Silence of the Geisha Horror: Yukis Revenge

by Bella Lamour

  “Not bad, well rested after a long week. Yourself?”

  That was a lie. Her week had been full of tests and studying. And not to mention all the duties that came with third year clinical rotations. But she had managed to get a solid four hours of sleep in the night before, so she was ready for a long weekend of pleasing clients who wanted to pay tons of money for fake company and no sex.

  She knew that some of the other girls slept with their patrons. It was all under the table and very hush hush, but Yuki had made very clear that she was not going to have sex with anyone who entered the club. It wasn't that she judged the women who did, but it just wasn't her.

  “Not bad mi friend. Excited fer another night at the disco, ye kno?”

  “Of course. Got any bookings?”

  “Not as of yet. But the night is young.”

  “Good point.” She bent her head in a respectful goodbye and headed towards the office.

  It seemed so odd, the clerical room tucked in the back, juxtaposed to all the lights, alcohol and women you expected in a host bar, but it made sense to Yuki. Someone had to calculate the finances, the taxes, the hiring, firing, bookings and security.

  “Hello mother,” She murmured, reaching the small window beside the closed door.

  An older woman rolled her seat to face the Japanese woman. She obviously had once been an attraction at the bar; her makeup was still heavy and suited for the entrancing lights of the dance floor, and her eyes were too sharp, taking in everything at once to try to gain an edge.

  “Sakura. You're early, as usual.”

  “I try my hardest. Any bookings today?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Oh, did one of my regulars drop in ahead of schedule?”

  “No, someone new, actually. A British judge. He ordered a private ceremony with you.”

  “A tea ceremony?”

  “No, just your standard. He did not give any specifics.”

  “Really? Not outfit, or anything?”

  “No, it seems he just wants to meet the real Sakura.” She gave a small laugh. “Or as real as Sakura gets.”

  She couldn't help my own smirk at the irony.

  “Thank you mother. I'll pick up my fees at the end of the night.”

  “You're welcome darling. Knock 'em dead.”

  It was rare to have a private meeting booked without even meeting someone downstairs in the lobby or dance floor, but Yuki wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Checking her hair and makeup again, she saw that her dramatic eyeliner was still crisp, and her updo hadn't budged. It was about the opposite of what she looked like in her everyday life, but that's probably exactly what this judge from England wanted.

  “You look like you’re getting ready for something special.”

  It took everything Yuki had in her not to roll her eyes. Instead, she forced a smile on her face and looked to the venomous Umi. “I have a booking with a new client.”

  “How wonderful. That’s what, your third one this month? One would almost thing you were giving away certain things on the house.”

  Yuki kept her friendly expression in place when she wanted nothing more than to tackle the Chinese woman with her claws out. Umi was the closest thing Yuki had to a rival, and only because she had declared herself as such. They really had almost nothing in common besides their Asianess. While Yuki was slender, short and played into the stereotype of the submissive and perpetually youthful Asian, Umi was the quintessential bombshell. She had curves for days, and dark, enchanting eyes that promised pure seduction. She was tall, and looked like she could possibly kick someone’s ass. They had very little overlapping clientele because of this, but Umi had made it pretty clear that she wanted the monopoly on the ‘oriental’ market.

  “Luckily everyone here knows me too well to believe that.”

  “Yeah, you’re so lucky you’re a favorite. I wish I got the kind of breaks that you’ve been blessed with!” There may have been a sweet expression on Umi’s face, but Yuki understood a veiled insult when she heard it.

  “Don’t worry. Just work hard like I did, and I’m sure one day you’ll catch up.” She gave a curt nod and stepped away from the make up mirror.

  She headed down the stairs into the public part of the building, plastering a mysterious, aloof look on her face. She knew she was playing into the terrible stereotype of Asian mysticism, but a job was a job, and there were few that could earn her so much while just working Friday through Sunday.

  With a few turns, she reached the back hall that lead to private rooms. Some of them had themes, such as the tea room for herself, the tavern room for Amybelle and Rosemary, a very sparse, minimalist room for Brunhilde, the dominatrix, but most of them were just simple rooms with couches on either side of a low coffee table, a television, and a very small raised stage where a girl could dance -if that was on her list of skills.

  She reached the door and took a deep breath, composing herself. Every new client was always nerve wracking. Were they going to be a jerk, were they going to be funny? Easily pleased? Picky?

  Opening the door, she was surprised not to see the fat, balding man with bad teeth she expected, but rather a tall, well-dressed man with chiseled features, and thick, sandy brown hair.

  “Good evening, Miss Sakura.”

  “Good evening,” She replied, crossing over to him and gracefully lowering herself onto the couch opposite of him. “I'm afraid I do not have the honor of knowing your name, good sir.”

  “Julian,” He answered, handsome features arranging themselves into an easy grin. “But you can call me Buck.”

  “Buck? That is an unusual nickname.”

  “My last name is Warbucks, so it's better than what the alternative could have been.”

  “Oh yes, I suppose that is true.”

  “So how long have you worked here, Miss Sakura.”

  “Only a few short months. But I have enjoyed all of them.” Something about him was different from her other clients. Although his eyes still scoured her from head to toe, his gaze was lacking that pathetic sort of lecherous need. Instead they were bright, appraising, and crystal blue.

  “Do you meet people from all over?”

  “Oh yes, it is always fascinating talking to someone who lives somewhere I have never been.”

  “Do you travel often?”

  “No, I am afraid day to day life keeps me too busy to travel to the cities I hear about.”

  “If you could go anywhere, where would you like to go?”

  For a moment she was going to give the same canned answer of returning to her homeland for a few days, but something made her want to give this man a more honest response.

  “Ireland, or Australia, I think.”

  His strong eyebrows raised, as if he was surprised. “Oh really? Why those?”

  “Well, Ireland because there is so much culture, and history there that people outside of Ireland are rarely taught. And Australia, well, there are warm beaches, exotic animals, a hint of danger, and New Zealand not that far away.”

  “Good answers. You're an interesting sort of girl, Sakura. Not like most girls.”

  “Thank you. I think that perhaps you are not like most of my visitors either.”

  His grin took on a toothy edge. “You're probably right.”

  The conversation stilled, and I offered him a drink. He gave me that same analytical look before leaning forward.

  “I like you, Sakura. I never do this on a first meeting, but I would like to go on a date with you.”

  She smiled, before delivering the line she had said many a time. “Any further accompaniment can be arranged through that telephone there through the office.”

  “You have a mind for business,” He said with a smile, adjusting his quite expensive suit. “You call her for me. She has all my card info.”

  Yuki nodded and unfolded herself from her seat. Crossing over to the ruby phone on the wall, she pulled the receiver to her ear.


  “The Black Unicorn, gentleman's club, how can we serve you?”

  “Hello, mother, this is Sakura.”

  “What's going on? Do you need security?”

  “No, not at all. Buck has asked me out on a date. He requested that I make the arrangements through you.”

  “Of course. The receipt will be sent to his email. Good job, Sakura.”

  “Thank you mother.”

  She hung up and offered the businessman her most demure smile. She thoroughly enjoyed that he wasn't fetishizing her race, or infantilizing her small, Asian frame, but she would never let her guard down around a client.

  Julian had stood while she was on the phone, because when she turned to face him, she was greeted by his large chest filling her vision. The man had to be at least six feet tall. Compared to her quite petite five three, he was practically a giant.

  But despite their size difference, he still offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

  “Of course. May I ask where you are treating me to?”

  “A lovely seafood place that just opened up. Reservations are near impossible, but I pulled a few strings.”

  “It sounds wonderful, Mr. Julian.”

  “Please, call me Buck.”

  “Thank you,” She murmured, dipping her head again. “Mr. Buck.”

  He escorted me out of the club, and I made sure to nod to security before we left. The administration did their best to make sure all their girls were safe. After all, a hurt or dead girl was not going to be bringing in any clientele. But still, accidents could happen. Someone could be bought off. Of course every hostess had heard horror stories, but all we could do was pray that all our precautions worked and we didn't just become some statistic in a college feminist's report on sexual exploitation.

  Just as she thought he would, Buck led her to an extremely nice sports car that probably cost the same as her med school tuition. The perfect gentleman, he opened the passenger side door and let her in.

  Yuki took quick inventory of his car as he crossed around to his own side. No duct tape, copious amount of alcohol, rope, or any other warning sides. They were doing well so far.

  “Ready?” He asked, once they were both in and settled.

  “Ready.”

  And of course he was an aggressive driver. Yuki had been on many dates, and it always seemed that the bigger the pocketbook, the riskier the operator. She personally hated road rage and super dominating drivers, but she had learned over time to hide her reactions.

  Instead of flinching, wincing, or hissing in disapproval, she maintained

  polite conversation as Buck inquired about her life an experiences all around NYC. She gave him canned answers, of course. She would never reveal her real life of school and apartment living. Not only would it ruin the illusion of Sakura, but it was incredibly dangerous. A hostess never let her clientele figure out where she lived, went to school, or worked if she had a second job. That was practically like inviting stalkers to boil your bunnies or burn your place down.

  “I have to say, I’m relieved you’re not one of those girls who’s constantly attached to her phone.”

  “While having such mobile entertainment is nice, I find that having it out during engagements is only distracting, and robs me of the moment. I prefer to be present.”

  “You’re very well-spoken.”

  “Why thank you, Buck. But one must wonder if you think I am well-spoken for a human, well-spoken for a woman, or well-spoken for a hostess. Such a compliment carries many meanings.”

  He laughed outright at that, and Yuki was relieved that she was able to keep the conversation moving. Very little was worse than stagnant air on a date. Although over talking could be just as annoying.

  “After spending so much time in the court, the legalese wears off on you. I meant that you are quite well-spoken, and perhaps that is more surprising because of your youth.”

  “I will take that as a compliment then.” She paused for a moment, letting the conversation natural ebb before switching topics. “Have you been in our humble city for long?”

  “Just a couple of days, but I’ll be here for quite a while. I’m helping put together an event. Organizing and planning. Always exciting stuff.”

  “It must be if it is an event big enough to have you traveling to a different country. I look forward to reading about it in the paper.”

  “I’m surprised someone your age even knows where to find a newspaper.”

  “But of course, what else am I going to read while I charge my phone and tablet while drinking my one thousand calorie coffee.”

  He laughed again, a rich, booming sound. “You are almost too smart for your own good.”

  “This is not the first time I have be accused of such.”

  They arrived before the conversation grew dry, and he pulled into the valet line. Once he handed the keys over to an employee and took his ticket, he came to my side of the door and helped me out. As he escorted me in, I could tell multiple eyes were on us. We certainly were a pair. A tiny, spritely Asian woman in dramatic make up, and a clean cut, middle aged gentleman in an impressive suit who had at least a hundred pounds on me.

  “I hope you have no allergies.” He murmured, pulling my chair out for me once we were at our table.

  “None other than bees.”

  “Well I'm make sure to avoid any bee-related appetizers.”

  “That would be much appreciated.”

  The waitress came over before they could continue their witty banter, offering the couple specials, and wines, and all those wonderful up charges that restaurants lived for.

  “We'll take the Sauvignon Blanc, the oyster appetizer. I will have the lobster and fugu, while the lady here will enjoy the tuna steak with the house salad.”

  Yuki bit her tongue at his ordering for her without asking her opinion on any of the dishes. She was sure he just wanted to impress her with his inherent knowledge of the high life, but she had been on many a date, with many a men, and the blatant throwing around of money had long since stopped being awe-inspiring.

  “I would like a glass of water, as well, if you don't mind.” She cut in at the last moment. The waitress nodded and departed. Yuki had made the request for two specific reasons. One, it showed that while she would play the part of a demure and submissive Asian woman, she still had a voice and could speak for herself. Two, she tried to avoid drinking much alcohol while working. She would drink from the water when actually thirsty, and merely sip from the wine to be courteous. She found the strategy worked quite well for not insulting her clients who had purchased the expensive drink for her, but also protecting her faculties.

  “So, what is it like, being a judge?”

  The corner of his lip turned up. “It's a lot of responsibility. Deciding who's right, who's wrong. When you preside over a court of law, you're basically the voice of justice. You have to make sure it's not being abused, or taken advantage of.”

  “It certainly sounds like quite a burden. I would not want such troublesome duties.”

  He let out a lilting laugh. “True, I suppose your duties are usually of the more...pleasurable variety.”

  She gave him another shy smile, feigning a blush. “I have been trained in the art of aesthetic by retired Geisha and masters, pleasing the eyes and soul with something as simple as pouring tea.”

  “And what about matters of the flesh? These poor meat bags that we're stuck in every day?”

  She lowered her gaze, fluttering her lashed. Her biography made very clear that she was not available for any... extra curricular activities, but sometimes clients just didn't get the hint. She found it was best to get it out in the open as soon as possible, rather than stringing them throughout the date. “I am thoroughly trained in relieving tension from the head, next, and shoulders with a massage, but that is all the matters of the flesh that I deal with.”

  His expression flickered darkly for just a moment, before the brilliant smile was back in its place. “I'm sure suc
h limitations are as flexible as your limbs.”

  “No, Mr. Buck.” She said it sweetly, but firmly. She would rather infuriate him now and order a cab home, then lose a whole night and end up in a car with an angry man. “You'll find that I am very, very strict when it comes to my art. If you are looking for an artist of the more carnal side of art, I can make a recommendation and have her here before your entree -no extra charge, of course.”

  “Well aren't you just the most gracious thing.”

  “Not a thing, Mr. Buck, sir. Just a woman who was trained under very strict rules to maintain my chi and connections to our ancestor spirits.”

  “I see.”

  The conversation faltered for a moment, and she wondered if she should cancel the date anyways. But she would lose out on a solid grand, as well as possibly forfeiting a potential wealthy regular.

  “I would like to use the ladies room, if you wouldn’t mind. Powder my nose and all that.”

  He waved his hand at her. “By all means, go.”

  She nodded and sashayed to the restroom. Once she was safe from his gaze, the slumped again the wall. For a moment there, the tension had been thick enough to cut with a knife. She was glad she was able to pull through, but she was beginning to wonder if it was worth it.

  Then again, abandoning a date in the middle would be terrible for her numbers. Even if management always said they were all about women’s safety, it was no secret that a particularly vehement complaint from a client could sink a girl’s ship very quickly.

  She paced for a few minutes, trying to calm her nerves and get back into the flawless calm of Sakura, the mystic geisha. Once she felt she had at least some semblance of composure, she patted down her face with some toilet paper and then headed back out.

  Buck looked at ease when she joined him at the table, and she noticed their appetizer had arrived. He smiled, and served her one of the delicacies, before lifting his glass in a toast.

  “To travel,” He said. “And making new friends to last a life time.”