The Geisha Who Could Feel No Pain (Secrets From The Hidden House Book 2)

by India Millar

  I had to laugh at her. She was, in many ways, truly childlike. Anything bright, anything expensive, was a wonder to her. She stroked the combs with one hand and her kimono with the other.

  “Can I keep them?” she whispered. I glanced at Akira, who nodded.

  “As long as I’m pleased with you, little one, they are yours.”

  Even beneath the caking makeup, I could see she had turned pink with pleasure. I smiled; I couldn’t help it. Sute was an enchanting child, and it was difficult not to like her. But the smile faded as I saw Akira watching me closely.

  I knew that he was capable of taking anything away from me that I was fond of. He would do it just to amuse himself. I didn’t fool myself for a second. He wasn’t really interested in me at all. But if he punished me, he was taking secondhand revenge on Midori. The woman he had loved. As had I. I wanted to wail out loud, to ask the gods to look after my elder sister, no matter how far away, how safe, she was.

  Finally bored with his games, Akira wandered off.

  Sute was ready. All the girls were ready. We would spend the first part of the evening amusing her danna. We sat in the main reception room, chattering like caged birds as we waited to find out who Sute’s danna was going to be.

  When the moment—and the man—finally arrived, we all breathed a sigh of relief. It could have been much worse for her. We all rose and bowed deeply, waiting for her danna’s signal before we sat again.

  Abe-san was the only person I had ever known who had changed his name. He was a merchant, and a very wealthy one. Now, at least. He had always been reasonably prosperous, but it was only since the gaijin had arrived in force that his business had blossomed. He sold exquisite porcelain, and it seemed the gaijin couldn’t get enough of it. He used to be called Tsukudu-san, but quickly found the gaijin couldn’t pronounce his name. Fearing they would defect to one of his many competitors, he had announced promptly that from now on he was to be called Abe-san. Someone told us that he had heard one of the gaijin calling the other “Abe,” or something like it, and he had decided on the change then and there. It had certainly worked. He was now one of the richest merchants in Edo. In spite of his wealth, I was certain that in the old days, when Auntie and not Akira owned the Hidden House, he would never have been allowed in. Back then, patrons had to be introduced by an existing client and were carefully vetted by Auntie before being accepted. We had entertained only the highest of the highest class, including many nobles. Not just rich, vulgar merchants like this one.

  Still, he was here. And he had paid a fortune to deflower Sute. I simpered at him from behind my fan and was suddenly struck with the thought that none of us called the foreigners “foreign barbarians” or “foreign devils” anymore. Now, it was simply “gaijin.” Foreigners. A far more respectful form of address to these strangers who had bought so much wealth to us.

  In any event, Abe-san had done Sute proud, I’ll say that for him. The traditional meal was sumptuous, and the sake flowed liberally. We girls danced for him, and I played the samisen. Sute danced on her own, and her serious little face seemed to amuse Abe-san immensely. I was relieved that he seemed to like her, but I was still deeply reluctant to go when her patron finally clapped his hands as a signal for us all to leave.

  I had no choice but to leave poor Sute. The silent Ken was standing outside the door when we all exited, and to my surprise he grabbed my arm, steering me into the room next door. I went with him, of course. What option did I have?

  Akira and Auntie were already in the room. As soon as Ken shooed me in, Akira dismissed Auntie with a nod of his head. She scuttled out as fast as her poor, old knees would allow, and Ken stood to one side, his eyes on the tatami matting. I wondered suddenly if he was mute. I had certainly never heard him speak. Somehow, silence befitted him. He was a shadow, but a shadow that breathed. Such an attractive man, and such a shame that he was Akira’s creature! And obviously not at all interested in women either. I sighed with frustration. Such a waste of a magnificent man.

  Akira claimed my attention by putting his finger to his lips in a theatrical gesture. He seemed to be shaking with silent laughter and I wondered if he was drunk. He had certainly taken more than his share of sake, assuring Abe-san that it was all on the house when the merchant frowned at him.

  “For such a distinguished patron as yourself, Abe-san, nothing in my humble house is too good. The feast, also, is on me. Sute, alas, must be paid for. But I’m sure you’ll find she’s worth it and you’ll get your money’s worth.”

  The two men leered at each other, and I felt the deep contempt the geisha radiated toward them. If Akira felt it, he gave no sign. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed. Abe-san laughed even louder.

  Now, Akira beckoned me forward. Once I was so close to the wall I could almost touch it with my nose, he reached past me and flicked a wood-block print to one side. The print swung smoothly upward on a hidden pivot, revealing a very fine gauze panel behind it. Akira nodded toward it, grinning widely.

  This was, I knew, one of Auntie’s many spy holes. It was very well hidden. None of us had guessed that this one existed. But I knew now, and would warn the girls about it.

  Akira whispered very softly in my ear. “It will be gone by tomorrow. Just as well for you, Mineko-chan. I can’t allow people to find out my little secrets and go unpunished, can I?”

  My throat was so dry, I couldn’t answer. I nodded, and he seemed satisfied.

  “Watch,” he whispered. “I want you to see how your protégé performs. Will it be to my satisfaction? If she doesn’t do well, I can hardly punish you for it, can I? After all, I can’t hurt you. But I can hurt Sute. I think you’ve become fond of our little gaijin. If that’s so, then would it hurt you to see her hurt? We’ll see.”

  And he giggled. This terrible man giggled, as if he was a schoolboy who had told a smutty joke. I ached to turn round and bite his face, fasten my excellent teeth on his lips and make them bleed. Scratch at his eyes until he was blind. Anything to pay him back for the pain and terror he had inflicted on us geisha over the years. The pain he was about to visit on Sute now.

  I thought I heard movement behind me and glanced back. Was Ken a little closer than he had been? I rather thought so. I also thought he had spoken, or perhaps just cleared his throat. Akira glanced at him and then flicked him away with his finger as if he was nothing but an irritant. Ken bowed deeply and turned and left the room. Strangely, even though I knew he was at Akira’s command just as much as we girls were, I had felt safer with him there, hovering behind me.

  “I’m sure we don’t need Ken-san tonight,” Akira whispered. “Although he is every bit as useful as Big was. An excellent man. Very discreet.”

  I said nothing, but stood with my eyes lowered. Akira lifted my chin with his thumb and then rested his whole hand on the back of my head, pressing my face against the gauze.

  “Watch.” Just one word, but a whole world of meaning in his tone.

  Sute was crouched on the tatami, her head bowed so that her chin scraped into her breastbone. Abe-san was circling her, his hands tucked into his robe.

  “You look like a gaijin. Are you?” he demanded.

  What disrespect! I frowned indignantly for Sute. Still, if Abe-san confined himself to being rude, she would be lucky.

  “No, Abe-san,” Sute whispered breathily. She sounded as if she was terrified of him, and he was obviously loving it. His grin was so wide it must have hurt his lips. “My great-grandfather was gaijin.”

  “Ha!” Abe-san exhaled sharply. “It’s enough. Your ancestor was gaijin. You look like a gaijin. I am pleased. And you are going to please me even more, child.”

  I could see his tree of flesh was already alert. Oh well. The sooner he got this over with the better. But Abe-san obviously had other ideas. He was prodding at Sute’s combs, pulling them out any old how so they caught on her hair and snagged. She whimpered, and in response he grabbed a hank of her tumbling hair and jerked it to one side so
he could examine her head and ensure that the gold went all the way down to her scalp. Finally satisfied, he dragged her to her feet with her hair. I could see it must have hurt Sute since her face wrinkled up in an effort to keep back tears.

  I set my teeth. Kept my face straight. Akira breathed hard in my ear, and I would have given a great deal to be able to edge away from him.

  Once she was on her feet, Abe-san walked around Sute, inspecting her from every angle. Finally, he nodded. He was swaying slightly, and I thought he must be very drunk.

  “Take all that off.” He flicked his hand at Sute’s kimono. Like the well-trained maiko she was, she responded promptly, fumbling to untie her wide obi. Her efforts weren’t quite good enough for Abe-san. He growled impatiently and slapped her hands away, tugging and pulling at her obi himself until it came loose. Sute simply stood, like a scolded puppy, allowing him to undress her. When her final undergarment was off, Abe-san resumed his inspection, prowling around her and stopping occasionally to prod at her and to scrape his finger nail on her skin.

  Although I had seen her naked in the bath, it had never ceased to amaze me how white Sute’s body was and how very fair her pubic hair was. It was even lighter than the hair on her head, almost white. It seemed to delight Abe-san. He tugged one of the tight curls straight and then let it go with a giggle. And all the time, Sute simply stood. Waiting.

  “Down,” he barked suddenly. Sute folded to her knees fluidly, her head bowed.

  “So, gaijin.” Abe-san strutted around her, proud as a cockerel crowing on a dung heap. “What shall I do with you, I wonder? I’ve paid for you, you know. I can do exactly what I like with you, and nobody is going to stop me.”

  “Yes, Abe-san,” Sute whispered breathily.

  Her response delighted him. He threw his shoulders back and stared down his nose at her.

  “Bow, gaijin. Bow before your master,” he commanded.

  Sute promptly leaned forward from her waist, banging her head repeatedly on the tatami as she kowtowed to her danna. Or at least that was what Abe-san thought she was doing. From my angle, I could see that it was actually her hair that was banging on the tatami, not her forehead. Clever girl, Sute!

  It was enough for Abe-san, anyway. With a roar of pleasure, he threw himself behind her and grabbed her waist, hoisting her so her bottom was poking up in the air. I was absurdly pleased. Sute had said she had split the melon with patrons many times. If that was what Abe-san was about to do, then she would not be hurt.

  But I was wrong.

  Without bothering to undo his robe, Abe-san poked at her with his tree of flesh. He was drunk. He seemed to thrust at Sute for many minutes before he found his target. And I knew when he had.

  Sute screamed, loudly. I had taken care to smooth her private parts with some of the camellia oil I had used to moisturize her face, but I knew that in spite of my attention she would be dry with fear. And she obviously was. The louder she screamed, the harder Abe-san thrust at her.

  I wanted to close my eyes and put my hands over my ears, but Akira was at my side, his gaze flickering from me to Sute. I knew that if I dared to look away, he would have simply pushed my head back in place. With an effort that made my eyes water, I forced my expression to remain passive. But I couldn’t stop myself from trembling, and Akira obviously felt it.

  “Ah, dear Mineko. Perhaps I have been wrong about you all this time. You can feel pain, can’t you? Not your own pain, but the pain of those you love. And you care for this silly child, don’t you? Well, isn’t that interesting? You really must remind me to tell you all about the fun I used to have with Midori. About the little games we used to play. Did she show you her tattoo? Of course she did. She hated it, you know. I caught her looking at it in the mirror once, and crying. But I had to put my mark on her, to show she was mine.”

  His voice was soft, almost dreamy. He was leaning against me, forcing me hard against the wall. I thought he was finding the situation deeply erotic, both Sute’s deflowering and his gleeful discovery that I could feel her pain. Not physically, of course, but to the extent that I was sick to my heart. For Sute and Midori.

  And then I realized I had read him wrong.

  Akira might be enjoying watching Sute being hurt at her danna’s command. Still more might he enjoy discovering what he would consider a flaw in me. But he was entirely flaccid. He was pressed against me for the whole length of his body, and I knew he was not erect. Not in the least aroused. I was so astonished that I turned my head fractionally to see his face.

  “Business, dear Mineko.” He smiled at me. “It would take more than watching an animal like Abe making a fool of himself to arouse me.” I found I had been holding my breath and suddenly panted for air. Was he really standing so close to me that he had got inside my mind and read my thoughts? “Do you remember when I was your danna at your mizuage, little Mineko? Of course you do. Tell me, was I a better lover than that idiot Abe?”

  “Yes,” I said simply. “You were kind and considerate. I have never had a better lover since.”

  It wasn’t what he had expected to hear, I knew instantly. Akira peeled his lips back in a grimace and shook his head.

  “And did I arouse you?”

  “No.” I stared at his face, waiting for the punishment I knew had to be coming to me. But what was the point of lying? He would have known. “You didn’t, and none of the men who came after you have.”

  He traced a single finger down the side of my face. I remembered some of the things that Midori had told me about this awful man and I shuddered. There was the blood of untold people on that finger, and no amount of washing could ever dissolve the stain.

  “Ah. The gods gave you the gift of feeling no pain, but at the same time they gave you the curse of being unable to feel any emotion. Will you go to your grave wondering what it is like to enjoy making love, Mineko? Or shall I take you in Midori’s place, and see what I can do for you?”

  “As you wish, Akira-san,” I managed to whisper.

  We were both suddenly distracted by the row from the next room.

  Sute was still bawling her head off, and the more noise she made the more Abe-san seemed to be pleased. He was leaning back, the better to thrust at her, and shouting at the same time.

  “There, you damned gaijin. There, now you know what it feels like to have to bow and scrape to you. To smile and nod when you’re not worth the dirt beneath my feet. You deserve to be punished, the lot of you!”

  Akira was smiling, once more his normal self. “I think Abe-san might even make an offer for Sute. He hates the gaijin, you know. Every coin he takes from them makes him hate them all the more. When I told him I had a maiko who looked like a gaijin, he was on fire for her. He’s not deflowering one silly little girl, he’s fucking every gaijin who ever walked into his shop, every single one he’s had to kowtow to.”

  I could see it now. Abe-san seemed to be taking little pleasure in what he was doing to poor Sute, he was far too angry for that. As I watched, he finally achieved the act of dew mingling, his face tightening and his roars reducing to a series of animal growls, deep in his throat. He pulled back abruptly and Sute unbalanced and fell forward in a heap.

  Abe-san’s tree was shrinking already. But that didn’t stop him marching around the room, his hands on his hips as he strutted around Sute. Once or twice he stopped to prod her with his toe, grinning widely when she moaned.

  “You would like to kill him, wouldn’t you?” Akira needled softly. “Pay him back for the pain and indignity he has inflicted on your little friend. I did much, much worse than that to Midori, you know. Would you like to kill me as well? Here, why not take your chance now?”

  He slipped his hand in the sleeve of his robe, and when it emerged he was holding a short, wickedly sharp dagger in his fingers. He held it out in the palm of his hand to me, at the same moment throwing his head back and clawing at the front of his robe with the other hand. I stared at the tattoos exposed on his neck and chest, wonderin
g even in the middle of my shock how much pain they must have caused him when they were pricked into his skin. Wondering even more why Akira was showing me his body, the body that no woman but Midori had ever seen.

  “He has tattoos all over,” she had whispered to me. “From his neck down to his ankles, every last inch of him.”

  “Even his tree?” I had giggled, disbelieving.

  “That as well.” She nodded seriously. “It’s like a beautiful piece of embroidery. He had a pair of women’s hands cupping the hood, and they’ve been done so well it seems as if the nails are digging into his flesh. Even his kintama are tattooed all over. That’s why he didn’t take his robe off for your mizuage. Nobody is allowed to see his body. Except me. He tells me he honors me with his body. What he means is that I’m so much his property it doesn’t matter if I see him. See the parts nobody else is allowed to.”

  And now Akira was showing himself to me. Did he really intend to carry out his threat and take me as his mistress? I prayed, frantically, that he did not. And the dagger? Did he really expect me to try and kill him?

  “Go on, take it, Mineko. Thrust it into my neck. Take the revenge you’re longing for. Why not try?”

  His eyes were shining. I stared at him, suddenly terrified.

  He was right, of course. My hand itched to take the dagger. To thrust it into his exposed neck. Punish him for the hurt he had inflicted on Midori and now Sute. And the rest of us. And if I did? Akira was far stronger than me. I would have no chance of hurting him. And he knew it. He was playing this strange game for his own pleasure. And it was giving him pleasure. Great pleasure. He was finally erect, his tree pushing into my thigh.

  I took the dagger.

  Picked it up in my fingertips. I could feel him panting. His eyes were wide with excitement. Very slowly, very carefully I touched the sharp blade against his neck, exactly where I could see a pulse beating. I pressed it against his skin with all the delicacy of a lover touching her beloved, and then withdrew it. I turned the dagger around and presented it to him, handle forward, on the palm of my hand.