I have been dreaming up stories for years but, until recently, none had ever been shared.
Some of the people and events described are inspired by my own experience, but it is overwhelmingly a work of fiction.
Constructive criticism is welcome.
This story includes several characters that appear in earlier instalments of the "Adam in Asia" series. It is recommended that you read "Nampa" and "Mary lets go" before this.
Prologue
After graduating with a degree in International Finance I had landed a great job at a major consulting company. After a period at head office in London I was posted to Singapore as a member of the regional team.
Thursday evening
I was in Tokyo with my colleague Mary, working on a project for a client. We had been there for a week already and had to be back for Monday morning, so we opted to stay for the weekend. Journey time meant that there was little point going home.
It had been a busy week, so we were planning an evening away from our laptops. A few years' earlier I had spent a month living in Tokyo, so she put me in charge of the programme with one condition: it had to include some of the city's famous nightlife. We ate dinner at restaurant where every dish is flavoured with garlic, even the ice cream!
Mary is a rather strait-laced Singaporean Chinese from a well-to-do family. Outwardly demure in manner and appearance I knew that she was capable of behaviour that would shock people who knew her well. Even so, I was nervous about taking her anywhere too surprising.
Previous experience and a bit of research led to me choosing the Gas Panic Bar in Roppongi as our next destination. I thought that would be edgy enough for her. We emerged from the metro station into a seething mass of people, illuminated by thousands of neon lights adorning the exterior of many bars and clubs. It could have been confusing, but luckily I have a good sense of direction. Once I had orientated myself, we weaved our way through the crowds to a side street not far from the main crossroads.
I fetched drinks while Mary found somewhere to sit. Over the sound of loud music, I explained that the bar's name was a macabre reference to a terrorist attack on the Tokyo subway a few years' earlier. Several people were killed and many more injured. We discussed how strange we found some things in Japan, how taxi drivers wore white gloves, the high-tech toilets in our hotel, the sheer number of people on the streets, and so on.
As we had to be at work the next morning, I didn't want it to be a late night. After another round of drinks, I led the way back to the main road to find a taxi. There was stiff competition. I was still trying to hail one when Mary started tugging on my arm, pulling me over to where a huge black man was standing.
"I want to go to a club; this guy says he can do us a good deal. We can, can't we?" she pleaded. How could I resist?
He led us up a flight of stairs. I handed over a lot of yen and a waitress led us into a brightly lit room crowded with Japanese men many in crumpled suits, ties hanging loose, looking the worse for drink. Salarymen! There were several low stages spread around the room. When we walked in two were occupied by women in skimpy bikinis who slowly stripped off.
I watched two salarymen laying on their backs, heads on the edge of the stage, staring up at the dancers from close distance.
"Adam! What are you doing here?"
It was Yuka, a Japanese woman who I had met, and briefly dated, when I was living there.
We hugged. I introduced her to Mary and explained why we were there. Yuka was there with some work colleagues.
"They don't like me being here, but I'm the boss so they can't complain."
There was a commotion over at one of the stages. The guys on the floor had become more animated and now one of them was trying to grope a dancer.
"Shit, I'd better go and stop that; don't want my secretary getting beaten up by the bouncers! Why didn't you tell me you were coming? We should try to meet up, I'll send you a message."
She scurried away.
"She's nice," said Mary. "How did you meet?"
"Er, it was my first weekend here. I was walking down the street and we started chatting."
"Cool." She yawned, "let's go."
Friday
My phone rang. I was busy so Mary answered for me.
Strategic error. It was Yuka.
The conversation went on for a while. I was distracted so only caught parts of it.
"Er, that was a long talk" I ventured.
"Yes, it was. We're having dinner with her on Saturday."
"We are?"
"Yes, we are. Her mother is going to cook for us. She wants to see you again."
'Fuck', I thought. This was bad.
"Yuka asked if you could remember where the studio is. Apparently, they live in a flat upstairs.
"You didn't tell me that you were in a video."
"Er, no, it didn't seem necessary" I blustered. This was very bad.
"Yuka said she'd show it to me on Saturday." Terrible.
Saturday
In the evening, after a day of sight-seeing, we took the subway to the district where, close to my tiny apartment, I had met Yuka. Of course, we stopped en route for chocolates and flowers. Of course, being Japan, they were beautifully wrapped.
The studio was a converted warehouse in a warren of narrow streets and alleyways. I rang the bell for the flat; Yuka released the lock and was waiting for us when the lift door opened on the top floor. Inside her mother, Maki, welcomed Mary, then gave me a warm hug.
Maki did not speak much English, so most of the conversation was with Yuka. She told us that her father, away on business, was sorry to miss us. Mary wanted to know about the studio, what sort of videos they made, how the business was doing, and so on.
The direction of this conversation is exactly why I did not want to meet Yuka when Mary was around.
Yuka explained that the studio specialised in adult videos. Mary gave me a questioning look. I blushed.
"I found the video with Adam in it. Shall I play it now?" Yuka asked. Mary agreed.
Yuka picked up the remote control, the TV sprang to life. "I'll fast forward to the bit with him in."
I groaned.
"It's sort of a quiz show. The contestants answer questions, then they choose one of the men as a prize, and ... well ... you'll see."
On the screen titles faded way to reveal three foreign men, all naked, standing next to each other; one of them was me. Opposite us were three Japanese women wearing
yukata
. There was a voice from offscreen which I knew was Yuka asking the questions.
This could not be happening.
Mary was gazing with astonishment. Yuka skipped ahead to the point where the winner chose me as her reward. At normal speed the woman and I were having sex. The penny dropped.
Mary pointed at the TV, open-mouthed. "But that's your mum!" she exclaimed.
I wanted to be somewhere else.
There was a giggle from behind me. Maki was watching us all. Then she said something in Japanese. I guessed that the meal was ready.
"Time to eat" said Yuka.
Over dinner she explained that her father had started as a cameraman before rising to be a director of adult movies. He met her mother, a popular actress, on set. She retired after becoming pregnant with Yuka. Later they set up their own studio, with her father as the main director. It turned out that Maki had a knack for picking moves that appealed to older women, and that the company had done well in this niche market. These days she mostly worked as a producer but sometimes she appeared in front of the camera, as she had with Adam.
