far end of the room. All of the surfaces are clean and modern and the crowd is mostly composed of businessmen, oriental businessmen. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you've been here before. You're in the Narita airport in Tokyo.
You were here once before as a teenage and it was one of the pivotal events of your young life. So many things about the Japanese culture struck you: the cleanliness of their public spaces, the unabashed advertisements for sex that both shocked and titillated you, their zeal for combining modern and ancient mores, the grandeur of their landscape and the delicate beauty of their women.
And here you are again, as an adult, without a single friend or acquaintances in the country that you can contact for assistance. Pushed along by the crowd, you approach an area where a line of people stand, holding up signs, in English and Japanese, and you realize that they are there waiting to pick up incoming travelers. It would be nice if someone was there waiting for you. That could neatly solve your problem. You search the faces and smile when you recognize one.
It is Betty/Betta, in a business suit, her brown hair shoulder length this time, and her wide, blue-grey eyes carefully scanning the crowd. It takes her a moment to spot you. When she does recognize you she doesn't smile or wave like the others, but waits patiently for you to reach her.
"Right this way, Boss. I have the limo waiting." She turns and begins expertly weaving through the throng of people, turning her head slightly towards you as she continues to speak. "I've set the meeting up for first thing in the morning with the men from Shigoko. It will be in our boardroom, Sir. I thought that best given that your meeting tonight will be on their turf.
"Bet..." you begin and hesitate. What is her name this time? Obviously she knows you and you don't want to offend her.
"Bet..." you stop. This is ridiculous. Why can't she have the same name every time? Is this some type of cosmic joke?
"Yes? Are you tired, Boss? I know it was a long flight from London. I'm sorry you won't have more time to relax before tonight but I thought surely you would be able to get some rest on the plane."
You sigh. For some reason the name thing is harder to deal with in a modern setting. "Spell your name for me please. Humor me."
"B-e-t-t-e." she answers, her face lacking any trace of humor or curiosity at your request.
"Ah, here we are, sir."
She had led you efficiently through the airport to the outside of the terminal where a long, black limousine is waiting for you. The driver hurries around and holds open the back door for you and Bette. She waits for you to enter but you motion her in first and climb in after her.
"Where are we going, to the hotel?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. There's not enough time. You'll have to go straight to tonight's meeting. I tried to have it arranged for later in the evening but he insisted that it begin at 6pm."
"And what am I supposed to do at this meeting tonight?"
"I'm not privy to all of the particulars. Mr. Goto was very adamant that this meeting is for you alone and that none of the rest of us are to attend. But, you know what will happen if we don't get this contract. It would be..." she glances at the limo Driver and lowers her voice "...the end for the Company. We're barely hanging on since the market shake-up in '81."
"And we've had poor cash flow for the last..."
"Two years, Boss. You know we can't last much longer."
"1983. Thank you for not having big hair Bette."
"You're welcome sir. I have taken the liberty of condensing the financial information we found on both Shigoko Corporation and Mr.Goto into this brief report and have added pictures of the various officers so that you will recognize them tomorrow when..."
You wave a weary hand. Corporate meetings, financial reports – you can't imagine anything more dull. You may be scheduled for one, but preparing for it doesn't sound appealing in the least. You'd rather study Bette.
The shortness of her hair makes it look fuller and the ends curl under to gently frame her innocent face. Her eyes are the same as you remember from before but overall she looks slightly different. It takes you a moment to realize that she is wearing makeup and you're thankful that she seems to have a light touch with it. Her complexion is clear and smooth naturally so it appears that she's only added a little brown eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. It looks good, but then she always looks good. You wonder for a brief moment why you never seem to hook up with this woman.
It is her expression that is different this time. She is even more earnest and serious than before, which you would have scarcely thought possible. But of course, she is a businesswoman, not here in a role as a nurse or your servant. Obviously she is your executive secretary or assistant and so naturally she would be putting on her most serious mien.
She has dressed the part, in a dark blue skirt and matching blazer. The skirt hit just above her knees when she was standing but seated as she is now, it has ridden up to mid thigh. Her long slender legs look every nice, especially in the stiletto-heeled blue pumps she's wearing. She notices you staring at her legs and tries to surreptitiously pull down her skirt. You smile inwardly at her antics. The crossing and uncrossing of her legs shows them even further to her advantage.
Her blouse is cream-colored silk and just sheer enough that you can tell she is wearing a lace-topped camisole beneath it. Her breasts are hidden oh for those medieval fashions! but you can see how full they are even beneath her clothes and remember well how delectable they looked when they were more exposed.
All in all, she looks damned good. Her angelic face contrasts intriguingly with her lush body. You stare at her, sensing her discomfort as she tries to ignore you, mentally undressing her and trying to guess what she would look like with her clothes all removed. What color are her nipples: dark like chocolate or lighter like coffee with cream? Is her bush curly or straight, full or sparse? Would she be quiet and serious in bed like she is out of it or would she suddenly become a wanton slut? You think about sliding your hand up her leg, beneath her skirt, to touch her outside her panties, and then running a finger inside them, finding her moist and ready...
"Boss?" Her soft voice interrupts your reverie.
"Yes, Bette. Do you want something?"
She looks into your eyes, then down into her lap and you realize that she is blushing. She looks up once more into your eyes and begins to stammer, "I...yes...no...I mean... oh, sir, please don't look at me like that."
"Bette! It isn't like you to be so flustered. Haven't we worked together for a long time?"
"And haven't we spent many hours alone together working late into the evening?"
"And have you ever had a cause for complaint in my behavior towards you?"
"And don't I, as your employer, have the right to look your way and converse with you when I want to?"
"Yes, but...it's the way you were looking at me, sir."
"And how was I looking at you Bette?"
She is silent for a moment, staring down at her hands as they twist in her lap. The auburn hair on her bent head hides her face from you. She is quiet for so long that you begin to believe she will not speak but at last she does, in a soft but steady voice. "I thought you were looking at me... as a woman."
"Bette, sweet Bette, look at me."
She raises her face to you and you see that her eyes are swimming with unfallen tears. They move you. You gently put your hands on either side of her face and pull her towards you. She parts her lips when you have her within inches of your face. You are finally going to kiss those sweet lips and hold her womanly body in your arms.
"We're here, sir." announces the limo Driver.
Bette closes her eyes in frustration. You watch her face for a moment, impressed by the control you see her taking over her disappointment. When she opens her eyes again you are captivated anew by their clarity.
"This meeting can wait. I'll have the driver drive us to the hotel instead."
"No, I can't let you do this." She sighs. "I wish more than anything that you didn't have to go. But...too many people are counting on this for us to let something like this interfere."
"I don't want to leave you Bette."
"I'll return for you with the driver later. Mr. Goto scheduled you from six to eleven. We'll come back for you then and maybe you and I can..." She is blushing again.
"Finish what we didn't get to start."
"Yes, sir. Start what we didn't get to...do."
You watch the limousine pull away with melancholy in your heart. She'll be back in five hours but you know that a lot can change in five hours time in this otherplace that the box sends you. It pulls around the corner and disappears from your sight making you sigh.
Turning around you see a house, not the office building as you expected, and you are surprised to be standing in a residential area. Even with your limited knowledge of Japanese culture you realize that it is an honor indeed that Mr. Goto has invited you to his home for this first meeting. His house is low and wide, with huge timbers overhanging the sidewalls and a green, curved roof. The large front door, surrounded on either side by stone lanterns, is inviting and helps to curb your apprehension at meeting the unfamiliar businessman.
You rap lightly beside the front door and soon hear muffled footsteps approaching. The door slides open and you are greeting by an elegant oriental woman of indeterminate age, dressed in an expensive, deep red, western-style dress. She bows. You bow. "Mrs. Goto..." you begin and she smiles wryly.
"Follow me please." You hastily remove your shoes, following her through the genkan and into an adjoining room. Inside are two young Japanese girls, both in full kimonos, standing behind a low table covered with dishes and bowls. "Yoshiko." She points to the taller of the two girls, who then bows formally. "Megumi." The shorter girl bows.
Once more you bow such a formal, courteous custom and try to express yourself as politely as you can, "It is a great pleasure to meet the daughters of such as lovely lady as yourself, Mrs. Goto. I would like to..."
But you are stopped short by her laughter.
"Enjoy yourself." The older woman says and lets herself out through the sliding fusuma. You can still hear her laughing through the thin walls as her footsteps recede. You are slightly irritated and more than a little puzzled by her laughter. 'What is so damned funny about me trying to be polite to this family?' you mutter to yourself before you allow Yoshiko to gently guide you to the table. You study them as they prepare your meal.
Yoshiko is the taller girl and you assume she is slightly older than her sister. Her black, straight hair is twisted at the base of her skull but a few loose tendrils frame her face. She has a delicate, unadorned face and momentarily her sweet expression reminds you of Bette. She seems unsophisticated in a simple, pleasing way but is nevertheless a beauty and you admire the way her blue and silver kimono falls gracefully from her slender frame.
Megumi is smaller and looks younger but more sophisticated and westernized. Her hair is not as dark as Yoshiko's; you can tell that she has lightened it somewhat to a dark brown, not the glossy black of most Japanese women. She is wearing makeup to accent her eyes and lips although you don't see the necessity of it. She is fragile and lovely, with her smooth complexion heightened by the soft peach of her flower-covered kimono. The lotus blossoms on the fabric can't match the daintiness of her fine features.
They are both incredibly lovely and you look forward to however much of their company you get to enjoy this evening. You didn't anticipate meeting Mr. Goto's daughters and imagine that they're here to serve you dinner and then leave but in the meanwhile you plan to store their exquisite features in your memory for later thoughts. They look so young and innocent that you feel a twinge of guilt knowing that you intend to masturbate with their faces and bodies as the focal point of your fantasy later but this is an opportunity not likely to come your way again.
The meal is simple but delicious. They don't eat with you but serve you every tasty morsel with chopsticks. Megumi and Yoshiko take turns refilling your sake cup each time you hold it up; giggling whenever you say "Kampai."
It doesn't take you long to realize that neither girl speaks a work of English. Your Japanese is limited to four or five short phrases but you are all still able to communicate using gestures and facial expressions.
The warm sake permeates your body, leaving you warm and relaxed. You find that you thoroughly enjoy having two women attending to your every wish. It is a new experience for you and you purposely linger over the meal, trying to extend your time with Yoshiko and Megumi. But Yoshiko once more gently guides you, this time up from the table and through another sliding door into another room.
This room has a large tub in the center and no other furnishings. Steam rises from the square tub and fills the room with moisture. Suddenly a hot soak sounds like a wonderful idea.
You begin to unbutton your shirt but Megumi pushes your hands down and steps close, her dark head barely coming up to your shoulder, her small, nimble fingers making short work of the job. She quickly removes your pants, pulling them down while you try vainly to figure out how you're going to hide the hard-on you've had for the past hour. When she pulls down your shorts your cock springs out within inches of her face. She gasps and quickly fires off a bullet-fast string of sentences in Japanese to her sister. They both begin giggling at your obvious discomfiture as you speedily step into the hot tub of water.
"Thank you, girls, that's enough fun at my expense. Yoshiko, more sake please."
Yoshiko points to the tray with your sake already sitting next to the tub. "Sake." She says in a lilting voice. She smiles at you and you smile back.
Closing your eyes for a few seconds, you feel the heat of the water soak into your muscles as you settle into the steaming tub. When you open them, both girls are undressing, helping divest each other of their silk kimonos. For a moment you are shocked but then remember that in their culture it is common for men and women to bathe nude together. Still, you find yourself embarrassed and unsure of where to look.