The first thing that struck me was fear. A chill went through my spine as the frozen girl was rolled into the dining room on a wheel furnished table with a white linen tablecloth that reached almost to the floor. The procedure was slow; two waitresses pushed the table until it fitted right in front of me, sitting on a chair, napkin in knee.
I felt like witnessing a bizarre funeral with everyone but me dressed in white; I had followed my self-imposed dress code and wore an anthracite pin-striped suit.
But she breathed. Her bare chest rose at every breath. The corner of her closed eyes twitched each time someone accidentally bumped into the table; the muscles of her stomach contracted occasionally as if they performed a dance to evade the feathery touch of the waitresses’ hands as they made final adjustments to the final positions of the objects that was artfully distributed on the girl’s naked body.
“Before I die, I’d like to enjoy Sushi from the naked body of a beautiful woman.”
After more than a couple of beers, the idea had seemed pretty innocent; a joke from one man to another inspired by the swirls of scantily clad dancing women at a night club, down town Tokyo. Definitely not a request. What could I do but smile to myself at the unexpected fortune given to me by this collision of cultures? That of all possible drinking buddies, I had brought this bouncy whim to the attention of someone actually capable of arranging it. The initial cold feeling had quickly enough melted and been replaced by excited anticipation.
The setup was a sight for the gods, indeed. A woman laid before me, dressed in nothing but her delicate, ivory skin and long black hair that was neatly arranged like a folding fan under her back. The oriental features of her face were enhanced by gold dust that faintly reflected the lights from three candles that were evenly placed along her body on the opposite side of me.
Twelve little pieces of sushi and sashimi formed a star; it looked almost like a crucifix; on her frail torso, centered by a rose made of gari, ginger, above her navel.
First piece; salmon sashimi; under her chin, placed in the shallow where her neck met her chest.
Pieces two and three; chutoro, belly of tuna and ama ebi, fresh water shrimp; marking the upper slope of her breasts. I mused at the nuances of colors; comparing that of her nipples and areolas with the different dishes and realized that her pointy breasts actually shivered ever so slightly in contrast to her otherwise apparently immobile body. I couldn’t help myself from thinking that maybe, only maybe, was she as excited by the situation as I was.
Four and five; tubiko and oni, different kinds of roe; directly under her breasts, a bit to the side.
Six and seven; tamago and namako, sweet egg omelet and sea cucumber; either side of the belly button; the pieces seemingly glued to the skin as the slope of the stomach suggested that the pieces should glide off.
Eight and nine; I felt pearls of sweat appearing on my forehead; hokkigai and tako, clam and octopus; marking the edge of her hip bones.
Ten and eleven; mouth waters; hamo, eel and ankimo, monkfish; delicately placed on her thighs, leaving slight pearls of water trickling over her slender legs.
Twelve; my heart jumped; odori ebi, dancing shrimp; wringing on her mound, fully alive and trying to escape. Instinctively, my hand shot out and grabbed it by its tale, or so it aimed, only my hand just pushed it slightly up on her belly whereas my hand all but cupped her mound. Again, I could notice how she fought to suppress a twitch of her body. I almost giggled at the thought that she was apparently a highly educated and professional dinner plate. None of the dishes had moved despite the fact that I had just run my hand over her bare sex.
Carefully, I pulled my hand back; not so fast as to reveal my embarrassment but not apparently slow as to divulge the fact that my mind had wandered pretty far from the thought of eating by now. A tickling in my groins had spurred my member to grow; not excessively, yet, but noticeably.
And delicious enough to please the gods. Perhaps not according to protocol, I started off by chasing the live shrimp. Clasped my chop sticks around it only to realize that I needed my fingers to break through its shell, I finally enjoyed chewing its squashy and salty flesh. With the exquisite taste of the fresh seafood still lingering in my mouth, I took advantage of the fact that the rest of my food was not any longer trying to escape from me and I spent a minute contemplating on how to proceed. I had received no instructions as to how I should behave, for example the appropriate local manners with regards to the order of the dishes or if I were supposed to converse my dinner or not. In fact, I had not realized the nature of my meal until it rolled through the doors.
I felt that I stood before two options: Either consider the whole thing a practical joke by my polite host, which I believed would be totally out of character by the never-smiling, bone dry elderly gentleman; or should I seize the day, “suck the marrow out of life”, and enjoy the situation to its fullest extent. I chose the latter, not quite out of character.
The next step? I let my chopsticks slide over the girl’s stomach, which shivered at my touch. Circled the dishes; trying to figure out the appropriate order to bolt the little morsels. Mild before intense? Probably. Sweet aroma or salty? Without thinking I sniffed in the air, which resulted in yet another spasm from the girl. I smiled and picked up a piece of orange red roe rolled in sea weed. The little eggs broke in my mouth, sputtering a salty gush of flavors from sea and fish over my palate. I let my sticks circle her breast before I swiftly threw a shrimp into my mouth. Startled by the sweetness I uttered a little murmur, which prompted her to open her eyes very briefly, but long enough for me to send her a smile. She kept her face neutral. I took it as a challenge.
Piece after piece of raw fish disappeared from her torso while I continued to tease her with my chop sticks. Roe and tuna was not touched unless I had pinched her nipples gently, making them react with stiffness. She froze as I rose slightly from my chair after having picked the salmon from her neck but I felt her relax under me when I let my lips taste the salty skin where the fish had been. The fragrance of her perfume blended perfectly with the taste; someone had given the composition of this meal some great consideration.
The fact that she had relaxed when the tip of my tongue touched her skin increased my confidence and I realized that erotic inspiration alone had made me avoid leaving the complex composition of perfumes un-noticed. Instead, I slowly let my lips search out the spots on her chest and stomach from which I had picked my mouthfuls. I felt arousal grow inside me when I discovered that her reactions to my gourmet’s sensual game became increasingly evident with each touch of my lips.
Eventually, nothing but the ginger rose remained on her torso; remnants of water and saliva glimmered in the light where the pieces of sushi had been. Chop sticks scratched her slim legs, digging a temporary trench, visible for a fraction of a second behind the points of the sticks, leaving only a faint line, only slightly paler than her complexion. Her thighs had the velvet skin of a peach, as had her calves. Her knee was sensitive — I almost thought that the sushi would drop from her thighs and hips as she flickered, but the pieces rarely moved. Her toes wiggled playfully as I pinched them teasingly with the sticks; another proof of her increasing attention to my doings. A quick glance towards her face unveiled that she fought back a smile.
I let my hand run over her legs, around the remaining pieces of food and let it rest on her stomach, just below the ginger rose. The movements of her trembling, shallow breath propagated to my hand and added to my own shivering, which I had not noticed until that moment. Looking at her sweet face again, I caught her eyes looking at me and this time she grinned when I blew her a little kiss. I kept her eyes as I picked up another morsel from her hips. She let her tongue sweep, a bit tentatively I felt, over her lips as I dropped the little piece of octopus into my mouth. The dance over her tongue over her lips became a bit more daring as once again a low sound of pleasure slipped through my lips as I chewed the elastic mollusk.
The first sound from the girl reached me as a soft moan as I let the sticks caress her inner thigh, very lightly, quite close to her mound, on my way to a piece of fish on her leg. For a fraction of a second I hesitated; the temptation almost overwhelmed me; but a few seconds later I had gobbled up another morsel, realizing that my attention to the taste of the fish was diminished with each dish and each sign of the girl’s excitement. Not moving her head, she still followed me with her eyes; smiling and spelling tacit words with her lips, uttering sighs of pleasure at my touch.
One tiny piece of eel left on her thigh. Anxious to prolong the erotic feast, I avoided to pick it up but licked the salty remnants of the fish from her hips and thighs. She squirmed under me now and I continued to kiss her thighs; traced her hip bones with my tongue; feeling that my arousal had produced a complete erection. I looked up at her face; she had lifted her head to be able to watch my doings. Her lips were parted and her breath was shallow. I grinned as I perceived an arousal as intense as mine. With a swift stroke I licked right over her mound, where the dancing shrimp had first tried to escape its faith. This time the girl was not able to hold her composure but let her hips shoot against me, making her labia grind against my open lips.
The sensation was that of slow motion. From the corner of my eye I could see the little piece of eel following an arc down on the table, between her legs, which was a peculiar thing to observe, considering that my tongue was pressed flat against her sex, which unfolded beneath me. Her cry was uncontrolled and the high pitch startled me for a brief moment until I accompanied her with a grunt of my own. The contrast; the spicy sweetness of her moist lips compared with the lingering taste of sea water was a sensation that held my attention for several seconds before I was overwhelmed by the erotic situation. Only now did I realize that she had raised her knees, however slightly, and parted her legs and that her fingers were clenching my scalp. Her moans of pleasure continued as I licked her slowly, savoring her taste.
I sensed rather than heard the movement by the door and rose quickly as I heard the silent rattle from feet entering the room. Anxiously I looked towards the entrance and saw the two waitresses standing perfectly still at either side of the door. My perfectly alive dinner plate rose on an elbow and smiled the most erotic smile I had ever seen towards me. Her Japanese accent blended perfectly with the whole situation but nonetheless I was a bit startled as her soft voice broke the silence:
“Ready for dessert, Sir?”
Before I found an answer, the two waitresses had skipped over the floor to us and while one cleaned the table from any signs of the dinner, the other cleaned the girl with damp cloths that spread the fragrance of oriental flowers in the room.
I looked at the beautiful girl. I was definitely ready for some dessert.
I didn’t even stop to think if maybe she was hungry too.