The Bento Box

by Olivia Gaines

  “What’s in your hand?” he asked curiously, watching her move an armless chair to the middle of the floor.

  “A blindfold,” she said, crooking her index finger and beckoning him to come forward.

  His interest was piqued as he walked over to her. Standing at 5’9, he was only four inches taller than her in bare feet, and he exhaled softly, ready for whatever adventure she had in mind for the two of them. Trista reached for his belt buckle, yanking it with a determined tug.

  “Did you bring protection for this planned party you had in mind?” she asked, unfastening the button on his trousers.

  “Back pocket,” he said, enjoying the feel of her hands coming around his hips. Her long fingers slid down his buttocks, slipping into his back pocket and discovering the three packages with circular discs inside.

  The edge of the packet hung from her teeth as she unzipped the pants lowering them to his ankles. One hand rested in the middle of his chest, pushing him backwards into the seat. Koji didn’t respond as he sat in the chair in his underwear, the tie hanging haphazardly around his neck. He remained quiet as the blindfold went over his eyes and he felt her inner thighs rub the outer portions of his legs.

  A wisp of air floated between them when he felt her step away. The sound of fabric being removed meant she was undressing before him, yet he couldn’t see what she was doing. His mind went into overdrive as he heard the snaps being freed, knowing she was removing her bra. Elastic stretched at the sound of the sexy panties he imagined she was wearing being tugged and slid down the brown thighs he couldn’t wait to feel around him. The more he listened, the harder he became, anxious for her to continue the sexy charade.

  “Koji, I’m standing before you completely bare,” she whispered.

  His hands hung down on the sides of the chair. He wanted to reach out, but instead he waited in anticipation, listening, sniffing the air, and licking the bottom of his lip, his mind in overdrive and feeding the excitement beyond his normal logical reasoning. The sound of the foil wrapper tearing made his erection jump in the underwear that were starting to feel entirely too tight. A warm hand touched his thighs heating the skin. His head lowered, looking down at where he imagined her face might be. The hands, strong but firm, tugged at the underwear, freeing the erection from the cotton cage, and he let out a loud sigh. Heat from her mouth could be felt as the latex condom rolled onto him. Her full lips wrapped around the thickness, gently pushing the material down, covering him. Slowly her lips slid up the shaft up, ending with a loud smack.

  Koji sighed loudly, “Oooh.”

  “Just getting started, Mr. Okada,” she said, getting to her feet.

  He could feel the warmth of her thighs as she positioned herself above him, gripping him in her hand, pointing and aiming, and the sensation of the warmth on the tip of his penis almost made Koji reach for her, but he remained cool.

  Trista loved the idea of having such a powerful man at her mercy. She wanted to blindfold him only as a precaution. She didn’t want her expressive face to give away a reaction to her first time seeing an Asian man’s penis. If it had been small, she didn’t want him to see her disappointment. She wasn’t disappointed at all. He was just the right size, length, and thickness for a really good ride.

  “Hold on to me, Koji,” she said, sliding her body forward and connecting them. She let out a satisfied moan as her hips rocked forward, seating him deep inside of her body. His firm hands held onto her hips as she gently began to rock back and forth, enjoying the feel of him inside her.

  “Ā, kuso,” Koji muttered, as Trista’s hips began to pick up the pace.

  “I don’t know what that means, but if it’s close to “oh shit,’ then you’re right,” she said, feeling the tightness in her middle build. Her fingers gripped the jet-black hair as she raised her body, her breasts in his face. She shoved a nipple into his mouth, demanding of him, “Suck it.”

  Koji obliged. His lips clamped down around the nipple, sucking like a newborn pup. Being unable to see her body fueled his imagination. The gentle rocking turned aggressive and demanding as she slammed her body against his. The tightening around her middle signaled the start of her orgasm as he clamped his teeth on the nipple, biting down, not too hard, but with just enough pressure to make the connection even tighter.

  “Motto!” he said in a tone that made Trista pick up her pace. “Motto hayaku!”

  Trista figured he wanted her to move faster, and she responded by rocking harder against him, her nub of flesh stroking against the jet-black hairs surrounding his sex. The feel of the softness against the wiry hairs incensed her as she allowed the passion between them to grow.

  “Koji,” she whispered in his ear, pulling her breast from his mouth and crushing them against his chest. She bounced up and down on the shaft, reaching the peak, throwing her head back in delight as a gush of wetness spewed from her body. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  He loved the feel of her around him, the dampness soaking his thighs, but he’d had enough of her playtime. With his arm around her waist, he stood, the mask still covering his eyes and his pants around his ankles as he moved two steps to the left, remembering the placement of the bed in the room. The bed was near the center of the bedroom, and he shuffled his feet slowly, maintaining the connection between them. The foot of the bed pressed against his shins, and he shifted to ensure he was near the center, not on the edge, using his knee to marry their bodies to the bed.

  Koji lowered her to the bed, gently saying in her ear, “Watashi no bandesu.”

  “Go for it, Mr. Okada,” she replied, hoping the words he uttered meant itwas his turn to finish the party.

  She was right. Koji Okada took no prisoners as he went to work. Strategic movements stroked the inner walls of her love canal in ways she didn’t know were possible. Sensations ripped through her body, making her reach for the pillow, the bed, and the imaginary unicorn shitting candy-coated sprinkles in the corner.

  “Dayumm,” she said, trying to figure out what to hold onto while he worked. Goose pimples ran up and down her body. Trista’s mouth went dry, her right leg twitched, and she started to climb her second peak of pleasure. “Good grief!”

  She climaxed again, letting go of the pillow and grabbing onto the man. Each thrust was so deep that he raised her hips off the bed, going deeper with each move until he picked up his pace. Narrow hips rocked hard against her body as he muttered in Japanese until a final satisfied grunt left his lips.

  A tender kiss landed on the side of her neck before he disengaged their bodies. He stood on the side of the bed, lifting the black sleep mask from over his eyes. Her body lay sprawled in the center of the mattress, splayed out, beautiful and satisfied, and she was smiling.

  “Better get that passport, Dr. Hathaway,” he said, reaching for his pants around his ankles and moving towards her bathroom.

  Trista lay on the bed, her body humming, and her mind in overdrive. She wanted to get up but the man had fucked her into the folds of the mattress and she was certain it was permanently stuck to her back. Listening to him in the bathroom as the water ran and the toilet flushed, her ability to move right now was not in her wheelhouse. She preferred to lie here and just mentally record the moment.

  Koji came from the bathroom and walked into her closet to retrieve his jacket. “Dr. Hathaway, it is an 8 hour flight to Paris. Please, clean up and grab what you need so we can leave,” he said with no emotion in his voice.

  “Can a girl get a cuddle at least?” she said.

  “At 30,000 feet, I will give you all the cuddling you want, but right now we need to get moving,” he said, walking out of the bedroom.

  “Well, damn,” Trista said, jumping up and running to the bathroom to wash, get dressed, and pack a bag. “I’m headed to bleeping Paris!”

  Chapter Three – Sticky Rice

  KOJI OKADA, HEAD OF OkadaCorp, left the bedroom walking with the purposeful stride he was known to exude. Outside of the space, his presence filled a livi
ng room with confidence; inside, the effects of his lovemaking session with Trista had left him shaken. Not in a bad way, but in a way that rattled what he thought he knew about the woman. In truth, outside of his research and one-time interaction in New York, he knew nothing about her personally, a little matter he planned to rectify over the long American holiday weekend. However, first he would start with her living space.

  As he walked down the hall, the photos on the walls he hadn’t noticed before took center attention as he slowed his steps, taking an interest in the images framed on the pale grey walls. The first one he noticed was of two young children, flanking an older gentleman in the background as a flag draped coffin blurred in the foreground.

  “Hmm,” he said, continuing to look at the images. Koji pulled his phone from his inner jacket pocket and sent a text. He didn’t need to wait for a reply.

  Each photo, either of the two children, the boy and the man, or the man and girl chronicled a well-lived life. Entering the living room, he found the food he’d brought for dinner had cooled and congealed in brown sauce. He took a quick stroll around the living room, taking a gander at more snapshots of Trista Hathaway’s life. Then it struck him. None of the photos showed her mother.

  “Well, okay then,” he said softly, gathering up the uneaten meal. Koji repackaged the remains, saving it for the long plane ride to Paris. The dirty plates he carried to the sink, making dishwater to clean the dishes. Scrubbing quickly, the drain soon held the plates, and he released the water and checked his watch.

  She must have known they were running out of time, because when he looked up, the wild hair was pulled into a ponytail high on her head, and an overnight bag was in one hand and her passport in the other.

  “Junbi wa deki taka?” he asked, seemingly unable to again speak in English.

  “I guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

  He walked over, moving like an apex predator ready to devour her bones, skin, and fur in totality. Little goosebumps ran up and down her arms, and a shiver ran down her spine. Koji offered her his arm to escort her out the front door as headlights flashed from a black sedan that had pulled into her driveway.

  “This must be our ride,” she said.

  A tall man, who appeared to be half-black and Asian, stepped out of the running vehicle and opened the back door. Koji escorted Trista to the vehicle while the driver waiting patiently.

  “Good evening, Dr. Hathaway,” Eldredge said.

  “Hello,” she said with a wide smile as she slid into the back seat. She gave her bag to the driver, who held it for a moment as he looked as his boss, who still held the two bags of food he’d brought to the home less than thirty minutes prior.

  “Not a word, Eldredge,” Koji said, also giving him the bags of food.

  “She put it on your arse, didn’t she?” Eldredge said, chuckling.

  Koji leaned into his assistant slash best friend, a smile cracking the side of his lips. “For a minute there, I forgot how to speak in English.”

  Eldredge chuckled as his Boss got inside the car, and he closed the door. Eldredge put the bag and food in the trunk before coming around the car to slide into the driver’s seat. It was going to be a very long night for the Boss, and Eldredge looked forward to the weekend almost as much as Koji did.

  In the backseat, Koji looked at the woman who’d broken every expectation thus far that he’d had about her. He expected a fight and got none. Initially he doubted he would get past the front the door, but she let him inside. Truthfully he’d expected to sex to be mediocre and it had been anything but, with the blindfold being an added nice touch.

  “Nihongo hanasemasu ka?” he asked, curious, since she had responded perfectly to everything he said.

  “No,” she responded with a smile.

  “No?” he asked, looking at her profile in the dark car, not certain of what to make of the woman. “Yet, you respond perfectly to everything I have asked.”

  “Intonation and body language,” she told him. “Working in my field, you learn to listen with more than your ears.”

  “The blindfold...interesting choice,” he said, reaching over to run an index finger down the side of her face, the first intimate overture he’d made thus far.

  “I wanted you to feel me, to experience the connection versus just the act,” she said, lowering her voice. “I’m sure a successful man like you...well, for me, it wasn’t just about the release.”

  Koji Okada said nothing. In the quiet space between their two bodies, he allowed his body language to speak first. His hand reached out to grasp her fingers. Intertwining his digits within her own, he leaned forward with his lips puckered, and she met him halfway. The kiss was only a gesture of things to come.

  “I’m feeling you, Dr. Trista Hathaway,” he said, touching the side of her face again as if asking his fingers to remember every contour.

  “Mr. Okada, my answer to the software is still going to be no, but I really hope we can have a good time together this weekend,” she said, double-checking before they got in the air and headed to another country.

  “Understood,” he said, squeezing her fingers gently. “This weekend shall be about us.”

  The car turned down the long patch of road, coming to a stop at a landing strip on the outskirts of Middle Georgia Regional Airport. Koji’s plane waited on the tarmac with the OkadaCorp logo on the side. It had been a long day, and most of it spent in the air, and he looked forward to a good night’s sleep. However, he questioned if the lady sitting next to him would allow such a thing to occur.

  He truly hoped she wouldn’t.

  TRISTA HAD NO IDEA what in the world she was getting herself into and for once in her carefully constructed life, she didn’t care. This was her weekend to be free, to make love, live in the moment, and leave the stench of death behind her. It haunted her no matter where she went.

  At a young age, she learned from her father, one of the most famous, if there was such a thing in the mortuary world of funeral directors, that life was a passage. At the end of the journey, those who are left behind do so not to mourn, but to live on and celebrate the continued route of the life before them. Koji’s app went against all that she believed, had been taught, and understood about life and death. It was her hope that over the weekend, she could show him the causeway for passing from this world to the next. The time in this life had to be lived well so that when the time came, in the moment of death, others would take up the mantle and pass the torch for those to finish why of a life. The torch is passed on to make the existence of a one person’s journey have purpose.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Koji asked, noticing the tension in her face.

  “I want a memorable weekend with you,” she said. “A weekend with the man, not the software developer. I want to spend time with a person who wants to enjoy the company of a dazzling, brilliant woman while making love after drinking champagne, eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, and strolling along the Champs-Élysées.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Koji replied as the car door opened.

  He stepped into the evening, extending his hand to accept hers. Leading her up the stairs of the plane, seating his guest and he welcomed her inside. She was unlike any woman he’d thus far met. Only two American women in his past had made his cut on the quality of companionship he sought in his downtime. Both of the women, while geniuses in their fields, were wholly lacking in the ability to hold a conversation outside of the work they performed.

  Sexually, he enjoyed the company of Wendy, a fiery redheaded computer programmer, once he taught her how her vagina actually worked. Yet she could never understand the delicate balance between the act of release and the connectivity of the emotion associated with the intercourse. Sex with Koji became a near obsession, expecting him to confess his love each time he shagged her. That one, he had no future with and escaped as fast as he could.

  The other, Amanda, a saucy blond with boundless energy, liked to bounce up and down
on him, making odd noises like a wounded animal needing to be put out of her misery. The noise didn’t equate to the sensation and after four interactions with the same level of deadening decibels, he called that one off as well. Neither of those lasted very long. This one had his attention.

  “Seat belts please, Dr. Hathaway. We’ve been given clearance for take-off,” Koji said, taking a seat and checking his phone.

  “Trista,” she said, taking a seat in the plush leather chair. “After being so intimate, don’t you think it would be okay to be less formal with each other?”

  He looked up and provided a genuine smile “Koji. You can call me by my given name.”

  “Shit, I should hope so after round one,” she said with a wide smile. The smile faded as the Blasian man boarded the plane and closed the outer doors. “Oh, he’s going with us?”

  Koji looked up, “Eldredge Sung, please allow me to formally introduce you to Dr. Trista Hathaway. Eldredge is my personal assistant.”

  Eldredge frowned. “Assistant? I have been his best friend since we were in primary school in Sapporo.”

  “Since he was always around, I figured I may as well pay him to be useful,” Koji said with a twist of his lip.

  “So you say,” Eldredge said. “I got into Oxford just like you. I got a degree just like you.”

  “Who works for whom, Eldredge?”

  “And who owns half of your company?” Eldredge asked. “Don’t try to be all fancy in front of Dr. Trista. I just enjoy being on the plane versus being behind the desk.”

  Trista laughed aloud, the sound interrupting the argument between two men who spent entirely too much time together like an old married couple. The melodic notes of her laughter drew them both to her face as the captain came over the loudspeaker asking them to prepare to takeoff.