Chapter 1 When did I realize I would never get what I wanted most?
Maybe I was in my twenties. Or maybe I was a child, just old enough to make sense of the world. Back when I did nothing but glare at everyone around me, what I wanted most was far away. It was not something tangible. It made my skin burn. It ignored all the rules. It went beyond morals and reason. It was something that could overturn the foundations of everything I thought my life would become. I wonder if I still want it. What would I do if I got it?
The man in front of me, bathed in blue light, was looking at me. I smiled and watched the passion build in his eyes. He glanced at my chest, then returned his gaze to my face. He acted relaxed as he closed in on me one step at a time.
“I can’t believe it. I’d never have thought you were a prostitute.”
Properly speaking, I’m not a prostitute, but I smiled anyway. The man slid his fingers between mine.
“I don’t tell anyone I don’t like,” I said. “It’s wonderful. Much better than watching TV.”
I pressed my body against his and kissed his neck. I held his hand gently, and brought it up to my chest. He touched my chest reluctantly. Though I didn’t feel anything special, I began to mix heavy breathing into my speech.
“. . .You can forget it all. Do what you want to me. Mmm . . . Whatever you want.”
His temperature rose. Humans do not always make
rational decisions. When our senses are shaken, we become defenseless. I felt the hand on my breast growing bolder. I stroked the man’s lips with my finger, and put a pill in his mouth.
“What’s this?”
“It’s kind of like a mild Viagra. You can get it at any pharmacy, but it’s pretty good.”
I stretched my legs from my short skirt and forced them between his. I kissed his neck, wrapped my arms around him, and whispered, “Let’s do it. Let’s do it.” With my lips pressed against his neck, I felt him swallow the pill. He pushed me violently onto the bed. He was completely engrossed in me. I held his body against my chest. The feeling that I was in control of him got me hot. There was no sign of his turning back. I pretended to fool around, avoided his kisses, and wrapped my arms around his neck. I gently petted the man’s head. His face was buried in my chest. I continued stroking his head until he stopped moving.
I watched the man with detachment as his hands began to slow. Strangely, looking into those half-closed eyes, I got hot again at my own act of treachery. The heat traveled through my body, raising my pulse and causing sounds of joy to gurgle up from deep inside me. I slowly brought my mouth to his ear.
“Don’t worry. It’s not poison.”
There was something evil in the glow of the room’s blue lights. I felt the weight of the man on top of me. He could no longer move. His eyes were closed. I stared long into his face. I realized that I wanted him. I wanted the passion he had until a moment ago. I wanted his shoulders, which were quite muscular for his age, and his naturally tan face. I got out from under his body, sat in a chair, and lit a cigarette. I had to wait like this until he fell into a deep sleep.
It was raining outside.
The quiet rising up from the man’s body joined the sound of the rain.
I carefully removed the man’s light blue shirt, and then slowly pulled his white tank top off over his head. His tanned chest was broad, like I thought it would be. I took off my blouse, so I only had on a bra, and put on sunglasses. I lay in bed next to the topless man, put his arm under my head, and took several pictures of us head on. I also recorded a video. Last time, when my victim was a politician, I understood why I’d been hired. Why anyone needed these kinds of pictures of a TV anchor, I didn’t know. I expected he thought I was just a normal person drinking in that bar. He probably hadn’t thought I’d been watching him the whole time.
After carefully redressing him, my job was done. I’d created a point of weakness in his life. I took some money from his wallet and put it in my own. I saw a receipt from an expensive Japanese restaurant, and his gym membership card. I lit another cigarette, and wrote a message on the hotel’s note pad.
“I didn’t touch your cards. Procuring prostitutes is illegal . . . I’m sure you understand.”
The very existence of prostitutes is illegal, so when he’d tried to buy me, he’d become a criminal, too. He had been seduced into criminality. Who with any standing in society would go to the police over this much money? When he read the note I left, he’d think only his money was stolen. But really, he’d be wrong.
The blue lights in the hotel room were still letting off their evil glow. What were those lights illuminating? Maybe the petty crime of this man who had tried to buy me, even though he had a ring on his finger? Or maybe, my existence.
I carefully fixed my makeup in the bathroom, put on my coat, and left the room. Though the building didn’t stand out much, on the inside it was a luxury love hotel. I exited the elevator and as I walked past the front desk, Saito said, “Good night.” At places like this, you can only see the wrists of whoever’s working the front desk, but I happen to know Saito has a very handsome face.
“You too. Sorry if he makes a fuss.”
“It’ll be fine.”
The lobby’s huge, gaudy chandelier made me feel better. Its showiness seemed to mock the world. When I left the hotel, the men walking the late-night streets looked at me, their gazes crossing one another’s, full of all kinds of emotions. I walked slowly through all of those gazes. A black car was parked on the side of the hotel like it was meant to be there. It reflected, or maybe repelled, the neon lights. It was a luxury car. Some brand I didn’t know. I opened the door and got in. The heater wasn’t even on inside.
The man in the driver’s seat didn’t say anything when I got in. He says his name is Yata, but that’s probably not his real name. When I showed him the digital camera, he took it casually and put it in his attaché case. Yata’s eyes are small, and his face is plain, but he has beautiful fingers.
“You can get the pictures of him going in from Saito.”
“I already got them.”
The inside of the car was freezing. We were cut off from the noise of the night.
“But . . . Why a TV anchor?”
“One of your best qualities is that you don’t pry. Remember that.”
He gave me an envelope full of money, but I didn’t need it much anymore.
I got out of the car and turned my back to it as Yata stepped on the gas. I walked through the city. The heat from pulling that man close to me, and the heat from betraying him, still lingered in my body. A tout who I knew by face started talking to me. In front of a hotel, a Chinese woman was negotiating with a client. There were older men walking with younger girls, and older women walking with younger men. The obscene neon. The light that makes fun of the world. Night makes people’s desires take on physical form. Night forgives people for letting loose the desires they keep buried inside.
The moon shone down from over my head, casting its light on the neon’s glow. After the sun sets, the moon steals its light to illuminate our existence.
Copyright © 2016 by Fuminori Nakamura. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
