‘Will you be there, Cousin Lydia?’
‘I’m the guest of honor.’
‘Is it your birthday?’ He smiled and I caught a glimpse of a snaggle tooth, like a fang, which made him still more attractive.
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, I’ve got something to do around eight, but I’ll try to stop by after.’ He winked at me and was gone.
Mike did show up around eleven, which was a good thing, because after the initial interviews, I wasn’t too keen on Caroline’s college boy offerings. Their smiles had the twinkle of perfection, and their pedigrees were flawless, but all they seemed to be able to talk about was their new cars or how clever they were to arrange their college schedules so they didn’t have classes on Friday.
When I spotted a tousled Mike on the patio by the keg, I made a point to saunter by while he was filling his cup.
‘Another beer, Lydia?’
Slightly tipsy and reckless as only a girl determined to lose her virginity can be, I went for the direct approach. ‘Thanks, but just a little. I’m going to have sex tonight and I want to be in top form.’
He laughed. ‘Who’s the lucky guy?’
Did they all fall into the trap so easily? I leaned closer. ‘Why, you, of course. You’re the most interesting guy here by far. So maybe,’ I jerked my chin at his beer, ‘you might want to take it easy, too.’
Amusement, disbelief, and a glimmer of hope played over his expression like flickering lights. ‘Don’t worry. I can probably handle a few more of these before my powers are seriously compromised. By the way, if you don’t mind my asking, when are we going to have sex? Is this an immediate thing or do we have time to dance first?’
‘Dancing sounds good. We can establish a rhythm for later when we’re in bed.’ I looked into his eyes and smiled.
‘You’d be good at poker.’ Mike smiled back and hooked an arm around my shoulder to guide me downstairs to the ‘dance floor’ Caroline had set up in the rec room.
As we joined the crush of bodies, I managed to wink at Caroline who was perched on the wet bar surveying her domain, while her boyfriend nibbled her ear. I saw her say something to the guy filling in as DJ and one song later, Mike and I were glued together in a slow dance, his hard-on pressing against me.
I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. ‘Should we talk and get to know each other better before we have sex or wait until after?’
He drew back and gave me another searching look.
‘Do you think I’m kidding?’ I flashed him a smile.
‘Damned if I know,’ he said, but apparently it didn’t matter because when we came together again, we were kissing. It wasn’t my first kiss, but it was my first nice one. Harris used his tongue with the desperate athleticism of a salmon swimming upstream. But Mike’s kiss was as slow and melting as the first hot day in June, tasting of strawberries, sugar and dreams.
Caroline winked her approval as we headed up the stairs, bound for her bedroom. We’d made her bed beforehand with her dark-green Chinese print sheets, in case there was blood, and she’d showed me where the condoms were hidden in the nightstand drawer.
‘Are you sure it’s OK if we use your cousin’s bed?’ Mike said, frowning at the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the doorknob, which I ignored.
‘Oh yes, she knows we’re going to have sex. She reserved it especially for us.’
He shook his head and laughed again.
And then, well, I don’t remember exactly how we got naked, or who pushed whom down on the bed, or when exactly we stopped kissing and started doing other things, but there were more than a few firsts that night.
It was the first time a guy kissed my breasts so softly and slowly that I learned that lips tugging gently on my nipple could make me wet between my legs.
It was the first time I tried Marybeth’s lesson on a real penis—thank you Marybeth for a gift that keeps on giving. It was bigger than a thumb, but far more interesting. I loved the way it twitched when I stroked it, the way it grew even harder in my mouth, the way Mike moaned softly as he watched me do it, eyes glowing.
It was the first time I heard my favorite sound on earth—his sweet groan of homecoming as he slid inside my cunt.
And then, somehow, it wasn’t new any more. It was as if I’d always known this: his warm weight pressing me down, his musky boy’s smell, his soft lips and slick, snaky tongue, his satin-tipped hard-on and the taut curve of his ass. Then of course, that moment when he bucked and groaned and went crazy because of me just being there, just being.
I didn’t come that night—that first would happen thanks to the persistence and skill of the justly famed cunnilinguist Doug—but I was happy enough to take my ecstasy once-removed. Mike, bless him, didn’t ask too many questions.
I was the one who decided to confess as we lay together afterwards, just like on TV, with my head resting against his shoulder and his arm around me like we were a real couple. ‘That was the first time I’ve ever been with a guy, you know.’
‘Lydia, you can stop kidding around now,’ he said, but gently. Didn’t he notice that, of course, all my ‘jokes’ turned out to be true?
‘Why do you think I’m kidding?’
He frowned. ‘First of all, you give great head. There’s no way that was your first time. You’re a pro. Well, I didn’t mean it that way, you know, just that you knew exactly what to do.’ He laughed, embarrassed, and stroked my hair. ‘And then, well, you were really into it.’
‘I do like to joke around. It’s an old habit.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie.
‘You know what? You’re fun. It’s easy to be with you.’ He pulled me on top of him. ‘Wanna do it again?’
I nodded. Back in my high school, a million years and a billion miles away from where I was now, naked and straddling Mike’s hard belly, it was a bad thing for a girl to be ‘easy.’ Now I knew the secret.
It was good.
CHAPTER ONE
At first, my love affair with Japan seemed just as easy, a feast laid out for my pleasure, not the keg beer and pizza of Caroline’s parties, but icy chuhai cocktails and okonomiyaki, a savory pancake of cabbage, egg and smoky fish sauce ‘fried as you like it.’
I was twenty-two, fresh out of college, and hungry for new flavors of every kind. Each day of my first year in Kyoto brought some wonderful new discovery—a mysterious fox shrine tucked away in a winding alley, the beguiling sweetness of bean jam wrapped in soft rice pastry, a lovely boy bowing nervously as I ushered him into my apartment. Even in the recollection there is magic. The whole year seems to fold in on itself like a dancer’s fan, leaving one perfect day in high summer.
I awoke that August morning with a naked young man snuggled against me, his hard-on pressing into the cleft of my ass. This was not an uncommon event, but I was relieved that this time I remembered his name. My bed partners were almost always college students, the only Japanese males with the leisure for impromptu flings with the English conversation teacher, so exchanging business cards was not usually part of our courtship ritual. A quick cup of Nescafé Gold Blend would usually shake loose a surname from my sleep-fogged brain, although I still found it strange to call a man ‘Mr. Aoki’ or ‘Mr. Nakamura’ after we’d spent the night doing it in every which position on my futon.
But Hiroyuki had been staying over regularly for a few weeks now, so I even knew his first name, too.
‘Hiro-kun. Wake