“Of course there are monsters.”
I waited for Michiko to continue, but she just smiled, her eyes wide and innocent. Of course I knew her too well to buy it—she was one of the most experienced bdsm’ers in the Bay Area and wasn’t innocent in anything. But I also knew that she wouldn’t tell me anything she didn’t want to, even if I tied her up and tortured her. She’d probably have a half dozen orgasms, but she wouldn’t tell….
“But they’re good monsters,” she said.
“Really?”
“Mmmm hmmm. If they were bad monsters, we would not still live here.”
I grimaced, but quickly cleared my face. As much as I wanted ‘we’ to mean Michiko and me, I knew she reserved the term for her family and I wasn’t family. Yet.
That was the whole point of this trip. When I’d proposed, Michiko had said she couldn’t accept until we’d visited her family in Irie no Kaubutsu. I’d grumbled, but what could I say? I’d only met her parents once and knew none of her extended family. Given the way her eyes grew wistful when she talked of home, I knew I’d have to visit sooner or later, so now was as good a time as any.
That said, I had no idea what to expect. Michiko hadn’t talked much about her home town, except to say it was a small coastal village a long drive from the nearest train station. It had one of the best schools in Japan, a lot of fish, and not much else. Oh, and the name translated to ‘Monster Cove,’ which had led to my question.
“Huh. Good monsters.”
Michiko smiled her inscrutable smile.
“Care to explain?”
“Just have an open mind.”
I nodded. After all, it was hard to be in The Scene and not have an open mind. Any given Saturday night in The Club’s dungeon we would see piercings, wax play, or a half dozen other scenes that I’d never imagined could be erotic.
But that didn’t stop me from doing a double take when we got off the train. The small simple platform was crowded with waiting families and disembarking businessmen, but a small empty oasis surrounded one Japanese woman. Michiko waved and we headed over. As we approached, I realized the woman was wearing little more than a thin shift. And the “little more” was a leather collar and wrist cuffs.
“Suki!” Michiko exclaimed. “Good to see you. Where is Toshihiro?”
Suki’s eyes darted to me, and her head bowed. “We could not park. He is with the car and sent me to meet you.”
“Ah,” Michiko said, turning to me, “Daniel, this is Suki. She is my cousin’s girlfriend.”
Suki said something in Japanese.
Michiko’s eyes widened and she clapped her hands in delight.
“Fianceé,” she corrected, with a laugh. They exchanged more words in Japanese before she turned back to me. “Toshiro proposed on the second anniversary of her accepting his collar. How wonderful!”
I smiled and gave Suki my congratulations. She bowed her head to me again and then spoke to Michiko in Japanese.
My girlfriend took my arm. “Let us go. Toshihiro is waiting.”
I nodded and we followed the barely dressed girl to the stairs and down the walk out of the station. I let us fall back a few steps and leaned in close to Michiko.
“She’s a 24/7 sub?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Yes. Since her coming of age ceremony.”
We walked on a few paces.
“She’s also one of Japan’s top novelists,” Michiko said. “She was paid fifty million yen for her third book.”
My chin dropped, as much from Michiko’s casual tone as from the amount. Early when we’d been dating, she’d made an off-hand remark that she knew many famous people. We’d been talking about her dissertation work and so I’d assumed that she meant people she knew through her advisor. Now… I was revising my assumptions.
I continued to do so after we met Toshihiro. He seemed to be just a regular Japanese guy. He had the standard dark hair and a wiry frame under a casual dress shirt and slacks. He also had the inquisitive penetrating eyes I’d come to expect in a Dom.
He said hello and opened the trunk. While I hoisted our bags inside, he led Suki to the back seat, where he clipped her lead in place and then not only seat-belted her in, but cuffed her wrists together. As we drove off and the girls chattered away in Japanese, I wracked my brain for what I knew about him.
“So…,” I said, “you’re the cousin that’s a programmer?”
He grinned and shook his head. “That is Akira. I do neural networks. Though he and I work together when we are both home.”
“You don’t live here?” I asked.
“I do,” he said. “This is home. But my appointment is with the University of Tokyo.”
“You telecommute?”
“Most of the time.”
“Ah.” There didn’t seem much else to say. Toshihiro didn’t add anything, so I just looked out the window and watched the scenery as we slowly wound our way along smaller and rougher roads to their village. Michiko’s ‘home.’
In many ways, the drive was like the rest of the trip—confusing, bewildering, and disorienting. At least for me. I couldn’t speak or read Japanese, so signs tended to look like a morass of chicken scratches. People were polite, except I often couldn’t read their body language as it appeared stiff and polite at the same time. As a result, I often wondered what I’d done wrong. Just like the road, I was winding and twisting through cultural thoroughfares with no idea where I was going or how I’d get back.
At Irie no Kaubutsu the surprise was how ordinary everything looked. A few traditional Japanese buildings nestled among more modern structures of cement and steel, but the overall feel wasn’t much different than countless other Japanese towns we’d passed on the train. Houses, surrounded by trees, flowed up the hill away from the sea. The few stores on the main road had simple signs and tasteful advertising posters in the windows. We only passed one other car before we turned on a dirt road and wound our way halfway up the hill.
That was a preview of Irie No Kaubutsu. To read the rest purchase the book.