The Geisha with the Green Eyes
Page 1
By
India Millar
Red Empress Publishing
The Geisha with the Green Eyes
Published by Red Empress Publishing
ISBN: 978-0-9977729-0-6
www.redempresspublishing.com
Copyright © India Millar 2016
indiamillar.co.uk
Cover Design by Cherith Vaughan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recoding, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author.
Note from the Author
The Geisha with the Green Eyes is a romance, a pinch of fairy dust, and has only the tips of its roots in fact. The Floating World in Edo (now Tokyo) existed, but the Hidden House is a figment of my imagination. What is true is the way that women in general, and particularly “kept” women like geisha and courtesans, were treated. They were not so much second class citizens as goods; they were owned, and their owners could do as they liked with them. Wives, though technically free, were prisoners of their husbands just as the girls in the brothels and tea houses were prisoners of their Auntie. Wives were rarely treated with any affection; they were there to bear children and do as they were told. When they had boy children, they were bullied by them as well. Men who could afford mistresses kept them; those who could not, visited the various classes of courtesans.
Bizarre as it seems to us now, this was accepted as normal behavior.
In general, geisha were not expected to provide sex for their customers. They were high-priced entertainers who sang and danced and played the samisen and made amusing conversation. Courtesans were for sex, and it was normal for a geisha’s customer to move on from the geisha to a selected courtesan. In this novel, the girls in the Hidden House were…different. But then again, that was part of their allure.
Both geisha and courtesans were virtually slaves. Girl children were often sold by impoverished parents, and it was commonplace for attractive children to be kidnapped and sold to tea houses and brothels. The girls were expected to pay back their debts to their Auntie – debts that piled up with every new kimono bought for them, every meal they ate, every night they had a roof over their heads. A fortunate few were able to buy themselves out by their own thrift. Lucky geisha and courtesans were bought out by a wealthy patron to be his mistress. No one wanted to be an unvalued wife, bullied by her husband, sons, and her dragon of a mother-in-law!
The mizuage ceremony (the ritualistic paid deflowering of geisha and courtesans from the age of thirteen) was a fact of life and continued to take place as late as the mid-twentieth century.
Those who know the period well will find faint echoes of the life of the Nine-Fingered Geisha in The Geisha with the Green Eyes. It is also a fact that a troop of kabuki actors – amongst them women – toured America in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, to great critical acclaim. Needless to say, The Geisha with the Green Eyes is pure fiction.
Tanoshimu!
All the other girls had enticing names. Carpi (Koi). Masaki (Blossom). Kiku (Chrysanthemum Blossom). Naruko (Chirping Child).
My own mother was called Terue (Shining Blessing). But me? I was just Midori No Me.
Green Eyes.
“Living only for the moment, giving all our time to the pleasures of the moon,
the snow, cherry blossoms and maple leaves. Singing songs, drinking
sake, caressing each other, just drifting, drifting. Never giving a care
if we had no money, never sad in our hearts. Only like a plant moving
on the river’s current; this is what is called The Floating World.”
Tales of the Floating World
Asai Ryoi, 1661
Chapter One
Blossoms tremble
At the approach of winter.
As do I.
The first time I was with a man I was only thirteen years old.
But of course, this was normal for any geisha. After all, until one has undergone the ceremony of mizuage – which in English means “hoisting from water” – one is still only a half-jewel, a hangyouku, as we were called in Edo. Elsewhere, the term was maiko, and this is the word I shall use from now on, as I know it is easier for your Western tongue to pronounce.
Sometimes maiko undergo the mizuage ceremony a little later; it all depends on the girl. Occasionally, a maiko would not have her mizuage ceremony until she was as old as sixteen or even seventeen, quite elderly for a maiko! But of course, those were the girls who came late in life to Yoshiwara - the Floating World in Edo, Japan’s capital city.
I was born in the Floating World.
I cannot remember a time when I did not expect to undergo the mizuage. After all, how else did I expect to pay back my Okaasan – my Auntie – for all the years she had fed me, clothed me, kept me warm, kept me safe? How else was I going to start to pay her back for my clothes and my samisen? Apart from all of those important matters, if I declined – if I should dare! – to undergo my mizuage, where would I go? What would become of me? The Floating World was my world, my family. I knew nothing else. Knew nowhere else.
Of course I would undergo the mizuage.
One heard tales, of course, from the other girls who had undergone their mizuage. Both from the girls who shared the Hidden House with me and occasionally those geisha who lived in the Green Tea House across the courtyard. Some laughed about it, said it was nothing at all. I now think those girls were either lying or had had the good fortune to have an extremely thoughtful danna for their first time. Kiku even had two mizuage! She wasn’t that unusual, either; if Auntie thought she might get away with it, some girls had two or three deflowering ceremonies. Kiku had two because she was so very fat. On the first occasion her danna didn’t actually get what he paid for, though she made sure that he thought that he had. That is the way of the Floating World, after all. It is all shadow and illusion. As long as pleasure is sought and found, nothing else matters. Even on the second occasion she said that it really wasn’t too bad. Other girls shrugged and said it was done with, and that was all there was to it. Others refused to talk about it. Inevitably, it was those who would not speak about it at all that we all wanted to hear from. Was it really bad? Would we hate it? Did it hurt?
Those girls shrugged and looked away, lowering their eyes as if to say, “You will find out.”
And I did, of course.
I could say I remember it well, but that would only be a half-truth. I not only remember it, I dream of it sometimes, even now, after Danjuro came into my life and everything changed.
The banquet was finished. Teruki-san, my danna, burped loudly, and the girls tittered behind their fans politely. Auntie inclined her head regally and all of the girls immediately got to their feet. Two maids had to help Kiku stand. For a second I thought that Teruki-san was diverted by Kiku as he watched her with covetous eyes, but I was only being silly. He had paid an enormous sum to deflower me, he would not be distracted now. The girls – and Auntie – made their bows to my danna and filed out, one behind the other.
The maids scurried to remove the dishes and would have taken the sake flasks as well, but Teruki-san gestured for them to leave the charcoal burner and the flasks. I kneeled with my eyes lowered, waiting. Bedding was laid on the mats and then the maids approached me and stood on each side, waiting for my danna’s signal. I watched the shadows flickering on the screens. It seemed to me that they had grown much longer before he finally clapped his hands. Instantly, the girls helped me to my feet and began to ceremonially disrobe me.
It took them even longer to remove my obi and kimono and
undergarments than it had to put them on. Finally, I was naked except for my tabi, my white socks. I don’t suppose Teruki-san was prolonging the moment, no doubt it just felt that way to me, but I thought it was an age before he clapped his hands again and the girls wrapped me in a loose, comfortable robe before bowing themselves out of the room.
I was very glad to sink to my knees on the mat. If another second had passed, I think I would have simply folded gracelessly to the floor.
My danna was an old man. A very old man. He still had some hair, but not a great deal of it. The crown of his head was completely bare, and what was left was gathered and tied at the nape of his neck. Oddly, his bald head was as smooth as an egg, in cruel contrast to his face, which was a nest of wrinkles. His eyebrows were very bushy and vigorous, as though all the life of his hair had somehow taken possession of them. He was a heavy pipe smoker, as his upper lip was a darker brown than the rest of his face. I stared at the mat and forced a smile to my lips.
The silence was so profound I could hear Teruki-san breathing. A sudden thought made me feel physically sick: what if Teruki-san decided he didn’t want me after all? What if he demanded his money back? What if he complained to Auntie that I was inept? What would become of me then? Would Auntie sell me to one of the cheap houses of prostitution, where men could leer at me through the bars and I would be at every passerby’s disposal? I almost wailed in fear at the thought.
The sound of my own breathing in my ears was so deafening that for a second I did not realize that Teruki-san had spoken to me. He had to repeat his words and I could hear from his voice that he was not pleased. I was so terrified that suddenly I was desperate to pee. What if I did? There, on the tatami matting in front of this man who had paid so well for me? I couldn’t help myself. I moaned out loud with fear and worry.
My obvious distress seemed to please Teruki-san. He didn’t speak again, but patted the matting at his side. I shuffled over on my knees and bowed deeply to him, more worried about my bladder than my patron.
“Closer,” he said. Obediently, I inched a little nearer, close enough for him to touch me.
He wafted his hands at me, indicating that I should straighten up from my abject crouch. I did so, keeping my eyes deferentially lowered. I thought that he was going to loosen my robe to see what he had paid for, and I clenched my buttocks tight to stop myself from flinching. At least the insane desire to pee had receded, for which I gave thanks.
But he did not loosen my robe. Not at all. He reached out and poked at my wig. “Take that off.”
I stared at him, unable to believe he was talking about my beautiful wig, or rather, Carpi’s wig. But he nodded at it, and so I reached up and tugged it free. He waved his hand at the side of the matting, so I placed it where he had indicated, reverently. If any damage came to that wig, Carpi would skin me. He leaned forward and patted my hair, which was pinned up carefully to contain it under the wig. Pursing his lips, he began to pull out the pins.
Strands of auburn hair began to fall with each pin that came out. Finally, it was all down, trailing nearly to my waist. I heard Teruki-san clear his throat, a small noise of evident satisfaction.
He spat on his fingers and took a tendril of hair in his fist, first tugging it and then rubbing it between his wet fingers. He glanced at his fingers, and then repeated the process with another lock of hair. Appearing satisfied, he let the hair fall loose and then leaned forward, pushing my chin up with his thumb.
“Open your eyes, wide.”
I did so, and Teruki-san leaned forward and pulled my left eye wide open, holding the eyelid tightly between his thumb and first finger. With his free hand, he rubbed the ball of his thumb across my eye, quite hard. It hurt and I tried to blink, but could not as his grip was too tight.
He inspected his thumb carefully, and then repeated the process with my other eye.
Curiously, this strange inspection quelled my terror. He was making sure that he had got what he had paid for; that my strange, reddish hair and green eyes were natural, not tinted in some way. He had no doubt paid a huge sum to deflower me, and it was only fair that he inspect his purchase. Yet this irreverent inspection made me feel as if I was some sort of exotic fruit on a market stall, not a person at all. I gritted my teeth hard to prevent myself from telling him to stop, to get on with what he had paid for. Had I done so, then it would have been a matter of hours before I was, indeed, behind one of the barred prisons for prostitutes in the slum areas of the Floating World. And although I knew it, it did nothing to diminish my fury; rather, it seemed to increase it.
I sent up a silent prayer to any god who might be listening to make me keep my temper. To stop me striking out at this horrible old man, this man who smelled like the inside of a chest that has not been opened for years. To stop me from telling him exactly what I thought of him. I took a deep breath and made myself wait silently for him to finish his inspection.
Teruki-san finally finished rubbing my eyeballs and was ready to accept that I was genuine. A real half-breed. He smiled at me. His teeth were horrible, brown and yellow and most of them little more than stumps. Perhaps it was those dreadfully neglected teeth that did it, but the fury that had risen far enough to bubble as insults in my throat unexpectedly turned to bitter contempt for my danna. My eyes hurt where he had rubbed them and I was suddenly deeply envious of those geisha outside the Hidden House, those who never had to suffer humiliation like this in their mizuage. But I was just as much a geisha as they were, so I smiled as coquettishly as I could manage. I lowered my eyes and peeped at this horrible old man from under my eyelashes.
This was my mizuage, and no matter what, I was determined it would be done in true geisha style. My danna had paid a fortune for me. I was not going to disappoint him – or Auntie. I raised my eyes and smiled. Properly. Not flirtatiously or shyly. Properly.
Teruki-san seemed quite amused at my boldness. He tapped my breastbone sharply and grinned. I smiled back.
“Well, it’s good to see you really are a foreign Barbarian.” He chuckled, and I realized that this was his way of trying to flirt. “Stand up, dear, and take that robe off.”
I did as I was told, of course – but not how he had expected. I undid the sash slowly, and let it fall to the floor. I shrugged the robe off my shoulders and let it hang for the space of a second before it followed the sash. I stood before this horrible old man naked and unashamed, not even pretending to stoop to hide my height, still less cover my breasts and black moss.
Suddenly, I was worried that I had gone too far in the opposite direction in my new-found daring. Teruki-san drew in a deep breath, and I could see he was shuddering with excitement. He reached forward abruptly and thrust his fingers into my black moss. Not that it was black; in my case it was much, much redder than the hair on my head. This seemed to excite my danna immensely, and for one truly glorious moment I thought perhaps the stimulation might be too much for his aging heart and he might fall over with a seizure.
Alas, no. He parted my moss with eager fingers and then split my sex with his hand. His face fell, and he probed still further.
“Aie.” He scowled. “I had thought that foreign Barbarian women’s sex was different from that of Japanese women. I have heard tales that they were crossways. Yours is perfectly normal.”
Even as he spoke, his index finger was flicking in and out of my opening. His fingernail was long and ragged, and it caught on my moss uncomfortably. I raised my shoulders in bewilderment. What could I say? I was sure that I could hear a hiss of breath from the other side of the screen and I knew that Auntie was listening, and probably watching, from the other side. She was not pleased with me.
My fear of Auntie was far greater than my contempt for Teruki-san. Auntie held my life in her very hands. I licked my lips and words suddenly spilled out.
“Teruki-san, I am only half foreign Barbarian. I think that the half that is Japanese lives behind my black moss and the Barbarian half is in my eyes and my hair.”
He paused in his groping and probing for a second and then shrugged. “That may be so. Well, we shall see what you can do for me, child.”
He sat back comfortably and loosened his robe. He was propped on one elbow, waiting for me, and I thought, oh, let’s get this over with. It was a very brave thought, but of course I had no idea what was about to happen.
I kneeled down and bowed. Anything was better than having to look at him. He clapped his hands and nodded at his tree of flesh. Or at least, where his tree of flesh should have been. But I could see nothing except the twin swellings of his testicles and something that looked exactly like the mouth parts of a sea slug. I swallowed, my new found confidence evaporating as quickly as it had arisen. What was I supposed to do? What did he expect of me?
His hand closed around the mouth part of the sea slug and he tugged at it. I realized with dismay that this limp, disgusting thing was his tree of flesh. He waggled it at me and gestured with his head. I realized he wanted me to touch it, to bring it to life. Or at least, that’s what I thought he wanted.
I was wrong.
I reached out cautiously, and he let me fondle it for a few moments. It was even more disgusting than I had expected. It was slightly moist and quite cold. I rubbed it between my fingers and looked at him hopefully, to see if that was what he wanted.
Apparently not.
His lips were pursed like a button. He reached out and grabbed my hair, forcing my head down to his groin. I had a moment to think, oh no! and then he was mashing my head against his limp tree.
I had two choices. I could keep my mouth obstinately shut, in which case he would no doubt beat me until I did what he wanted anyway, or I could open my lips now and try and coax some life into his tree. I chose the latter. Really I had no choice in the matter. Even sucking at this disgusting bit of withered flesh was better than facing Auntie’s anger. If I refused to obey my danna, tomorrow would find me in a low-class whorehouse, at the whim of any man who fancied me.