A Taste for Christmas Cake

The boy nodded, but when he realised what I'd implied he gasped and moved away. I was too close to him, within boob-brushing distance, and it was obviously making him nervous. I knew he could smell me. I wondered if he could smell how excited I was? Since the whole thing with him bad-mouthing Kazuo I'd been walking around in sticky underwear. I was probably soaking inside them, now. I leaned across him, ostensibly to check out the toiletries on the sink, but really I wanted to smell him.

He'd lost that sour-milk smell foreigners sometimes have, if in fact he'd ever had it. The Japanese diet was already working on him. But he smelled different, somehow. It was a nostalgic smell.

Then I knew. He was wearing a sports deodorant. He was still a kid and didn't wear aftershave or anything like that. It was a smell I remembered from over a decade ago. The boys would walk around in a haze of it after baseball practice.

And yet the scent wasn't overpowering. The kid also smelled of that delicious male spiciness, a mixture of perspiration and, well, hormones I guess. I love that smell. I could almost taste it.

I knew it would smell even better after a shower.

"So would you like to take a shower first or should I?"

He stared at me.

"Oh, I was just joking about sharing a bath, unless you want to, of course." I jogged him in the ribs and he skittered laughing away from my elbow. "Well, I'll take the first then."

He nodded and I shut the door before quickly reopening it. He hadn't had time to move, and I behaved as though I'd caught him up to no good.

"You're not going to peek on me are you?" I asked with narrowed eyes.

"What? N-no," he replied.

"Good. These doors don't lock after all." I pointed at the bed. "Just amuse yourself with the control panel. It works the lights and TV and everything."

I shut the door. I quickly stripped out of my clothes. I heard music in the other room. The kid was already doing what I told him. The thought of him sitting on the bed there while I was almost naked here, just a room away, made my heart race. For a second I toyed with the idea of just walking out of there in my bra and panties and grabbing him. The little movie played out in my head: the look of wide-eyed shock on his face, the way he'd be unable to take his eyes off me, how he'd scramble backwards when I climbed onto the bed and advanced on him, that first touch as I grabbed his hand and pulled it to my heaving chest...

I gasped. I was starting to flood. I stripped my underwear off. They were soaked. Great. Now I'd have to wear dirty underwear on the way back tomorrow. At least there was a bathrobe for me to wear in bed. I wished that there'd been yukata as there sometimes is in Japanese-bath themed love hotels, but I'd have to make do.

I scrubbed my face of my makeup and then dove under the steaming waters of the shower. It was hot and delicious. I gave myself a quick but methodical wash. I was just as sticky as I'd expected between the legs. Gross. I decided to skip washing my hair: there was no way I was going to put the kid through half an hour of me drying it. Anyway, you can never gauge the heat of the dryers they have in these hotels: my hair could end up frizzed to hell.

I got out as quickly as I could. I didn't want to keep the kid waiting for his own shower, and also I wanted to play with the toiletries provided. The moisturiser was a bit oilier than I liked and I missed my night cream, but of course I hadn't brought my night bag with me so I put up with it.

Boys. Things are so much easier for them. The kid was just going to come in here, throw off his clothes and then soap himself all over, rinse and get out. He wouldn't care about moisturiser or anything like that. Maybe he'd try on the after shave. He didn't need to shave, though. He didn't even have a five-o'clock shadow! He really did have a nice complexion. It was like a little boy's. And his hands had been so soft and smooth...

I squeezed my thighs together. The hot water of the shower had been bad enough, but now, with my imagination going wild...

I looked myself over in the mirror. The patchiness of my complexion dismayed me, but it was better than smearing the kid with old makeup. I didn't look all bad. My cheeks were pink and my eyes were large and dark. I looked exactly how I felt: turned on. The extra blood flowing to my flushed face minimised the smile wrinkles I knew were hiding there. I didn't look too closely, though.

My body was pink, scrubbed fresh, lightly steaming from the heat of the shower. I held my breath: my breasts looked perkier that way. I ran a hand over my sucked-in stomach: the little after-dinner curve disappeared.

I slipped my bathrobe on and let my breath explode out.

Good. I was ready.

I looked back at the mirror. That face. Whose was it? Nakagawa Mieko, middle manager for an English tutoring company? Mieko? Mi-chan? And who was she, exactly? The kid's teasing but supportive sempai? A boy-hungry predator?

A stupid, reckless woman.

Those eyes were wide and dark and hungry, but they were fragile, too. The light in them seemed on the point of breaking.

That bastard...

It was the kid's fault, really. He called me out here. He was the reason I was so worked up. He couldn't expect me to just lie there in bed with him and do nothing. He owed me.

I sighed. I knew I wasn't going to do anything. We'd lie together in that huge bed, a wide gap between us, make some awkward, flirty conversation and then go to sleep. We'd wake up tomorrow, hung-over, for some even more awkward looks and words before slinking back to the train station and going our separate ways.

I opened the door. "Your turn."

The kid swung to look at me, shock on his face. The remote flew out of his fumbling hands. I followed his horrified gaze. The TV was on but the sound was off and there was a girl in a schoolgirl's uniform on all fours, her skirt pulled up, betting pummelled from behind by some faceless tanned gentleman.

"Oh," I said. "I see you found the movies, then."

The kid babbled, horrified. "Uh, I..."

I laughed. "Oh c'mon. I know what boys are like." I leaned over and picked up the remote. The kid was staring at me. Oh yeah, my boobs. My bathrobe had fallen open.

"Hey," I murmured, covering up. I glanced at him askance. "Oh, well at least these ones aren't pixelated."

The kid smiled awkwardly then grabbed his own bathrobe and fled into the bathroom.

I slumped onto the bed and pushed my face against the pillow. You idiot! Falling out of your robe, making goo-eyes at him.

Pixelated? Stupid. They don't pixelate boobs in pink videos, only genitals!

I turned and looked up at the girl on the TV. She'd been flipped onto her back now and was being lustily ploughed, squealing like a stuck pig the whole time. She was pretty chubby above where her skirt was all bunched up. Probably puppy fat. How old was she, nineteen, twenty? I pinched myself around the waist. All those hours on the treadmill seemed to have done something to my love handles, at least.

I turned off the pink movie. Somehow the girl's squawking and the man's single-minded penetrating of her depressed me.

I heard the shower shushing. There was soft padding and slapping. The kid was washing himself.

The sounds were like liquid Viagra. After a while I had to cover my ears.

I was so horny it was embarrassing. The alcohol, the kid's smell left on the bed, this whole being stuck together in a love hotel...

My hands slipped inside my bathrobe and slid down along my stomach.

No. I couldn't. Not here, while he's...

But it would be the only chance I got. Otherwise, it would mean a whole night of agonising frustration.

I could always do it in the toilet if...

What? The kid was naïve, but even he would be able to tell something was going on. There was no way I'd be able to keep quiet enough.

The shushing stopped. I grabbed a menu and leaped into bed.

I was still acting like I was reading it when the kid slipped out of the bathroom. He was wearing his bathrobe, but I knew his underwear was on underneath. His pants, shirt and tie were all neatly piled in his arms.

I glanced at my own badly-folded clothes. Luckily I'd had the forethought to place my undies in between the skirt and blouse. I'd have loved to have been able to wash them, but there was no way they'd get dry by the morning.

"Feeling refreshed?" I asked.

The kid couldn't meet my eyes and just nodded.

"I... I'm sorry about before," he murmured. "Ah, about everything, actually."

"What? The movie?" I laughed. "Hey, least I know you're not gay, now."

Not gay. Nice work, Mie. Brilliant. What every boy wants to hear: "I thought you were gay."

I patted the bed beside me. He stared for a moment and then hesitantly came up to the bed and stood there, shifting from foot to foot. The whole situation was getting even more awkward.

"Hey," I said. "Could you get something to drink out of the little bar fridge? They should have some rice wine and beer and stuff. Care to join me for a nightcap?"

He nodded, and even managed to glance up at me. Thank you alcohol! I had no idea you could save an awkward situation even without being drunk.

The boy opened the fridge and after fumbling around a bit brought out some rice wine.

"Good choice," I said.

The kid was blushing.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh," he replied. "It's just the... uh, other stuff in the fridge. I didn't realise they'd have that sort of thing here as well."

Oh yeah, right. I'd forgotten. The sex toys. Love hotel minibars are always full of them. "The 'personal massagers' and stuff?" I chuckled. "Silly, isn't it? The way I see it, if you need something like that to get your girl worked up you probably shouldn't be at the love hotel in the first place. "

I was starting to sound boorish so I shut my mouth. But somehow the exchange had melted the awkwardness. The kid got two tumblers and then we sat on the bed and toasted each other.

After taking a sip he shook his head and placed a hand to his forehead.

"Nakagawa-san, I'm so sorry. I really screwed up your Christmas eve," he said. "Please. You have to tell me how much I owe you for dinner and..."

I snorted. "C'mon. I already told you, it's my treat." I took a sip of the overpriced rice wine. Hakutsuru, the one with the crane on the label. You could buy it for 450 yen at any convenience store. This one had set me back 1000 yen, I was guessing. "Anyway, this is the best Christmas Eve I've enjoyed in years."

The kid took another sip of his drink. "Really?"

I thought to myself. I wasn't just saying that to make him feel better. This really was the most fun I'd had on Christmas Eve since, well, maybe ever.

"Really," I said. "Kazuo was never really into romantic gestures and stuff like that. We usually stayed at home and watched TV and ate KFC."

"I've heard about that," said the kid. "Uh, about the KFC for Christmas thing, I mean."

"Strange, huh? Just another crazy Japanese tradition..." I laughed. "You must think we're all crazy here."

The kid shook his head, smiling. "No. I don't think so. I mean, things are so different from back home, but I like it here. I think my country is crazier in a lot of ways."

"Is that so?" I asked. "I'd love to visit there someday. You'll have to show me around." I took another sip and poured myself some more. The kid's tumbler was looking empty so I finished the bottle off in his.

"I'd like that," he said.

"Maybe I can get bring myself back a foreign boyfriend," I said. "I don't seem to be having much luck with Japanese ones."

The kid glanced across at me. "Nakagawa-san, have... have you ever gone out with a foreigner?"

"What?" I blinked at him. "No, no I haven't. The most exotic guy I've ever gone out with was a guy from Osaka. And don't believe what they say about everyone from Osaka being funny - he was just an asshole."

My boorishness was coming out again, so I quickly said, "Hey, while we're on the subject, there's something I've been meaning to ask you all night."

"What's that?" The kid seemed happy with the change of direction of the conversation.

"Well, you've been with a Japanese girl now, right? So how do we compare? With girls from your country I mean. Are there many differences?"

The kid stared at me. He went beet-red. "Ah, I don't know if I can answer that."

I realised then what a forward thing it was I was asking. I'd forgotten all about who we really were: a manager and her responsibility. A few drinks and I was treating him like someone I'd just met in a bar.

Hadn't I been doing that all night?

"Sorry," I said quickly. "Too personal, right?" I kicked myself. How sleazy and desperate must I seem to this kid? I should have just plopped my bare boobs in his face and started pawing at him, it would have been more subtle. I knocked back the rest of my drink and started eying off the beer the kid had got out as well. A few more drinks and maybe I'd wake up tomorrow having forgotten about all of this.

"N-no," said the kid. He'd taken a while to reply and I was surprised when he did. "It's just... ah, I can't answer your question because I've... uh, I've only ever been with one girl."

I frowned. "What? You mean Rika?"

He nodded, smiling shyly. "Yeah. She was my first... uh, first girlfriend I mean. But not my first, well... you know."

I stared at him. "You mean the two of you never actually...?"

He shook his head. "We did some other stuff, but we never actually went the... well, the whole way, I guess you call it."

The kid's smile was a mixture of shame and embarrassment and humility and utterly charming. Just what you'd expect from a virgin.

A virgin. I looked him over again as if seeing him for the first time. He really did look young. The mama-san hadn't been overreacting when she'd been worried he was underage. With his hair wet and slicked back, his skin pink and shower-fresh, he seemed especially childlike.

That earlier tension. It had never gone away. It revealed itself again with redoubled force. It was too much for me, now. I was naked under this bathrobe and I could feel myself getting gooey. There was no way the kid couldn't smell me in this condition. The thought of him knowing how excited I was made me even more even more excited.

I could just reach across to the kid - he was in grabbing distance. Maybe that whole thing about shoving my boobs in his face wasn't such a stupid idea after all.

Wait, no. Mie, focus. You've been drinking, remember? Think before you do anything...

The kid was focussed on his drink. His eyes flickered in my direction. I had been staring for a few seconds now, in total silence. You fool! He thinks you're horrified. Say something!

"A virgin, huh?" I put my drink down on the bedside table. "Well, we'll have to fix that then, won't we?"

The words were out before I really knew what I was saying. The kid stared at me, his eyes wide. He was shocked and confused and terrified and excited all at once.

I knew what I had to do. I had to laugh and act like it was a joke. I had to laugh and then the kid's heart would be broken and we'd lie down in this bed and go to sleep and wake up and go our separate ways and I'd have a lot less money this month in my budget, but I did say I'd treat him and...

And nothing would change. Nothing.

I didn't laugh. I leaned forward and kissed the terrified boy on the lips. He flinched - he actually flinched! - but when I took hold of his shoulders to keep him from escaping he pushed his lips back against mine. I darted the softest little subtle tap of my tongue against his lips before I broke away. I didn't want him to think this was some auntie-nephew kiss, some chaste little peck. I promised more, if he was brave.

He lay back, blinking at me. I smiled my most reassuring smile at him as he lifted his fingers to his lips.

"Wow," he said. "Uh..."

He was lucky I had such a thing for flustered, vulnerable boys, or otherwise that look of fear and bewilderment on his face might have ended everything with some other girl, with someone like Rika. Some women are afraid of virgins, after all. But for me it was a potent aphrodisiac.

I brought a hand to the front of his bathrobe and flicked it open, baring his chest. There was a little hair there, more than a Japanese guy's, but his skin... it was so pale. He was slightly tanned on his neck and arms and legs, but here, under his bathrobe, his skin was white, like a girl's skin. I ran my hand across his smooth skin and he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yes," I muttered. I don't know what I meant by that 'yes'. Was I telling him he was consenting, or was that 'yes' intended for me, telling myself that I wanted this? His skin shivered under my touch. I grabbed the hem of his bathrobe and pulled him across to me. He still had his drink in his hand and he spilled a bit.

"Oh shit," he said.

I tutted and took the drink from him. I downed it and placed the empty glass next to mine on the bedside.

"You know," I said. "It's bad luck to spill sake unless you're intending to do it as an offering."

I brought my lips up against his again. He was calmer now, so I took my time, enjoyed the sweet, liquory scent of his breath as I mouthed his bottom lip between my own. The kid actually gasped. Was he doing this on purpose? Was this whole innocence thing a come-on? Was he playing me?

No. He was no host-club boy, trained in pushing a woman's buttons. This kid was the real deal, a real honest-to-god virgin, and it was my hand that was sliding between the cotton of his bathrobe and his skin, across his chest, over his hard nipples and down his slim ribs to his flat stomach. And all the while I kissed him, hard, coaxing his timid tongue out of his mouth to play with the tip of mine.

At least the kid wasn't a virgin when it came to kissing. He must have done it at least a few times before.

The thought filled me with sudden jealousy and I kissed harder. I wasn't going to lose against those other girls! I'd show him what a Mie, what an old piece of Christmas cake has over a Rika...

I left him gasping. I guess I overdid it. But the kid was quickly becoming a shivering, sloppy mess.

I liked it. I didn't want to slow down. I pulled the bathrobe from his shoulders, revealing more of his skin.

"Ah, Nakagawa-san..."

"Shhh," I said. "Call me Mie."

I drew my lips, then, across his shoulder. His skin was smooth and cool as I traced his collarbone.

"So white," I murmured. "A soft, naked body. It's been too long."

I noticed then his arms were still hanging at his sides. He was too timid to touch me. I took hold of one hand and brought it to my neck. His fingertips brushed my skin and then he began to caress me. I cooed under his timid, tentative strokes. His inexperience was turning me on far more than some lothario's well-worn skills ever could.

Kazuo. Those hands had been good at whatever they touched. Shame he couldn't keep them off other women. I'd been willing to ignore the first few times I'd discovered his little things on the side. He'd get over it, I thought. But he never did. And now one of them was fucking him, no doubt, probably in a love hotel just like this one.

Fuck him. Fuck Kazuo. Fuck him for making me remember him even while I have this panting, delicious ice-cream-skinned kid, this boy drawing his fingers across my skin, cupping my breast...

It was my turn to gasp, then, as his fingers found a nipple. At least he knew what they were for! His other hand found its courage and soon he was cupping my breasts as I shrugged my bathrobe off my shoulders and let my breasts hang free.

Like I said, they're modest, but when you're leaning over, even modest breasts seem pretty impressive. And the kid had a handful of them.

His touch was gentle, sensitive and eager rather than rough. He didn't just squeeze my breasts like a lot of guys do. He knew that places other than the nipples brought pleasure as well.