[one-shot] Skin Deep
Title: Skin Deep
Type: One-shot
Word count: 3,674
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Koyama/Shige, with special appearance by Nakamaru/Massu
Warning: Cross-dressing hostess club, AU
Summary: Shige thinks Koyama only likes him when he’s all made up. Written for a prompt in koyato: Cosplay. Thanks to sanjihan for the beta and for telling me about this pic, which inspired one of the scenes here. >.>
Side note: If anyone’s interested, I’m offering fanfics for a Japan earthquake/tsunami fundraising here.
Working in a hostess club clearly wasn’t Shige’s dream job. That said, though, the impending threat of being thrown out of his apartment after being unemployed for five months forced him to swallow his pride and grab whatever opportunity that came his way. And did he actually have any choice, if what came his way was a lucrative job that required no higher education, no experience and no questions asked except one: “Are you willing to dress as a woman?”
Shige’s desperation became apparent to himself when he barely stopped to think before answering “yes”. Later he went home and banged his head against the wall several times, but he stopped when he realized that a bruise on the forehead would not look good on a cross-dressing hostess.
Shige’s mother always told him to count his blessings, so he did just that - instead of moaning about the shit hole he had plunged himself into on his own volition. Blessing #1: he was lucky that his mother and father lived in a different city and were spared the horror of ever finding out about his new occupation. Blessing #2: the manager at the club, a quiet, immaculately-dressed man named Yamashita, who oozed confidence in his every move, was very strict about rules.
“No funny business,” he told the hostesses with a wag of his finger. They were there to pour drinks, sing karaoke and provide conversation to clients, and nothing else. The club would not be responsible for the consequences of any other transactions the hostesses should choose to conduct with customers without the management’s consent. As if he would stoop so low as to agree to those other transactions, Shige thought wryly. Dressing up as a girl to flirt with middle-aged salarymen was already embarrassing enough.
But since he was adamant on counting his blessings, he went on to blessing #3: he had someone he knew in the club. Takahisa was an old acquaintance who had a warm disposition and a friendly smile, which could suddenly transform into sultry once he put on his lipstick. His name in the club was Takako. “The stage name helps you differentiate between your real self and your female persona. Just think of it like performing in a school play,” he told Shige. Takako must have had a lot of female roles in school plays, judging from how suave he was in his hostess outfit. He helped Shige pick his own hostess name: Shigemi.
Takako also taught him all the tricks of the trade. Always behave in a warm and engaging manner, but maintain safe distance from the customer. Hands stay above the table (no playing footsie either). When it looks like the customer is getting too drunk, offer him snacks instead. Provide further distraction by singing karaoke. Don’t drink too much yourself; you need to always have control of the situation. If the customer tries anything funny, decline in a quiet but firm voice. If he persists, alert the security. Overall it was pretty safe despite the sleazy connotations associated with this particular line of work.
It took some time and practice before Shige got a handle of the job (and felt somewhat comfortable wearing a stuffed bra). He wasn’t naturally flirty and did not stand out among the other hostesses, so at first no customers ‘claimed’ him and Yamashita had to assign whom he was to cater to. Slowly he became known by the club’s regulars and began to receive requests from some to spend time with them. One of the patrons was especially fond of him, a 40-something man who insisted on being called by his first name, Shigeru. “Shigeru meets Shigemi!” he would say with a whoop of laughter. Shige just smiled and poured him another drink.
Another regular called Ohno often complained to Shige about being overworked and harbored a secret wish to abandon his high-paying job and run off to live on the seashore. “I don’t even mind if I never see another human being ever again,” he slurred after the fifth glass. “Just me and the fish, you know?” Shige nodded sympathetically and ordered some fish fingers for him.
Shige’s favorite client of all, though, was a lanky man not much older than him named Koyama. At first it was obvious Koyama was only tagging along with his workmates and didn’t really want to be there, probably thinking that going to a cross-dressing hostess club was a joke, not expecting his colleagues to actually want to go to one. Now that he was finally there he sat upright and jerked nervously whenever Shige addressed him, only taking small sips of his drink and refusing every time Shige offered to pour him some more.
At the next table Takako was getting cozy with a certain Nakamaru, Koyama’s co-worker who seemed to be quite familiar with the club. It certainly wasn’t his first time with Takako either, and the two were soon engrossed in intimate conversation, though if you asked Shige he’d say Nakamaru was getting too close to Takako. The latter didn’t seem to mind, though, casually leaning even closer to loosen Nakamaru’s tie.
Shige thought about loosening Koyama’s tie as well but decided that it might scare him. He offered the man some peanuts instead and was immediately refused, so he shrugged and had some himself.
“Not allergic to peanuts, are you?” he asked, trying to make small talk.
“What? Oh. No, I’m not.”
“Good. It sucks having allergies.” He popped a peanut into his mouth, then stopped because it wasn’t very graceful. “I’m allergic to cats,” he added as an afterthought.
Koyama turned to him. “Really?” It was the first time he had shown any interest in Shige all night.
Shige nodded. “It’s a pity, since I think they’re very cute.”
Koyama’s eyes widened. “I think so too!”
Shige certainly never expected to bond with a customer over cats of all topics, but it seemed that talking about something he liked made Koyama more relaxed, and he gradually loosened up and leaned back in his seat. He let Shige pour more sake into his glass, and they had a good laugh over Koyama’s story of the time his cat Nyanta threw a tantrum when Koyama tried to bathe him.
After they quieted down Koyama stared at Shige and said, “You have a really nice laugh, Shigemi.”
Shige hadn’t thought Koyama was listening when he introduced himself earlier because Koyama had been rather tense then, but now, hearing him mention his name, a weird thrill coursed through Shige’s body. It wasn’t even his real name, only his alias. It took him another second to realize that Koyama had complimented his laugh, something no man or woman had ever done before, and although he wondered if he had laughed rather womanly because he was in character and everything, he couldn’t deny that he was flattered.
He smiled and said, “Thank you.” He thought Koyama had a rather nice laugh too, but he decided to keep that to himself for now.
With each visit Koyama made to the club he became more at ease, and he and Shige spent a lot of time together. After a while he began coming to the club alone, without Nakamaru or his other co-workers, and he always asked if Shigemi was available. The general courtesy was that a hostess should spend at least 15 minutes with a customer before offering him a chance to see a fresh face, or stay with him longer if requested. But whenever Shige was informed that Koyama was in the premises, he would break the rule and leave his charge with a junior hostess before his time was up. When Yamashita found out, he deducted a percentage of Shige’s pay as a penalty. But Shige was oddly not as troubled about it as he should be.
He was supposed to be the one entertaining the customer, but he found that he very much enjoyed Koyama’s company as well. Koyama talked about everything from work to daily life without reservations, and sometimes Shige had to stop himself from revealing more about his life than he should. His real life, not that of the person wearing the colorful dress, high heels and wig that was sitting in front of Koyama. It felt like an unbalanced equation, the way Koyama opened up to him while he couldn’t give the same back.
Sometimes when Koyama talked about his private life he unintentionally asked Shige about his own experience, something that might reveal aspects of his personal life. But then Koyama would stop himself and back off voluntarily, aware that for hostesses the professional and the private must be kept separate at all times. In any case, he seemed happy enough just to be able to spend time with Shige, to talk with him until the small hours of the morning.
Every now and then they touched by accident, fingers brushing when Shige handed Koyama his drink, shoulders rubbing as they took their seat next to each other, and Shige was hyper aware of the sensation of skin touching skin, of the warmth radiating from Koyama’s body. That little shiver of excitement returned but he was too confused with how to interpret it, and he ended up covering his awkwardness by ordering more refreshments or starting a new topic to talk about. Koyama looked at him a little differently when he did so, his gaze lingering on Shige as though he could read his thoughts, but then the moment passed and whatever flickered between them died down again.
Occasionally the club had theme nights where the hostesses dressed up in special costumes. Koyama happened to come during a schoolgirl night, and he grinned when he saw Shige wearing a white shirt, a plaid skirt with a matching tie and knee-high socks. The first thing he said was, “You look great.”
He had complimented Shige many times before and it shouldn’t be so surprising anymore, but it was the way he dragged his gaze up and down Shige’s body that made Shige’s insides twist. He suddenly felt his skirt was too short and if Koyama leaned a little farther back on his seat he might be able to see Shige’s thighs. Instinctively Shige put his hands on his lap as a makeshift cover.
They talked like they normally did but Shige noticed Koyama’s eyes were on him even more than usual, and it was starting to make him nervous. He reached out for the snacks plate on the table but Koyama got to it first. “Here, let me,” Koyama said, grabbing an onion ring and holding it in front of Shige’s face. “Open up.”
“What?”
Koyama chuckled and raised the onion ring closer to Shige’s lips. “Come on, open up.”
Shige felt heat spreading in his cheeks as he obediently opened his mouth and took a bite, chewing slowly because Koyama was looking at his face and he was extra conscious. Koyama held the rest of the onion patiently before it all disappeared inside Shige’s mouth. He even brushed a little crumb off the edge of Shige’s lips, and Shige nearly blurted out for Koyama not to do it again because his heart was making this thumpthumpthump in his chest and it was getting uncomfortable.
“Shigemi,” Koyama said, and he spoke it so quietly, almost muted amid the dance music playing in the background. His hand strayed from Shige’s lips to his chin, long fingers tracing his jaw and then resting on his cheek. He bent over and put his other hand against the back of Shige’s seat, and Shige thought this was probably skirting over to the ‘funny business’ territory which Yamashita warned the hostesses about. If Shige’s heart was hammering against his ribcage earlier, now it must have stopped beating altogether because Shige couldn’t feel anything, was aware of nothing but how close Koyama was getting and how nice his lips looked, all shiny and smooth and he bet it would feel supple and moist against his own. It didn’t even occur to Shige that his breath might smell like onions; all he wanted was to close that distance between them, feel Koyama’s warm body pressed against him and taste those lips, god, those lips-
But Koyama froze and then backed away, his expression darkening as he let go of Shige’s cheek and pretended to be busy with his drink, like the last 10 seconds never happened. Shige’s face grew even hotter, this time with humiliation instead of excitement. He didn’t know what the hell happened there, but it was obvious Koyama changed his mind and Shige would’ve gotten in trouble from Yamashita anyway, so why did he even bother? They spent the next few minutes in awkward silence before Shige muttered something about other available hostesses and slunk away without waiting for Koyama to respond.
Things took an unexpected turn when one afternoon Koyama came across Shige outside the club. Shige had the day off and was shopping for groceries at a konbini wearing an old t-shirt and washed-out jeans, and he didn’t exactly bother to comb his hair before he went out - he was only appearance-conscious when he was hostessing, anyway. He was studying which brand of instant ramen was cheaper when a voice behind him said, “...Shigemi?”
He turned around (in slow motion, as if that could make the reality any less mortifying) and saw Koyama beaming at him. So far Shige had only seen Koyama in the dim interior of the club, and now he was struck with an alien feeling to see the man during the day, under the bright lights of the konbini. Koyama looked fresh-faced, his hair color a tad brighter than Shige had thought it was, and he seemed even taller than before. Shige realized it must be himself who was shorter because he wasn’t wearing high heels.
That was when it hit him: Koyama was seeing him not as Shigemi. No fancy dress, no makeup, no smooth tresses falling to his shoulders. He was just boring old Shige, almost naked without all the frills that made him a hostess. By instinct he shrank back a step but Koyama, oblivious to his discomfiture, piped up excitedly, “I never thought I’d see you around here, Shigemi! Ah, I’m sorry, that must not be your real name, right?”
“Shigeaki,” Shige mumbled faintly, and Koyama nodded in understanding, the smile on his face growing even wider. “I see. So great to see you! Do you come here often?”
Shige felt he could no longer endure Koyama’s penetrating gaze, so he spun around and fled outside. He vaguely heard Koyama pleading, “Hey, where are you- Shigeaki, wait!”, but he just ran and ran and didn’t stop until he reached his apartment. Still out of breath, he went to the bathroom and saw his own reflection in the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes, the faded pimples, his hair sticking out in weird places. A pitiful sight. Why did Koyama have to see him like this?
Then he cursed when he remembered he had left his groceries back at the konbini.
Koyama and Nakamaru came to the club the following week and immediately asked for their favorite hostesses. Begrudgingly, Shige made his way to Koyama’s table, while Takako practically pranced to the seat next to Nakamaru at the bar. Shige didn’t talk much and mostly only poured Koyama’s drink mechanically. Koyama seemed unfazed by Shige’s distant behavior and smiled to him like usual, which made Shige feel even worse.
“Don’t stare at me like that,” he blurted.
Koyama blinked, looking perplexed. “Like what?”
Like you’re stripping me bare, but Shige couldn’t possibly say that. He averted his eyes and saw Takako at the bar whispering something in Nakamaru’s ear. It must have been something dirty, judging from the lewd smirk Nakamaru had on his face. He had one hand on Takako’s knee and it was sliding higher and higher. Shige wondered if Yamashita was seeing this.
“...did you hear me?”
Shige turned back to Koyama. “Huh?”
”I was asking why you left so quickly when we met at the konbini.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Of course it does.” Koyama put his hand over Shige’s while his eyes remained locked with his. “It matters a lot.”
Shige wanted to throw the ‘hands stay above the table’ rule at him, but then he realized both their hands were still on the table. He glanced around for help but Takako and Nakamaru had gotten up from their bar stools and walked out hand in hand, probably heading off somewhere private to engage in their funny business.
“Listen, Shigeaki...” Koyama cleared his throat before continuing, “I’d like to meet you outside the club more, not as hostess and customer. What do you say we go out together some time?”
For the life of him Shige couldn’t figure out why Koyama would still want him after seeing how he really looked. Koyama was rubbing his thumb gently against the back of Shige’s hand, and Shige vaguely thought that he still hadn’t got the chance to kiss the man. Shige had half a mind to reject him because deep down he thought none of this was going to work, but the other half was shouting oh for the love of god just say yes, you fool, you may never get a chance like this again.
So he nodded, and Koyama looked so happy Shige hoped for his sake that this wouldn’t end badly.
It was arranged that Koyama would pick up Shige at his apartment on the chosen night to take him to dinner. Shige bought a new dress especially for the occasion and spent an ungodly amount of time primping himself in front of the mirror before he was satisfied.
But as he walked down the steps of his building to where Koyama was leaning against his car, he saw Koyama’s face fall. There was no mistaking it; Koyama just closed down right in front of him, the anticipation in his eyes replaced by disappointment. He tried to conceal it but the damage was done, and Shige’s hopes were dashed to the ground along with it.
Shige reached the bottom of the steps and just stood there, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to another, firstly because he didn’t know what to do and secondly because his stilettos were hurting him. Koyama pasted a smile on his face and it looked so fake Shige could rip it off him. “You look... um, nice,” said Koyama.
Shige cringed. “Don’t lie to me. You look like you just saw a ghost.”
The words seemed to alarm Koyama. “No, Shigeaki, it’s not like that-”
“It’s Shige.”
“Shige,” Koyama repeated, taking a step closer. “I really do think you look nice. It’s just, well, not quite what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting anyway?” Shige was starting to get annoyed.
Koyama rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I was under the impression that you were going to be yourself tonight. You know, not as a woman.”
That floored Shige a bit. “But... why would you want to...?”
Koyama was looking at Shige like he did at the konbini, like he did at the club the other night. Like he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. “Why would I not?”
For a few moments Shige was left speechless. Then his whole being sprang into action and he climbed back up the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go and change. You just stay here, it won’t take a second!”
“Shige, wait!”
Perhaps Koyama was afraid Shige would disappear on him again, so he followed Shige up to his place and insisted that he wait outside the door. In his haste Shige just told Koyama to come inside and wait in the living room while Shige removed his wig, changed his clothes and washed off his makeup. He threw on a casual shirt and pants that looked decent enough for a date and put on some styling product on his hair. There was still a faint trace of women’s perfume on him but he decided to let it be; there was no time.
He emerged from his room a man again. When Koyama looked up and gazed at him Shige was once more attacked by that insecure feeling, that irrational fear that Koyama would find nothing likeable in him without all the hostess glamour. But the taller man crossed the room in several quick strides and Shige glimpsed a feral, almost hungry look in his eyes before their lips met.
Shige was right about Koyama’s lips; they were silky and soft and pliable and they tasted positively delicious. Then Koyama brought his teeth and tongue into the mix, nibbling at Shige’s bottom lip until he let out a sound that was a cross between pain and pleasure. Koyama’s mouth slid down to Shige’s neck, and amid attempts to suck a hickey onto the base of Shige’s throat he muttered, “So I was thinking that, ah, maybe we can just, ungh, stay in for the night?”
Shige nodded absently and threaded his fingers in Koyama’s hair, and when Koyama’s hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt he thought if Koyama wanted him naked he should’ve just said so in the first place, it would’ve saved them a lot of trouble.
Shige still worked at the club, but he cut back on his hours and began searching for other jobs. He planned to quit being a hostess once he found a day job with decent pay. He didn’t mind the cross-dressing as much as he used to, though, because now it seemed trivial to him, just like a child playing dress up.
Sometimes Koyama liked to tease him and went on about how Shigemi looked so hot, but in the end he always snuggled against Shige and whispered in his ear, “But Shige is so much prettier.” That was a statement Shige never found a cause to argue.
You know I’d never ask you to change
If perfect’s what you’re searching for, then just stay the same.
(“Just the Way You Are”, Bruno Mars)
Type: One-shot
Word count: 3,674
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Koyama/Shige, with special appearance by Nakamaru/Massu
Warning: Cross-dressing hostess club, AU
Summary: Shige thinks Koyama only likes him when he’s all made up. Written for a prompt in koyato: Cosplay. Thanks to sanjihan for the beta and for telling me about this pic, which inspired one of the scenes here. >.>
Side note: If anyone’s interested, I’m offering fanfics for a Japan earthquake/tsunami fundraising here.
Working in a hostess club clearly wasn’t Shige’s dream job. That said, though, the impending threat of being thrown out of his apartment after being unemployed for five months forced him to swallow his pride and grab whatever opportunity that came his way. And did he actually have any choice, if what came his way was a lucrative job that required no higher education, no experience and no questions asked except one: “Are you willing to dress as a woman?”
Shige’s desperation became apparent to himself when he barely stopped to think before answering “yes”. Later he went home and banged his head against the wall several times, but he stopped when he realized that a bruise on the forehead would not look good on a cross-dressing hostess.
Shige’s mother always told him to count his blessings, so he did just that - instead of moaning about the shit hole he had plunged himself into on his own volition. Blessing #1: he was lucky that his mother and father lived in a different city and were spared the horror of ever finding out about his new occupation. Blessing #2: the manager at the club, a quiet, immaculately-dressed man named Yamashita, who oozed confidence in his every move, was very strict about rules.
“No funny business,” he told the hostesses with a wag of his finger. They were there to pour drinks, sing karaoke and provide conversation to clients, and nothing else. The club would not be responsible for the consequences of any other transactions the hostesses should choose to conduct with customers without the management’s consent. As if he would stoop so low as to agree to those other transactions, Shige thought wryly. Dressing up as a girl to flirt with middle-aged salarymen was already embarrassing enough.
But since he was adamant on counting his blessings, he went on to blessing #3: he had someone he knew in the club. Takahisa was an old acquaintance who had a warm disposition and a friendly smile, which could suddenly transform into sultry once he put on his lipstick. His name in the club was Takako. “The stage name helps you differentiate between your real self and your female persona. Just think of it like performing in a school play,” he told Shige. Takako must have had a lot of female roles in school plays, judging from how suave he was in his hostess outfit. He helped Shige pick his own hostess name: Shigemi.
Takako also taught him all the tricks of the trade. Always behave in a warm and engaging manner, but maintain safe distance from the customer. Hands stay above the table (no playing footsie either). When it looks like the customer is getting too drunk, offer him snacks instead. Provide further distraction by singing karaoke. Don’t drink too much yourself; you need to always have control of the situation. If the customer tries anything funny, decline in a quiet but firm voice. If he persists, alert the security. Overall it was pretty safe despite the sleazy connotations associated with this particular line of work.
It took some time and practice before Shige got a handle of the job (and felt somewhat comfortable wearing a stuffed bra). He wasn’t naturally flirty and did not stand out among the other hostesses, so at first no customers ‘claimed’ him and Yamashita had to assign whom he was to cater to. Slowly he became known by the club’s regulars and began to receive requests from some to spend time with them. One of the patrons was especially fond of him, a 40-something man who insisted on being called by his first name, Shigeru. “Shigeru meets Shigemi!” he would say with a whoop of laughter. Shige just smiled and poured him another drink.
Another regular called Ohno often complained to Shige about being overworked and harbored a secret wish to abandon his high-paying job and run off to live on the seashore. “I don’t even mind if I never see another human being ever again,” he slurred after the fifth glass. “Just me and the fish, you know?” Shige nodded sympathetically and ordered some fish fingers for him.
Shige’s favorite client of all, though, was a lanky man not much older than him named Koyama. At first it was obvious Koyama was only tagging along with his workmates and didn’t really want to be there, probably thinking that going to a cross-dressing hostess club was a joke, not expecting his colleagues to actually want to go to one. Now that he was finally there he sat upright and jerked nervously whenever Shige addressed him, only taking small sips of his drink and refusing every time Shige offered to pour him some more.
At the next table Takako was getting cozy with a certain Nakamaru, Koyama’s co-worker who seemed to be quite familiar with the club. It certainly wasn’t his first time with Takako either, and the two were soon engrossed in intimate conversation, though if you asked Shige he’d say Nakamaru was getting too close to Takako. The latter didn’t seem to mind, though, casually leaning even closer to loosen Nakamaru’s tie.
Shige thought about loosening Koyama’s tie as well but decided that it might scare him. He offered the man some peanuts instead and was immediately refused, so he shrugged and had some himself.
“Not allergic to peanuts, are you?” he asked, trying to make small talk.
“What? Oh. No, I’m not.”
“Good. It sucks having allergies.” He popped a peanut into his mouth, then stopped because it wasn’t very graceful. “I’m allergic to cats,” he added as an afterthought.
Koyama turned to him. “Really?” It was the first time he had shown any interest in Shige all night.
Shige nodded. “It’s a pity, since I think they’re very cute.”
Koyama’s eyes widened. “I think so too!”
Shige certainly never expected to bond with a customer over cats of all topics, but it seemed that talking about something he liked made Koyama more relaxed, and he gradually loosened up and leaned back in his seat. He let Shige pour more sake into his glass, and they had a good laugh over Koyama’s story of the time his cat Nyanta threw a tantrum when Koyama tried to bathe him.
After they quieted down Koyama stared at Shige and said, “You have a really nice laugh, Shigemi.”
Shige hadn’t thought Koyama was listening when he introduced himself earlier because Koyama had been rather tense then, but now, hearing him mention his name, a weird thrill coursed through Shige’s body. It wasn’t even his real name, only his alias. It took him another second to realize that Koyama had complimented his laugh, something no man or woman had ever done before, and although he wondered if he had laughed rather womanly because he was in character and everything, he couldn’t deny that he was flattered.
He smiled and said, “Thank you.” He thought Koyama had a rather nice laugh too, but he decided to keep that to himself for now.
With each visit Koyama made to the club he became more at ease, and he and Shige spent a lot of time together. After a while he began coming to the club alone, without Nakamaru or his other co-workers, and he always asked if Shigemi was available. The general courtesy was that a hostess should spend at least 15 minutes with a customer before offering him a chance to see a fresh face, or stay with him longer if requested. But whenever Shige was informed that Koyama was in the premises, he would break the rule and leave his charge with a junior hostess before his time was up. When Yamashita found out, he deducted a percentage of Shige’s pay as a penalty. But Shige was oddly not as troubled about it as he should be.
He was supposed to be the one entertaining the customer, but he found that he very much enjoyed Koyama’s company as well. Koyama talked about everything from work to daily life without reservations, and sometimes Shige had to stop himself from revealing more about his life than he should. His real life, not that of the person wearing the colorful dress, high heels and wig that was sitting in front of Koyama. It felt like an unbalanced equation, the way Koyama opened up to him while he couldn’t give the same back.
Sometimes when Koyama talked about his private life he unintentionally asked Shige about his own experience, something that might reveal aspects of his personal life. But then Koyama would stop himself and back off voluntarily, aware that for hostesses the professional and the private must be kept separate at all times. In any case, he seemed happy enough just to be able to spend time with Shige, to talk with him until the small hours of the morning.
Every now and then they touched by accident, fingers brushing when Shige handed Koyama his drink, shoulders rubbing as they took their seat next to each other, and Shige was hyper aware of the sensation of skin touching skin, of the warmth radiating from Koyama’s body. That little shiver of excitement returned but he was too confused with how to interpret it, and he ended up covering his awkwardness by ordering more refreshments or starting a new topic to talk about. Koyama looked at him a little differently when he did so, his gaze lingering on Shige as though he could read his thoughts, but then the moment passed and whatever flickered between them died down again.
Occasionally the club had theme nights where the hostesses dressed up in special costumes. Koyama happened to come during a schoolgirl night, and he grinned when he saw Shige wearing a white shirt, a plaid skirt with a matching tie and knee-high socks. The first thing he said was, “You look great.”
He had complimented Shige many times before and it shouldn’t be so surprising anymore, but it was the way he dragged his gaze up and down Shige’s body that made Shige’s insides twist. He suddenly felt his skirt was too short and if Koyama leaned a little farther back on his seat he might be able to see Shige’s thighs. Instinctively Shige put his hands on his lap as a makeshift cover.
They talked like they normally did but Shige noticed Koyama’s eyes were on him even more than usual, and it was starting to make him nervous. He reached out for the snacks plate on the table but Koyama got to it first. “Here, let me,” Koyama said, grabbing an onion ring and holding it in front of Shige’s face. “Open up.”
“What?”
Koyama chuckled and raised the onion ring closer to Shige’s lips. “Come on, open up.”
Shige felt heat spreading in his cheeks as he obediently opened his mouth and took a bite, chewing slowly because Koyama was looking at his face and he was extra conscious. Koyama held the rest of the onion patiently before it all disappeared inside Shige’s mouth. He even brushed a little crumb off the edge of Shige’s lips, and Shige nearly blurted out for Koyama not to do it again because his heart was making this thumpthumpthump in his chest and it was getting uncomfortable.
“Shigemi,” Koyama said, and he spoke it so quietly, almost muted amid the dance music playing in the background. His hand strayed from Shige’s lips to his chin, long fingers tracing his jaw and then resting on his cheek. He bent over and put his other hand against the back of Shige’s seat, and Shige thought this was probably skirting over to the ‘funny business’ territory which Yamashita warned the hostesses about. If Shige’s heart was hammering against his ribcage earlier, now it must have stopped beating altogether because Shige couldn’t feel anything, was aware of nothing but how close Koyama was getting and how nice his lips looked, all shiny and smooth and he bet it would feel supple and moist against his own. It didn’t even occur to Shige that his breath might smell like onions; all he wanted was to close that distance between them, feel Koyama’s warm body pressed against him and taste those lips, god, those lips-
But Koyama froze and then backed away, his expression darkening as he let go of Shige’s cheek and pretended to be busy with his drink, like the last 10 seconds never happened. Shige’s face grew even hotter, this time with humiliation instead of excitement. He didn’t know what the hell happened there, but it was obvious Koyama changed his mind and Shige would’ve gotten in trouble from Yamashita anyway, so why did he even bother? They spent the next few minutes in awkward silence before Shige muttered something about other available hostesses and slunk away without waiting for Koyama to respond.
Things took an unexpected turn when one afternoon Koyama came across Shige outside the club. Shige had the day off and was shopping for groceries at a konbini wearing an old t-shirt and washed-out jeans, and he didn’t exactly bother to comb his hair before he went out - he was only appearance-conscious when he was hostessing, anyway. He was studying which brand of instant ramen was cheaper when a voice behind him said, “...Shigemi?”
He turned around (in slow motion, as if that could make the reality any less mortifying) and saw Koyama beaming at him. So far Shige had only seen Koyama in the dim interior of the club, and now he was struck with an alien feeling to see the man during the day, under the bright lights of the konbini. Koyama looked fresh-faced, his hair color a tad brighter than Shige had thought it was, and he seemed even taller than before. Shige realized it must be himself who was shorter because he wasn’t wearing high heels.
That was when it hit him: Koyama was seeing him not as Shigemi. No fancy dress, no makeup, no smooth tresses falling to his shoulders. He was just boring old Shige, almost naked without all the frills that made him a hostess. By instinct he shrank back a step but Koyama, oblivious to his discomfiture, piped up excitedly, “I never thought I’d see you around here, Shigemi! Ah, I’m sorry, that must not be your real name, right?”
“Shigeaki,” Shige mumbled faintly, and Koyama nodded in understanding, the smile on his face growing even wider. “I see. So great to see you! Do you come here often?”
Shige felt he could no longer endure Koyama’s penetrating gaze, so he spun around and fled outside. He vaguely heard Koyama pleading, “Hey, where are you- Shigeaki, wait!”, but he just ran and ran and didn’t stop until he reached his apartment. Still out of breath, he went to the bathroom and saw his own reflection in the mirror, the dark circles under his eyes, the faded pimples, his hair sticking out in weird places. A pitiful sight. Why did Koyama have to see him like this?
Then he cursed when he remembered he had left his groceries back at the konbini.
Koyama and Nakamaru came to the club the following week and immediately asked for their favorite hostesses. Begrudgingly, Shige made his way to Koyama’s table, while Takako practically pranced to the seat next to Nakamaru at the bar. Shige didn’t talk much and mostly only poured Koyama’s drink mechanically. Koyama seemed unfazed by Shige’s distant behavior and smiled to him like usual, which made Shige feel even worse.
“Don’t stare at me like that,” he blurted.
Koyama blinked, looking perplexed. “Like what?”
Like you’re stripping me bare, but Shige couldn’t possibly say that. He averted his eyes and saw Takako at the bar whispering something in Nakamaru’s ear. It must have been something dirty, judging from the lewd smirk Nakamaru had on his face. He had one hand on Takako’s knee and it was sliding higher and higher. Shige wondered if Yamashita was seeing this.
“...did you hear me?”
Shige turned back to Koyama. “Huh?”
”I was asking why you left so quickly when we met at the konbini.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Of course it does.” Koyama put his hand over Shige’s while his eyes remained locked with his. “It matters a lot.”
Shige wanted to throw the ‘hands stay above the table’ rule at him, but then he realized both their hands were still on the table. He glanced around for help but Takako and Nakamaru had gotten up from their bar stools and walked out hand in hand, probably heading off somewhere private to engage in their funny business.
“Listen, Shigeaki...” Koyama cleared his throat before continuing, “I’d like to meet you outside the club more, not as hostess and customer. What do you say we go out together some time?”
For the life of him Shige couldn’t figure out why Koyama would still want him after seeing how he really looked. Koyama was rubbing his thumb gently against the back of Shige’s hand, and Shige vaguely thought that he still hadn’t got the chance to kiss the man. Shige had half a mind to reject him because deep down he thought none of this was going to work, but the other half was shouting oh for the love of god just say yes, you fool, you may never get a chance like this again.
So he nodded, and Koyama looked so happy Shige hoped for his sake that this wouldn’t end badly.
It was arranged that Koyama would pick up Shige at his apartment on the chosen night to take him to dinner. Shige bought a new dress especially for the occasion and spent an ungodly amount of time primping himself in front of the mirror before he was satisfied.
But as he walked down the steps of his building to where Koyama was leaning against his car, he saw Koyama’s face fall. There was no mistaking it; Koyama just closed down right in front of him, the anticipation in his eyes replaced by disappointment. He tried to conceal it but the damage was done, and Shige’s hopes were dashed to the ground along with it.
Shige reached the bottom of the steps and just stood there, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to another, firstly because he didn’t know what to do and secondly because his stilettos were hurting him. Koyama pasted a smile on his face and it looked so fake Shige could rip it off him. “You look... um, nice,” said Koyama.
Shige cringed. “Don’t lie to me. You look like you just saw a ghost.”
The words seemed to alarm Koyama. “No, Shigeaki, it’s not like that-”
“It’s Shige.”
“Shige,” Koyama repeated, taking a step closer. “I really do think you look nice. It’s just, well, not quite what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting anyway?” Shige was starting to get annoyed.
Koyama rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I was under the impression that you were going to be yourself tonight. You know, not as a woman.”
That floored Shige a bit. “But... why would you want to...?”
Koyama was looking at Shige like he did at the konbini, like he did at the club the other night. Like he couldn’t take his eyes off of him. “Why would I not?”
For a few moments Shige was left speechless. Then his whole being sprang into action and he climbed back up the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go and change. You just stay here, it won’t take a second!”
“Shige, wait!”
Perhaps Koyama was afraid Shige would disappear on him again, so he followed Shige up to his place and insisted that he wait outside the door. In his haste Shige just told Koyama to come inside and wait in the living room while Shige removed his wig, changed his clothes and washed off his makeup. He threw on a casual shirt and pants that looked decent enough for a date and put on some styling product on his hair. There was still a faint trace of women’s perfume on him but he decided to let it be; there was no time.
He emerged from his room a man again. When Koyama looked up and gazed at him Shige was once more attacked by that insecure feeling, that irrational fear that Koyama would find nothing likeable in him without all the hostess glamour. But the taller man crossed the room in several quick strides and Shige glimpsed a feral, almost hungry look in his eyes before their lips met.
Shige was right about Koyama’s lips; they were silky and soft and pliable and they tasted positively delicious. Then Koyama brought his teeth and tongue into the mix, nibbling at Shige’s bottom lip until he let out a sound that was a cross between pain and pleasure. Koyama’s mouth slid down to Shige’s neck, and amid attempts to suck a hickey onto the base of Shige’s throat he muttered, “So I was thinking that, ah, maybe we can just, ungh, stay in for the night?”
Shige nodded absently and threaded his fingers in Koyama’s hair, and when Koyama’s hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt he thought if Koyama wanted him naked he should’ve just said so in the first place, it would’ve saved them a lot of trouble.
Shige still worked at the club, but he cut back on his hours and began searching for other jobs. He planned to quit being a hostess once he found a day job with decent pay. He didn’t mind the cross-dressing as much as he used to, though, because now it seemed trivial to him, just like a child playing dress up.
Sometimes Koyama liked to tease him and went on about how Shigemi looked so hot, but in the end he always snuggled against Shige and whispered in his ear, “But Shige is so much prettier.” That was a statement Shige never found a cause to argue.
You know I’d never ask you to change
If perfect’s what you’re searching for, then just stay the same.
(“Just the Way You Are”, Bruno Mars)