The chairman is escorted from the restaurant by his silent nephew. Ian and I are about to make our escape when the older woman sighs dramatically, grabs my arm, and announces, “You have the best room in my hotel!” Or at least I think that’s what she says.
I turn to both my boyfriend and the younger woman for help.
“It’s my aunt’s favorite room,” she says. “It has a, how do you say… feminine touch?”
“Darn,” Ian says. “I love a feminine touch in my hotel rooms.” I’m guessing this means his has a masculine touch?
That’s right. We’re staying in separate rooms. It was at the insistence of the Isoyas, who now escort my boyfriend and me to their Tokyo hotel. My stomach’s growling and my legs are tired from supporting my body for the past two hours, but who cares? Business isn’t done in Japan until the women finally release you.
Since Fujiko manages the hotel we’re staying in, she insists on giving us a tour even though it’s after ten at night. Perhaps, if you’ve never been to Japan before, you’re thinking that seeing a hotel from another country would be interesting and worth my precious time. Unfortunately for you, the Isoyas are a Westernized family, and the Nippon Royal Hotels are also Westernized to a fault. (If crazy Japanese toilets are your thing, though, let me tell you what happened when I pressed the wrong button on mine earlier…)
When we’re finally released to enjoy the rest of our evening, it’s with more bowing, more handshakes, and a wink that I think means there is more planned tomorrow. Either that or the honorable Ms. Fujiko Isoya was having a stroke in front of me and I totally missed it.
“Please have a good night,” the younger Ms. Isoya says to me before taking her leave. My boyfriend is about three-stories above me, and I’m in as big of a hurry to see him again as my escort is to get wherever she’s going. For fuck’s sake, you would’ve thought I personally punted her down the hallway…
I enter my hotel room to blessed quiet. The only real complaint I have about the place is how low the bed is to the ground, but that’s a standard Japanese hotel room thing, and I’ll somehow live.
Not without my boyfriend.
As soon as my body hits the bed, I’m on my phone, texting the bastard I call mine to come down here and make a dishonest woman out of me.
“Excuse you. I’m enjoying this Japanese porn I unfortunately stumbled upon. It’s up in the 200s. You should watch it with me so we can both cringe in spirit.”
Yup. Told you he got the room with the “masculine touch.”
“I’ll pass. Besides, what the hell is wrong with you? You could be down here making real life porn with me.”
“BE RIGHT DOWN.”
I know how to speak to the man, that’s for sure.
Within ten minutes he’s at my door, and when I open it…
Well, picture this for me.
A tall, handsome man with lean limbs but the overall physique of a guy who takes very good care of himself. He’s still wearing his black slacks, but his powder blue shirt is half unbuttoned and his sleeves are rolled all the way up to his elbows. (Hellloooo spry black hairs and huge honkin’ watch!) His hair is mussed enough to say he’s been relaxing on bed but not so mussed that he looks unkempt. The man also has a five o’clock shadow. How long have we been up, again? I took a nap when we got here, but…
“Hi,” Ian says, leaning in my doorway and slowly inching his way inside. “I hear there are hot women in this room. Something about a feminine touch.”
I grab his striped tie and haul him in, kicking the door closed behind us. “Look at you wearing a tie. Someone was a big boy today.” Ian hates ties. He only wears them when socially mandated. You know, like to a huge business meeting.
Ties are fun to use, though!
“Hell yeah I was a big boy.” He grabs the ledge in the ceiling before continuing on into the maw of my hotel room. “Big boys get to sleep with their girlfriends. I’ve already arranged to have my shit brought down here tomorrow. Like hell I’m not sharing a hotel room with my girlfriend of however long we’ve been together. We’re practically married! You could almost say that we have gotten married…”
Why the hell is he bringing this up? Sometimes I think Ian goes out of his way to remind me of what happened in Vegas… and is supposed to stay there! “They want to show off rooms.”
“Don’t know why. It’s us asking for money from them. We’ve already agreed to their terms. It’s not like I don’t know they have nice as shit hotels.” Ian flops down on my bed, arms behind his head and eyes clouding over. “This is a nice room. For one, it has you in it.”