Hatsukoi Page 4

  “I’ve never…” The words wouldn’t come out.

  But Michiko was a “clever one.” “Ah. You’re a virgin.”

  Aiko said nothing.

  “No wonder you’re confused,” Michiko continued, as if Aiko’s status in the bedroom explained everything. “Here you are, surrounded by lesbians for the first time in your life, and as the thoughts come, you realize you don’t even have experiences with men to compare women to. I suppose it’s natural for the naïve.”

  Aiko curled her hands over her knees, and her biceps tightened under the pressure of her bowing head. “Then how should I know?”

  “The fact you even question it to begin with suggests more than you realize. I’d garner most women don’t ever get that far.” Michiko stood and crossed to the phone hanging on the wall. Before she picked it up, she said, “Consider who you think about when you touch yourself. Assuming you do that.”’

  While Michiko phoned the front desk to order some other item, Aiko considered the statement put to her. She knew what “touch yourself” implied, but had never done that…directly. But a couple years before she discovered how good it felt to maneuver the showerhead at her groin. She only had the gumption to go through with it twice since then, but her first detectable orgasm had been enough to keep her smiling for a day. She could not, however, recall if she ever thought of anyone during the event, man or woman.

  Michiko returned, sitting closer to Aiko than before. Her perfume was stronger, but relaxing like a gentle touch, not invasive like the stench of the factory a few miles away from Aiko’s house. The pleasing foreigner leaned toward her, much as she had in the restaurant an hour before. “It’ll be easier to know if you ever fall in love.”

  “Have you ever been in love?” Deflection was the one defense Aiko had.

  A sigh as pitiful as a baby’s breath escaped Michiko’s round lips. “Yes. Once. A long time ago.”

  “With a boy?”

  “No. My first real girlfriend.”

  “Oh. What happened? I mean, you seem sad about it.” Most awful save ever.

  At first Michiko seemed to not want to answer, but then she looked her nails and said, “I already liked women before I met her. But only sexually. She introduced me to ‘love.’ Sometimes,” she tossed her hair to the side and closed her eyes, “I feel like I’m still chasing her, trying to find her again.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “The simplest answer is that she died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. It was a very long time ago.” A small smile replaced the forlorn frown. “I have other people to help fill the void now.”

  Aiko recalled her cousin’s mumblings about “these two lesbians always doing God knows what between shows and before practice.” The evident closeness between Michiko and Reina still pulled at her curiosity. “Do you love Reina-san?”

  “Hm? No. Not like that. She’s just a close friend.” Michiko laughed. “A close friend that I sleep with from time to time.”

  Aiko chewed on that thought as the door opened and a busboy appeared with a small plate of vegetables. Michiko thanked him, and he left again. Now there was something else for Aiko to chew on.

  “Nee,” Michiko said, with a new testy smile as she reached for a carrot, “did you enjoy that little flirtation earlier in the restaurant?”

  Yes! Yes! The infection rang in Aiko’s ears, forcing her to recall that toxic memory of a cherry tomato rubbing against her lips, while everything between her legs turned to warm and tender slush. Oh God, yes! But her senses knew better, and saw what Michiko’s game was. The carrot hovered between them.

  “Flirting is harmless, for the most part.” The carrot diverted to Michiko’s mouth, and she chomped on it while brushing her fingers together. “You just have to be careful not to take it too far.”

  Trying not to laugh at Michiko’s mouth full of carrot was easier said than chewed – at least Aiko could stop thinking about sexual matters for two seconds. “I’m not very good at flirting,” she said.

  Michiko picked up another carrot. “I’m not sure about that.” She twirled the carrot between her dainty fingers. “You were flirting with me rather gloriously back at the restaurant.”

  “What? No way.”

  The carrot presented itself before Aiko. “You should’ve seen your face when I put that tomato in your mouth. You were practically begging for me to climb on top of you.”

  Aiko kept an eye on the carrot, waiting for it to approach like the tomato. “I have no idea what I was thinking.”

  Other fingers appeared besides Aiko’s ear, and the tips of Michiko’s nails scratched away errant hair. “Did you like it?”

  “Like what?”

  That carrot eased forward; Aiko bit her lip in defense. “This.”

  The tip of the carrot pressed against her mouth, but it wasn’t the same as the first time with the tomato: no excitement, no newness…not until Michiko’s breath crashed into Aiko’s ear, and her lip dropped down to accept the carrot with a whimper.

  Michiko pulled the carrot before Aiko could bite the end off. When it poked against her lip again, she asked, “What’s the point to this?”

  “Would you rather we sing karaoke?” Michiko’s breath still lingered in her ear. “I don’t know about you, but since singing for a living I’ve found karaoke to be…”

  Aiko didn’t let her finish before diving forward and grabbing a carrot of her own from the vegetable plate. Although she intended to eat it herself, Michiko’s hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist. What is she doing? Does she want me to do it to her? Aiko’s question was answered when her hand pointed itself toward Michiko’s grin.

  Her hand is so soft. Aiko wondered what else about her was soft.

  Michiko snapped her teeth out and pricked the carrot right from Aiko’s hand; she pulled the carrot out of her mouth and held it against Aiko’s unsuspecting lips. Below, their hands locked together in the space between them.

  Surely, the carrot would push through Aiko’s mouth, just as the previous carrot and the tomato before that had. Surely. But Michiko was the type of woman to keep Aiko guessing, wondering, imagining. The carrot traced the bottom outline of her lips, slowly, like the coldest balm. It then tingled against her chin, then her cheek, and up and down her face from eyebrows to her throat. Aiko kept her eyes closed, afraid of the embarrassment she would feel should she look into Michiko’s.

  Eat it, the infection told her. It rumbled in her stomach. Aiko clasped Michiko’s hand harder. Eat it.

  When the carrot returned to Aiko’s lips, she was ready. She lowered her tongue to gather it into her mouth, and the first taste of victory was literally sweet. But the carrot wasn’t the only thing to come into her mouth: Michiko’s finger followed, pushing aside the carrot to roll on Aiko’s tongue. She tasted like a mixture of her cigarette and the carrot juices rolling down her finger.

  Michiko’s finger lingered long enough to make its point. Aiko opened her eyes, the world a complete blur.

  That hot breath was still in her ear, however, and there was no ignoring it. “Jya,” Michiko purred, one nail tracing down Aiko’s throat, “shall I kiss you now?”

  About damn time! Aiko surprised herself with that thought. She blamed the unholy infection playing with her mind. “If you’d like,” she whispered.

  Michiko pointed Aiko’s head in line for a little kiss, and her everything exploded into panic. A woman is going to kiss me. Aiko wouldn’t have ever believed it a week ago.

  “How’d you like it if I fucked your pussy really good?”

  A shudder, and a crack in her voice. Michiko pulled away and unclenched their hands. “Is that how you feel?”

  Aiko opened her eyes. “Wait. What?” Where’s the kiss? “Did I do something wrong?”

  “I think it’s time to end this date.”

  A third course of disappointment for Aiko’s mixed up, confusing day. “I’m sorry.”

  Michi
ko grabbed some vegetables off the variety plate and kicked back beer as if nobody watched. “Don’t worry about anything. Just a little surprised, that’s all.”

  “What?”

  Michiko pushed the plate toward Aiko; a new cigarette appeared followed by its lighter. “Well, unless you think my name is Reina…”

  Aiko’s lips went dry, and all the spit in her mouth drained down her throat. “I didn’t…”

  “Yes, you did.” Michiko enjoyed a drag of her cigarette. “It’s okay. You haven’t hurt my feelings.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Michiko wouldn’t hear any more of it. She changed the subject to usual pleasantries, talking about Aiko’s studies, what California was like, how brutal working in the entertainment industry could be at times. When their hour was up, with the drinks drank and vegetables consumed, Michiko led her out to the counter and insisted on paying for the both of them. Aiko protested, but lost out when Michiko pushed her money across the counter.

  She also insisted on escorting her to the train station a few minutes away. Aiko felt like the frumpy little sister next to Michiko’s cosmopolitan air as they walked side-by-side.

  They never mentioned what happened in the karaoke booth until they stood on the platform. Michiko broached the subject just as the chimes announced her upcoming train.

  “If you want,” she said, her face tight, “I could tell Reina how much you like her.”

  Aiko’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “Goodness, no! I would die!”

  “Well, it’s probably going to come up, anyway. Whether or not she retains it, who’s to say?”

  The train slowed as it reached the station. Aiko had about two seconds to make her last case before Michiko would go on to do whatever she wanted. “Please…”

  “Please what?” The train was there, and people pushed past the two of them to get to the opening doors. “I have to go. It was a lovely time. Jya ne.”

  Aiko lost her in a sea of bodies coming and going, and the chime announcing her own train sounded as Michiko’s pulled out of the station. What have I done? She approached the train like a zombie on the cusp of regaining its former identity. What will she tell Reina?

  She slumped into the nearest empty seat, tears in her eyes. She blotted them away with the sleeve of her sweater and wondered if she cried because of Reina, or because of the fear over what she felt inside.

  Years afterward, Reina would best recall 1992 as the year she spent most of her days off slumped in her futon, face down in her pillow, while Michiko badgered the CD player on the other side of the bedroom.

  “Who should we listen to?” Michiko wasted so much time at Reina’s house over the years she knew every single CD on the shelf. “And on that note, did you ever buy that new Dreams Come True album everyone’s raving about?”

  Reina grumbled into her pillow. She lifted her head enough to speak coherently. “No. I don’t like Dreams Come True.”

  “You don’t like anybody.” Michiko fingered through Reina’s meager CD collection. That’s not true. Reina liked plenty of music. She just wasn’t a trend follower like Michiko.

  “Put in Yoko.”

  “We listen to Yoko every time I come over.” CD cases slapped against each other. “What about Yuming?”

  “Maybe.”

  The same conversation every time they lulled like this in that cold bedroom. Michiko would mumble about Reina’s “crap” taste until putting in one of her own CDs she always brought. Probably Akina. Reina had nothing against superstar Akina Nakamori, but sometimes Michiko took her adulation to another plane of normalcy. And she says I don’t like anybody…she just means I don’t like Akina.

  As if on cue, Michiko put in a CD and began singing along to an Akina album. Whatever happened to Yuming? Typical Michiko. She would always make the final decisions, even with Reina’s belongings.

  But she came to the futon with a content countenance, and that was all Reina needed to extend one arm to bring Michiko down to her level.

  The slow and sensual music wafting through the air inspired Reina to treat Michiko gently at first, as if they were a loving kind of couple who traded wholesome declarations of love between chaste kisses. The mere thought made her groan. Or maybe that was from someone reaching straight for the space between her legs.

  Those little pecks on the lips morphed into open mouths and entwining tongues as Reina asserted herself on top of Michiko’s lean body. The futon slid a centimeter with every dry thrust she gave her friend’s thigh.

  “Mou, yada.” She pushed Reina off her, laughing. “You’re gonna give me a burn.”

  By then Reina didn’t care, she was already in that drowning pool of wanting to put her hands and mouth all over Michiko. So she grunted, unable to speak in her trance, but aware Michiko knew her ridiculous language.

  Reina didn’t wait for an answer before pressing her lips against Michiko’s throat, feeling the words budding there. She pushed a hand up her friend’s sweater, snatching her nearest breast – Reina knew she had her based on the timid whimper she let out.

  She’s all mine now. It didn’t take much to suggest sex to Michiko, even without words. A careful stroke, a heavy kiss, a tug on the nipples…she always teased Reina about being so sexually minded, she never realized she was the same or worse. I love her for it. The closest Reina got to ever loving anyone.

  The hem of Michiko’s sweater caught on her belt, but one forceful tug was enough to raise it over her head. Reina tossed it against her bookcase while she looked into a flushed face. Her eyes then wandered to the bra resting atop Michiko’s breasts, waiting for deft hands. Never one to disappoint a piece of lingerie, she reached beneath her lover’s back, unsnapped the bra, and yanked it off so she could admire brown areolas hardening in the cold air. Irresistible.

  Reina pulled her own suffocating sweater over her head – she didn’t wear a bra since her own breasts were small enough to go without. Like two mosquito bites. That’s what Michiko called them once back in high school, and the term stuck. She was the sole woman Reina ever felt inferior in front of when it came to her breasts.

  “Reina,” Michiko said, one hand stroking a leg straddling her, “fuck me.”

  Happy to oblige.

  Since that liaison two nights before in the broom closet, Reina hadn’t received her proper orgasm. She wanted to find a girl to fuck last night when she went drinking, but she got too drunk too fast and barely made it home alive, let alone with somebody. And she wasn’t the type to give herself one – what was the point, without a beautiful woman to inspire her? She fumbled with Michiko’s belt and yanked her jeans off, hands on bare, shivering skin. We’ve fucked a hundred times and I still want her.

  “Mi-chan.” Reina fell on top of her best friend and slipped between her legs. Their breasts touched, and Reina tossed her hair out of her face. Her omanko readied for sex.

  “Hm?” Michiko continued to hum along to the soft music playing in the background like an inappropriate soundtrack. “You need something?”

  Reina finished undressing, the air hitting the hair on her pelvis and chilling the wetness there. She likewise removed the last of Michiko’s clothes, eyes pointed right at the hairless gape already dripping in preparation. Reina’s heart thumped in her chest as all the blood crashed through her body, from her brain to her chest, to her loins.

  “I need you.”

  “Then take me, stupid.”

  She fell forward, her mouth slamming against Michiko’s, their bodies tumbling together. A gasp already caught in Reina’s throat as Michiko’s leg brushed against hers. Take her, stupid.

  The first time they had sex back in high school, they were both a little new to lesbian endeavors, but eager, and comfortable. Now they were still eager and comfortable, but their skill had increased to the point Reina didn’t even have to think how she wanted to position her hips, her hands, and her energy as they locked at an angle conducive to fucking. Reina wrapped one of Michiko’s legs around an
d directed their omanko together until that first burst of pleasure rose through her hips.

  A new song came on the stereo, a little faster than the others. Reina concentrated on the beat of the music and thrust her groin against Michiko’s, like a musician chasing a conductor. The first sounds of their mutual arousal slipped between them.

  Before they could finish, however, Reina collapsed. She pulled her friend over and kissed her again, her hand darting between Michiko’s thighs and delighting in the hot skin. Reina’s fingers slipped so easily into Michiko, it was as if her little omanko had been waiting all day for them.

  She whined Reina’s name with every hard thrust, not holding back any other moans or demands for a finale. Reina promised fitful retribution – breasts shuddered and eyes rolled back as Michiko didn’t even bother to announce she was coming before it happened.

  Reina pulled away and lay on the other side of her futon, waiting for Michiko to catch her breath. Within half a minute she sat up and climbed between Reina’s legs, head lowering.

  Finally. Reina moaned as a talented tongue slid down and inside her omanko, followed by firm fingers. Fucking finally. Michiko was the best, always, at what she did with her tongue. Reina was not discouraged as that warmth built inside her loins, coaxed by Michiko’s prowess. As tongue rubbed against her clitoris and fingers snapped in and out of her expanding opening, it would only take another minute before…

  She even surprised herself at how quickly it came – perhaps somewhere between Michiko shoving another finger in or curving those same fingers upwards, as if beckoning for Reina to respond. And she did respond: she responded with a stream of ejaculate accompanied by a hearty groan from the pit of her stomach, her hips buckling against Michiko’s hand as it was coated with two spurts, followed by one weaker. When it was over Reina fell back into her futon with a satisfying sigh.

  “Ara, I’m all wet.” Michiko looked for something to wipe her hand on but found nothing suitable aside from the bedding. “And all from you, perv.”

  “I know for a fact you were plenty wet before I came.”