Stephanie's Trial

by Susanna Hughes

  'It is what you called civilised?'

  'Yes, I suppose so.'

  'And he allows you to do whatever...'

  'It is not a question of him allowing anything,' she said quickly. It came out more sternly than she intended. Of course she could hardly tell Kanjii the truth; that it was not a question of what Devlin allowed her but what she allowed him.

  'He must be a... an unusual man I think.'

  'Yes, that would be a fair description,' she smiled. They both ordered espresso coffee. It came in tiny white cups. Kanjii talked about Japan and his business and how he tried to adapt himself to European ways. It was, he told her, very confusing especially when it came to women.

  'In Japan the women, they now become more liberated, like the West. But still there are old traditions.'

  'Which do you prefer?'

  He smiled to himself. 'I like of course, you sophisticated Western women. So confident. So stylish.'

  'But?'

  'If I am honest, of course I prefer the old ways. It is natural. Japanese men were privileged. They were honoured. They were feted. Women were servants to men, even wives were servants. I would be hypocrite if I say I did not like this. I did. I do. But I know things will change. And I like also the Western way. I find the women, women like you... interesting.'

  'Tell me about geishas,' Stephanie said as the coffee arrived.

  'That is a very complex question.'

  'Is it? I thought they were a sort of prostitute.'

  Kanjii laughed out loud. 'You are very direct.'

  'Aren't they?'

  'Oh yes. Yes, that is precisely what they are. But much more also. More honourable I think. And especially more trained. It takes some years to become a geisha, the system is very regulated.'

  'And that still exists.'

  'Oh yes. Not as much perhaps. And it is now very expensive. Now in Japan there are prostitutes like anywhere in the world. You pay only for sex, quick sex. In the geisha house it is not only sex. It is ritual and respect. The old ways...'

  'Old ways?'

  'Ways to please a man, ways to honour a man.'

  'Sexual ways?'

  'Yes of course. But in the old Japan sex was regarded as an art or perhaps a science. It was taken very seriously. Here in the West I think it is often regarded in the same way as you regard fast food, something to be dealt with quickly.'

  'I don't like fast food,' Stephanie said, gazing into his eyes.

  Kanjii returned her stare while he took a sip of his coffee. She noticed he had very long eyelashes.

  'The arts of sex belong to the geisha. That is why they must study. If a man has been with the geishas it is something he will never forget.'

  'And a woman?'

  He looked her straight in the eye. There was a silence before he said, 'The arts of the geisha were designed for men. I see no reason why, in these modern times, they cannot be adapted to a woman.'

  'Sounds fascinating.'

  'You will excuse me for being a little slow. I still find you Western women very...'

  'Direct?'

  'Yes.' He paused. 'Perhaps you would like to judge for yourself?'

  'How can I do that?' His dark eyes seemed to be making her heart beat faster.

  'I invite you to my penthouse. The view is spectacular.'

  'And?'

  'I think you will be surprised. Pleasantly surprised.'

  'When?' she said bluntly.

  'Why not this afternoon?'

  'Why not?' The prospect of spending the afternoon with Kanjii was a thousand times more interesting than more shopping. And she was intrigued.

  Stephanie finished her second cup of espresso and made the universal sign for the bill - pretending to write with one hand on the palm of the other - to a distant waiter who nodded and disappeared through the kitchen entrance.

  'I will buy the lunch please,' he said quietly.

  'No, let me.'

  'This is a new experience for me.'

  'Then perhaps we are both in for new experiences this afternoon,' Stephanie said as she dropped a credit card onto the plate on which the bill was neatly folded.

  They left the hotel together. Stephanie's chauffeur was waiting with the rear passenger door open. He must have spotted her walking down the corridor towards the revolving doors. Kanjii also had a chauffeur, who stood by a smart claret-red Bentley. He dismissed him with a wave of his hand and they both climbed into the Cadillac. Kanjii gave the chauffeur his address, an apartment building in Lowndes Square, and the big car headed off down Piccadilly.

  The journey took no more than ten minutes and they both said very little, Stephanie wondering what on earth she had let herself in for and feeling a distinctly pleasant sensation in anticipation. Kanjii contented himself with looking at her knees, clad in ultra-sheer nylon, with a slightly creamy colouring to match the dress.

  The doorman at the building opened the Cadillac door almost before the car had come to a standstill. 'Afternoon, sir,' he said, saluting with his other hand.

  'Afternoon, George,' Kanjii said, leading the way up a short flight of steps and holding open a large panelled door for Stephanie to enter.

  The entrance hall of the building was luxurious, suggesting the cost of the flats it contained. Speckled granite in an orangey black formed the floor with the walls lined in a light peachy silk. A modern stainless steel lift stood opposite the entrance doors. Between the two a fake gas fire burned brightly in a fire-surround made from another and contrasting slab of granite.

  They took the lift to the top floor. The lift doors opened to reveal a short passageway with only one door.

  'You have the whole floor?'

  'I need the space,' Kanjii said, punching numbers into a combination lock on the doorjamb. The door sprang open.

  Kanjii led the way down a long wide hall decorated with small framed Japanese tapestries, into the living room. One side of the room was made entirely of glass and beyond it was, as promised, a spectacular view over the rooftops of London. Stephanie went to the window and stared. On the street below she could see the black Cadillac parked outside the building, the chauffeur leaning against the bonnet talking to the doorman. She suspected he was going to have a long wait.

  'So here we are,' she said. 'You were right about the view.'

  It was a spectacular apartment too, with absolutely no expense spared. The furnishings were sparse but every item, from the huge white silk sofas to the modern black lacquered cabinets, were superb examples of craftsmanship. Not all the paintings, as with the decorations in the hall, were Japanese or even oriental. But all the Western art was post-impressionist. Stephanie recognised a Rothko and a Miro.

  'Would you like another drink?' he asked.

  'No, I don't think I would.'

  'That is good.'

  'So what happens now?' She sat on one of the white sofas and crossed her legs. She watched Kanjii's eyes follow the movement with interest.

  'That is up to you.'

  'Is it?'

  'You are interested in the geisha experience?'

  'Yes, but we're a long way from Japan.'

  'I adopt many European ways. But I also like to have something of my country always with me. I am a rich man. I can afford what for some men, certainly men in Japan, would be only a dream.'

  'Geishas?'

  'Precisely so.'

  'Here? In your penthouse?'

  'If you wish, please come with me.' He indicated a door at the far end of the room. 'You do wish, I think.'

  Stephanie got to her feet with no hesitation. Kanjii led her to the door, then opened it and stood aside for her to enter. For a moment she was disorientated. She had been expecting the door to lead to another room; instead it lead directly onto a huge roof garden, a Japanese water garden with a wooden bridge over a quite deep pond stocked with ornamental carp, and full of large white water-lilies. At one edge of the pond a waterfall led down to another pond, only slightly smaller than the first, equally well stocke
d with fish and flora.

  All around the edges of the pond were miniature trees, their branches carefully pruned to encourage artful growth. In the lower pool a series of rocks were assembled in a strict pattern and a bamboo water-clock clunked regularly as its water level rose and fell. A miniature pagoda stood on one shore. Wind chimes hung down from the trees.

  Kanjii led the way across the bridge and down a series of wooden steps made from logs to the lower level. To one side, actually set in the side of a grassy bank, was a wooden door, fronted with the bark from some exotic tree.

  'This way,' he said.

  'It's beautiful,' Stephanie commented.

  'I come here for peace. Gardens in Japan are like art too.'

  'I can see that.'

  He opened the door for her and she stepped through into a small narrow hallway. This was totally Japanese, white paper walls framed in thin black lacquered wood.

  'I leave you here for a moment. I must make an arrangement. It is not usual for women to be entertained by geishas.'

  'I suppose not.'

  'In Japan we have a saying: "Take only what you are given and give only what you cannot take". You wait here please.' With that Kanjii slid one of the white panels aside, slipped through it and drew it back into place.

  Stephanie looked around the hall but there was nothing to see. The carpeting was black, and there were no decorations or pictures other than the white paper walls. She could hear her own heartbeat. It was more rapid than usual. Then one of the panels slid open and a petite Japanese girl came out into the passageway. She was dressed in white cotton knickers of an old-fashioned design, the cut so low on the leg and high on the waist they looked almost like shorts. Apart from the knickers the girl was naked. Her breasts were virtually non-existent, no more than slight inclines on her chest, and even her nipples were tiny, the size of cherry stones and just as hard. They were an extremely strange colour too, a red so dark it was almost black. Her jet-black hair was cut short and parted in the middle. It was absolutely straight without a hint of a curl and she had a fringe below the parting that covered most of her forehead.

  She put her hands together in an attitude of prayer and bowed deeply to Stephanie. Stephanie bowed back but only slightly. The girl said something in Japanese. Stephanie looked puzzled. The girl gestured, obviously meaning for Stephanie to follow her as she turned and set off through the sliding paper panels.

  Stephanie found herself in another small hallway, at the end of which the Japanese girl slid open another panel and gestured for Stephanie to step through. The room beyond was an authentic version - at least Stephanie took it to be authentic - of a Japanese bathhouse. The walls were faced in stone and the floor tiled in foot-square slabs of slate. These same slabs had been made to form a rectangular bath sunken into the middle of the floor. Water was pouring into the bath from a large split bamboo pipe, the flow controlled by taps mounted at the side in the floor itself. One side of this rectangular bath was inlaid with steps, also made of slate and leading right down into it. Everywhere the room was draped with plants, ivy and palms and eucalyptus. The scent of the eucalyptus filled the air.

  Standing waiting for her was not Kanjii but three more girls, all dressed like the first, in white cotton knickers, all with the same short jet-black hair, and all virtually the same height. But though one of the girls had the same flat breasts as the first, the other two had a much fuller shape and, though not large, they were firm and round and topped by ample nipples.

  In unison all three girls greeted Stephanie, bowing with their hands together. The first girl spoke in Japanese again. Then one of the other girls came forward, one of those with the more rounded breasts and, clearly, from her face, a little older than the others.

  'She says please to do nothing.'

  'Nothing?'

  'Is custom.'

  The custom for men, Stephanie thought but did not say. She found herself surrounded by the four women. She felt hands pulling off her dress, taking down her tights and panties, unclipping her bra. In seconds she was completely naked. The four pairs of hands remained on her naked body, guiding her over to the steps of the bath. All four women descended into the water with her, the white cotton knickers immediately soaking up the water and becoming transparent.

  The water was well over waist-deep. Each woman took a large bar of soap and began to work on different parts of Stephanie's body; one on her back, one on her chest, one on her left leg and one on the right. To her astonishment two of the women dived below the surface of the water, scrubbing at her legs seemingly without coming up for air.

  It may have been her imagination but the geishas - because she knew, of course, that was what these girls were - seemed to be concentrating their attention on her erogenous zones. The hands that washed her back moved to her breasts, the others worked at her buttocks, between her thighs, and over her belly, soaping and rinsing her flesh over and over again. There seemed to be hands everywhere, skilful, sensitive hands, knowing how to make her nerves alternate between being soothed and being excited.

  Stephanie felt herself swooning with pleasure. But they had anticipated that and two girls stood behind her to support her weight as she swayed backwards, losing her balance under the dextrous assault. Fingers delved into her pubic hair now. Stephanie knew her cunt was wet but the water sealed her labia. No fingers ventured to break the seal but instead caressed her clitoris while other fingers pummelled and nipped and pulled at her nipples, and lips kissed her neck on either side of her shoulders. There was no pretence of washing now; this was manipulation with only one purpose.

  Slowly, almost carrying her bodily out of the water and up the steps, they led Stephanie from the bath. To one side of the room was a small cubicle, its door made from split bamboo. As one of the girls opened the door Stephanie felt a blast of heat, almost like a sauna, and an even stronger smell of eucalyptus. Inside was a low wooden frame like a long rectangular box which had been completely filled with natural sponges to form a springy, soft mattress.

  Without her knowing exactly how they did it, the girls seemed to lift Stephanie off her feet. They laid her on the sponges, which were wet but not with water. They had been soaked in some sort of oil. It was an extraordinary sensation, like floating on a sea of silky thick oil, the sponges so soft they felt as though they were not supporting her at all. The oil had been warmed; it was sensuous against her naked flesh.

  Three geishas knelt at Stephanie's side while the fourth stood over her with a small earthenware Japanese bowl. Slowly she tipped the bowl to one side and a trickle of warmed oil ran down onto Stephanie's naked body, down first over her neck, then her collar-bone, then the valley of her breasts, then up over her breasts as the geisha moved the bowl. The geisha directed the thin stream right onto one nipple and then onto the other. The warm heavy oil hitting her corrugated flesh made Stephanie shudder with pleasure. The geisha eventually moved the bowl so the thin stream trickled down over her belly, the oil pooling in her belly-button. The stream moved on, down into the triangle of her pubis and along the top of her thighs, right down her legs until it was trickling into her toes.

  Stephanie squirmed. She could think of nothing but the physical sensation. She had never experienced anything like this.

  The stream of oil finished. The fourth girl put the bowl down and joined the others kneeling at Stephanie's side, two on each side of the wooden frame. She said something in Japanese and immediately the girls' hands descended on Stephanie's oil-smeared body, rubbing the oil into and over her flesh.

  She was going to come. There was no way she could stop herself with this sort of attention. Eight hands caressing her, the warm oil making the contact frictionless. The hands stroked and kneaded and massaged her expertly. The hands were powerful, practised, the fingers strong. There was a hand on each of her breasts, and on each of her thighs, and hands reached down through the sponge and out again to knead each of her buttocks. There were hands at her neck and belly and clitoris. She l
ost track. There were hands everywhere; everywhere that is, but inside her. She was not penetrated either in her cunt or anus.

  Not that it mattered. It didn't inhibit her climax. Her body was trembling from top to toe. She was moaning. Not one distinct sound but a continuous noise almost like a whimper.

  The geisha who had poured the oil lent forward and whispered in her ear three or four words of Japanese, perhaps forgetting she needed to speak English. Then she remembered.

  'For the man he comes now. You too must come. It is expected I think.'

  And Stephanie came. But it was not like any orgasm she had experienced before. Instead of a sharp explosion of feeling, her body seemed to open, like the petals of a flower, open up to a steadily rising tide of sensation that completely engulfed her just as much as a normal orgasm. But this did not abate. It kept on and on and on until Stephanie was writhing on the sponges, wriggling against the hands on her body, tossing her head from side to side. The orgasm was not centred on her sex like it usually was: it seemed to be coming from everywhere all at the same time, every inch of her flesh under the probing fingers as sensitive as a clitoris, as open and vulnerable.

  On and on and on. Stephanie stilled her body, let it float and felt the heat of the room, and her sweat and the oil that now covered every inch of her body. She lay completely motionless, the hands working unceasingly, knowingly, as she felt herself reach another plateau of feeling: she was totally open, unprotected, the hands touching nerves she never knew she had.

  Eventually, after how long she had no way of knowing, the hands left her, one after another, until she was floating on the sponges on her own and her body began to come down from its high. She must have fallen asleep because when she woke up only one of the geishas - the eldest who spoke English - remained. She was sitting on a small wooden three-legged stool by the door.

  'You good now?' she asked quietly.

  'Oh yes...' Stephanie replied. She sat up with difficulty. The geisha helped her to stand. She was not at all sure how she felt.

  The geisha led her out of the cubicle. In the corner of the stone-clad room was a powerful modern shower, with runnels cut into the slate tiling to drain its water away.