by Gai-Jin(Lit)
Pleased with himself he knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Malcolm Struan sat in his chair, a cheroot smoldering between his fingers, elegant in his dressing gown but ill at ease. "Hello,
Jamie."
"Evening, tai-pan." Both girls bowed with great deference, McFay quite unaware that almost everything about Malcolm Struan--as well as himself and most gai-jin--was common knowledge and the subject of constant and avid Yoshiwara gossip, his enormous wealth, that he had recently become tai-pan, the circumstances of his wound and now impending marriage. "This's Shizuka, she'll stay with you. The servant'll arrive just before dawn, everything as I told you. I'll knock first. She may be a bit shy but, well, no problem.
This's my musume, Nemi. I, er, I thought it best, the first time, to bring her along to make things easier."
Both girls bowed again. "Heya,
Tai-pan," Nemi said in complete control, delighted to meet him and confident with her choice,
"Shizuka sister my, good musume, heya!"
She nodded vigorously and gave Shizuka a little push. The girl went over to him, hesitantly, knelt and bowed again.
"I'll be in my rooms if you need me."
"Thanks, Jamie."
McFay closed the door quietly, went further down the corridor. His suite was tidy, masculine and comfortable. Three rooms, sitting room, bedroom, spare bedroom, all with fireplaces, and a bathroom. On the sideboard were cold cuts, fresh bread and her favorite, a freshly baked apple pie, the apples imported from Shanghai. Sak`e in a container of hot water, and Loch Vey whisky from Struan's own distillery that she adored.
The moment the door was bolted she stood on tiptoe and kissed him hungrily. "No see six day, first bed-u then ba'f!" she said, reversing the usual order. His heart picked up a beat though he was in no hurry.
She took him by the hand, led him into the bedroom and half pushed him onto the bed, knelt to pull off his boots and began to undress him, all the time chattering in her half-comprehensible pidgin, telling him that the Yoshiwara was a buzz with business, the Floating World prosperous, not to worry about Shizuka, she was expensive but the best, and what was this they hear about war and please we do not want war, just business, and I have a new kimono with lucky carp all over it that was, well, a little expensive, "but ichiban,
Jami-san, you-ah 'rike veri. Bed-u!"
Obediently he got into the four-poster. The night was perfect, neither hot nor cool. She untied her obi, let the kimono fall, then her under-kimono and slip. Quite naked, completely without guilt or shame about nudity like all musume--one of the many characteristics that set them apart, and one that McFay and all gai-jin found so astounding and enviable--she took the pins from her hair, shook it and let it fall to her waist and marched triumphantly to the bathroom and the first delight of the evening.
She sat on the toilet and reached up for the handle to the chain of the water closet and pulled. The water roared down into the porcelain bowl and, as always, she clapped her hands with glee.
The first time she had seen it she had not believed it. "Where wat'er go?"' she asked suspiciously. He had explained and drawn pictures but she still would not believe him until he had shown her the pipes and taken her into the garden where the manhole cover of the septic tank was--all pipes, water tanks, boilers, toilet bowls, hand basins, sinks, taps and the three baths imported from England, Hong Kong and
Shanghai where many pieces were beginning to be manufactured for the vast Indian and Asian markets.
She had begged him to allow her to show her friends.
Proudly he had agreed because this was the first such installation in all Japan, to Sir William's chagrin and Norbert Greyforth's fury, and now the pattern of the dozen or so working and nonworking copies, though not all with hot and cold water: nothing but the best and most modern, therefore
British, for Struan's.
So guided tours of the privileged few to examine the Jami-san cleansing room became one of the most sought-after sights of gai-jin
Yokohama, the chattering musume like so many exotic birds, bowing and sucking in their breaths and pulling the chain to gasps of wonder and applause.
Nemi washed her hands. With a contented sigh, she slipped under the sheets beside him.
Phillip Tyrer was spent and almost asleep.
Fujiko bore his weight comfortably, then began to ease away.
"Iy`e, matsu," No, don't move
... wait, he murmured.
"I just want to fetch a towel,
Taira-san. Towel, do you understand?"
"Ah, ah yes. Understand towel. You stay
I get..."
"Oh no, I would lose face, it is my duty. Let me go, please... now do not be difficult or naughty."
She chuckled as he nuzzled her and held on but she was deft and knew her craft well and waited. Now the small room was peaceful.
Outside the night was fair. Wind rustled the trees and bushes. A few drafts from around the sliding windows, not yet cold or unpleasant.
Flickering oil lamp.
In a moment she slid away without disturbing his tranquility and went to the little bathroom with its high wooden tub, filled to the brim with hot water, which was on a wooden grill to allow the water to flow away when the bung was pulled out.
Scented soap and chamber pot and fresh towels.
Quickly she used a damp towel and dried herself.
When she came back she brought a hot towel, sponged him then dried him. All the while his eyes were tightly closed and he was near moaning with pleasure, at the same time embarrassed that she was doing it for him, not he for her. "Ah,
Fujiko-chan, you are wonderful."
"No, it is my pleasure," she said, long over her wonder and embarrassment at the strange habits of the foreigners: that they rarely bathed, were usually consumed with shame and guilt over pillow pleasures, were astoundingly possessive and usually furious that she had other clients-- stupid, what were they but clients?--or turning away, blushing, when she was undressing for their enjoyment, or covering themselves when only half naked, preferring to fornicate in the dark when everyone knew much of the thrill was to see, examine and observe, or were embarrassed purple when she attempted normal variations to prevent boredom and to prolong and increase Moments with the gods--the time of the Clouds and the Rain.
No, gai-jin aren't like us. They almost always favor First Position with Urgency, occasionally
Baiting the Hen or Cherry Blossom Time, so allowing me no opportunity to demonstrate my skills, or when, in the light, I would position myself to play with the One-Eyed Monk the many games of uplifting such as Near and Far, Over the
Dragon, Springtime Planting, Stealing the
Honey that even the most unpracticed youth would require and appreciate, a gai-jin would jerk away, firmly but gently pull me up alongside him, kiss my neck, hold tight and mumble incomprehensibles.
She murmured, "Now I'll massage you to sleep."
"Don't understand. Mess'erge?"
"Massage, Taira-san. Like this."
"Ah now I understand. Massage, thank you."
Her fingers were gentle and wonderful and he drifted away, hardly believing his luck, proud of his performance and that she had ecstatically finished three times at least to his once--and never mind that
Raiko had said that tomorrow Fujiko had to visit her village, near Yedo, to see her sick grandfather,
"... but only for a few days,
Taira-san."
"Oh, so sorry, Raiko-san. Please, how many day 'way?"
"How many days will she be away. Only three."
"Ah thank you. How many days will she be away?" Tyrer repeated--he had asked her and
Fujiko, always to correct him.
Three days. That will give me time to recover.
My God, that was the best. Wonder what will happen when the roju get our dispatch. I'm sure my advice's correct and that Nakama is telling the truth--God, I've a lot to thank him for, Sir Wil
liam was positively beaming and as for Fujiko...
Lulled by her touch, his mind began a jumble of
Nakama and her and being in Japan and everything so different and learning Japanese, incessant words and phrases leaping forward untidily. The futons were hard and difficult to get used to but he was comfortable, lying on his stomach, enjoying her nearness. God but I'm tired. Can't stand the idea of "other clients," he thought. Got to make her mine, just mine. Tomorrow I'll ask
Andr`e to help me.
Without turning he reached back, put his hand on her thigh. Lovely silky skin.
Where was I? Oh yes, the roju. We'll give the buggers what-for. Bloody awful about the mail ship being fired on--we've just got to make
Shimonoseki safe and if the bloody Bakufu won't do it that means taking out those batteries ourselves. Must remember to be careful about that with
Nakama, mustn't forget he's from Choshu too.
Could I use him as a go-between? And if the roju won't deal with those Satsuma devils we'll have to crush them ourselves. The bloody effrontery of the daimyo saying that he can't find Canterbury's murderers, the bastards came out of his own ranks for God's sake, I saw them hack off
Canterbury's arm and the blood sprayed...
Her fingers froze. "What's the matter,
Taira-san?"
Before he knew it he was hugging her, wanting to block out the Tokaid@o, and then, when the trembling had stopped he lay back, pulling her with him and held on to her, the warm pliant length of her against him, loving her, so thankful to be with her, waiting for the bad to return to its recess.
She lay quiet, also waiting, not thinking about him except that once more gai-jin proved to be curious indeed, beyond understanding. It was comfortable resting against him and she was glad that the first explosion had been achieved properly, that the client was satisfied, so she could safely believe she had earned her extra fee.
When Raiko was assigning all their appointments this morning, the mama-san had told her she was putting up her rate: "with Taira, only, because you will have extra work. Remember he could a big fish for you, Fujiko, a long-term patron much better than Kant-er-bury-san if we're careful and if you please him. Frenchy tells me he's an important official so strive hard to please him. Only speak
Japanese, no pidgin, become a teacher, encourage him, and remember he is ridiculously shy and knows nothing and never mention
Kant-er-bury. We will pretend you have to go away for a few days--but do not worry, I have two clients for you tomorrow, in the afternoon a gai-jin, a civilized person at night.
..."
With a generous patron for a year or two I could quickly pay off my debts, and life would be much better than having to take whatever client was available, she thought, then contentedly abandoned the present as she always tried to do when with a client, projecting herself into the future where she lived happily with her rich farmer husband and four or five sons. She could see their farmhouse amid their many rice fields, abundant with green shoots of winter or spring plantings, promising another rich harvest, her mother-in-law kind and pleased with her, a bullock or two tethered to a plow, flowers in the little garden and...
"Ah, Fujiko. Thank you, you are wonderful!"
She nestled closer and said how strong and manly he was.
"What?" he asked sleepily. One of her hands answered intimately and he twisted.
"No, Fujiko, please, first sleep. No
... please later..."
"Ah, but a strong man like you..." she murmured, hid her boredom, and continued dutifully.
Ori yawned and took his eye away from the spy hole. "I've seen enough," he whispered.
"Shocking."
"I agree." Hiraga kept his voice down too. "Terrible. Fujiko's performance was the worst I've ever seen. Baka!"
"If I was Taira I would demand my money back."
"I agree. Baka! She won't have him ready for hours and as for him... only First
Position once and talk about urgency! Ten thrusts and poof, Over the Moon like a duck."
Ori had to hold his hand over his mouth to stop the laughter then, carefully, he stuck little pieces of paper to cover the holes they had made in the far corner of the shoji screen. Together they slipped away into the bushes, through the secret gate in the fence, and thence to Ori's dwelling.
"Sak`e!"
Half asleep the maid set the tray in front of them, poured and shuffled away, still finding it difficult not to stare at their heads. They toasted each other and refilled the cups, the room small and pleasant, candle-lit, with bed futons already made up in the adjoining room.
Swords were on low, lacquer racks--Raiko had bent the Yoshiwara rule forbidding weapons within the walls because they were shishi, because of Hiraga's portrait and because both had swore by sonno-joi not use the weapons against anyone in the house, or any guest, and only in defense.
"I cannot believe Taira was taken in by her faked Moment with the Gods, Hiraga, one after another like that! Her acting was terrible. Is he that stupid?"
"Obviously." Hiraga laughed and rubbed the back and sides of his head vigorously.
"Eeee, with that sized weapon he should have really made her squeal--are all gai-jin built like that?"
"Who cares--in his case it is wasted."
"No finesse, Ori! Perhaps I should get him a pillow book like a virgin bride, eh?"
"Better we kill him and them and fire the
Settlement."
"Be patient, we will, there is plenty of time."
"He is a perfect target, it is another perfect opportunity," Ori said, an edge creeping into his voice.
Hiraga watched him, all warmth gone of a sudden. "Yes but not now, he's too important."
"You said yourself if we could infuriate them enough they'd bombard Yedo and that would be wonderful for our cause."
"Yes, you are right but we have time." Hiraga showed none of his concern, appeasing him, wanting him controlled. "Taira is answering all my questions.
For instance, no one told us gai-jin fight each other like wild dogs, worse than daimyos before
Toranaga--the Dutch hid that from us, eh?"
"They are all liars and barbarians."
"Yes but there must be hundreds of bits of information like that, that will unlock the way to play them, and dominate them. We must learn everything, Ori, and then, when we're part of the new Bakufu we will set German against Russian against Frenchman against Ing'erish against American..."
Hiraga shivered remembering the little Tyrer had told him about that civil war, the battles and casualties, all the modern weapons and hundreds of thousands of armed men involved, and the unbelievable vastness of the gai-jin lands. "This evening he said the Inger'ish Navy rules the world oceans, that by their law is twice as big as the next two navies combined, with hundreds of men-o'-war, thousands of cannon."
"Lies. Exaggeration to frighten you. He and all of them want us cowed, you as much as any. He wants our secrets too!"
"I only give him only what I think he should know." Hiraga belched irritably.
"Ori, we've got to learn about them! These dogs have conquered most of the world--humbled China and burned
Peking, and this year the French became overlords of
Cochin-China and are set to colonize
Cambodia."
"Yes but the French played native prince against native prince like the British in India.
This is Japan. We're different--this is the
Land of the Gods. With all the cannon in the world they will never conquer us." Ori's face twisted strangely. "Even if they seduce some daimyos to their side, even then, the rest of us will slaughter them."
"Not without cannon and knowledge."
"Without cannon, yes, Hiraga-san."
Hiraga shrugged and poured for both of them. There were many shishi who shared Ori's zeal--and had forgotten Sun-tzu: Know your enemy as you know yourself and you will win a hundred battles. "I hope you are right, meanwh
ile I will find out as much as I can. Tomorrow he promised to let me look at a map of the world--he called it an
"at'ras.""
"How do you know it will not be false, made up?"
"That is not likely, not falsifying one. Perhaps