God, she’s even hotter than before.
Marvin was sitting at the counter in Funky Sisters, his favorite bar in Sapporo. As always he had positioned himself at a spot that provided him a clear view of the patrons as they entered. The bar was busy tonight, filled with young Japanese women dressed in a manner that would by no means be considered conservative (hence, Marvin’s appreciation of the place), and the woman he was now ogling had arrived moments ago and was presently making her way toward the counter. Seeing Marvin, she smiled in recognition of the young American. Marvin smiled back, delighted that she remembered him. They had, in fact, met at this very same bar just over three years previously.
But we didn’t stay here long!
No, no doubt swayed by his considerable charms, the woman in fact had escorted Marvin back to her apartment within ten minutes of meeting him. There they had begun making out nearly immediately and…
And Marvin’s smile faded as he recalled what had evidently happened next. Evidently, because Marvin’s memory of the evening was more than a bit hazy. Both had been drunk, Marvin perhaps more so than the woman, and his last true recollection of the night was his struggle to remove her bra. Still, blank memory notwithstanding, there was no doubt in Marvin’s mind that he and the woman had indeed completed what they’d set out to do. Hailing the activities of that night as his greatest triumph in Japan, to his considerable distress it had also proved to be his only triumph and as his frustrations with the opposite sex in the country mounted, he gradually became obsessed with the memory of that night, and yearned for another opportunity to meet the woman. Nearly a year later, fate chanced to bring about a long awaited second encounter, only for Marvin to learn how the events of their initial rendezvous had actually unfolded. Sadly, it had not in fact been a momentous event in his sexual history. Instead, so eager had he been at the prospect of hooking up with a truly beautiful and inordinately sexy young woman, Marvin had ended up delivering his “manhood” before he could even get his underpants off, and immediately afterward passed out in a drunken stupor.
Recalling this, as he looked at the woman who had now reached the counter and was still smiling at him, Marvin wondered if she’d come to mock him. Shaken by this unpleasant thought, he tried to look away, pretending that he either hadn’t seen her, or even if he had, had decided she wasn’t worth another glance. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her; there was just something about her that was magnetic. As he gazed almost spellbound at her, she continued smiling back at him without saying a word.
As the two looked at each other silently, it occurred to Marvin that something in the woman’s appearance seemed different. She was still tiny; Marvin towered over her, and this had been part of her initial appeal. (At 5 feet 5 inches, Marvin was not a tall person even in Japan and it had been gratifying to feel big while in her presence.) Despite her short stature, she had lovely legs, which she was now displaying prominently in shorts that may as well have been a bikini thong for as much skin that they covered. Her hair, as before, was shoulder length and tinted red and her facial features were just as he remembered (beautiful in every way). So what was it that was so diff—
Her tits! Her tits are a lot bigger!
As if reading his thoughts, the woman momentarily stopped looking at Marvin and glanced down at her chest. Then, returning her gaze to Marvin, her smile widening, she pantomimed yawning, thrusting her chest so that her breasts were only inches from the entranced man’s face. Flabbergasted, Marvin nevertheless felt a familiar stirring beginning to occur just below his waist.
The woman stopped “yawning” after a moment and at last broke the silence pervading between the two of them.
“Hello Marvin, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”
Marvin’s eyes widened. What in the world was this? The woman had never been able to string together three words of English without mangling the language. Concluding that she must have spent some time abroad in the last couple of years or so, Marvin hesitantly nodded in greeting.
“Yeah, it’s good to see you too. How’ve you been?”
“Just great, thanks. But I’ve been a little lonely.” The woman pursed her lips into a pout.
“Is that right? I’m uh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
The woman smiled again. “You’re sweet,” she said, and placed both her hands on Marvin’s shoulders and stared steadily into his eyes. “I’m really happy to see you again, Marvin,” she said, her smile momentarily being replaced by a serious expression. “Really happy.”
What the fuck? Marvin forced himself to look away from the woman and glanced about the bar. Am I being set up here? Is there some hidden camera recording all this?
“No, Marvin, I’m serious. I’ve been looking all over for you and now you’re finally here!”
Marvin blinked rapidly. How did this woman know exactly what he was thinking? For that matter, how did she know his name? It had always been a point of pride that he had never actually formally introduced himself to the woman. Less hassle that way. Pondering how she could have possibly learned his name despite his caution, he remembered that some of his old friends had been present during their second encounter. Theoretically, it was possible they could have mentioned his name in front of her at the time. Still, her English had been so rudimentary that the likelihood of her actually being able to understand that “Marvin” constituted his name would have been almost impossibly slim.
The woman continued to stare into his eyes and slowly moved her hands from his shoulders to both cheeks. “You’re even better looking than I remember,” she said.
The stirring below increased. Unable to think clearly, Marvin found himself in an unfamiliar position, one in which he was at a loss for words. He swallowed once, and then again, and finally managed to say, the words leaving his mouth almost as a gasp, “Your English has gotten really good.”
“Oh, I’m not speaking English,” the woman replied.
Huh? Hopelessly confused, Marvin stared at the woman before saying, “You’re not what? Of course you’re speaking English.”
“No, I’m speaking in Japanese, and so are you. Your Japanese is most skillful.”
“Yes, it is very good,” called out a person behind Marvin. “Maybe Marvin-san has studied very hard.”
Marvin whirled around to see who had spoken. There stood Yoshimura, one of the English teachers at the high school in which Marvin had once taught. The teacher was beaming. “Maybe you are almost like a native Japanese speaker,” he said.
Now what in the hell is he doing here? Dumbfounded, Marvin struggled to comprehend his apparent prowess in Japanese. “I...I don’t understand. I can’t speak Japanese. I’ve never been able to speak it. How can this be happening?”
“That isn’t important,” the young woman said. “What’s of greater importance is that you and I finish what we started three years ago.”
“No. No ‘buts.’ You’re here, I’m here. It’s time.” The woman slowly removed one of her hands from his cheeks and gently moved it downward, brushing it against his neck, his chest, his stomach and finally resting it lightly on his groin, which responded as one would expect. Feeling this, the woman arched her eyebrows and gave him a smile, the look on her face almost wicked in its seductiveness. “I think we are ready.”
Aware that the entire scene was playing out in the manner of a B grade adult film, still bewildered as to how he suddenly became so adept at Japanese, and extremely puzzled by Yoshimura’s presence, Marvin nonetheless felt no desire to resist the advances of the woman before him. Why should I? She was stunning and he was desperate. Most importantly, she was all…over…him. Him! What was there to think about? He looked around the bar. All of the other patrons were going about their business, as if there wasn’t anything the least bit unusual about a woman placing her hand on a man’s crotch in a public place. None was paying any attention to Marvin other than Yoshimura, who grinned and flashed him a thumbs-up.
“Well, all right then,” he said to the woman, who by now had started gently stroking him. “Let’s get busy.” He shook his head in wonderment. “I’ve gotta tell you, you’re about the hottest woman I’ve ever made it with.”
“Woman?” Marvin turned as he heard Yoshimura speak. “Maybe that is not a woman.” With amusement evident in his voice, he continued as Marvin stared at him. “I think maybe that is what we call a ‘New half.’ It is a man who wants to look like a woman.” He looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, “I think it is good that you are more tolerant of different lifestyles. Before you have said many bad things about gay people.”
“What the fuck are you babbling about?” Christ, he’s still a moron. “This could very well be the hottest girl on the face of the planet and you’re saying she’s a man? Jesus.” Marvin shook his head in bemusement. “Can you believe that idiot?” he said, as he turned again to face the woman. “If you want, I’ll be more than happy to kick his—”
Midway through his threat to thrash Yoshimura, Marvin stopped cold. The “hottest girl on the face of the planet” had seemingly in the blink of an eye undergone a transformation. No changes in the lower torso, the legs were still fantastic. The breasts, moreover, were as glorious as ever. No, it was the face that was presently causing Marvin to gape. No longer was it that of the woman whom he had fantasized about so often. Instead, it was now that of a transsexual of some notoriety in Japan, one who appeared on almost countless television variety shows, and who was regularly mocked by many in Japan’s foreign community—including, and perhaps especially Marvin—as a symbol of the country’s lack of masculinity. Even worse, the hand belonging to this new face was continuing its gentle stroking and Marvin was responding to it.
“It’s time,” the woman-turned-man repeated.
“No,” Marvin muttered. “No, no, no, no, no. This is not happening.” But indeed it was and there was nothing he could do about it. His body having seemingly no will of its own, he was unable to push away the hand that was proving exceedingly effective.
In a panic he looked around the bar. Unlike just a few moments previously, everyone in the place was now staring at him. As he watched, the patrons began to applaud. Incredibly, the clapping was in perfect rhythm with the hand caresses taking place, in turns rapid and slow. Continuing to stare, Marvin noticed that several members of the audience looked familiar. Was that Terry he saw? And Brett? And how was it possible that Todd and Chad could be here? Those two had left Japan years ago.
“No,” Marvin said again, looking around wildly. What was happening here? Out of the corner of his eye he could see Yoshimura smiling broadly, nodding with approval at the scene. Marvin grimaced, willing himself to resist the pleasure he was feeling from the activities taking place below. He simply could not allow a man to arouse him.
“Look at me, Marvin” he heard the young man say. “Look at me.”
“No. I won’t. I can’t.” Desperately, Marvin tried shutting his eyes. However, similar to just a few minutes prior when first approached, he was powerless to resist, and once again found himself looking into the eyes of the person before him.
“Why bother fighting it, Marvin?” the man said. “We all know how this is going to end…again.”
And he was right. There wasn’t anything he could do and contrary to his protests, there was no denying that his little Marvin was in fact enjoying the attention immensely. Horrified, Marvin pleaded with his body to hold steady, but knew he was fighting a losing battle. The stroking became faster and more intense, as did the applause. All the while, Yoshimura continued smiling and nodding. As he continued to heat up in response to the man’s administrations, Marvin breathing became more and more jagged and just when he thought he couldn’t take it any longer, and was ready to let go—
At the sound of his alarm clock, Marvin sat up quickly in his bed. Turning the alarm off, he sat still for a long moment. At last, taking a deep breath, he slowly lowered his hand to his waist. Fuck. His boxers were sopping wet. Not again. Sighing, he looked around the room before he slowly rose and walked toward the washroom. It was 7:45, he had to be at work in less than an hour, and the day, like so many days in the past few years, was already off to a horrendous start. Once again, Marvin sighed.
“I fucking hate this fucking country.”