Choto Temple

A woman in a kimono with a painted white face stepped out of Zerzinski's place just as I arrived. She smiled briefly in greeting, and opened a parasol above her head, before descending the stairs.

Zerzinski seemed happy. I don't know why that even seemed notable, but he smiled without any provocation as I entered the house.

Soon enough we were sitting across from each other once again, cappuccinos in hand.

"I'd like to ask you about your move to Yamaguchi. And life since then."

"Well, we wound things down at the clinic," Zerzinski said. "Sold my house in Portland..."

"You sold it?"

"Well, it was mostly owned by the bank," he said. "But yeah, I was ready for something else. For this."

"What was it like when you first got here?"

"Well, more unusual experiences are more memorable. The really memorable stuff started when I was on my way here."

"Tell me about that?"

"So, before that, like the week before, there was a week in between closing the clinic and flying to Japan.

"I hadn't made any social plans or anything for the week. I found myself, for the first time in a long time, without anything in particular to do. No responsibilities. Just waiting. And no sex either."

"What was that like?"

"Well actually, I was feeling a bit guilty about the no sex thing."

"Guilty?"

"Yes. It is actually helpful for them, you know."

"Of course."

I felt stupid for needing clarification.

"But it was nice otherwise," he continued. "To actually have time to feel sort of naturally aroused."

"Without needing anyone to do extraordinary things to inspire that arousal?"

"You could put it like that," he said, with a tone of slight suspicion.

"Did you ever think about just going out and walking into a random cafe without a disguise on?"

He paused. "You remember the circus I described in Connecticut?"

I nodded.

"Well," he said, "it never really stopped being like that.

"If I was recognized in public, you never knew entirely what might happen. If it wasn't a lecture in morality from some religious wingnut, or jealous guys quietly stewing and thinking vengeful thoughts, or feminists telling me about my shortcomings, it was - far more often - random women wanting to have unprotected sex with me. And sometimes acting pretty aggressive about it.

"And I'm not a fan of any aspect of any of that.

"And if the sex sounds good, think about the chances you'd be taking by having that much unprotected sex. With women who have not gone gotten tests and medical exams like they would at the clinic, or here at the Temple.

"It would be just way too predictable for me to get HIV. And I'd really rather not. Though the theory of the random encounter is very attractive. Because of the random element."

"Hard to have things be both random and safe, eh?"

"Yes. But something like that happened on the plane to Narita."

"Oh my. Flight attendants?"

"You guessed it. Unionized and organized, with STD test results in hand, and a whole plan of action for the eleven-hour flight."

"How did they present that to you?"

"Very much like one might sit down to talk to a passenger about their choices for an alternative meal. Very matter-of-fact, very polite, very Japanese."

"It was a JAL flight?"

"I suppose it might have been," he answered coyly.

I didn't press the issue, and he continued his story.

"A very attractive Japanese flight attendant sat down next to me. One of the ones who just looks perfect in those little outfits. With nothing out of place, shaped like an anime character.

"Her face was so beautiful. But also fully possessed of the kind of stoic sense of authority that flight attendants can often convey so well.

"Or as they might say in Japan, she was possessed of a perfect 'outdoor face.'

"'Mr Zerzinski,' she said, 'we are very honored that you are on this flight. I just wanted to welcome you on board. Please let us know if there's anything we can do for you.'

"OK, when you're me, and a woman sits down next to you in a plane and says something like that, you think certain things.

"I'm basically a shy person, though, and I wanted to be sure. So I just put the ball in her court, and asked if there was anything I could do for her.

"Her stoic cracked. She looked down. She might have been blushing. And she pressed her lips together hard, and forced herself to lift her head back up and look at me.

"'Yes,' she said.

"And then she actually handed me three pieces of paper from a Planned Parenthood clinic in Portland. They were the very familiar STD results papers. Each with a driver's license paperclipped to it, with a woman's face on each license.

"'The three flight attendants pictured here, Mr Zerzinski, are all on the flight, and available to meet with you at any time.

"'There is a private sleeping area in the back of the plane for flight attendants to use. And we would like to offer it to you for the entire flight. You may use it by yourself, or you may use it with any of the three of us.'

"When she said 'us,' I realized that one of the licenses was hers.

"The picture looked like it was many years old. But she was still in her twenties, for sure. And even more beautiful than she appeared in the picture. Certainly more self-assured."

"Do you like self-assured women?" I asked.

I guess he could tell that I thought he probably didn't, and he looked momentarily confused.

"Oh yes," he said. "See, it's no fun if they're, say, so submissive that they lack confidence, or don't know what they want.

"The fun is when there's a choice. When they do want something, and they know what they want - and you can choose whether they get to have it.

"So self-assured is very good. Or can be."

He continued the tale. "So basically, being the responsible benefactor that I like to think I am, I started coming up with a plan."

"What to do with an embarrassment of riches?"

"Pretty much, yes.

"But some riches richer than others. I walked down the aisles, slowly, once they dimmed the lights and I felt like I might be slightly more anonymous.

"Generally, the white people were staring at me, and the Japanese weren't. Maybe they wanted to, but they weren't. I felt so good right then about my plan to make this move.

"But at least no one accosted me. I went and looked for these flight attendants, to see them up close."

"Part of your plan?"

"Yes. Basically, I figured the way I could be most useful here was to fuck all three of them at some point during the flight.

"Which is a lot of sex, if you're supposed to be coming every time. Which is definitely the expectation here.

"So I wanted to see the others, so I could save the best for last."

"Kind of like the way things are done here?"

I was careful to phrase the question that way, knowing that he might be sensitive if I phrased it wrong. Like by saying 'the way you do things here.' He is not the one making the decisions about how things are done here, he might feel the need to emphasize once again.

"Maybe," he replied. "Except here the best is generally first, second and third. Just different kinds of best."

I made a note to ask him more about that later.

"But if there are differences," he continued, "it's better to save the best for last. When you need the most inspiration to get it up one more time."

"Was it an easy decision?"

"Not really. All three were really stunning.

"The crew on that flight was like a random selection of flight attendants from throughout the Star Alliance or something. Aside from the Japanese woman, the other two on my plate were from Norway and Saudi Arabia.

"Back then, the tall blonde from Norway was much more of a familiar sight than the Japanese was. The Saudi was the least innately attractive of the three, though still very lovely. But I don't think I had ever had sex with a Saudi before, so that felt very exotic.

"Anyway, I hadn't had sex in days, and I was ready to get started with this plan of action. I actually had been thinking of trying to sleep on the plane, and had even brought some Xanax with me. But I never took it.

"So I just went up to the Norwegian, who was sitting in the back of the plane, reading a magazine at the time, and quietly introduced myself. She smiled covertly and introduced herself. She had a lovely, wispy sort of Norwegian accent. With that lovely, almost Irish-sounding lilt that they sometimes have."

"Where they say things sometimes while they're breathing in?"

"Yes, exactly, that.

"So she was very nice and asked if she could get me anything, and then asked if she could take me to my guest room, which she did."

"What was the guest room like?"

"Very small. Kind of like fitting two people in a coffin. Laying in a coffin, flying through the air at 600 miles per hour."

"If you had a necrophilia fetish, that could be really good," I suggested.

"Yes," Zerzinski agreed with enthusiasm. "Or if you had a thing for vampires."

"Did you manage OK in the coffin?"

"It went OK. I was glad I picked the Norwegian first, though."

"Why was that?"

"Well, first of all, there was no room in there for doing anything that involved getting into different positions. Or seeing much.

"Basically you could lie together straight, and potentially fuck in one of two positions. Otherwise you're going through a wall or a ceiling that's always nearby.

"For being first, the Norwegian was fine. I was horny enough, it was all good."

"Only fine? Sounds rough," I joked, weakly.

"Yeah, I know. It's a weird reality." He paused as if to contemplate that further before continuing. "The thing was, she was beautiful. Fit, voluptuous, wonderful, curvacious body. But very unresponsive in the sack."

"I suppose you two were pretty much surrounded by unwitting travelers?"

"Yeah. You certainly couldn't make any noise or move very, um, vigorously, without drawing attention to yourself. So it was a bit like being a teenager doing something you're not supposed to be doing. That part was nice.

"But it was impossible to tell if she was enjoying herself, or what. If I were causing her pleasure or pain or neither."

"And what would have been preferable?"

"Some form of either pleasure or pain is better than just blasé."

"Especially pleasure that becomes painful?" I asked.

"If by that you mean the pain of orgasm denial, then yes. Other kinds of pain are nice, too. Some kind of feedback is much better than none."

"Is there something particularly special about the feedback of pain or denial?"

"I've often wondered about that," Zerzinski said, with a familiar, thoughtful tone. "Maybe it comes down to the feeling that they're doing something that's clearly for me. Because I know it hurts them, and they do it anyway. Then I know they must be doing it for me. And that feels good."

"Or they're doing it to get what they want from you, in your case?" I asked.

"Well yes. I try not to think about that at the time, though. As that is not a turn-on, but a turn-off."

"When you know they may be going along with it in order to get something from you, then it helps if the pain or denial is even more pronounced than under other circumstances?"

"Yes, for sure" he answered. "Which is probably why the way they do things here is so intense. So beyond what I would be able to impose on anyone. I'm a softy compared to these people at the Choto Temple."

"But you got through the encounter with the tall Norwegian OK anyway, despite her shortcomings?"

Zerzinski smiled. A smile that said he was keenly aware of how ridiculous he would appear to most anyone else.

"Yes. In retrospect, however, it was the Saudi who was by far the most memorable event of the day. Just memorable, period, wow."

"I'm on the edge of my seat." I realized that I was, in fact, as I said that.

"I guess," he began, "it was the unexpected aspect of the thing.

"I had never been with anyone from the more socially conservative gulf countries. Lebanese, Palestinians, Syrians, Egyptians yes.

"Not that I'm saying everybody is so different depending on where they're from. But the newness of someone is exciting.

"And the fact that she was wearing a head scarf, a hijab, was surprising. I was expecting a more 'westernized' type. If it would be a Saudi who would go for such a thing.

"But, as I've found out, there are other drives that are stronger than your conservative cultural upbringing. Especially for someone with a history of cancer in the family."

Zerzinski paused, and his eyes had that far-off look to them again. Then he resumed the storytelling.

"She shook my hand, at first. Which actually I was happy about, because I've seen how some women in hijabs don't shake hands with men."

"I guess it's a good sign if someone is willing to shake your hand before they fuck you," I interjected.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," he affirmed. "After we shook hands, she maintained a very professional, reserved, but friendly demeanor. We talked about innocuous stuff.

"She told me she could take a break anytime, and I suggested that we visit the coffin. This was like three hours after the Norwegian.

"We both climbed into the little space and slid the door closed.

"Once the door was closed her whole body stiffened. It was like the outdoor world with all the people in it was her element, and as soon as we were alone together, she was like a fish out of water.

"I was wondering how this was going to go already at that point. And I guess she sensed that, and she apologized and said she was really nervous. Which was obvious. But at least it helped me relax a bit to hear that she knew it, and could acknowledge it.

"We were lying there fully clothed, and I intuited that I should take everything really slow, and verbally acknowledge things each step of the way."

"Often a good idea, probably?" I asked.

"Oh yes, of course. Unless they've gone through the type of training that they go through here or something.

"Even so, verbal communication is generally a good thing. No matter who they are or what kind of training they've had, it's very nice for them to feel some kind of connection with you as a fellow human being. Words can be good for that.

"But especially in this case.

"We were lying down together, and she was so stiff, though she was smiling at me. It was just barely light enough in there to see that.

"If there was room in there for her to move over and not be making contact with my body, it felt for sure like she'd have done that.

"'I'm going to touch your body, OK?' I whispered in her ear. It was hard to get the volume right for whispering. So she could hear me, but I could be reasonably sure nobody else could."

"How close were other passengers to you guys in there?" I asked.

"Right next to us! Only a little barrier separating us from people sitting like a foot away. But the roar of the engine probably helped a lot with sound insulation."

"So she said you could touch her, then?"

"Yes. Slowly I touched her body. Outside of her clothing. Which made her stiffen way more than she already was. Like a rock.

"'Are you OK?' I asked her.

"She said she was. Though she obviously wasn't.

"'In order to do this, we're going to have to take our clothes off. Are you OK with that?'

"'All of them?' she asked.

"She seemed to be suppressing a panic reaction I thought.

"'I don't want to be unappreciative, or rude,' she said, 'but can't you just do what you need to do and get it over with?'"

"Wow," I contributed.

"Yeah. I'm sure lots of women have thought stuff like that. And actually as I've mentioned before, it's happened that they somehow came for their appointment not knowing that sexual intercourse was an integral part of the whole procedure. But this was different. She knew, but she was basically just frozen.

"I said, 'look, you understand that this procedure involves sexual intercourse, yes?'

"'Yes, I understand.'

"She seemed slightly relieved within all the tension, perhaps that I was taking a bit more of a proactive role here. Most women would just take their clothes off without nearly so much prompting.

"'And in order for us to have sexual intercourse, you understand that I need to be sufficiently aroused in order to do that?'

"She seemed like she had to think about that one for a minute. She seemed hesitant, but she said, 'yes, I understand.'

"'The first step in that process of becoming aroused,' I explained, hoping I sounded as patient as I felt at the time, 'is you taking all your clothes off. And being physically close with me. Naked. Can you do that?'

"She said yes, and she began to unbutton and unzip her clothing.

"She took off her jacket, and her skirt, until she was down to her hijab, her bra, and her panties. She stopped there.

"I was going to instruct her to keep undressing. But then I thought, there's no rush here at all. And I really don't care whether we fuck anyway, you know, it's all good. If there's any chance of us fucking, I thought, she'll have to take her panties off eventually.

"So I just took a break from instructing, and started kissing her bare shoulders. I touched her lovely stomach with my hand, feeling its curves, and feeling it shaking with fear. Or else some other kind of jitters.

"She was breathing very deliberately, like she was trying not to panic. I asked her again if she was OK.

"'Yes,' she said. Then she said 'no.'

"I tried to stop touching her. But it was actually not possible to give her any space in there.

"'I get anxiety attacks sometimes,' she said. 'Can I take a couple of pills now? I'm sorry.'

"I said of course, and she fished around in her jacket beneath her for a couple of Xanax, which she sucked down with no water. She kept breathing very deliberately.

"'It's OK, you know, we can take this very slow,' I said. 'And if you don't want to go further with this at any point, we can just stop, OK?'

"It was really nice to see that words can work so well sometimes. I wished I had said that earlier.

"Her whole body relaxed very perceptibly now, though still tense. And her breathing became more normal. She even sighed. A fairly deep sigh.

"'You're OK?' I asked again.

"This time her 'yes' sounded more convincing.

"I started touching her body a little again. And now she remained more or less at the same level of tension. Rather than going as stiff as a board again.

"'Are you ready to take off your bra and your panties?' I asked.

"'Can I leave my bra on?' she asked.

"Somehow this question really annoyed me, but I tried not to show it.

"'No,' I said, 'that won't work. But you can leave your hijab on.'

"That last part I thought was kind of a joke, but she actually seemed pretty relieved."

"Good thing you don't have a hair fetish," I said.

"For sure. That was the one part of her body I couldn't see or touch.

"Which itself was very different for me. I hadn't even thought about how much of a difference feeling a woman's hair brushing against your arms makes, when you're holding her. But I was OK with that.

"By this time I was really excited that her bra was off.

"The degree of her hesitation was definitely turning me on, and I was enjoying that. Despite the fact that I was also concerned at the same time.

"Her breasts were pert, medium-sized breasts. Definitely the breasts of a woman who had never borne a child.

"When I cupped her breast in my hand, there was briefly a shocked look on her face. I ignored it, and started sucking and licking on her nipple. She gasped as soon as my tongue touched it.

"'Very sensitive breasts?' I asked her.

"She was barely able to squeak a response.