[
This story was written for a
writing exercise limiting the text to exactly 750 words
.]
Toshio, my Tokyo artist teacher, checked into Hokkaido's Myoko Hot Springs Spa as a gnarly old Japanese man in a black silk kimono, which barely covered the necessities, brushed by me. He lingered, touching my hip with long, slender fingers and then my nipple, pulling gently through the gauzy material of my polo shirt on the ring I had pierced there.
"
Atode fac you
," I heard him murmur as he passed.
"What? Who was that?" I asked. "What did he say?"
"That's General Kohei Oshiba," the desk clerk said, his eyes lowered, showing a look of embarrassment.
"He said he'd fuck you later, Dan," Toshio said, with a laugh. "Guess he thinks he can be forward with a young blond coming to the spa with an old man like me. Fat chance, though,
I
can get you in bed but you won't let
me
fuck you." He stopped there, but, giving me a smile, he added, "Yet."
I had suspected he'd brought me to this spa to remedy that. I would let him--eventually. But I was in no rush.
The clerk's eyes were still downcast as we went to our room, the rooms being separate wooden units topped with thatched roofs, positioned haphazardly around stone pathways, with small terraces here and there, and it all following a meandering steaming waterway bordered by lush foliage. Each unit, a wooden tatami matting-covered platform, walled by sliding rice-paper-covered screens, was positioned for privacy.