LENA
Kyoto became our relaxing sex getaway.
If we weren’t out sightseeing at one of the many temples, we were eating or screwing each other’s brains out.
After months of being constantly on edge with very few moments to ourselves, it felt quite liberating.
But, there was something lingering in the air, something that didn’t let us completely enjoy our time off.
We felt guilty even taking a few days to ourselves, because we knew we were already behind on our schedule. In a way, we’d embraced fully the Japanese mentality that work comes always first. It was hard for us to stop working and give our minds and bodies some time to recover.
By accident, we’d ended up in Kyoto during the weekend of the Jidai Matsuri, which celebrated the foundation of Kyoto. We stumbled upon the parade that traveled between the imperial palace and the Heian Shrine.
I dragged Amos around the old imperial capital and we visited all the major temples, including the ones I’d been to before—like the Ryoan-ji, one of the finest examples of Japanese Zen gardens—and the Rokuon-ji, Kyoto’s famed, postcard-worthy golden temple, also called Kinkaku-ji, which meant, Temple of the Golden Pavilion.
It was exceedingly beautiful in the fall, surrounded by Japanese maples in all shades of red.
I hadn’t been at peace with myself for a very long time, and despite the fact that I didn’t really believe in Shintoism or any other religion, there was something extremely calming about visiting each one of the temples Kyoto had to offer.
We scheduled our sightseeing hours around my acupuncture appointments with my friend Yuri. She agreed to come in during the weekend so I could have a couple extra sessions. I knew they weren’t going to be enough, but truth be told, I was already feeling better. I had been icing my wrist off and on since we’d gotten there, and without overworking it for hours a day, I’d felt some relief after the first acupuncture session.
“How do you feel?” Amos asked on Saturday evening. We’d been off on our adventure for three solid days.
“Much better, but guilty at the same time. Did you get to talk to Marty?”
“I did. He didn’t really have anything to add. He agreed that if you weren’t feeling well, it was a good idea to take a couple days off.”
We were walking along a little street filled with street food for the festival. We’d been sampling a bit of everything, from takoyaki, octopus balls made with flour and scraps of tempura, and yakitori, grilled chicken skewers, to dango, rice cakes on a stick covered with a sweet soy glaze.
We were stuffed, so we agreed to walk a little bit longer and head over to Gion, Kyoto’s entertainment district where to this day, you can still find geishas.
It’s a common misconception that a geisha is a concubine or a prostitute; in reality, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
A geisha is a highly skilled entertainer.
You could pay for her company to enjoy a traditional Japanese tea ceremony, have a conversation about literature, listen to her play the koto—the Japanese zither made of thirteen strings—or watch her dance a traditional Japanese dance.
I’d read somewhere that if you walked around Gion at dusk, you might have the chance to run into a geisha or two.
We got lucky and were able to spot three or four.
I didn’t want to stare, but it was hard to look away. There was something regal in their demeanor and attire. When my eyes met the gaze of a geisha walking opposite us, I bowed, not wanting to come across as the rude foreigner staring at a local attraction.
Amos’ fingers brushed against mine. His touch never failed to make me tingly.
“Do you know what I love about this place?”
I smiled and shook my head, eager to hear his impression. I loved seeing everything through his eyes, as if it were the first time for me, too.
“I love the way history and modernity seem to blend so easily. It might be a naïve and inaccurate observation, but I can’t think of another country where they constantly move toward progress and modernity without letting go of some core traditions.”
I understood what he meant; in Japan, more than in other places, there was such a mix of old and new, and it was especially true in Kyoto. When you arrived in town by train, the first thing you saw was the ultra-modern state-of-the-art station, the second largest in all of Japan.
But, once you stepped outside, you were surrounded by history, temples, and pre-war buildings.
“Did you know Kyoto was supposed to be hit by the atomic bomb?” Amos shook his head no. “I’ve read it was Secretary of War Henry Stimson’s idea to remove it from the target list. Can you imagine what the city would look like today if it had been hit? Its entire history would have been wiped out in a matter of seconds.”
Amos gave me a long look, and then the corner of his mouth curled up.
“You’re sexy when you talk history.”
“I didn’t know history turned you on.”
“Only when it comes from your lips.”
I laughed softly and looked away from his serious brown eyes.
He stopped me, one of his hands on my hip, the other cradling my cheek.
“What are you doing?” I whispered as his lips got mere inches from mine. “Are you trying to shock people passing by?”
He laughed, and his warm breath washed over my face. We’d never been closer than we had been in the last few days, and even though we’d spent plenty of time exploring each other’s bodies, the electric current between us was always there. Even when we tried to put some distance between us in public and tried to tone down the sexual tension, the feeling was always there, always present.
All we needed for the switch to come back on was a simple touch or caress.
Amos ran two fingers down the side of my neck, all the way to my collarbone, making me shiver. What was he doing? How far was he going to go?
“I need your lips, Lena. Right now,” he said in a gravelly voice that sent shivers down my spine. I swallowed, unable to push him away. I glanced around and made sure no one was paying attention to us.
I brought one of his hands under my shirt, all the way up to my breast. He pulled me close, and I could feel him hard against me.
I wanted him.
I wanted his hands all over me.
“Not here. Come.”
We found a few corners of Kyoto where we could kiss undisturbed.
By the time we made it back to our hotel, we were frantic.
I was ready to get down to it, but Amos had other ideas.
He told me to get undressed, and I did, but he didn’t take his clothes off. Instead, he grabbed my suitcase and opened it.
“What are you doing?” I asked him as he rummaged through my bag. “What are you looking for?” I wasn’t as much appalled that he was going through my things as I was curious.
“Your thing—you always take it with you, don’t you? What did you say to me that night? Ah, yes: ‘a lady must always be prepared.’” He gave me a wicked grin and grabbed one of the kimonos the hotel had given us.
“Wear this,” he ordered. I did as he asked and then grabbed the belt.
“No, leave it open. Get on the bed.”
I frowned. “Any more requests, m’lord?”
He leaned down and kissed me, the tip of his tongue licking my lips, parting them. He gave me the sweet taste of his mouth for only a few seconds then retreated just as I was getting lost in his kiss.
He was a fucking tease.
“Do as I say.” His breath washed over my face. Glaring at him, I did as he asked, lying down on the bed with my body on full display.
“Aha! Found it!” He came to the bed victorious, holding my vibrator in his hand. “Look at this, so smooth—I bet it feels amazing. Will you show me?” he asked, touching the large round tip of my vibrator as I gave him a horrified look.
“But, why?”
He leaned in, close enough so our noses were touching. “Because it’s fucking hot…because I’ve had the image of you pleasuring yourself in my mind for as long as I can remember. As a matter of fact, I can’t believe I haven’t suggested this already.”
I lifted myself up and turned off the light on impulse, but he turned it back on.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.
“You’ve never been shy about your body—why start now?”
He had a point, but for some reason, masturbating in front of him made me feel suddenly shy.
“When I say I want to see you, I mean I really want to see you.” He leaned in for a kiss. I kissed him back, hands wrapped around his neck, suddenly needing more of him.
Too much talking, not enough kissing and touching. He broke the kiss and then nibbled at my bottom lip.
“What about my brace? Can I take it off?”
“No. Use your left hand.”
“Ugh! All this foreplay is going to kill me,” I grumbled, and he laughed, eyes bright with amusement. “Give me my vibrator and let’s get this show started,” I told him, sticking my hand out. He swallowed, his eyes suddenly darker.
“So, what are you going to do while I go to town on myself?”
“I have an idea.”
“Of course you do.”
He walked to the desk in our hotel room, grabbed his bag, and took out a sketchpad and a pencil.
“Lie down,” he ordered. “I want to draw you.”
I opened my mouth to object, but I knew it was pointless once I saw the look of determination in his eyes.
“Let me watch you, Lena. Let me sketch you.”
I threw myself back on the mattress and parted my legs.
“Ready?” I asked him in the most seductive tone I could muster. I was nervous; I had never done this in front of anyone. He nodded, eyes focused on me. I pressed the on button of the vibrator and saw him swallow.
I spread my legs open and placed the tip of the buzzing device against my clit. I didn’t take my eyes off of him.
Suddenly, something shifted inside me. I felt powerful. I liked holding his attention this way.
His pencil began to move across the paper. He was sketching me.
The emotion bubbled up in my chest, and combined with the arousal between my thighs, it was too much. It didn’t help that my toy was designed to make you lose control quickly. I closed my eyes and pressed it harder against my center. I touched one of my breasts, squeezing it gently, toying with the nipple, and I let out a strangled moan as the pleasure intensified. I opened my eyes from time to time, stealing a glance his way.
He looked so serious, so beautiful. Eyebrows drawn, he licked his lips, and that made me thirsty for him. He looked completely captivated by what was unfolding in front of him. His eyes, charged with lust, were busy drawing my likeness.
His lips parted and he let out a long breath as I reached my climax, shuddering, legs shaking.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as I came down from my high.
I found him staring at me, looking like he’d just seen the greatest thing in the world.
“Satisfied?” I asked, my voice low and gravelly.
“I will be when I’m inside of you, but look at this.” He flipped the sketchpad and showed me his drawing. It was definitely me, with a look of ecstasy on my face, legs spread and all.
“Look how beautiful you are,” he said in a voice so soft it brought tears to my eyes. I looked at him sheepishly, pretty sure I couldn’t hide the blush on my cheeks.
I wasn’t short on experience, but this was the most intimate I’d ever been with anyone. The more I was with Amos, the more I needed to have every part of him.
I’d never experienced anything like it.
My thirst, my need for him was unparalleled.
I cradled his face and brought my lips to his, kissing him softly.
“Get inside of me right now.”