The Long Highway Pt. 35C

Hiroko translated

I dreamt that some robbers entered a couple's home while they were making love. The scene was their living room, which was wide and black like the loft-style space where I'd modeled with others for the product photo shoot- remember, the producer called to offer me another job. The dark and light in the room was the same, light luminous in filaments like your semen, light that looked as if it were reflected from an indoor pool, shallow, slate-bottomed (like the one at the Japanese culture center where I sometimes go for exhibitions). The light floated and wriggled through the darkness, soft and filmy, as your cream flows almost without sensation through the open web of my fingers or how I feel it shoot inside me. Like stars in a clear night sky, far away yet close, distances on a vast scale but also a human one. The space between stars could be measured by the span of my fingers.

The man in the dream, who'd been on top of his wife or girlfriend, got off but she was still so excited, into the sex, she didn't even realize he was gone. She kept moving as if they were still at the height of their lovemaking. It would be a while before she'd discover he wasn't with her any more but off addressing the robbers, meaning to protect him and her in their home. She lay back as before on the black flat sofa surface like a bed, narrowed but wide enough, black sofa in that room of wide nocturnal pleasures that had been in full swing. She hadn't stopped. Her thighs were still working, her hips flexing, her back arched, her mouth open, breathing hard, fast and shallow, caught up in the spell as much as ever, not stopping yet but for the moment sustaining even increasing the rhythm she and he had built before the break-in, which happened almost silently, by stealth, the figures of the intruders silhouetted, darker shapes moving two dimensional against the darkness of the space into which they'd stepped. The woman hadn't heard or seen them, was off in her own world to which her man had delivered her. She saw and felt and heard only the sights and sounds and sensations he and she had created, those that had rung out and still echoed.

In the meantime one of the robbers could take the lover's place with her. She was ready for any man, any penis then, might not even notice the difference. Transported, as if on another planet or just in outer space, free, feeling her body and the weightlessness of the cosmos. The robber could have gotten on top and taken over, even if he didn't have an erection yet; he would as soon as he was inside her. Would one of the robbers do that?

I'd like you to come to me in the dark that way, when I was so excited I welcomed you sight unseen, and you deliver me, we deliver each other. I get orgasm from you!

Mitchell told me that when he was breaking up with his past girlfriend, when they were having their "breakup conversation," he told her he loved her. She looked embarrassed, had misunderstood, he said. She didn't see that by announcing his love he meant he was ready to leave her.

Sometimes I don't understand Mitchell though I live with him. You and I are distant but I understand you! Please keep close to me in feeling and action. I like your feeling and action so much!

--

I don't think my dreams are good or bad. They come from activities in the day and magnify them through the lens of thoughts and feelings. They seem to match my mood and sometimes heighten it, usually in a good way. Even a bad dream can feel good, in the same way that bad people aren't always bad.

I think the group modeling assignment I told you about left more of an impression than I knew. It wasn't recent but the atmosphere that day has stayed with me. I don't know why. I was in a different setting than usual, with people different than I usually meet. Maybe I saw a world opening up. Modeling? It isn't something I've ever thought of doing professionally, just an occasional opportunity, not likely to affect my life deeply. Yet that one time stayed in my mind where I couldn't really see until last night's dream.

Mitchell likes to take photographs, sometimes of things others wouldn't see as interesting. For example, yesterday we were leaving a friend's home and he wanted to stop and take pictures of a coat his friend had laid out to dry from rain. He said the shape reminded him of an Egyptian sculpture from antiquity.

He has a strong photographer's eye, as I have a painter's eye. He says he can see when I'm feeling sexual, that it shows on my face, in the quality and color of my skin. That makes me feel embarrassed to go outside but also want to.

Sometimes Mitchell wants to kiss in public, where people can see, though I'm from an old-fashioned culture that values modesty.

Taking about the modeling assignment, I spoke to Mitchell about the work I did in Japan before moving here, my job in fashion, which I'd studied in college. I told him about a country retreat the company used, we'd take trips there sometimes. I mentioned taxis and said those were only used by foreigners, clients who visited. The rest of us, Japanese, used the company car.

I said that as an example of Japanese prejudice but Mitchell didn't find it troubling. Instead, he got excited at the idea of being treated differently. He got hard.

I explained to him we Japanese even dressed in a way distinct from foreigners- westerners. We wore black bras that were stylish, unlike those of visitors. As Japanese, we kept our secrets, of fashion and others.

I have a black strapless bra Mitchell likes. Black like the loft-style space where we did the modeling photo shoot. By "we," I mean the others hired and me; Mitchell wasn't there, just the producer. He had the elegant hands of an artist, the way he used them to shape space, showing how he wanted the photo to look, our poses he wanted.

Mitchell got hot when I told him about times away from him. He wanted us close more, to mold my breasts with his hands.

Mitchell told me next about his job, about the people he enjoys working with at the college, also about the money he makes. Was he trying to make me jealous excited in turn?

What would you have done if you were there? Would you have wanted me to put you in my mouth to make him watch, all the wet loud and fast, how hard you were, until you came all over my throat, my face. And I used my tongue to clean it off, and my fingers. Like a cat. We were like two animals making love, one bristly soft-furred on top of the other saying, "I couldn't imagine we'd get so close like this."

And there was nothing Mitchell could do to stop us because I wanted it. You hadn't forced me.

Just thinking about you makes me so wet and molten, open. I get orgasm! I want you to fuck my face! I want it! So thick!

Mitchell talked about visiting a friend. She's an old student. When he's at their apartment her husband will be out. He works very long hours supporting his family of immigrants while his wife pushes for their children to get a good education. They have two sons, one starting college already, the other in high school.

And I thought of you visiting while Mitchell is away. I'd like to reach my finger down to the soft orbs under your stalk and kiss your stalk lightly to start.

When I first knew Mitchell, I could make him hard just by words. Can I with you? We opened a world together.

Words aren't easy. After making love, Mitchell asked me my condition. I said, "It's good. I'm like.. I'm like.. I can't remember!" Because of English!

--

Last night we watched the President's speech. I didn't understand much but heard him talk about the U.S. economy, which is good, better than Japan's.

Mitchell still hasn't finished paying back his student loans and now is thinking of taking out a mortgage for a country house- he always talks about moving away from the city. I think I've told you about our trips to look at houses.

He laughs at the risk of having more debt payments than he can afford on his salary. He said in the worst case he can declare personal bankruptcy. I warned him it isn't that easy, there are consequences, and they would affect me too since we live together.

Americans seem to me irresponsible compared to others. Mitchell said they're willing to take chances and that makes them more creative than Japanese. I think he's right that there's good and bad in both countries. America innovates. I came here to try being creative as an artist by painting.

--

Friday afternoon and night

I would like to tell you about a part of my daily life. It might be boring, though.

I went to the dentist for a checkup. The people in the office are so nice. They're friendly with me and have humor about their work. After the exam and cleaning, the dentist walked with me to the reception area, talking, having fun. I felt so comfortable that I put my hand on her shoulder, as if with a friend. She stopped and posed for a picture with the novocaine needle at her neck, a funny image.

Mitchell and I met outside and came home together, stopped on the way for food shopping. When we arrived and I unpacked the groceries I saw something was missing.

"Is it possible?" I forgot to buy sauce for Thai curry dinner I was making.

"Should I go back and get it?" Mitchell asked. "I will if you want."

"No, that isn't necessary," I said. I saw he was tired from work.

Then I changed my mind.

"Actually, if you could it would be good."

I realized that the Thai curry without the sauce wouldn't be good.

Mitchell had only meant his offer as a gesture but agreed to go out again.

"I don't know where to find it."

We'd shopped at a Chinese market and he thought he couldn't navigate the aisles full of goods with labels impossible for him to read. He might also use that problem as an excuse for not returning to the store after all.

I told him the name of the sauce was Thai. He went to the market and the store owner didn't understand his pronunciation of the funny-sounding Thai word. He looked for what he thought Mitchell wanted and brought something back and showed him.

"Those are biscuits," Mitchell said. The owner had misunderstood. He didn't speak English well.

Mitchell explained more clearly and the owner, a little annoyed now, maybe thinking, "Why did this American customer come to shop at a Chinese store," said he'd look in the stock room. The curry sauce was not out on the shelf. Maybe that's the reason I forgot to buy it.

Mitchell got home and all was well. We had a good dinner. We were in a light mood, it was the weekend, after all, and even made love.

- - -

I remember when you were here we were walking to a house to visit friends of yours, film people, and from inside we heard a song, lyrics about "being in the sun" or "rising sun." It wasn't about Japan lol but about a state of mind.

You said, "People think it means 'be happy,' but they're wrong. It isn't only that."

"It isn't a metaphor," I said, "You think people should really be exposed to the sun. I understand. As a film-maker, light is important to you."

You're a consummate artist. The more I think about you, the more you impress me.