We met Stan and his Japanese wife, Michiko, at a subway stop near the Ginza. She wore a stunning traditional kimono, a sight seen too infrequently in modern Japan. Although she spoke English well enough, she seemed to enjoy speaking Japanese with me. I found her to be delightful and we hit if off immediately.
Stan hadn't changed much from our school days; the years had been good to him. He was a successful computer consultant, traveling quite a bit before getting married and settling down. His sense of humor hadn't diminished either. We stopped at a bar first and after a few drinks, we howled at one recollection after another of our escapades at school, usually under the influence. "Do you remember how me and Dylan and Josh threw you in the pool on your birthday? You were all dressed up, ready to go out to dinner. We thoroughly enjoyed the vision of you in your wet dress! You were spitting mad, but you got Dylan good! That was a tackle worthy of the NFL! And, if I recall correctly, you two started going out right after that."
I gave Stan a little punch on his arm. "You're damn right I was mad! But I'm glad the wet dress made such an impression!"
"And you, Sasha! Sounds like you're all set these days. Big museum exec! I'll bet that was quite a shock running into Hallie like you did!"
"You have no idea!" He patted me on the back.
It was only when it was time to leave for dinner did Stan reveal the culinary - and cultural - treat we were about to experience. He had arranged for us to participate in a
kaiseki
feast, which consists of dish after dish of artfully displayed delectables. I had been to one once and found the spectacle, as well as the food, to be the most beautiful and memorable I'd ever had in Japan.
When we arrived at the restaurant, Michiko led me to a back room where I could borrow a kimono to wear. She selected an exquisite one in indigo with gold trim, which would look good with my blonde hair. She helped me put it on and arrange it properly.
We had a private dining area as is traditional in better Japanese restaurants. The men were sitting at a low table on tatami mats when we joined them. They both stood up as we approached.
"Wow! You wear the kimono well," Stan exclaimed.
Sasha gave me an intense look and smile. "Beautiful," was all he said, taking my hand.
I blushed and lowered myself to the ground as gracefully as I could.
The kaiseki is more than just a meal. It includes ritual greetings, hand washing and traditional music. Michiko knew the meanings behind each gesture and dish and patiently explained it to us in English. Each plate was artfully presented and the flavors were spellbinding. I was truly thrilled to be taking part in such special event. I felt Sasha's hand on my leg, discretely under the table. He looked so happy.
Michiko and I stopped in the ladies' room on our way out of the restaurant after our three-hour meal had finished. I confided to Michiko that I was glad to have shed the kimono already before attempting to use the lavatory.
"Oh, you get used to it," she explained, which was the solution to many annoyances about the Japanese lifestyle. She then looked at me closely and asked if she could ask a personal question.
"Sure!" I was flattered because it meant that she liked me very much; Japanese do not normally ask a new acquaintance about anything personal.
"What do you think of Sasha?"
"He's a great guy," I responded, surprised by the question. "It was quite a coincidence to have met him on the flight over."
"I noticed how he was looking at you during dinner," she said matter-of-factly.
I blushed.
Her face lit up. "Could it be that the feelings are mutual?"
"But Michiko, what am I to do?" I brought up my hand and made sure she could see my wedding ring.
"I can only offer one suggestion to a woman in your position, far from home with a handsome suitor:
Abec-hoteru
."
I brought my hand over my mouth in a gesture of surprise or embarrassment that many Japanese women make, my eyes expressing my amusement at the suggestion. It means "love hotel." Since few singles have their own living quarters, lovers take a room for a few hours at such perfectly legitimate establishments. Rooms are lavishly decorated and contain every conceivable erotic aid: porno channel, hardware, sex-toy shop in the lobby, massage, etc. Not that I had ever been to one, but it was common knowledge what goes on.
"Well, could you suggest a nice one?" I couldn't believe I was talking to someone about this. I suddenly realized it had been very difficult not to reveal this secret about Sasha to any other person.
She wrote down an address for me. "Stan and I took a room here once or twice while we were dating. You two make such an attractive couple. I don't blame you. Have some fun and let tomorrow figure itself out." Now
that
was not a typical Japanese outlook.
"I can count on your discretion, I'm sure," I reminded her.
"Absolutely."
We finally stepped outside to join the men-folk.
I went over to Stan and said, "I know you wanted to go out to a karaoke place, but I'm not going to be able to tonight. I've got early meetings tomorrow so we have to get back early tonight. Maybe later on in the week, OK?"
"Yeah, I figured. I'll call Sasha about it. Good luck tomorrow!"
He suggested that we walk a few blocks to a taxi-queue, to enjoy the balmy evening and vivid street scene. He and Michiko plunged into the crowd. "Come on!"
Sasha and I fell into place next to each other a few seconds behind. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me closer to his side. I looked up, smiling suggestively. I whispered, "Have I got a surprise for you!"
He raised his eyebrows in mock horror and hissed, "What?"
"Not tellin'! Later on!" I pulled away and caught up to Stan and Michiko, looking over my shoulder slightly. Ever since she had made her suggestion, it was all I could think about. I was wondering what new heights of sexual pleasure Sasha and I could possibly reach!
We found a cab quickly. Before I got in, Michiko and I embraced lightly. She said softly, "Go get him! Oh, I forgot to tell you. Order a massage at the hotel, too. I think you'll enjoy it!"