Grotesque

by Natsuo Kirino

  I stood up. “I’ll go.”

  “Will you, Yuri? That’s great. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  The dispatcher looked relieved, but after he told the man on the other end of the phone okay, I noticed that he was smirking to himself. I realized that he might have been grateful to me for my willingness from a business point of view, but from a personal point of view it was clear that he despised me.

  I pulled out my compact and touched up my makeup. The other women looked at me in disgust. I knew they were thinking, My, my, you certainly pay a lot of visits on men without bathrooms!

  Don’t be so squeamish, girls, I wanted to say. You’re too soft. If you do business with a man who has a handicap like that, you can turn it to benefit yourself. Serve him shorter and charge him more for the inconvenience. Laugh at me now, but you wait and see what it’s like when you’re thirty-seven. Then you’ll understand. I wasn’t going to let those silly girls get me down.

  In three years’ time, I’ll be forty. That’s when I’ll retire from this group. I’ll have to. My time will be up for this line of work. If I can’t get work as a call girl, I’ll market myself as a “mature lover.” Or I’ll start trolling the streets and procure my own customers. And if I can’t stand it, I’ll have to quit all together. But once I’m no longer able to find liberation in my night work, I imagine my day job will fall apart as well. That’s what I fear, but I have to keep on living even so. So my biggest obstacle is my own insecurity. If I can’t keep my balance, I need to harden myself further.

  I stepped into the tiny bathroom and changed into a blue miniskirted suit. I’d bought it off the bargain racks at the Tokyu Department Store for ¥8,700. Next I put on a long-haired wig. The hair fell all the way to my waist. Kazue Sat had turned into Yuri. I felt I could do anything. I picked up the slip from the dispatcher with the address and phone number of the client and walked out the door. I searched through the bucket, selecting what was probably the Braid’s long stylish umbrella, got in a cab, and headed toward the man’s apartment in Gotanda.

  The apartment was beside the train tracks. I paid the cab fare and made sure to get a receipt. Some agencies have their own cars and drive girls to their customers, but my office has us pay for cabs. Then they reimburse us later.

  Mr. Hiroshi Tanaka, Apartment 202, Mizuki Heights. I took the flight of stairs on the outside of the building and knocked on the door to apartment 202.

  A man opened the door. “Thanks for coming,” he said.

  He was nearly sixty and had the rugged physique of a construction worker. His face was brown from the sun, his body hard. The apartment smelled of mold and cheap liquor. I peered in, quickly scanning the interior. I wanted to be sure there were no other men inside. We didn’t have to take this kind of precaution when we were sent to a specific love hotel. But at a private residence it was important to be careful. A girl I know went to service one man and then had several others show up, one right after the other. She ended up being gang-raped by four men. That meant they only paid once for the price of four. What a ripoff.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really expected them to send someone younger.” Tanaka looked me up and down without the slightest hesitation and sighed with audible disappointment. The furniture in his apartment was cheap. How the hell did he expect to get some hot young thing with the pathetic kind of life he lived? I turned to look back at him, my trench coat still wrapped over my shoulders.

  “Yeah? I was hoping for a younger client, myself.”

  “Well, then, I guess that makes two of us, huh?”

  Resigned to his disappointment, Tanaka tried to laugh it off. I looked around the apartment without so much as a smile. “Hardly. I understand you don’t have a bathroom on the premises. Nobody wanted to come over, but I took the call as an act of kindness. You should be grateful.”

  My complaint had hit home. Tanaka scratched the side of his face, clearly embarrassed. I had to take precautions to ensure he didn’t try to abscond without paying. The first thing I did in the apartment was call the office to let the dispatcher know I’d arrived and all was well.

  “Hello. It’s Yuri. I’m here.”

  I put Tanaka on the phone.

  “She’ll do. I mean, I don’t have any complaints. I guess I can’t expect too much, without a bath. But next time won’t you send a younger one?”

  His gall really pissed me off, but I was used to it, so I didn’t take any real offense. Instead, I took my anger and applied it to my eagerness to get the job done. I wanted to get my money and get out of there. I’d get my revenge by gouging Tanaka a bit on the price.

  “What do you do for a living?” I asked.

  “Oh, a little of this and a little of that. Mostly construction.”

  Well, I work for an architectural firm, you asshole. I’m the assistant manager of the research office, and I make ¥10,000,000 a year. In my heart I screamed this at him. I could feel my anger rising; it was what sustained me. I despised the man. Customers who are passive and weak-willed tend to be a lot of fun even for the prostitute.

  “Save the small talk. I’m paying by the hour.” Tanaka looked at his watch as he spoke. He wasted no time spreading out a wafer-thin futon. The quilt he dragged out had been wadded up and looked filthy. I felt my resolve slipping. To bolster my courage I asked curtly, “So did you clean yourself there?”

  “I washed, yeah.”

  Tanaka pointed to the sink.

  “Just a little bit ago, I washed it real good, so how about sucking it some?”

  “I only do straight-up sex,” I said brusquely, as I fished a condom out of my purse. “Here, put this on.”

  “I can’t get it up just like that,” Tanaka mumbled uneasily.

  “Well, I get paid whether you do or not.”

  “You’re a cold bitch.”

  I took off my trench coat and folded in neatly. The rain marks were still there on the front. I put some spit on my finger and tried to rub them out.

  “Hey, why don’t you stand there and take your clothes off? Give me a striptease.”

  Tanaka hoisted his T-shirt over his head and pulled off the workman-type trousers. Men are such pigs, I thought, as I looked at his shriveled sex organ under the mound of white pubic hair. Thank God he was small. I don’t like large men because it always hurts later.

  “No, I don’t do that sort of thing,” I reminded him gently. “I’m just here for the main event.”

  I hurriedly got out of my underwear and lay down on the thin mattress. Tanaka looked at my naked body and started to rub his penis. Twenty minutes had already passed. I looked at the watch that I’d set beside the bedding. I had one hour and ten minutes to go. But I planned to trick him into shortening that to fifty minutes.

  “I’m sorry, but would you mind spreading your legs apart and giving me a look?”

  I gave in to Tanaka’s request, slightly. He was so meek and mild, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to indulge him just this much. If I were too cold it could backfire and make him angry. That would be dangerous. But he was a complete stranger, someone I’d never seen before, and for some reason that always allowed me to act more audaciously. It was strange. I’d heard about one prostitute who killed her john in an Ikebukuro hotel. It wasn’t really self-defense, so it was somewhat unusual. But those things happen, now and then. The john had tied her up and was videotaping her. He stuck a knife in front of her face and threatened to kill her. I can well imagine how scared she must have been. I haven’t yet had an experience like that, but you never know when you’re going to end up with some weirdo. It’s scary, but I almost want to have something like that happen, as long as I don’t die. Being scared out of your wits helps affirm that you are alive.

  Once Tanaka finally got an erection, he picked up the condom with trembling hands and tried to put it on. It took him forever. I normally help the guy out in those situations, but since Tanaka didn’t have a bath in his apartment, I refused to touch him. Sheathed, Tanaka fell o
n me and started to squeeze my breasts clumsily.

  “That hurts!” I complained.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Tanaka apologized over and over as he tried to stick his penis in me. I was afraid if he didn’t get it in soon he’d lose his erection. I certainly didn’t want to start all over and was beginning to be irritated. So, with little other choice, I grabbed his penis and guided it into place. Finally we got it all the way in. Because he was old, it took him awhile to come, which thoroughly disgusted me. But before long he finished up and then rolled off to lie beside me. He started stroking my hair.

  “It’s been a long time for me.”

  “Well, then that was good, wasn’t it?”

  “God, it’s good to fuck.”

  Yeah, well, I do it every night, you old fart. I certainly didn’t want to lie there exchanging pleasantries with Tanaka, so I got up to get dressed. Tanaka, left behind on the futon, looked up at me, disappointed.

  “Stay beside me for a while and let’s talk dirty. Isn’t that part of the deal? The whores in the old days always did.”

  “What era was that?” I asked, and laughed as I wiped myself off with tissues before stepping back into my underpants. “Just how old are you, mister?”

  “I’ve just turned sixty-two.”

  To be living such a pathetic life at that age! I looked around his shabby apartment. One room, six mats big. That was it. No bathroom. He had to go down the hall to use the toilet. I sure as hell didn’t want to end my life like this. But then, if my father were still alive, he’d be about the same age, I thought, and I took a closer look at Tanaka’s face. His hair was sprinkled with strands of white. The flesh on his body sagged. When I was in school I suspected that I had a father complex, but that was a long time ago. Here I was with a man the same age that my father would have been.

  Suddenly Tanaka was angry. “Don’t laugh at me!” he shouted.

  “I’m not laughing at you! What’re you talking about?”

  “You are. You’re standing there staring at me like you think I’m stupid or something. I’m the customer, remember? And you’re nothing but a fucking whore. You’re no spring chicken yourself, you know, and standing there naked like that—why, you’re nothing but a bag of bones. I can’t get hard with a body like that. It just pisses me off!”

  “I’m sorry. I said I wasn’t making fun of you.” I hurried to finish dressing. No telling what Tanaka might do now that he was mad. At any rate, this was his house. He could easily pull out a knife or who knows what. I had to calm him down. But more than that, I had to get my money.

  “Are you leaving already? You’re really pissing me off.”

  “Call me again, okay? Business is slow for us, too. I’ll give you an extra treat.”

  “Extra? What’d you mean?”

  “I’ll go down on you.”

  Tanaka started grumbling as he climbed into his briefs. He looked at the clock. There was still more than twenty minutes left. I didn’t care, I wanted to leave.

  “You owe me twenty-seven thousand yen.”

  “The flyer said twenty-five thousand.”

  Tanaka pulled out the flyer and checked it to be sure. He must have needed glasses, because he had to squint his eyes up into a ridiculous grimace to read.

  “Didn’t he tell you? If you don’t have a bath in your house, the price goes up.”

  “But I washed! I didn’t hear you complaining.”

  It was going to be a pain to explain so I just rolled my head to the side in revulsion. Only a minute ago I’d had a strange man’s cock inside me. I wanted to wash myself off. Wasn’t it obvious? Men can’t ever think about anything but themselves.

  “It’s expensive,” Tanaka complained.

  “All right, then. For you I’ll come down to twenty-six. How’s that?”

  “Fine. Hey, wait a minute, there’s still time left.”

  “Oh? Do you think you can go again before the twenty minutes is up?”

  Tanaka clucked his tongue as he pulled out his wallet. He handed me ¥30,000 and I gave him ¥4,000 in change. I put my shoes on fast—hoping to get out of there before he changed his mind—dashed out the door, and flagged down a cab. I crawled in, and as the cab splashed through the pouring rain I pondered my own bitterness. The pain of being treated like a mere object. And a sense that this pain would turn into pleasure. It would be best if I could just think of myself as a thing. But then my existence at the firm would become a nuisance. There I was Kazue Sat, and not some thing. I had the taxi drop me off some distance from the office and walked the rest of the way through the rain. That cut about ¥200 off the taxi charge. I could have the office reimburse me for double the amount of the taxi receipt that I got on the way over to Tanaka’s place.

  I saw the Marlboro Hag at Murayama-ch—in front of the statue of Jiz, the gentle Buddhist bodhisattva, protector of those condemned to hell and all who wander between realms. The Marlboro Hag got her name because she was always wearing a flimsy jacket with a white Marl-boro logo on the back. She was well known around the office. She had to be around sixty years old. Maybe she was a loony, but she always stood next to the Jiz statue and called out to the men who walked past. Because of the rain tonight, her cheap Marlboro jacket was soaked and her black bra showed through underneath. Not a single man presented himself, but she stood there beside the Jiz as always, like some kind of ghost. She would most likely stay on the streets until the day she died. Once you get fired as a call girl, you have no choice but to go out trolling for your own men. As I stared at the Marlboro Hag’s back, I was terrified that a similar fate awaited me in the not-so-distant future.

  It was close to twelve o’clock when I got back to the office. Most of the girls, resigned to a lousy take for the evening, had gone home. The only people left in the office were the dispatcher and the Braid. I handed ¥10,000 to the dispatcher and put ¥1,000 in the kitty for snacks and drinks and such. All the girls who’d had customers for the night were required to do this. Thanks to having gotten an extra ¥1,000 out of Tanaka, my contribution to the kitty did not affect my overall take for the evening. I chuckled to myself at the thought. The dispatcher glared at me as I walked by.

  “Yuri! I just got a call from your last customer. He says you overcharged him, and he was plenty upset. Did you trick him into believing he had to pay more because he didn’t have a bath?”

  “Sorry.”

  What a prick! Tanaka’s ugly face floated before my eyes and I found myself growing furious. What a coward! But now the Braid started in on me.

  “Did you run off with my umbrella? I’ve had to sit here and wait for you to get back. You can’t just go off and use other people’s things, you know!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I just borrowed it for a bit.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry? That’s not good enough. You did it to get back at me.”

  I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I kept repeating my empty apologies until the Braid shrugged her shoulders.

  “I’m leaving!” she shouted, as she flounced out of the office. I hurried to straighten up my things, afraid I’d miss the last train.

  At Shibuya Station I dashed onto the 12:28 Inokashira Line train bound for Fujimigaoka. At Meidaimae Station I transferred to the Keio Line and got off at Chitose-Karasuyama. I would have to walk another ten minutes before I got home. It had rained all day long and I felt depressed. What the hell was I doing anyway? I came to a stop in the falling rain. I’d been cooped up in the office all evening and only had ¥15,000 to show for it. I persisted because I wanted to save ¥200,000 a week, but at this rate I wasn’t going to meet my goal. I needed eight to nine hundred thousand a month, ten million a year. If I could maintain that rate, I could save up one hundred million yen by the time I turned forty. I enjoyed thinking about my savings, seeing the money multiply before my eyes. I just wanted to reach my goal; then I could enjoy looking at all I’d saved. In a way, saving money meant the same to me now as studying had earlier.

  • 2 • />
  MAY 30

  SHIBUYA: YY, ¥14,000

  SHIBUYA: WA, ¥15,000

  I gazed at the photograph of my father atop my beat-up old piano. It’s the same photograph we used at his funeral service. He has a stern expression on his face as he stands, looking very dignified and dapper in a sharp suit with his office building in the background. I loved my father. Why? I wonder. Probably because he treated me as if I were the most important thing in his life. He doted on me. He, more than anyone else, was able to discern my true strengths—and as a consequence was distraught that I had been born female.

  “Kazue’s the smartest girl in our family,” he would say to me.

  “Well, what about Mother?”

  “Once your mother married she stopped studying, didn’t she? Why, she never even reads the newspaper.”

  My father whispered that in my ear as if I were his co-conspirator. It was Sunday, and my mother was in the garden tending to her plants. I was in junior high at the time, studying for the high school qualifying examinations.

  “Mother reads the newspaper!”

  “Only the society page and the television schedule. She doesn’t even glance at the articles on economics or political affairs. That’s because she can’t understand them. Kazue, I think you should get a job with a first-class company. You’ll be able to meet an intelligent man, someone who will stimulate you intellectually. There’s no need for you to marry, though. You could just stay on in this house. You’re bright enough to outdo any man out there.”

  I was convinced that women who married and became housewives ended up as laughingstocks. I wanted at least to avoid that. Or if I did marry, I’d have to marry a man who was more intelligent, so he could appreciate my abilities. At that time, I didn’t understand that smart men don’t always select smart women. Because my parents did not get on that well, I believed it was because my mother wasn’t very smart and never really tried to apply herself. She treated my father with respect and put him on a pedestal in front of others, but behind the scenes I knew she despised him because he’d come from a rural upbringing.