The Little Teashop in Tokyo

by Julie Caplin

  ‘Karaoke bar.’ Gabe almost laughed at her unexpectedly enthusiastic response.

  ‘OK. Karaoke bar it is. Have you been to one before?’

  ‘No. Never. Have you?’

  ‘I live in Japan. Somehow it seems inevitable to end up in one, especially after a heavy night out. The Japanese really do love them. You should see Haruka go.’

  ‘Haruka! No, you’re having me on.’

  ‘Swear to God and cross my heart.’ He held his hand up boy-scout style. ‘It was Mayu’s birthday treat.’ He shuddered. ‘And she sang “Like a Virgin”. Mayu that is, not Haruka.’

  Fiona giggled. ‘I’d like to have seen that. What did Haruka sing?’

  He laughed. ‘She sang Whitney’s “I Will Always Love You”.’

  ‘Interesting,’

  ‘It certainly was.’ He grimaced.

  ‘Can you? Sing, that is?’

  ‘I can hold a tune. And when I’ve had a few I’m the next best thing to Robbie Williams.’ He grinned at her. ‘How about you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m okay.’

  They pushed their way into the bar, through a crowd of very happy Japanese youngsters who were just leaving. The place was packed with plenty of people and there was a group of German tourists on stage, gleefully murdering a Mariah Carey song much to the evident enjoyment of the assembled crowd of mainly tourists.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ Gabe had to shout in her ear over the noise of the clapping and cheering.

  Fiona, who was taking everything in with interest, pulled a face. ‘I’ve no idea. I usually drink wine but I’m not sure … what do people drink here?’

  ‘Highballs, mainly, or beer.’

  ‘I’ve had enough beer. What’s in a highball?’

  ‘It’s a long drink of Japanese whisky and soda although some people drink it with Coke or lemonade.’

  ‘I’ll try one of those. With lemonade please.’

  He muscled his way to the front of the bar and caught the eye of the waitress who was singing along to the song at a decibel level that might burst an ear drum. Carrying the drinks, he wriggled his way through the chairs and tables to where Fiona had found two spare seats at the end of a long table that was occupied by two other parties.

  ‘Kanpai,’ he said, raising his glass to chink against hers.

  ‘Kanpai,’ she said back. ‘I guess that means cheers.’

  ‘Sort of. The direct translation is “empty your glass”.’

  Fiona took a couple of sips and then tipped her neck back and drained the glass in one.

  ‘Whoa. You were thirsty. I didn’t mean you to take it literally. Do you want another?’

  ‘Yes please,’ she said as sweetly and placidly as a nun, as if she hadn’t just necked a double whisky.

  ‘Okay. You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  When he brought back the second drink, he said, ‘Go slowly with this one. That whisky can pack quite a punch.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and watching the proceedings avidly as the German singers left the stage and another couple took to the mic.

  ‘This is quite a traditional karaoke bar. These days the big chains in Tokyo and big cities tend to have different sized private rooms that you can hire by the hour. A lot of them are themed and some even have costumes for a bit of cosplay.’

  ‘Wow. That sounds … hideous. Oh,’ her eyes darted to the stage, ‘I love this song.’

  ‘It’s a karaoke classic isn’t?’ Gabe teased as the strains of ‘Islands in the Stream’ began to play.

  ‘So what song would you choose for us to sing together?’ he asked.

  ‘“Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”.’ She winced. ‘That came out … wrong. It was the first duet that I could think of.’ Her eyes were suddenly a little grave. ‘But you probably could.’

  The words punched him in the throat and he swallowed, the sudden sense of responsibility weighing heavy and making him feel a little panic stricken.

  Her lip curled, as if she could hear the thoughts running through his head.

  ‘If I let you,’ she gave a sniff and tossed her hair over her shoulder, ‘which I’m not going to do. So you don’t need to worry.’

  Well that told him. But what if she broke his?

  ***

  A few more songs and a third highball later, Fiona was as ready as she was ever going to be. Gabe had been quite intrigued when, after the German couple had come off the stage, she’d signed up for a turn. That was the first whisky talking.

  Stage fright was a real kicker. Even the thought of mounting those steps filled her stomach with rocks and the whisky hadn’t helped the way she’d hoped it would but something inside her drove her on; she wanted to impress Gabe for once. He was always so competent, so self-assured. She wanted to show him that she was good at something.

  A group of Japanese girls were doing terrible things to the Spice Girls ‘Wannabe’ and quite literally having a ‘wail’ of a time doing it. Not that the crowd cared; they were going wild. She was the act after the next one and prayed that the next act wouldn’t be as high octane because they would be a tough act to follow.

  ‘You sure you want to do this?’ asked Gabe as she drained the last of the third highball.

  ‘Yes,’ she gave him what she hoped was a confident smile, doing her best to squash the squirmy wriggling running wild in her stomach. Come on Fiona, you can do this. You’re planning to sleep with him! This will be much easier. There, she’d admitted it to herself, she was going to sleep with him. Maybe like being on stage, once you were there, it would all be fine. It was the physical act of stepping onto the stage that made her knees shake so much.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what you’re going to sing?’ asked Gabe for possibly the tenth or maybe it was the eleventh time.

  ‘No, I told you.’ She wagged a finger at him. ‘You have to wait.’

  ‘Well, the waiting is over,’ he nodded as the teenager hit the closing high notes of his song to polite applause.

  Fiona got to her feet. Why had she chosen to do this? Why? But it was too late to turn back. She straightened. Ever since she’d known Gabe, she’d felt a like a small child trying to keep up with an adult. Despite her nerves, she knew she could do this. It was her chance to shine, to show him another side of herself. With her back to the audience, she approached the stage and undid a few buttons on her jumpsuit. She could do this.

  Four steps to the stage. She counted them. One. Two. Three. Four. Steadied her breathing. Gripped the microphone. Took another breath, a deep breath pushing down on her diaphragm. She could do this.

  The first few strums of guitar played and without having to check the words on the screen, on the fifth one, she opened her mouth, the familiar sensation of being right at home filling every cell in her body. Her voice rang out, ‘Everybody screamed …’

  She gave Gabe a dazzling smile.

  ‘… when I kissed the teacher.’

  She wished she could have taken a picture of his face. And then she pulled her jumpsuit down to bare one shoulder and gave a suggestive shimmy, still focusing her attention on Gabe as she sang the next few lines flashing her eyes at him. As the beat picked up, she began to twirl and dance around the stage and the crowd began to clap and cheer.

  Fiona grinned at the audience stage channelling her inner Lily James for all she was worth. Mamma Mia, Here We Go Again was one of her favourite films. Copying her moves and singing along had proved positive therapy. And now, under Gabe’s astonished gaze, she sang and danced her heart out, revelling in the music and the song. For some bizarre reason she had never managed to fathom, when she was singing, Fiona felt truly at home. Perhaps because she could pretend to be someone else. Singing came naturally to her and she loved it but she’d never had the confidence to do anything with it.

  Now the crowd were joining in the refrain, clapping along, and Gabe along with many others was on his feet.

  She beckoned to
two girls on the front row, who were already having the time of their lives and invited them on stage. Without needing a second invitation, giggling together, they bounded up the steps to join in the chorus and copy her dance steps as she took two steps to the right and kicked up a leg and two steps to the left.

  When the song finally came to an end, the whole place erupted clapping, cheering, whooping, and, grinning like a loon, Fiona took her bows and came down the steps, shaking her head as the wolf whistles and shouts of ‘more, more’ continued. She wended her way back to Gabe and as she came up next to him, he threw his arms around her and kissed her.

  ‘You were awesome.’ His eyes danced. ‘And seriously hot. The crowd loved you.’

  She laughed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Seriously Fi, you were incredible.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Now the shyness and embarrassment started to creep in. She ducked her head, although she couldn’t stop smiling.

  ‘Oh no you don’t. Don’t get all modest and retiring on me now.’ He kissed her again and he might have carried on if they hadn’t been interrupted by a polite, ‘ahem’ – or the Japanese equivalent. A waitress with a tray of drinks stood there and spoke in halting English. ‘From the house.’

  ‘That’s very kind,’ said Fiona, her heart still beating at a thousand beats per minute. She was conscious of the flush on her cheeks as the girl put them on the table.

  ‘You were so good!’ The waitress smiled and retreated.

  ‘Well, if that’s what a couple of whisky does … I think you might have had enough. I’m not sure I can take any more,’ teased Gabe covering the top of the drinks with a protective hand.

  Her fuzzy heart, or whatever was wrong with it, beat faster and before she lost her newfound confidence, she lifted a slightly shaky hand to take his and looked at him. ‘Let’s go back to the hotel.’

  Chapter 22

  As they got to the hotel – Fiona having sung all the way back, encouraged by Gabe – they collapsed, bent double with giggles in the lift, and any thought about being nervous had completely sailed.

  Okay, she was a bit pissed and possibly high on adulation so when they arrived at her hotel room door, she tugged at Gabe’s hand, pulling him into the room. Someone had been in and turned down the bed, switching on the bedside lamps which emitted a welcoming glow that softened the edges of the room. Like a looming guardian angel, through the window the outline of Mount Fuji glistened in the silver moonlight.

  Gabe pulled her to him and she lifted her mouth to his kisses. Nerves fizzed a little but curiosity and desire beat them back and she began to tug at his jacket, sliding it down his arms, her fingers digging into his biceps, smiling into the kiss as he made short, efficient work of her jacket.

  ‘I like the jumpsuit,’ he murmured against her throat, undoing the buttons with slow, careful attention. She shivered as his mouth vibrated against the tender skin, her hands sliding under his shirt and T-shirt before roving over the smooth skin of his muscular back.

  He stepped back and in one fluid movement stripped both off, lifting them over his head to expose a tanned chest dusted with dark hair. Something twisted inside her at the sight of his golden skin warmed by the radiance of the lamplit room.

  ‘Nice,’ she breathed, reaching out to touch him.

  He gave her a crooked smile and skirted the lace of her camisole with one finger, skimming her skin with a barely there touch that sent fireworks shooting downwards.

  He pushed the linen fabric off her shoulder and kissed the bare skin, his lips lingering, sending more tingles racing here, there, and everywhere.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do that since you gave me that come hither look over your shoulder on stage.’

  She swallowed, a little dazed and bemused by the sensations buffeting her body – aching in some places and burning in others. He tracked kisses along the sensitive skin to her throat and then to her mouth. When his tongue touched hers, everything seemed to go from zero to sixty in seconds. Their mouths duelled, danced, and teased and she felt her breath coming faster as the heat between her legs rose. Unable to help herself, and in truth a little shocked by the strength of her need, she ground against him, feeling his hard erection, wanting more. Heat rose and his kiss deepened, one hand behind her head holding her possessively as with his other hand he pushed down her jumpsuit, his fingers finding her breasts with a heartfelt groan. The gentle roving touch that danced around her nipple was a sparkling, fizzing contrast to his hungry lips that made her breathless with frustration and desire. More, she wanted more. She had thought about this for so long.

  She kissed him back, unsure at first as he gave way, letting her tongue take dominance, allowing her to lead the dance.

  Her hands found the button on his jeans and for a moment she fumbled with the stiff fabric, finding it difficult to concentrate with the delicious sensation drawn by his fingers, now moving to the other breast leaving her nipple tingling with a heady mix of yearning and aching need.

  Somehow with his legs still in his jeans, the jumpsuit pushed to her thighs, they stumbled back towards the bed and when it hit the back of her knees, she fell backwards taking him with her. In a clumsy tangle of arms and legs they wriggled out of their clothes, laughing, and he settled on top of her, his weight igniting a flash of desire. Kissing him more deeply, Fiona pressed her hips upwards to squirm against his groin as his hands delved into her hair. The firm, delicious touch of his fingers grazing her scalp made her sigh with pleasure as he peppered her face with kisses, before skimming down her neck and pressing kisses over her nipples through the camisole.

  ‘Mmm,’ she squeaked as he lifted up the cami and pushed aside her bra. The touch of his mouth made her hips rise again. ‘Oh wow,’ she said in a strangled voice as desperation tortured her.

  Gabe, it appeared, wasn’t in any hurry and things slowed as he took a leisurely trip tasting and sipping at her breasts, bringing her to breathlessness, her hands fisting in the covers as she gave involuntary moans.

  ‘Stop. Stop,’ she panted. She felt like she might explode at any second. It was all too much. Every nerve ending was on fire. ‘I can’t. I can’t.’ Her hand fluttered and she swallowed, her breath coming in ridiculous pants. He lifted his head and moved his hand up to her face to cup her chin.

  ‘Too fast?’

  ‘Mmm,’ she nodded, grateful for his understanding. ‘I need … sorry. I need a minute.’ He rolled from her and gathered her in his arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She could feel the heave of his chest as it rose and fell.

  Immediately she felt bereft but a little less panicky.

  ‘Phew,’ wheezed Gabe. ‘I think I might have a heart attack.’ He picked up her hand and placed it over his heart. The thunderous pace of his pulse made her smile.

  ‘I thought it was just me.’

  ‘Just you what?’

  ‘Feeling crazy out of control.’

  He laughed and kissed her firmly on the mouth. ‘Nope, I’m in the crazy out-of-control camp too.’

  ‘Good,’ she whispered and placed a careful kiss on his neck, the tip of her tongue tasting the skin on his collar bone.

  With a groan, he buried his face in her hair and lay still, their harsh breathing puncturing the still air of the dimly lit room.

  She tentatively ran a hand across his chest and could tell he was forcing himself to lie still. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.

  ‘Don’t you dare apologise,’ he said gruffly. ‘This is about two people. Although you’re killing me. Just saying.’

  She smiled and kissed him, wrapping her arms around him and tugging him on top of her.

  ‘I’ve caught up with the crazy now,’ she whispered.

  ‘Are you sure? We don’t have to do this,’ he said, his hand skimming down her ribs.

  She nodded, certain.

  He moved to the edge of the bed and removed something from the wallet in his jeans.

  ‘We’ll need to make these count. I didn’t exac
tly come prepared,’ he said with a teasing smile.

  She gave him a shy smile. ‘You’re doing fine so far.’

  When his body finally slid home, it was an awful lot more than fine.

  ***

  She woke slowly to a room lit by moonlight, her body tingling all over, warm and satiated, and brought her fingers to her tender mouth, aware of the involuntary smile there. Goodness, she’d been missing out. Gabe certainly knew what he was doing and … she smiled again, he didn’t seem to have had any complaints about what she’d been doing. Her heart did a little jig as she recalled the long groan of pleasure when he’d come … both times. She could hear Gabe’s slow, steady breathing next to her and felt the steady heat radiating from his body.

  For a minute she gazed down at him, his rumpled hair spread on the pillow and his face relaxed. Her heart bloomed with love. Yup, she loved him, every last inch of him. Even when he was being an arrogant jerk. Or now when he was spread out in front of her. God, it was so tempting. To reach out and touch – smooth that hair, stroke his collar bone – but instead she studied his face, biting her lip. Gabe Burnett. Gorgeous. Generous in bed. Last night had been a complete and utter revelation. Fiona almost giggled out loud – would have done if the sadness hadn’t clamped down hard. Instead she swallowed as she traced the hollows of his throat. She’d slept with him – Gabe Burnett – the real man, not the illusion she’d held for so long. Surprisingly, she’d felt his equal. A woman. Not the naïve schoolgirl who lived inside her always trying to keep up. Tears blurred her vision. Well they could bloody go away. Man up, Fi. This was real life, not a rom-com where he’d turn around and declare she was the love of his life. Men like Gabe didn’t do that … well, not with women like her. And she’d known that. No point getting all sad and mopey. This was going to be a treasured memory when she went back to London. As she’d promised herself earlier, she was going to make the most of the next few days.

  She lifted herself to her elbows to gaze at Mount Fuji, now with the moon behind it, all mystical and magical. A good picture. She edged carefully out of bed, casting a quick backward glance at Gabe. He didn’t stir.