The Hotel Room - TokyobyCoolville©
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She is 9000 kilometres away. I am alone in this city where the languages I know are useless. I crave her. I long for her touch. What makes it all much worse is that she may not even be there when I return. I have no way of knowing. And despite that biting doubt I want her. Here on the bed of this hotel. Within these four anonymous walls. Looking up at me with those eyes of hers.
Which is why you're here. Which is why I was so determined to pursue you. So over-eager and driven by desire that I was sure you would laugh in my face. But you didn't.
Your eyes are like lightning, like waves, like a summer storm. Just like her eyes. That's what I first noticed about you upon seeing you for the first time. And that was in a photo. Four months passed between meeting you in a sleazy chatroom in the darker recesses of the internet and kissing you on both cheeks in the lobby of the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo.
In the chatroom you were literate, well-spoken and could spell. An unusual creature in such chatrooms. I was aroused by your fantasy in the games we played. I thought it was a one off. We exchanged emails but I didn't expect much.
I was surprised one day several photographs appeared in my inbox. Photographs of yourself. Explicit but tasteful. I hadn't asked for them. You merely offered them to me. But you don't even know me, I wrote. I know enough, you replied.
Looking at the photos I was stunned at how much you resembled her.
The very idea of meeting in person was insane. I often meet women in foreign cities but those affairs are brief and mutually anonymous. This was too planned, too calculated. I had mentioned that I would be in Tokyo for a four day visit. To my utter amazement you said you would meet me there. I hesitated but you were insistent and self-assured. Sex. Nothing more, you said. I wondered how much you knew about me. The internet is all too transparent. I couldn't be sure.
But when we saw each other in the lobby of the Imperial Hotel I knew it would be perfect. You walked like her, talked like her, even though your accent in English was different.
Why did you agree to meet me here? Perhaps you sensed my need and married it with your own. I don't know. Now you're here in my room and I don't care.
You look like her. The simple resemblance was enough to crave you. Your bodies are identical. So slim, so trim, so delicate. Your hair long and dark like hers. Your clothes share the same simple elegant style. Your breasts are just as gorgeous as hers: small, round and crowned with pert, attentive nipples.
I want you to be her for me. Do you sense that I wonder, looking into your eyes? I can't be sure. Even that look in your eyes is the same... it frightens me. Like you're constantly halfway out of the door. On your way to another man. Just like her. But for now, be here with me. Be her for me.
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