by York, Mattie
Shibuya Girls School. That was the ‘tongue in cheek’ name of the sex shop in Tokyo. It that had nothing to do with reading or writing, but it did have an enormous cardboard cutout of an anime girl in a teeny tiny school uniform bending over ever so slightly in the front window, which seemed to attract just the right sort of perverted middle aged Japanese businessmen.
There was this one, a very old, very skinny businessman; Pee-Head. That’s what Chieko had nicknamed him. She wasn’t allowed to know his real name. He had specifically requested Chieko after he had bought a few of her panties. She never had to actually meet Pee-Head. Not face to face which she was glad about. The sex shop set up the appointments for her.
Every Thursday evening at 10 pm, Chieko would sneak out of her dormitory and take a taxi to the sex shop. She would wait in a special room, which Pee Head always reserved for her. The room was basically a small tiled closet with a toilet in the middle. There was just enough room to turn around and sit down. The bottom of the toilet was cut out and underneath was an empty space and below that, a drain. A large mirror covered the wall behind the toilet.
The first time, Chieko had no idea what she was supposed to do, so the clerk had to come in and explain. Apparently, Pee Head sat in a small room behind the two way mirror. He wanted nothing more than to sit and watch as Chieko relieved herself. “You can’t be serious!” Chieko had burst out laughing. But the pay was so much higher than what her panties brought, she had to agree.
But she had also been completely unprepared. She had to sit on the toilet in the tiny room for over an hour, reading magazines and singing to herself till nature finally decided to call. After that first appointment, she always drank 4 or 5 glasses of water just beforehand. And after a few successful appointments, Pee-Head doubled her fee. He was rewarded with the privilege of pulling back a panel in the floor, lying on his back, squeezing his head into the small space between the floors under the toilet bowl and being showered with Chieko’s golden urine.
“What is so funny precious?” Carl asked.
“Oh, so sorry,” Chieko hadn’t realized that she had just laughed out loud. “I just remembered something.”
“I know, my dear,” Carl kissed Chieko on the top of her head. “I am boring you with my stories. It’s just that I feel so happy with you. I can’t talk like this with my wife. She would never sit still enough to listen. Always complaining, that lady. But you, darling, you are so nice, so kind, so understanding. And so sexy.” He reached over and squeeze Chieko’s hand. “These past times have been so pleasant. I mean, even before our miraculous discovery today. I think you are the reason my blood pressure has gone down. Excuse me, my dear,” he carefully extracted himself from Chieko and struggled to lift himself up from the couch. “Now where did I put my jacket?” As Carl rummaged around the room, looking for his jacket, Chieko bit her lip. She still couldn’t get over how fat he was. When he bent over, his behind made a perfect, jiggly, gigantic, heart shape.
“Aha! Here it is my dear,” Carl handed a small box to Chieko and then straightened up slowly; his face beat red from the exertion. “I saw these and thought immediately of you. I have decided to call you my Oriental pearl.”
“Oh sugoi,” Chieko untied the ribbon and opened the box to reveal a beautiful bracelet of pink pearls. “Beautiful! Domo. Thank you. You are a very kind man.” Chieko climbed up onto the couch, pulled Carl close and smacked a big kiss right on the top of his balding head.
“Ohma!” Chieko cried out as her cell phone rang from the bottom of her purse. “My phone! I have to go! ” As Carl turned around to look for the purse, Chieko took two of the small pearls and grinded them together. Good man, she thought as she smoothed the gritty bits away to reveal the pearl’s natural shine. They are real.
18
Alex increased her speed to 10. She wiped the sweat with the back of her sleeve and tried to breathe through the cramps. Sounding like a woman preparing for labour, she forced herself to sprint through the last minute of her 40 minute jog. It was the fourth morning in a row she had managed to drag herself to the gym and her legs were starting to feel the pain. But it was worth it. So worth it. At 20 minutes into her workout, endorphins kicked in and she soared into positive nirvana. And with 600 calories burnt, she could justify indulging in her chocolate cravings.
Jumping off the treadmill, Alex looked around. She marveled at the emptiness of the gym as she headed into the change room. Such a contrast from the jam-packed after work chaos she was used to. It was so nice in the mornings. She didn’t have to wake up to an early alarm but could take her time, watch TV while she had her morning Metamucil and then meander over to the gym. She was actually making more money now then she did when she had a full time office job. Her appointments were all usually in the mid afternoon or early evening and, if she really wanted to, she could take any given day off. She figured if she only got paid the bare minimum of $300 per appointment and worked only 3 appointments a week; 3 hours a week; that was about as much as she used to make for 40 hours data processing at the TD Bank. And this was tax free.
And, it’s not like it was difficult work. Once she got over her pre appointment jitters. All her clients had been super nice so far. And she was getting more comfortable with what they expected. Really, how could she not be comfortable with polite older men who only wanted a blow job?
Alex stopped in front of the change room mirror and seeing no one around, dropped her towel. As she looked at her naked body, Alex tried to think like a man. Would he like what he saw? Her breasts were very large but not saggy. They looked very white against the fading tan on her stomach, like two over ripe melons with large pink nipples. She squeezed her stomach muscles in and noticed a slight definition. As she pushed her shoulder blades back, she turned sideways, making her breasts look perkier.
She remembered the poses Angela had made her do at the photo shoot, “Lean forward,” Angela had instructed. “Squeeze your arms together. Yes, like that under your breast. Now spread your legs, bend your knees. Good. Hold your stomach in. Squeeze. Stick out your chin. Arch your back. Darlin’, point your toes. Yes. Just like that. Now hold.”
Alex laughed at her reflection in the mirror. Who did Angela think she fooling with those pictures? They looked nothing like her real body from real life. Wouldn’t the men notice the difference at first glance? And how uncomfortable was that day? Having to stand and pose sticking her tits and ass out, pretending to be sexy in a bra and thong while a woman she had known for less than 2 hours snapped photos of her to post on some website so umpteen unknown men could view her and order her like some x-rated home delivery catalogue?
“No stand up straighter, hon. Look up!” Angela had snapped another shot then came out from behind the camera to where Alex was leaning against the bed, perched on the edge of a stool. “Put your hand here,” Angela had said moving Alex’s hand over to the edge of her waist. “We have to see where you end. And point your toes!” Alex had took another breath in and held it, tightening her stomach muscles, pointing her toes and looking up at the ceiling. “Wait a minute, just lean forward a bit.” She had grabbed Alex around the hips and pushed her into the right position. “Excuse my hands, but we have to emphasize these, darling.” Alex couldn’t believe that Angela had reached right inside her bra and pulled up her breasts, squeezing them together so they overflowed over the lacy edge of the bra.
“At least, when I lean over like this, you can almost see the outline of my ribs,” Alex had tried to make light of the uncomfortable situation, even though she was beginning to shake from holding the pose.
Angela shook her head from behind the camera. “I know girls who would love to have your body, don’t you worry. And,” she winked, “lots of guys that will pay just to see it naked.”
Angela had been right. Too bad she didn’t clarify that they were old guys. Like her last client: Dale Sprague. He was 54. And delighted with how young and beautiful she was. Actually, she couldn’t complain. The appointment
had gone really well. All he wanted to do was to touch her. She only had to lay down naked beside him while he caressed her, all of her, sucking on her nipples for most of the hour. She didn’t even have to touch him. He touched himself.
Alex picked up her towel and began to wrap it around herself when she paused, looking down at her new Brazilian wax. Her vagina was completely bald. She just couldn’t get used to it. She had liked how it looked all covered with curly strawberry blonde hair. So grown up and womanly. Now it looked like it did when she was a little girl. Is that really what men wanted? Did that mean that men wanted to pretend they were screwing little girls?
Reluctantly, Alex had gotten it done because Angela had told her to. Most clients requested it that way. And it just made sense as it was cleaner. The pain was excruciating though. It was only afterwards, after the swelling went down and the bleeding stopped, that Alex noticed it. In her jeans. In the grocery store. Anytime. Wearing no underwear took on a whole new dimension for Alex. And Angela was right. Her clients got so excited when she took off her panties. Some just liked to look at it, touch it or lick the smooth hairless skin.
What was that? Alex cocked her head to listen, then wrapped the towel around her and rushed back to her locker. “Hello?”
“Elixia Gold Stewart! Are you ok?”
“Oh, hello mom,” Alex cringed and fought back the urge to end the call. She hated it when her mother called her by her full name. She hated that name. Her parents had been ‘hippies’ in the 70’s or more accurate, hippie wannabes from Canada. They didn’t go to Woodstock, they went to Niagara Falls. They didn’t do drugs or practice free love or anything crazy like that. They did drink beer. And they had tried to make their own. And they baked their own bread, rode their bicycles instead of cars, wore Birkenstocks and stole corn from farmer’s fields along highway 400. Oh and they dressed their kids in funny home-made clothes. To match their funny home-made names of course. Alex’s sister had gotten Mariposa Tia. That wasn’t too bad. Everyone called her Mary. And no one knew that Tia stood for togetherness. But Alex was stuck with Elixia. Is that even a word? Elixia Gold. Alex’s mother had made up the name when she and Alex’s father had joined their first weird anti-institution group; the Rosicrucian Society. Way before The DaVinci Code hit book stands, Alex’s parents had been on the trail to uncover all the hidden knowledge, forbidden to man, stolen and secreted away by the Catholic church. They were ‘light workers’ now, they said, not hippies.
“It’s common to have unique names in times like this, dear. Remember River Pheonix? And what about Gwyenth Paltrow’s baby Apple? But just remember your name is special. It is a message to the Universe. It is a reminder to us.” Alex’s mother sipped on her dandelion tea as she lounged in her easy chair in her library/yoga/sun room. The room was originally meant as a sun room, with large bay windows on all sides and a sun roof overlooking the cool blue waters of Lake Couchiching. But her parents had remodeled it, covering the walls with floor to ceiling bookshelves, now overflowing with their New Age books, and clearing the room of any furniture except for her mother’s easy chair and their collection of South American rugs, native woven blankets from the Rama Moccasin shop and yoga mats.
Her mother pulled out a dog eared copy of Laurence Gardner’s ‘Bloodline of the Holy Grail’ from the shelf and passed it to Alex. “Do you remember the myth about King Solomon and how powerful he was? Well, it was not a myth. He was powerful. And old. He lived for hundreds of year. Do you know how? He used to burn gold down to a powder and eat it? Isn’t that fascinating? That was his secret. That’s why he was so powerful. And did you know, that’s what they were doing, up there on Mount Sinai. You know in the Bible when they talk about the mountain smoking, being full of fire and brimstone. They said it was God talking from the sky. Do you know the real story? It wasn’t God. It was a massive fire on top of the mountain to melt gold. For King Solomon. For all the world leaders of that time. For the ‘Gods’. It’s true, I just know it.
Oh Elixa, there are so many secrets out there. Just in front of our eyes. We just need to see clearly. That’s what Dracula did, too. You know, Count Dracula, from Transylvania? Another myth, they say. But, he too was real. They made up the story of his being a vampire, to scare people away from learning the truth. He was eating gold. Melted down powered gold. The gold made him powerful. Stronger and smarter than a normal man. But gold also made his skin more sensitive to the sun. So he slept during the day, and stayed awake at night. Did you know that he lived for hundreds of years? Yes, it’s true.
We were going to go to Turkey, you know? Your father had found out that there was a special club of Alchemists there. Practicing Alchemists. They practiced all the lost secrets. Even how to change metal into gold. Some say they still do it, you know burning gold in their kilns, down to a powder, and then eating it. Oh, it’s all so hush hush, but imagine the magic in those small courtyards. Imagine the secrets that city knows.
There are so many things going on in this world. But then, you my darling, you were born, Elixia. And we stayed here, in Orillia. We didn’t have to go searching for our magical potion. Well, we couldn’t. Not with two young children. How could we afford it? But, no, it’s alright. We were happy to stay here. We had our own burning gold, right here. You, with your gorgeous golden hair. You are our immortality. You and your sister. That’s why we called you Elixia. To remind us.”
“No mom, I’m fine,” Alex wasn’t in the mood to talk with her mother. She was hoping for a call from Angela. Maybe a booking for Joseph. She hadn’t seen Joseph in two weeks.
“Well, honey, I was worried about you. You didn’t answer your phone yesterday. Or return my messages. Why didn’t you come over yesterday? I thought you would at least call. You know it was your father’s birthday.”
“Oh, I thought it was tomorrow,” Alex lied. Shit. She had completely forgotten. How could she have forgotten her father’s birthday? “What did you do?”
“Oh you know your father. He didn’t want to do anything special. Your sister and Frank bought him a day pass for the Pine Ridge golf course. And then last night, I got him that cake he loves from the Market. It was nice.”
“It sounds really nice,” Alex felt guilty. “Did Dad go golfing by himself?”
“Oh no, Frank went with him. I think they had a good time. Your father didn’t wear a hat though and came home sun burnt. I think he might have had quite a bit to drink too,” her mother laughed.
“Oh really? That’s too bad. Is he ok today?”
“Oh yes, dear. He’s fine. A bit hurt that we didn’t hear from you though. But I guess it’s easy to mix the dates up and you are so busy looking for a job. I know it’s tough to leave the city and come up here to visit. Have you had any bites?”
“Any what?”
“Any bites, you know, job interviews? That’s what Frank calls them. You know dear, Frank has a really great job and has lots of contacts. He said he could send your resume out. He does a lot of work with many different call centres now. He said they are really hot right now. He could definitely get you a job up here. A really good job. You know, that’s all you need; an entry position. A stepping stone. To get in and prove yourself.”
“Mom, I am not working in a call centre. You barely get paid minimum wage and the hours are insane. Forget it, I won’t sit at a desk with headphones and talk into a phone all day.”
“How do you know dear? You have never even tried. You might like it. You do have a really nice voice. It would be soothing to hear your voice on the phone. You know, I can never understand the people these days when I call the Bell. No one speaks English anymore. You would do so well.”
“No mom, I’m fine here. The temp agency gets me lots of work. Really, it’s just fine, until I find the job that I want.”
“But how can a temporary job be ok? Don’t you want to be stable?” Her mother emphasized the word ‘stable’ in that way only mothers can. “Don’t you want to buy a house, get settled? You can’t
live in that tiny apartment forever. Are you just going to work here and there for the rest of your life?” Alex held the phone away from her ear and slouched against the lockers. “Did you know your sister and Frank put down a deposit on a house? Isn’t that exciting? They’d been looking for quite a while, Mary said, and they finally found one that they just fell in love with. It’s beautiful. Just gorgeous. It’s a little far away from Frank’s office, but it’s in a good area. Oh, they have a backyard and a pool! And a guest room. It’s a really nice house for them. And honey, they said you could go and stay with them.”
“No, mom, I’m fine,” Alex rolled her eyes. “I like my apartment.”
“But what about your landlord? I thought you said he was going to raise the rent? And did he fix the hot water? I really don’t know how he can expect you to pay so much for that tiny apartment. Do you know that Frank and Mary’s house wasn’t as expensive as they thought it was going to be? Frank was able to pay the down payment with cash, from his investments. He had all that money saved. Can you believe it? He doesn’t believe in bank loans. Says they only make money for the bank and the bank already has enough money. How true! He is so smart! I wish we had his advice when you girls were growing up!”
