June 24, 2009

Japanese Men [Part 1]

I had to slap her in her face to shut her yelping.

And she smiled still.
She was used to being treated around like that.
But not for the yelping though. Never for the yelping.

Japanese men. They like their women crying and moaning like little piglets.

This here was a very lovely specimen of Japanese beauty.
She would do every thing to please her man that broads back in my country would shudder to even think of.

Without thinking twice.

But the yelping. It made me nauseous.

Those stout little bastards, I thought. The way they treat their women I'd never treat my game.

I felt pity for her.
All the humiliation that she had been through being in the business.

And she smiled still.

And her baby face lit up with her smile. But I had to smack her to stop the yelping.

She spoke something in Japanese.
A high pitched slurry of gibberish.

I assumed she was cursing me for the slap.
I assumed it was a part of the game, part of the package.

Because she smiled.

And I go forward with my spoil of war.

My cellphone rings. Once. Twice.
Thrice.

Furious, I pick it up on the fourth ring. Its my boss.
Job Over. Come back by the next flight he says. And hangs up.

Short and precise, the message. Just the kind of person I like working for.

I get up. Tell her its time to leave.
Start putting my clothes on when there's a knock on the door.

That must be the champagne I ordered. What's the point now.

She looks at me, frightfully.
The night's over I tell her.
Get over with the act.

And I move forward to open the door.
More high pitched Japanese gibberish.
I don't take note. I don't know Japanese.

(to be continued)

__________________________________________
Imagery borrows heavily from Sin City. Classify this as fan fiction.



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