by Gia Dawn
By this time, Ian had already finished the entire bar and was reaching for another. “How about the hot chili flavor?”
“Uh-uh, not me. But don’t let that stop you.” She smiled as he tore open the wrapper and broke off an entire piece of the chocolate-covered confection before stuffing it into his mouth. “So did you grow up learning both Japanese and English?”
He shook his head while he chewed. “Not at first. My mother’s family refused to speak to her after she married an American, and my father almost refused to let me learn anything about her culture in return. But about ten years ago my mother’s last nephew passed away and her father, Shoji Senior, realized I was the only male relative left to take over the business.”
“You call him that?” Sakura was fascinated by Ian’s overly formal mention of his grandfather and of their families’ similar histories of alienation.
Ian’s expression shuttered. “We have reached an agreement. He addresses me by my middle name, Hideo, because Ian is not a proper Japanese name. In return I refuse to call him Grandfather.”
“But your father is American, right? Why don’t you use his surname?”
He grunted. The sound was so familiar it brought a sharp sense of déjà-vu, but she could not place it as he chastised her, causing a rush of embarrassment to flood her cheeks. “For such a delicate woman you ask indelicate questions. My legal name is Ian Hideo Shoji-Hayes, and I use it on all formal documents. But it is too big a mouthful for everyday affairs.”
“So why did you ever consent to take over the business?” Her curiosity had already overcome her earlier embarrassment.
He sighed and ran his hands down his face in exasperation, but he answered her willingly. “After some harsh negotiating, my mother convinced my father she would give anything to be reunited with her family. We packed up and moved to Japan. Since I had just finished high school and had no firm plans for the future, I decided to grant my mother her wish and go to meet the relatives. Once I’d made certain they knew I had no interest in running the business, I intended to move back to the States. To my shock I was doted on by my aunts and uncles, loved the way it made my mother happy and came to accept the country as home.” He paused, his tone growing serious. “There is a beauty to the culture I never expected and I have learned some…shall we say…very interesting physical delights.”
His expression dared her to ask, but Sakura found she couldn’t say a word as her thoughts turned to her Bashuki and his particular brand of pleasure. Would the men like each other, she wondered, braving a glance at her companion from the corner of her eye. Would Ian be as fascinated by the ropes, the bondage, the way immobility forced a woman to submit?
As her body began to hum in arousal, Sakura jumped to her feet and strode purposefully toward the parking lot. She needed physical activity, and since sex with Ian was out of the question, exercise would have to do as a substitution.
“Want to work off that chocolate at the gym?” she demanded as Ian caught up with her by the car.
“More than you know,” came his cryptic response.
It took barely fifteen minutes to drive to the gym and sign in. To Sakura’s surprise the personal trainer greeted Ian warmly.
“Closest to my hotel,” he commented, heading for the locker room. “I will meet you in five minutes and teach you some wing chun—fast hands.”
Sakura was thrilled that Ian had offered to teach her something new. She was not a stranger to martial arts, having studied the typical tae kwon do in high school and beyond, but Ian’s form of sparring turned out to be a totally different animal. For starters, it was full contact.
He laced up her boxing gloves and gave her a smile. “Ready?”
She noticed he did not put on gloves himself. “You plan to knock me out with the first hit?”
He chuckled and took up ready position. “My aim is perfect. I will barely lay a hand on you.”
“Right.” She placed herself in ready stance also, her legs spread hip-width apart with her right foot slightly ahead of the other, arms held up at shoulder height. But she knew enough not to bob as a boxer would, instead holding her position steadily as she waited for Ian to make the first move.
When he did the strike was so quick she didn’t even see his hand move before his knuckles brushed lightly across her cheek.
Damn, he was fast.
The second blow landed against her neck as Ian stepped beside her and spun, his other hand batting her bottom as he passed.
“No funny business,” she warned when he stepped to her front once more, his palm landing square upon one breast. “Cheap shot. You did that on purpose.”
He had the decency to bow his head, and when he did Sakura punched with her left fist, aiming for the side of his jaw. She didn’t even come close. Her blow hit air as he whirled away, smacking her on her ass once more, this time strong enough to actually sting.
“Enough.” Sakura dropped her hands to her sides. “Go find another patsy while I pretend this weight bag is you.” She stepped over to the heavy hanging bag and wrapped her arms around it, ramming her knee solidly into the vinyl exactly where a man’s private parts would be.
This time Ian laughed aloud. “Remind me not to take you on in kickboxing.”
Just then an amazingly attractive man crossed the gym toward them. He was taller than Ian by a head with a thickly muscled chest and biceps to die for. But Sakura could see the mass of scar tissue that disappeared beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt and could not miss the way he favored one leg over the other. With his military haircut and his massive body build she guessed he was a soldier. That he’d seen combat was evidenced by his injuries.
He smiled at Ian before turning his amazingly blue eyes on her. “Ty Brisson,” he introduced himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Sakura blinked in surprise. Ty Brisson? As in relative of Manette Brisson who ran the Red Mask? And the man was every bit as regal as the woman, despite his wounded state.
“Sakura Nakao.” She held out her hand, giggling when she realized she was still wearing the clumsy boxing gloves. “Pleased to meet you.”
His hands were wrapped in gloves as thick as hers, she noted as they bumped fists together. “And you, ma cherie.”
His French accent was nearly her undoing. Sakura had a sudden picture of Ty holding her immobile in his burly arms while her Bakushi tied her up in silk, before both men ran their hands and tongues over every inch of her body.
The image became even more intense when Ian and Ty began to spar. Ian was faster than the bigger man by far, but Ty matched him in skill, landing one heavy blow for every two Ian rained down upon his shoulders—although Ty’s mouth thinned every time one of Ian’s fists made contact.
Sakura found herself fantasizing that the men were fighting for her favor, although a tie would be the most satisfying ending. Then both men could declare themselves the winner and she could lavish her favors on them equally.
As she continued to indulge herself in her erotic thoughts, she grew uncomfortably aware of Ian as a potential sexual partner. So far, despite the occasional sting between her legs, she had managed to keep to the initial parameters of their relationship, appreciating his friendship and companionship without the messy encumbrance of a physical liaison.
And her encounters with her teacher at the Red Mask satisfied her strongest erotic needs. But where her Bakushi was stern and cold and demanding, Ian was much more fun and entertaining. Why couldn’t she wrap both men into one?
Ian was handsome and kept his body in prime condition. She, on the contrary, was certain she had gained at least ten pounds over the past couple of years from her fondness for burgers and crispy french fries. Which spurred her to attack the weight bag with renewed force. If she was going to fantasize about making love to both men, she was determined they should fantasize about making love to her.
By the time they were ready to leave the gym, Sakura had sweated out any leftover sexual energy. She dropped I
an off at his hotel before heading home to watch the video and turn her full attention to learning the Tea Ceremony as quickly as she could.
Chapter Six
Sakura watched the video for two weeks straight, growing more and more fascinated with the mysterious woman; what she wore, how she moved, how her hair was styled and her makeup applied.
She also memorized every utensil in the ceremony, listening to her teacher’s voice before repeating the names to herself over and over as the woman picked each item up and used it in the ceremony until Sakura was finally certain she could pass whatever her Bakushi’s test might be.
What he had planned for her other studies, she refused to even consider. It made her body ache with a need that left her sleepless, her emotions spinning out of control every time she thought of the way he would force her to submit to his every demand.
Ian ate lunch with her most every day and took her to the gym to work off the meal. She was growing to love his easy company, although she found her parents’ constant inquiries about their relationship both tedious and nerve-racking.
No matter how many times she told them there was no marriage anywhere in sight, they simply bowed their heads and told her not to worry, that Ian would respect his family and do the proper thing, and that she would then become their most dutiful daughter and agree to the match out of gratitude for her upbringing.
And to make matters worse she had developed a distinct craving for Kit Kat bars, the plain old American kind. She bought an entire package of the chocolate and hid it in her desk, gorging herself on the yummy treat whenever she thought of what the future held.
By the Saturday she was to meet her teacher at the Red Mask again, Sakura was in a near panic of stress and expectation, devouring more chocolate in a single afternoon than she had in the entire month before as she got ready to face the night ahead.
“You seeing Ian?” Her mother caught her as Sakura tiptoed her way downstairs, hoping against hope she could make it out the door without either of her parents taking notice. “Where he take you?”
“I’m not seeing Ian, Mama,” Sakura answered, trying to keep from banging her head against the wall in frustration.
“Not see Shoji-san?” Aiko caught Sakura by the arm. “Where you go then? You have lover on the side?”
“I do not have a lover on the side.” The deliberate lie came too easily but it could not be helped. If either of her parents had any idea that she really was sleeping with another man while they were trying to marry her off to Ian, they would most likely kill her first and ask questions later.
“You stay home. Wait for Ian to call.” Her mother pointed back up the stairs. “Go to room and take off that dress. You look like hooker.”
Sakura stepped close and gave her mother a hug. “I am going out with the girls, Mama. I know you worry but I promise you I will be fine.”
“What time you come home in case Ian call?”
Sakura groaned in frustration. “Ian is not going to call. He doesn’t think of me that way, okay?” The disappointment in her voice was as much a shock to her as to her mother.
Aiko hugged Sakura in return. “Not to worry. He do honorable thing for his family.”
Sakura disentangled herself and opened the door. “Good night, Mama. Don’t wait up.”
Please don’t wait up. The last thing she needed was to face either of her parents after her night at the Red Mask. While her father would probably remain blissfully ignorant of her encounter, her mother would sniff out every molecule of sex left on her skin and interrogate her until Sakura spilled everything or passed out from sheer exhaustion.
After she finally made it to her car, she turned her cell phone to vibrate and tucked it into her bag. Only then did she allow herself to fully explore the flood of excitement pooling between her legs—a rush of want that left her breathless…and more than ready to satisfy her master’s every desire.
* * * * *
Sakura was fascinated the instant she set foot into his room. He already had everything laid out on the tatami mat where he was sitting on his knees on the floor, his hands resting on his thighs, his head lowered as if in meditation.
He lifted his face to watch her as she bowed and slipped off her shoes. “Youkoso, keisei. Come and show me what you’ve learned. But first you will put on the kimono.” He pointed to a purple robe lying on the bed.
“Where can I change?” She spotted the door to the bathroom and headed that way but he stopped her with a frown.
“You will change here so that I may take pleasure in watching you.”
“Here?” Her voice squeaked.
“Hai.” He sat back on his heels and folded his hands in his lap. She thought he would sit there forever, patiently, never moving a single muscle as he waited for her to obey.
But while he was the epitome of calm, Sakura’s hands were already starting to shake as she fumbled for the zipper at the back of her dress.
“You look like a child,” he admonished, “not a woman of grace and sensuality. Show me you know you are beautiful. Show me you know how I crave to tie you to my bed, your body spread out like a feast before me.”
Her cunt clenched tight in answer as she pictured herself splayed and bound across the bed, her nipples puckering to strain against her dress as she imagined him pinching them between his skillful fingers. Did he have any idea how much he could arouse her without placing a single touch against her skin?
“Now.”
So that eternal patience was starting to wear thin. Good. She wanted him hungry. Wanted him to feel the same dark need.
Straightening her shoulders, Sakura turned her attention back to her dress, this time turning her back to him so he could see every inch of her skin as she tugged the zipper slowly down. Then she shimmied the material past her hips, bending over to give him a glimpse of her bottom before she let the dress fall to the floor.
“Excellent,” he whispered. “Turn so I can see you from the front.”
She folded her arms across her breasts as she obeyed, bowing her head to let her hair slide forward to cover the flush of embarrassment that heated her cheeks. While she wanted to be daring and bold and free, a part of her was still hesitant to give him such a show. But she had the mask to hide her now. It granted her freedom and anonymity. She caught a glimpse of herself in the lacquered mirror on the ceiling and saw the strange woman she’d seen before, ancient, mysterious, a geisha come to life. Lifting her hands and arching her back, she drew her hair up from her neck and let it fall behind her shoulders, baring herself completely to his gaze.
His hands fisted where they rested on his thighs. His jaw clenched. She could see the outline of his erection where it rose against his stomach, and smiled as she watched him spread his knees apart. “Put on the kimono before I decide not to control my baser urges.” He untied the sash around his robe and pulled it completely open, giving her an unobstructed view of his swollen cock. “Unless you would like to forgo your lesson for the night?”
“No.” Sakura grabbed her kimono and slid it over her shoulders, wrapping the simple obi sash around her waist. She had practiced too hard to let him off so easily. She was ready to show him how quickly she had learned. In seconds she was kneeling on the mat beside him.
“Huh.” He grunted, then closed his robe once more before he lowered his palms to the floor and bowed his head between them.
Sakura copied the movement.
He pointed to the kettle. “What is this?”
“Kama.”
“And this?” He held up the bamboo ladle.
“Hishaku.”
Now he picked up the delicately crafted whisk.
“Chasin,” she said without hesitation.
After they had worked their way through the rest of the utensils, he gave her a slight smile. “Well done. Did you watch the video I gave you?”
“Every day.” Sakura could not keep the admiration from her voice. “Who is that woman? She is stunning. Amazing. I watched he
r over and over and over. I swear I couldn’t tear my eyes away.”
“Thank you, keisei. I will tell my mother how much you appreciate her expertise.”
“That gorgeous woman is your mother?” Sakura’s pride tumbled.
How on earth was she ever going to compare to that? If he grew up watching his mother perform the ceremony with such absolute perfection, how was she supposed to do anything that came even close? She felt ungainly and clumsy by comparison, her earlier confidence crumbling like dried-out cake. It grew worse when he stood and moved to open the door.
“I have invited another apprentice of mine to observe.”
“Your apprentice?” Sakura watched in shivering fascination as Ty Brisson limped into the room. Even though the man was masked and wearing a black kimono, she would know him anywhere. What was he apprenticing for?
Only one discipline sprang to mind.
Ty was learning the art of bondage.
Did he recognize her? Would he report her decadent behavior to Ian?
Starting to hyperventilate, Sakura bowed her head in a gesture of submission meant more to hide her from his eyes than any true respect. To the man’s credit, he seemed to know what was required of him for he slipped off his sandals and knelt on the mat, bowing his head to the floor.
“You are required to welcome a guest,” her Bakushi chastised, resuming his place beside her.
“K-konnichiwa,” she managed, taking a gulp of air.
“Domo arigatou,” Ty responded, raising his head and sitting back on his heels. If the position gave him any discomfort he did not show it, although Sakura thought she saw his jaw clench shut as he assumed the seiza position.
