The J-Girl Model Ch. 03

Welcome to the final installment of the series. Well, it happened. Somewhere on the way to perverted smut, I wound up with a short story that leaves the erotic elements largely to the imagination. The focus of this part is on telling a story, but I hope it still meets the expectations of my readers.

*****

We were out at the photoshoot when Akiko's phone rang.

"Rest," she said, so I stopped hopping up and down in warm, crotch-deep pool water. I listened in as any girlfriend would, but I could only hear half of the conversation.

"Yello? Oh, hi Tittyfuck, What's up?" It was a call from Paizuri, the agent who arranged for rich clients to hire me as an escort.

"Are we at the resort in Nagato? We are." As Akiko spoke, I emerged from the pool. The sun felt warm on my glistening wet skin. It felt good to be alive. "Who the fuck is that?"Akiko looked over at the hotel building, then she said to me "He's a baseball player. Knows who you are. He says he sees you from his window." She said the name of an internationally famous Japanese baseball player.

"Oh my god," I breathed. He was perhaps the hottest stud ever to be born on Japanese soil, bar none. He had the height, the keen eyes, and the strong jawline that made me swoon. He was a shortstop and a team captain on a major league American team. He was about my age, give or take. I had read in the news that his latest five year contract had been worth some $80 million. That wasn't the whole story though.

"Can I meet him?" I asked her. She nodded and put her cellphone up to her ear again.

"Listen," Akiko said. "Do a thorough background check, it looks like she wants to meet him."

"A background check?!" I heard Paizuri's incredulous screech through the phone.

"Yeah. Find out what's going on with him, sure we know who he is. Huh, tonight? I guess -" She looked over at me, and I nodded vigorously to let Akiko know I was eager to take up the offer.

"Okay. Dinner date? Right."

I still nodded. Known as the dinner date deal, a four hour block really sucked up the entire evening. I made it clear that I was going to see him no matter how long the date or how short the notice.

I didn't say anything, but it seemed Akiko had forgotten about the time he contacted me two years before. It was before Paizuri handled those arrangements. I had wanted to see him, but by the time I got his message, we were hundreds of miles away with more miles to go. On rare occasions, I wondered what might have been.

Normally I could tell her anything, but not this time. I didn't want her to feel jealous for no good reason, after all, wasn't he married? Still, keeping quiet about it made me feel a little guilty.

After the photo shoot, we went to the hotel gym and did our daily training session. We kept to stretching and yoga exercises, and that really helped me to focus and clear my mind. This baseball player was a married man, I was sure of it. I had to stop treating this as something terribly important, he had no place in my future. If I really liked him and he was single, I decided I would tell Akiko how I felt. Or at least I should.

I noticed that when we went back to our hotel room, Akiko was in a down mood for some reason. We took turns in the shower. When I came out, I saw that she was relaxing on the bed, using my laptop and wearing headphones. I went to the kitchenette and made us both fruit smoothies.

We sipped our drinks in silence, and then Akiko told me to take a one-hour nap. When I woke, it would be time for me to get ready for my date.

I lay in bed next to Akiko and closed my eyes, but I could not sleep.

"Aki, is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, sweetie. Are you looking forward to tonight?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then get your sleep," she said, gently caressing my hair. I closed my eyes and she continued to softly caress my raven locks. I drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile the shortstop, whom I'll simply call Sato, made the payment arrangements through Paizuri, who no doubt notified Akiko when the funds cleared. I woke up when Paizuri called to relate the results of the background check. In the quiet of the room, I could clearly hear her words through Akiko's cellphone.

"He's squeaky clean, no arrests, no criminal history, no reports of domestic violence."

"But?"

"But his so-called marriage is in collapse, and it's shaping up to turn into a divorce battle unless he can get the marriage annulled."

"Details?"

"That's all I have for now."

"Okay, so why would he do something like this? It sounds stupid. We shouldn't get Hana-chan involved. We don't need the scandal attached to her name. Can't you give the money back?"

"Absolutely. Wait though, listen to what else I have to say."

"Spill it."

"Well, I think he's been carrying a torch for your girl for some time now." When I heard this, I was pretty sure I heard Paizuri correctly, but I didn't believe it. My heart started to race, but I stayed perfectly still on the bed.

"Really? How do you know?"

"I always dig when a client asks for someone by name. You see, he came to me through a referral, saying he wanted to see Hanako. Apparently they know each other."

"Oh, do they?" The way Akiko said those words, she remembered him and how I felt about him.

"At least somewhat. He tried to meet her about two years back, and she missed the call and was on a plane before they had a chance to meet. She told him she was so sorry to have missed the call, and all that."

"I remember that. She was pouting about missing a few calls from the usual rich dipshits, but Sato was the final straw. So?"

"Well, she really regretted missing this particular dipshit. They emailed a couple of times-"

"He got married-"

"-and he says the feelings are mutual."

"Mutual? He says Hana is borderline obsessed?"

"I don't think it's fair to place him in the stalker category, Aki-chan. Remember, the rest of the world thinks Hana is single and waiting for Mr. Right. Sato would be an amazing catch and he knows it."

"I'm not talking about that yet."

"You're thinking it. I'm thinking it. We both want what is best for her. All I am saying is, give these two a chance. Ask Hanako if she wants to do a dinner date. She said she wanted to go."

"Uh huh." Akiko got up.

"There is something more as well. He asked if it was okay.."

Akiko left the bed and began to pace the length of the curtained window, making it difficult to hear Paizuri's half of the conversation. I could only imagine the dark, jealous feelings churning in my girlfriend's heart. I wanted to reach out to her, but I had to hear more first.

"Yeah, that's true. You think he might be serious enough to do that? Wow. Not yet, she's taking her nap. Look, guys will say anything when breasts are involved. Fair enough. No, I just don't think this passes the smell test, do you?" Akiko said. "What? What kind of grown man talks about true love? He's never even met her. We know love is just a bullshit lie for kids. Oh. Uh huh. Yes. What? Fuck no, it just means he's got an ego the size of fucking China. Okay. Alright, I'll ask her when she wakes up."

"Aki," I said softly. "It's okay. I still want to go." I sat up slowly. "Tell her."

"She woke up," Akiko said. "Did you, uh, how long-"

"All of it," I said. "Enough, anyway. "Looks like it'll be a tricky situation."

"Shit yeah. Hey, Paizuri, looks like you were right. Got it, she'll be there. Nice chat, bye."

Akiko helped me dress and do my makeup, and we talked very little, which meant she had something to say but didn't know how to broach the subject. I felt guilty about wanting him so bad but not telling Akiko.

"So, this guy, I hope he's not just playing with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it seems like you have your hopes set on making something out of this-"

"Not so," I shook my head. "When did I say that?"

"I can tell," she said. "He's trying to divorce some cunt. He's toxic, but you still-"

"Exactly, he's toxic." I said. Akiko scored points for trashing Sato's gold-digging future ex-wife, and I forced a smile. "Still, we don't know the whole story between those two," I said, stalling for time as I searched for the right words. There was one thing I wanted to ask Akiko, but I knew she was going to get upset if I did. Did he tell Paizuri it was true love?

"After four hours is up, I'm coming right back to this room," I said.

"Promise nothing. Find out for yourself, kiddo, you might just decide to go with him and never turn back. I'll survive, you know me."

"Aki, I could never."

"You are good at lying, but be honest with yourself at least. He is a major hottie, and he's going to turn up the charm. Just keep that in mind."

"Charm is my specialty. I'll keep my cool."

"For fuck's sake-"

"Right, promise nothing."

"Alright, get out there and be a perfectly jizz-worthy sex doll."

"That's the plan. What about you?"

"Oh, I'll be fine. I might get one or two of those cabana boys up here to give me a massage. Who knows, I might get lucky."

"Um, I think the cabana boys are not the ones that do the massages."

"Like I said, cabana boys," she said. Our laughter broke the tension, what a kidder.

***

Some forms of flattery are generic, telling a man he's handsome or strong, any admirable trait will do. However, passionate love is the ultimate flattery for a lonely, married man. Although one can overdo it, an escort kind of has to come on strong in order for a man to let down his guard. The trick is to steer the conversation into praise of the man, until the escort seems to have an epiphany. From that point the escort pretends to be swept off her feet, and has sex with him.

I want to be perfectly clear about my mindset that evening. I was not going as myself. That would have meant I would show up as an anxious, want-to-be-long-lost love desperate to find out whether there was a real flame. That would have been a disaster.

Instead, I was to play a make-believe role, and carefully draw him in until I could "confess" my unrequited love. If this sounds like a complex form of deceit fraught with the risk of exposure, I assure you it is anything but that. It's just easier and more pleasant for him to believe the lies and take his prize to bed in the end.

Of course, I'd rather they not recognize the lies, and so have developed a script that is really convincing. I keep this script in my laptop (no more scribbling in notebooks). I also always spend some time considering each client individually, I read over the lines and consider which ones I might use and how. Even some high-priced escorts don't bother with the mental games, but I don't see how they can afford not to try. If a common stripper can flatter one stranger after another, I could do much better. Besides, wealthy clients give great tips. One guy once gave me five million yen and said don't spend it all on clothes.

I dressed in a long, shoulderless emerald evening gown with a black chiffon wrap. Akiko did my hair up into a double braid and adorned my neck with a delicate gold necklace. The bottom of the dress was flowing but the top was tight enough to squeeze and lift my breasts, presenting an eye-popping expanse of cleavage. I needed a touch of makeup and some red lipstick, and I looked my very best.

I met the concierge in the lobby, who had instructions to notify me when my limo arrived. I didn't have to wait long. He gave me his arm and escorted me out of the front door.

I expected the limo would take me to the restaurant. Instead I found that Sato was seated right there inside. He grinned broadly, and for a moment I was star struck. I knew his face well, after all, he only did about a billion different product endorsements. I was struck by how long his limbs were: while in Japan I was used to being taller than most folks I came across. Then again, all the athletes I met were tall.

"Welcome, Miss Uchiya," he said, indicating the back seat. I moved to sit, and assumed an elegant pose. This was not the first time I had to look my best for a client in a limo, and the pose was both comfortable and offered stability when the limo made sudden turns.

"I am honored by your invitation," I said with the bow of my head. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."

"Yoroshiku ne," he said. "Please, let's not be so formal. I'm afraid after living in the US for so many years, my language habits have grown more casual." Of course, there was no need for him to reciprocate with respectful language.

"You are very well spoken, Sato-san," I said, removing my chiffon wrap. I smiled and watched him ogle my breasts as predicted. The gown really showed off some skin, even if it covered me from nipple to toe. I noticed a few catering trays strapped to a tiny limo table in the corner. "Is that our dinner? Where are we headed?"

"We're going somewhere with a view not far from here," he replied.

"Oh, is there something wrong with the view?" I wanted to ask while pointing at my cleavage, but I smiled pleasantly and nodded. After all, he was endeavoring to treat me as best he could. Both of us were on the road but in Sato's case, Japan was his homeland, but no longer his home. Speaking of which, given his circumstances, I had decided it was best if I did not mention his home, his lifestyle, or the rumors about his marriage.

"I regret that I did not get to see you the last time."

"You remember that?"

"Oh yes, Sato-san. You were a valuable player and invited me to see you when I was in L.A. I had a photo shoot to do in Las Vegas, however, and we took a plane. Had we gone by car, I would have turned right around, believe me."

"My god, you do remember," he said. As if I could forget.

"Let's not worry about the past though." He shook his head. "You look amazing, have I mentioned that? I can't believe how beautiful you are in person."

The limo pulled up on a vista overlooking a rocky shoreline. Waves crashed at the base of cliffs all along the shore. We could see a bridge in the distance, and even the resort. A large tent had been erected at the site, the kind that might hold ten or fifteen campers. It was a nice touch considering we could have eaten comfortably in the limo. I wondered if there was a bed in the tent.

The inside of the tent had a cozy table and chairs, it was lit with warm white Christmas lights. The western side of the tent was entirely clear plastic, and through it we had an unobstructed view of the cliffs and the sunset, without the bother of the winds. We sat at the table and dined on a five course meal as the sun set.

"So, how did you end up as team captain on a US team? I heard that America has the greatest baseball legends."

"Oh, it does. A lot of them are my heroes. I'm lucky to be where I am, and I always strive to be worthy."

It was a short, humble answer. I wanted him to say more about his strengths and accomplishments.

"You became a team captain. So tell me, what does it take to be a worthy leader?"

I remember those were my exact words. When I said them, he stopped chewing and looked me dead in the face. He nodded and quickly finished chewing before he spoke.

"That is something I could talk about for a while."

"I'd love to hear what you have to say."

Then it began, he spoke on leadership for the rest of the dinner. He said it was about setting an example that is beyond reproach in everything, and working harder than everyone else who follows you. He gave examples of leaders who tried to do this, and complex theories that supported this approach. He explained a lot of it, and I was able to follow everything he was saying, but I only remember the big ideas now. His role model was an American football player named Brady. The only other thing that I can remember about his talk was how vital it was to act honorably, even when no one knows.

He said he did his best to live it, but he wasn't perfect by any stretch. Still, after going over some of his self-imposed morals, and explaining that none of it stemmed from religion, I really started to admire him. I could tell he read books about leadership on his spare time, and I could not get over how humble he was. Sure he was hot, but I half expected him to be some kind of conceited joker, not a philosopher-athlete.

I tried to remember that it was hypocritical for someone of his beliefs and trajectory to sleep with an escort, but I was too dazzled. Everyone made exceptions sometimes, and I was only grateful that he had called for me, twice. I started to daydream about the passion I would experience in his bed, or in the back of the limo. Heck, if he asked I would have knelt on the vinyl floor of the tent and blown him under this small dinner table. More than that, I was eager to get started. I thought he was making an exception to his code of honor for the sake of pleasure. I was eager to slake his lust and subdue this disciplined and motivated leader. How arrogant I was.

After the meal, I sipped my wine but did not finish the glass. He gradually finished his glass with his meal. That gesture, along with his overall demeanor, gave me a sense that somehow he was not intent on sex until a good deal later, his mind was elsewhere. I decided that I would speak of things I otherwise would not. I told myself it would help clear the air, but curiosity took a swing at conversation.

"Sato-san, I am having a wonderful time," I said, but I let my smile fade and cast my gaze into the corner.

He smiled winningly and raised his glass. "I'm having a terrific time. What's wrong?"

"In America," I said, switching to English, "There is a saying that there is an eight hundred pound gorilla in the house."

He took a deep breath.

"Er, yes, that sounds about right," he said, sticking with Japanese.

"Also, I do not wish to wrecking ball your house." I was struggling, so I switched back to Japanese. "I am ashamed, because when I heard you were here, I could not resist."

He nodded silently, and I continued.

"I'm very happy for you, that you have found so much success. You are a national hero, you're so handsome and rich. Any woman would be happy to be your wife, and girls must throw themselves at you just to be close to you."

"It has been an amazing journey," he nodded. "How about you?"

"Me? There are no eighty-million dollar contracts in the modeling world."

"Well, that's not so accurate. At one point Heidi Klum was making as much as I am if not more, but I'm not talking about money. Money isn't happiness, please understand. You have enough, you could be a lot worse off. Do you have a boyfriend, someone who is special?"

Akiko leaped into my mind's eye, looking up at me with her jealous eyes and distracting me. As a rule, I did not reveal anything about her to clients.

"Normally I don't like to discuss those matters," I said. "The answer to your question is hard to believe."

"I have been honest with you. Tell me plainly."

"I have no boyfriend, I am one hundred percent unattached."

"You are right, it is hard to believe. Your have so much allure, I can't even begin to find the words for it. It would be a waste, you need someone to have and to hold. Why no boyfriend at least?"

"In Japan, models lose much of their-"

"Then lie about it. Secretly, you could still have someone. J-Girls do that routinely."

"There's no point. I travel often, and how would he react to knowing that I went on a date with, well, you? There's not a man in Japan that could come out on top against the great Sato in a comparison. You are an athlete, a role model, and for us ladies, a sex symbol. It would be wrong of me to love a man and make him jealous of other men, my clients." I could not stop thinking about Akiko. If any man would be jealous, maybe Akiko was burning with it. If so, I wondered what she was doing to pass the time. Binge drinking? I couldn't put that worry out of my head, and I knew I risked making a false step while I was distracted. I still wanted to ask what happened with his marriage, but I lost the opportunity. It was time to draw the discussion to a close.