Seducing Osamu- Part one(REVISED a TON!)
She was drinking her usual ice mocha at the local Starbucks when she noticed a guy in the corner talking on his cell phone. Her lip curled a bit. She drank him in deeply as she sucked her coffee through the straw. She noted his slightly long pure black hair that obscured her view of his eyes. He was bowing emphatically, uttering a rapid stream of apologies, as if the person on the line could see as well as hear him. The cute cowering underling, she mused. Good little salaryman. She undressed him with her eyes, still sucking on the coffee. As her brain switched from observation mode to predatory mode, her tongue snaked around the straw as she pulled the cold liquid into her mouth. Because she was so focused on him, she was rather unaware of the action.
He continued apologizing for what seemed like eternity. She thought "These damn Japanese have more words for 'sorry' than the Inuit have for snow." Finally he hung up, stashed his stylish black cell in his equally stylish bag. That done, his shoulders slumped slightly and he looked down at his polished square-toed shoes. She waited for her moment to move in.
She judged him to be about late twenties early thirty-ish, unmarried, probably overworked with a shitty salary. Probably can't understand a lick of English.
He looked up, shook his head and now she could see his eyes that were a nice dark brown, just a touch lighter than the usual black color. She saw him see her as she continued her unabashed staring. Watched him as he perceived her Caucasian features, her ample bust, her soft hips. He looked away so as not to be obvious. But she continued staring, not giving a damn whether she was obvious or not. That was her cue, his gesture of temerity. Quickly, she rose from her seat.
Just a few strides and she was standing before him. He pretended to read the business magazine in front of him. Pretended he could not see the foreign girl towering over his corner table.
"Hello," she said to him, in English. "How are you today?"
"Eeeh~?" He uttered in terror and confusion at the foreign tongue, lowering the magazine. His eyes resembled that of a frightened woodland creature as he was forced to acknowledge her presence. Having produced the desired effect, she smirked, though to him it probably resembled a friendly smile.
"How. Are. You. Today?" she repeated in a condescendingly slow manner. It was the wicked English teacher to the struggling student.
He blinked, eyes taking in her heeled feet, the hem of her skirt before looking up at her face again.
"Ore..sono....anou....I...I amu fine" he stuttered. "Sorry...no English."
She grinned at him more widely, knowing that probably scared him to death as much as speaking English. Okay, I guess I'll give the guy a little break, she thought. Of course, she wanted to scare him, but not enough to make him run...She addressed him in Japanese.
"Gomen ne...My name is Sandra. What is your name?"
“EEEHH~.....can..you...speeku Japaneezu?”
His English was nearly incomprehensible. She wondered how much money his parents wasted on English lessons for him back in his high school days. It cracked Sandra up how Japanese people always attempted their shitty English with her at first even though her Japanese was miles ahead of most Japanese peoples' English.
“Yes, I speak Japanese. I have to. I own a business here.” she stated in flawless Japanese.
“Ooohh~ I see...” he replied. After a couple moments of silence, it was clear it was her turn to speak again. Sandra was thinking to herself that she'd met some tomatoes with better conversation skills than this guy. However, she could not recall ever having met a tomato nearly as SEXY.
Again, she asked “What's your name? Really. Japanese is totally ok. Don't worry.”
After a couple moments of absorbing the fact that he was being spoken to by a hot (and therefore SCARY) white woman with a nice rack who could speak Japanese well, he FINALLY he spoke up.
“Neyagawa to moushimasu. Yoroshiku onegai itashimasu." he said, bowing stiffly in his seat, speaking very formally. He was still nervous as hell, but obviously relieved to be back on more familiar ground.
"Nice to meet you, too, Neyagawa." she said to him casually, "But I would like to call you by your first name."
`Ah yes. It is usual with foreign people, isn`t it. Then, you can call me Osamu.`
`Osamu. I like that name. It's cute.' she drawled. “And so are you.”
“Thank you...” he muttered and squirmed a little in his chair.
After this terse and rather curt reply, there was yet another slightly awkward silence. Sandra decided to get into his space a bit more. She was losing ground quickly. If she didn't make a more definite move he would almost certainly bolt. She looked at an empty chair at the table pointedly and said, “My feet are a little sore. You see, I have been posting fliers for my store all afternoon and I forgot to wear my walking shoes.”
“That's too bad. Then I suppose you should sit down. Take a rest.” he said. While some might have taken his words for genuine concern, his tone and his body language told her that he meant she should sit anywhere on the face of the Earth except at his table. She decided to play ignorant.
“Oh, if it wouldn't be too much trouble for you, I would like to sit for a few moments. Do you mind?” she asked, employing the passive-aggressive technique the Japanese are so fond of. If he refused, he would look extremely rude, especially after he had suggested that she sit.
“No, please go ahead. Though I must be going in just a few minutes.” he looked nervously at his watch, at his coffee cup that he was probably cursing for still being too full, at anything other than her face.”
She sat.
`Oh by the way, I forgot to give you my card .` she said, handing him her highly stylized personal business card. One side was in English, the other in Japanese.
He was clearly impressed as he took the card. 'Two points, ace,' she complimented herself mentally. `Wow. So you own a erm...novelty shop?`
`Yes,` she said. `Basically it was a product of my homesickness...you see, I created a store that sells everything I ever missed from America that I can`t get in Japan easily.`
`For example?` he asked, exhibiting lots of politeness, shadowed with just a hint of genuine curiosity.
`Well, things like Velveeta shells and cheese, root beer, fuzzy dice, tacky Budweiser paraphernalia.`
`Sounds interesting.` More artificial politeness. He tucked the business card carefully into his special meishi carrier and pulled out one of his own, but only because he was obligated to do some. She looked at it briefly. He was a web designer. Typical.
`Are you off work for the day?` she asked, glancing at her watch. It was about 7:30 so he'd probably finished work around 6 or 7. (She couldn't help thinking she was glad to have caught him in his current attire. He filled out that suit verrry nicely.)
He didn't reply. Goddammit. She'd looked away for half a second and there he was sending a fucking text message. Perhaps to a girlfriend or to some broad he was chatting with through one of those mobile phone deaikei dating site things. Whatever. Sidestepping the cell-phone text red flag was one of the skills she'd managed to acquire over the years. She decided she would have to up her game a bit.
`Would you like to go out for a drink?`
`Really? You want to go with me? Why? Don`t you have a cool foreign boyfriend or something?`
`No. I don`t.” she glanced at her watch. `Hurry up and say yes or no. I`ve no time to stroke your feeble Japanese ego.
“Then, well...eeto...I can't go. I've got things to do.”
“Like what?”
“You know...work. Stuff.” he repeated emphatically.
Oh. So in other words he had to go out drinking with his co-workers and his boss tonight. It couldn't be helped. Damn.
She noticed him swallow. Could nearly hear the gears in his head turning rapidly, the thudding of his heart. Before he could say anything, she leaned forward so he could get just the slightest peek of cleavage and gave him a coquettish look. (She noticed him steal a glance, the sneaky bastard! Two more points for Sandra!)
“Well...why don't you just send me a text message when you finish? I'll be out a little late tonight. If you'll meet me, I will even spring for a couple of drinks if you like.” she said.
“Well, maybe I can...,” Osamu said timidly, starting to cave in just a little.
Sandra wrote her personal mobile address in pen at the bottom of another of her business cards and pushed it towards him. She pouted a little as he took it wordlessly. “Well, don't I get YOURS??”
Osamu nodded a bit reluctantly, but did as she asked.
“Thank you” Sandra said, “Here, let me send you some mail just in case you lose that address.” She sent him a message saying 'hello'. (In truth she was doing this to make sure he gave her the correct address). As it went through and she felt the table vibrate a little. He had received the message. Once satisfied that he was not bullshitting and she had a valid way to contact him later if he was too chickenshit to contact her first (as he almost certainly would be) she rose to her feet, said her goodbyes, and left him.
Had Sandra looked back, she may have seen that his face was a mixture of wistfulness and relief as he watched her departing figure. Would he see her again, he wondered. Was she serious? He fingered the card with her email and put it at the top of all the other cards in his meishi case.
Of course, he had looked at many foreign women before. But mostly only on porn sites. He never thought that he would have a chance to spend time with a woman who had a body similar to those models he had stroked off to on many occasions. Also, he had never imagined that beautiful gaijin girls had much interest in relatively average-looking Japanese men like him. Or at least he considered himself average -looking... though it seemed a lot of girls said he was goodlooking. Coworkers. Annoying friends of friends. Girls he had met at gokon parties and never bothered to meet thereafter. But still he was definitely not anything close to one of those manly Caucasian Hollywood stars...
Did he really have a chance? Did he WANT a chance?
Anyway, he hoped he could excuse himself from drinking with his coworkers as quickly as possible so he could maybe find out.