Title: Lovefool or The Girls Them Sugar Author: Ebonbird (ebonbird@hotmail.com) Summary: Ken on women. Rating: PG, because childhood has vanished, just like Neil Davidson feared. Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me. They are used without permission. Tatsunuko, Co. Leave me be, this is flattery. Tunes: The Sun Always Shines On TV - A-Ha, Lovefool - The Cardigans, It's a Fine Day (ATB mix) - Opus 3 and Miss Jane, Venus as a Boy - Bjork. The Girls Dem Sugar - Beenie Man July 19, 2000 *********************** "dear, I fear we're facing a problem." For the third time that day a female who Ken suspected he was supposed to know, gave him a look as she walked past him. He looked away and rubbed the rim of his ear with his finger. "You forgot, didn't you?" said Joe, his voice an uncertain bass. Ken checked the button fly of his pants. Pinched his nose and nostrils repeatedly with his thumb and forefinger. "You're clean." Joe said in exasperation. Ken examined his facts: he didn't have snot hanging out Of his nose, and his fly was undone, and he didn't look any different than usual. What was with the expectant looks he was getting. "How many women gave you cookies and sweets and chocolates on Valentine's day this year, Ken?" Joe asked sweetly. Ken shut his eyes tight brought his forehead on the table hard, startling fellow diners. Today was White Day. Today was White Day. A holliday brought over to Utoland by All the Japanese young men and women who settled there after The bad times. A 'one day in the year' when women could express Their appreciation for the men in their lives by giving them sweets. White Day was the day those men paid 'em back. Jun had baked him cookies. She had baked every guy she Knew cookies, but she'd gone so far to sprinkle red candy hearts on the chocolate glaze on his (not on anybody else's, not Ryu's or Joe's or even Jinpei's or Nambu's, not Her coworkers at the cold lab, or that guy who was supposedly her boyfriend, Ken had gnoshed on enough of those cookies to know. They'd tasted bad, of course, but there'd been a certain nuttiness to the aftertaste that very well with hot coffee --- And then there were the other people, who'd gotten him nice Stuff and he'd... Ken glanced at his watch -- He had so much candy to buy. And he had so little time. Softly, he banged his forehead against the table once more. "You forgot." Joe said. Jun was going to be so disappointed, Ken thought. Jun was too frigging demanding. Jun was going to be so disappointed, and the little prickle of anger That accompanied that thought was dulled by the realization that his Oversight - he was never thoughtless - was going to hurt every woman Who'd been so good as to get him cookies, or a cake, or a he was such a Very busy man. Flight school. Ninja training. Classes. Friends. Sometimes, when Ken looked at Jun it was like something was squeezing him right around his heart. He didn't want to kiss her, or hug her, none of that. But sometimes he really wanted to make her smile. She was smart. Had her bachelors in biochemistry and physics. If there was an ISO scholarship she'd won it. Her brain so organized, that if she'd seen someinformation she could get to it double-quick. Yes, she did have great support at Crescent Coral, and other people did gather a lot of the intelligence she relied on, but she had to read all the reports, and she had to know what was where, figure out what related to what on their missions and to remember the important details, so everybody could do their jobs. She was so smart. It was funny, weird; and a little funny, ha, that as smart as Jun was she thought that he was the guy to make her happy. Ken hoped not, because when he looked at her (and even when he didn't) and gave the idea of them some thought, he didn't want to. Even if he really liked her smile. It was hard not hugging Jun, or being careful not to touch her hands. He was a really physical person and sometimes he got a little angry that he had to change that for her, `cause she'd take it the wrong way and, 'big problems for everybody.' But Ken didn't want to hug her and he really didn't want to kiss her. As much as he dug her smile and that stupid way of talking really girl when she was acting super- butch there were things about her that made him go, 'Nunh-unh. Not gonna go there.' She dreamed too much. It would be crowding out the all the colors of her eyes if he forgot that she had a humongous crush on him and acted like, well, a bud. Yeah, he guessed she was pretty, but it wasn't anything he'd get excited about. The girls that gave him that deep down warm itch were . . . different. There was Neet when they lived in Guam. Narputi Sandoval. Quarter-Japanese, half-Hawaiian, Chamoro girl with her small (his thumbs almost bracketed her belly-button!) waist and the really strong, really toned stomach she liked to show off with her tiny little cropped tops. Neet wore her straight super-black hair in brushy pigtails low on the back of her neck. They went swish swish when she turned her head, like skinny koosh balls. She whispered to her friends a lot, right in front of him, holding her hand with all its bracelets in front of her face over her braces, her green eyes all speckled with gray, freckles splattered across the nonexistent bridge of her nose as she pretended not to be going out with him. Aside from that tiny waist Neet was shaped like a boy, and she didn't talk much and she moved like one; slouched a lot, and let her knees drop low when she walked. But when she danced she moved like all the girls who'd ever made a guy want to marry them for the way they moved, like belly-dancers and free-style gymnasts and Indian chicks swirling around Indian countrysides in crop-tops, two piece dresses or fancy jeans and bustiers as they smiled and gestured their way through huge dance numbers about love. Flips and somersaults and cartwheels and handstands Neet would go into, and all Ken wanted to do was watch her. Even though it was stuff he could do blindfolded with one arm broken, he couldn't help but stare. And all the while she was moving, to whatever was playing or her own internal beat, her face so serious like she was studying. But her happy was in her hands and in her shoulders, and sometimes when she'd pulled off a seriously difficult move, in a little smile that came and went so quick it was hardly any proof she knew how damn good she was at all. And then there was Dalila Lina Hanan, Deena to the Americans, Dalilalina-kun to everybody else -- except him. Ken couldn't put two words together when she smiled at him, and she had a smile for everybody. So he'd scowl and run away, so that people, even Ryu, who'd leaned over and whispered 'bowel movement' the first time he saw her and got an elbow in his fat stomach for the insult, thought Ken couldn't stand the sight of her. Her name meant beautiful tender mercy. Ken could not say hello in American, Japanese, Arabic or anything. Anything. And he was good with languages. Once he managed to poke two of his fingers up by his waist when she looked over at him from her swim locker and he blushed. For a hot minute she'd tilted her head, the rope of her strange hair down over her yellow Dive Camp Boracai T-shirt, and then she'd smiled, knocking him out with how white her teeth were in contrast to her purplish lips. Dalilalina-chan's skin was beautiful. And yes it was dark brown, but not the color, as Ryu who was usually so cool implied, of shit. She smelled like cookies. Dalilalina-chan had something that was hair on top of her head, but Ken couldn't figure it out. When she ducked her head beneath the waves her hair didn't soak straight, and it didn't curly. Water beaded all over the top of her head like mercury. He wanted to touch it. She was skinny and tall, and her belly button was like someone had snipped off the top of a fishhook and pushed it against her stomach. Small, he saw it at intro to Scuba when Dalilalina-chan's sister took them snorkeling by Borocai. She wore a green two-piece covered with shimmery light green outlines of fish. The last day, after he'd received his diving certificate legs as he tried to figure out exactly what it was about the way she did handstand jumps of the dock that made the back of his neck so hot. When she got up to go to the bathroom he decided to take a leak, too, and between the girls and guys bathrooms told her that he 'really really liked her'. She'd liked him, too. Rolling her eyes and whirling in a half circle. "Really? Really really really, Ken-chan?" She had the cutest accent, country girl, from living on the USAF Okinawa base. And he'd nodded so hard it'd made him dizzy. Deena giggled and they skipped the rest of dinner. Walking down to the shore of the beach and sat facing each other, pushing sand up onto one another's toes as the sun went down. Twelve years old and he finally figured out why Joe was such an idiot when it came to girls. Ken's face hurt so much from all that smiling, and when she took his hand in hers and kissed his cheek, he promised himself then and there that liking a girl and her liking him back was the best kind of secret in the world. Both of them were good kids and it was the last day of camp, so neither one of them got into trouble for skipping dinner. When the Small World bus came to pick him and the other ISO camp kids up, Ken cried --- inside, where no one could see, but his chest hurt all the same. He never got that feeling with Jun. Ever. And Jinpei wanted to celebrate her birthday, and he had a module due on his GIS correspondence course, and, he rubbed his face, and it was his time of the month. His chemistry all screwy, he was horny -er, than usual, and Jun was this locus of need and wanting to please and prickly demands - argh! "What was that?" Joe asked. "You didn't get Jun anything." Ken dropped his forehead against the table. One day she was the kid to beat. Not the fastest or the strongest, no, that was him - but not by far. She made him sweat for every sixteenth of a second, every inch up the rope, every medal, every honor, and she did without the effort that made him want to throw up, and made his face white and ripply with the refusal to puke - and she did this barely breaking a sweat. One day Jun was the kid to beat. The next, she was this skinny good natured brain who wanted to give him a tumble or smoochies. He pushed himself off the table and felt himself make a face. He stretched with a satisfying snap. Joe, who'd been sitting across from him, practicing his super-cool danger man poses, arched an eyebrow way more dramatically than needed. Ken's rubbed his face, disguising a nose twitch. Joe, who didn't miss anything, tried to growl, "What?" but his voice decided to surprise the both of them by booming. "Aren't you a little old for that?" Ken asked innocently earning a perfect glare. "What'd you get Jun for her birthday?" "Jun has a birthday?" Taking the look on Joe's face to mean that Joe thought him an ass, Ken availed himself of the opportunity to practice understanding and examined his question for obvious stupidities. Okay, maybe it was stupid of him to have said so, but it wasn't like Jun knew with any certainty what day she'd actually shown up on planet Earth. OR Nobody understood his sense of humor. "You're an ass." Joe said. Ken looked away from Joe's decidedly disagreeable face and looked for pleasantness in his surroundings. A young women was walking past their shadowy section of the East dining hall with a tray in her hands. Ken noted the healthy amount of food piled on it, including the tall coffee and huge slab of cake, and her round little hips. Nice. She couldn't have been much over 1.5 meters, even in her heeled boots. Her face unremarkable, her hair dyed light, sorta brown, sorta blonde, red dyed wisps of it pulled forward over the full cheeks of her sharp face. Her skin wasn't great, she probably smoked like a migrant worker, but her dark eyes were shrewd with awareness. Joe who was leaning his chair off the ground had a straw in his mouth. He smirked when he saw where Ken's eyes were going. "Xiao-Chen Lu. Nice." Joe said. "You want I hook you up?" Scowling at him, Ken hooked his foot around the leg of Joe's chair and pulled it back to the ground. "No." "She's a nice girl." Ken crossed his arms over his chest. "Have you been with her?" "What?" "If you haven't been with her, sure I'll go out with her." "That's offensive." "Tell me you haven't been with her." "Men don't answer that." Ken stared his eyes. Joe pursed his lips. "Listen, Ryu and I are goin' out tonight. We promised to stop by Jun's. You comin'?" "Nah, I got an assignment for that correspondence course I've been taking - maps. Can't." "You need a ride back to the airstrip?" "I'll take the bus in, thanks." Joe snorted. "Suit yourself." - it's a fine day, - people open windows, - they leave their house - just for a short walk Outpacing the suited people milling through the smoked 100 foot tall smoked glass doors of the entryway Ken placed both hands on a door. The energy coiled at the base of his spine, tingled out of his gloved hands and he pushed the cantilevered doors open. Biting down on his jaw, he glanced over his shoulders and faced at the relentless sky. The energy coiled at the base of his spine trickled up and out of him, he was riding it. Visibility had to be a hundred percent. This was a day to fly, but he'd made his plans. He had a schedule. The electrics made a soft whining sound when they accelerated and decelerated, and it amused Ken to figure out velocities and trajectories in his head. When he got on there were two girls sitting side-by-side near the front of the bus. One had blue hair and fantastic legs, shown off by her tiny shorts. Had it been a hot day the vinyl seats would have scalded her butt, Ken guessed. The other, who'd done something retarded to her hair, wore enormous jeans and a backwards baseball cap that had the cartoon frog, Kero Kerope on it; an oversized green banded Kero Kerope watch circled her tiny wrist; a light green Kero Kerope back-pack rested on the knees of her dangling legs and a green sparkle stud was set at the right corner of her wide-set black eyes. Ken took a seat in the back, pushed his shades onto the top of his head and waited. After a minimum of nudging Short-shorts and Froglover flopped down into the double-seater across the aisle legs. Public transportation, Ken reflected, was indeed the way to get laid. They stared at him, whispering to one another. Leaning his head against the windows, Ken let his eyes go increasingly blank. He fixed an image of Dalilalina- chan in his mind. She had one eye shut tight and the other peeking just a little as he'd leaned in for a kiss, his fingertips on her soft cheek, just like he'd seen in the movies. Froglover asked. Ken raised his arms over his head. Stretched. Short-shorts leaned against Froglover and snickered. Ken slouched lower in his seat and let his thigh jiggle a little in his tight jeans. Froglover shrieked into her hand. admonished Short-shorts. And Frog-lover said back something rude and very cute and pretty racist. Ken snorted, tilted his head at them, mouthed in perfect Japanese, "I understand my language perfectly well." For one glorious moment Froglover and Short-short's went big eyed and wet-opened mouth. "You speak Japanese!" they chorused in English. In Japanese Ken replied, Short-shorts covered her face with her hands, yanked her feet onto her chair and screamed. Frog-lover leaned forward, bleached hair flopping forward into her wide true-black eyes. She had a mouth like a butterfly on its side. "Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked. ************* Ken, walked between the two girls. They were giggling, and he was willing. Froglover walked him through the entrance with impermanence and the three of them took turns not looking at each other as they rode the elevator. He believes in a beauty. He believes in a beauty. He's exploring the taste of her arousal, so At froglovers. Her name was Aoi Shimura, and she kissed like a girl, a girl who was way less experienced than she talked. A girl who was very young, and not particularly gentle. Ken pulled his head back. Pushed on her throat gently with three of his fingers when her mouth followed his and brushed his knuckles softly against the pulse in her throat. They were on her futon, a big one, in her parents' room (her parents). "What?" she asked, scratching below the green sparkle jewel by her right eye with her babyish ring finger. Ken couldn't help but smile at her uncertainty. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if she were shy of being naked. He was, not shy, no but bare like ready for the bath and she'd touched him all over with a hurried, grasping, greedy series of touches. Balanced on his left leg and arm, his knees touching her along her legs he waited for her fingers, bloodless as they gripped her shoulders, to go back to her normal color. He alternated touching her thigh and hip with touching. Their skins were studies in porcelain but they were far from the same. He could tan, she never would, but where the sun hadn't touched either of them, she was illicit pinks and hidden reds and he white as jade. She shifted her weight towards him, released herself, her hands falling from her shoulders, leaving fading finger marks on her skin, touching him, too. Their knees bumped, his were scarred, bearing down on his thighs with her palms she pushed him onto his back and got her leg over him. He grinned, grabbed her thigh and pulled it higher over his leg brought his hand to a point on her knee, opening it slightly. She wasn't ticklish but she loved his chest. Dipping her head to suck on his curves and dips and hollows. Proud with muscle it invited reverence, play, his pecs more of a mouthful than the nipples atop flat skin that were her breasts. She found a spot he'd hadn't been aware was sensitive, a mole which he decided, as his head lowered and a groan built in his breast, had to be another nipple and oh, he put his hand to the back of her head, and held her there. Her fried hair was a mess, bleach on top of perm and very dry, but he was loving the smell of it. All of her was apple scent KissMe shower gel, and deodorant and shampoo. So he did, put his mouth all over her, seeking the KissMe apple pulse and there was another smell of something flowery and powdery from the make-up hastily blended at her jaw-line. The make-up trace made her just one good flowery scent on top of the other, powdery, flowery, overwhelming, and she was so hot for him. Her hair frizzing at the temples, her cheeks shining with sweat, slick with it. The hotter it got, she got, the more her natural odor burned through the perfumes and her mouth circled and fluttered in that same spot, and her small hand was over his and cold wound out from around the that almost nipple like microscopic barbed wire and he bucked up off the floor, nudged her thigh with himself. She froze a little, from the waist down, but he wasn't feeling it. Fingers hard enough to mark on the back of her neck he babbled, "Hard, harder, yes, girl. Oh, Aoi, aoi, aoi, do me, bite, harder." She did. And it was enough. He had his arm beside her head, and her eyes were so into him, and he was pulling on himself, and they were still mostly side to side and he was ready to mount up, her racy, lacy panties were caught around one ankle. He'd liked it there, stroking between her smooth, oh so soft, inexpressibly soft, killer fantastic legs with the palm and the back of his hand. She'd liked it, was liking it, hadn't expected to like it so much, and she was trembling more from hesitation than on the verge of the big O. "I can't do this," Aoi blurted. Okay. She was a tease. "Fine." He was a ninja. He was a master of several martial arts. He'd been ble balled. Tha was annoying, but biofeedback would. "You're mad at me?" Hell ya. "Don't worry about it," he said, and just barely added 'tease' under his breath. He inhaled, pushed the pain way back into his mind, "Do you have any games. Video games, like?" "You are mad." Her eyes were down cast, she brushed his knuckle with the tip of a green painted finger nail. Her breathing was still a little wonky. "Hey," he whispered. A drop of sweat rolled down his nose, by the curve of his nostril. "It's okay." She immediately started sucking on his mouth. Still hesitant, still a little shy. The same girl who'd been frankly staring between his legs, wanting to figure what he had going on in his jeans. Her grip was uncertain, and he broke their kiss wetly, taking her hand away. "We don't have to do this." He said slowly. She took him in hand, biting her lip at the feel, and heat and hardness of him, her grip uncertain. "Relax," he said. And he caressed the upper wing of her butterfly mouth with his. She reached for him again, "No. We don't have to." Running his fingers along her sides, resting it against her hip, he turned on his back guiding her atop him. Her legs were tightly closed alongside his leg, but her scant chest pressed into his. Sooner rather than later she had a leg up over him, and was kissing him hard, her eyes squeezed so tight he was sure she was enduring this rather than enjoying it. Until she pulled sharply away from his questing hand, her legs scissoring closed on his hand. "I just," she said. He counted to ten, and when he was still angry he opened his eyes and studied her outrageous, overgenerous mouth. "I'm sorry. I can't do this." "Dammnit," he said, slapping his palm on the ground and startling her. "You fucking tease." She was whining, it was easy, grab her arm, pivot, shift weight and press her into the ground. She tried to lock her arms to keep him from forcing her flat and he wedged his leg between hers. She was still wet, but shaking. "I could do anything I want to you, right now." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't hurt me." "Anything." Increasing pressure on the arm twisted up behind her back. "Aiiii." she started softly. He grabbed her between her legs. "Shut it." She was going to hyperventilate herself into unconsciousness. "Shhh, shhh, shhhh. I won't hurt you, Aoi. Just want you to calm down, think about what we're doing, okay." "Please.I'm sorry, I didn't mean." "Do you think I'm stupid? Is that it? Pick up some ass hole and torture him, throw me out of here all hard and shit." "No, no, no, I'm a virgin. I thought. I was." "Shut up." Her heart was pounding. Her skin was white and red between his gripping fingers. He bore down on her, with his body. "Stay this way." He said, his arm across her throat. "I won't kill you if you do exactly what I say. And don't fucking scream or I'll kill you're friend." He allowed her an opening. She took it. Kicking out at him as she rolled on her back. A good move considering, but he caughter her leg, had her trussed with her panties and some telephone cord fast enough to impress himself. When done he took his hand off her mouth. "Call your friend. "Now." She licked her lips. He frowned at her. Aoi screamed. Her friend burst through the door with pepper spray in hand. Ken dropped her easily, gently. "You guys," he said. Standing over both of them when they were tied. "I can't believe you guys. You seem like nice girls, so I'm gonna tell you something." He started unlacing their hands. "Don't pull this kind of shit. I could have done anything to the both of you, you're no match for a determined man. No court in the world would convict me. You signed me in with the doorman yourselves. What if I was a psycho or something?" They were staring at him in disbelief. He sat between them. "You okay?" he asked. They were shocky. Aoi started to cry. "No, no, no, don't." "You were gonna, gonna kill me, us," she hiccupped. "I'm in flight school. I wanted to teach you a lesson. Look, let me show you guys a couple of moves that'll get a guy off your back if you want to do some crazy stuff like this again." This was a very stupid girl. And he was a very good man. He grinned. "No, but I need to take care of this. You want to help?" "How?" "Just be there, like you are. You're so pretty." He kissed her hand. Grinned against it, ran his teeth and tongue lightly along her palm and thumb. Smiled at her as if she were the most precious beautiful girl in the world, and at the moment, Aoi Shimura, Kero Kerope girl with the awful hair, was. She was still scared. Stifling a yawn he got on his back and gathered himself in his hands. He didn't expect her to join in, she was all into herself for a while, but he abandoned himself to movement, found a pattern kept it, pretended that she was their to see him light up her room like a warm, blinding light. Aoi helped, her giggles gone as she lent an inquisitive, increasingly bold hand to his pursuit. He swung into it, expanded into the seconds, minutes, forgot she was there, and danced with himself, for himself, for the gods, little and small, and the power that made him the strongest, smartest, fastest, best, best damned anything he wanted to be. He came hard, loving it, wishing he could see himself, smiling at his reflection in Aoi's wide black eyes. Oh, he rolled away from her, pounded his hand on the futon. Oh, God, it was good to be him. When he was taken care of, he winked at Aoi, and licked his hands clean. He offered, and hesitating she stuck a tiny bit of her tongue past that wide and delicately shaped mouth, and pulled it right back in. At her nose wrinkle he asked simply, "You like Pocky?" "Yeah." "Don't you want to know if man flavor is really man flavor?" Close but not quite she eventually decided. She was uncertain then, wondering what to do next, if they weren't going to. "I could get condoms, I mean, we still could?" Ken did not coax timid virgins. Nope. Nope. If a girl wanted him, she'd have to get him herself. He wasn't talking anyone into anything. Less trouble that way. "Do you have any games?" Ken asked. *****' A wonderful dream Jun was having. The emotional details of well being, neck shaking laughter, and happiness pulling her out of her sleep. She rubbed at the weave of the comforter beneath her right hand. The stitched pattern didn't feel like wide and wobbling figure eights, but it was. Her eyes blinked open and she flung the comforter and sheets off of her body, swung her legs off the bed, and stuffed her bare feet into gray house slippers. She bent closer to her feet with an expressionless face that quickly turned to disgust. She'd bought the slippers blue. Yuck. They needed a wash. She wriggled her toes and her look of disgust intensified. The yellow polish looked like tremella mesenterica, wet, shiny, bright and rippley. And the color had been so pretty when she'd put it on the other night. That's what she got for skipping the base and top coats when using homemade varnish. She'd missed something when she'd mixed it up, and the polish had run and clumped long after it should have dried, and when it finally dried it resisted normal nail polish remover. Acetone it would have to be, Jun decided regretfully. She'd give herself an extra nice pedicure, loofah, eucalyptus scrub and the good moisturizer to make up for the mean ketone. Yawning she braced her hands on the edge of her mattress and swaying, stood. She bent to the side and dragged her hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught on and broke through knots. Hand still in her hair she spread her fingers and examined her ends for splits - which she found. The yellow polish on her fingernails, though applied perfectly, looked gross to her in the morning light. Scratching her side Jun exited her room and entered the hall. Her hand dipped down to her pelvis and scratched a little below her waistline. Jinpei was coming up the stairs from the restaurant. His hair looked horrible, like he'd stuck his head into a toilet bowl and flushed after he'd loaded it down with hair texturizer. Probably her hair texturizer, Jun thought and moved her hand to her ribs, scratching harder. "Yuck," he said, "girls aren't supposed to scratch." "Pfft." Jun replied and continued to the bathroom, rubbing her arms along the peach satin of her flowered pajama top self-reassuringly. "You promised me breakfast." "Deal." She muttered, shutting the bathroom door behind her. Whistling Jinpei ducked back down the stairs and into the restaurant. Leapt up the stairs three at a time with a full coffee mug and a folded newspaper without spilling a drop. He put the coffee and the newspaper by the bathroom door and went back downstairs to finish opening up the Snack J. *** *** Jun tripped down the stairs in a flirty yellow dress. In the kitchen, Jinpei was baking, squatting in front of the oven and peering through the mirror. "You're not using my things, are you?" "As if," Jinpei replied without looking at her, and pointed in the corner where Jun kept the equipment she used to mix up her chemical concoctions. "Good." She said traipsing to the refrigerator, and pulling down an apron from the wall beside it. "Wow," Jinpei said glancing up. "You look great." "Thanks." A blush on her cheeks, Jun made a concerted effort not to look at Jinpei. "It just showed up in my closet." "Lookin' good, Onechan." She twirled the tie holding the key hole neckline closed between her index finger and thumb. Wrinkling her nose she hit him on the arm, then got out eggs from the refrigerator and put them on the counter, put her hands on her hips and stared at them. "Bowl'd be good." Jinpei offered. "I can do this!" Jun replied. "Okay, but `member, it's like a lab, Onechan, step-by-step. Easy as pie." "Pie?!" she asked hopefully. "None of your business. You promised not to look!" "Right." Jun said solemnly, trying hard to make her face match her voice. "It'll help if you're not hovering and you know." Yanking the apron over his head Jinpei said, "Yeah, right, I'll be upstairs or something. In case you burn breakfast," "I won't burn breakfast." * * * She'd been a beautiful girl. Not slim waisted, but young, just beginning to `bloom'. Her breasts were small and high and set wide. Her lower body graceful, her hips not so much a rise or a swell but the graceful, subtle opposite of a dip. She wore shorts, and her legs were a little thick, but oddly graceful, too, unmarked, smooth, and pale. "Spanish body, asian face," Donnie had said when he'd approached Ken about going over to her house to see her. She was pretty. Her mom worked nights and days. Ken, Donnie, and the crew, the other three that Ken had started hanging out with, bing, Rudy and Yap. She was burakamin. It wasn't a big deal, Ken thought, Utoland was mostly Japanese but not that Japanese. He hadn't know that he was there to rape her. Fourteen years old, and graceful in a way that Jun wasn't, couldn't be. It was uncalculated, had everything to do with being at ease in her body and just developing. Her body was a little thick, her face, oh, it was lovely. She looked like a statue, a Grecian one, cut to look, but successfully. Her face was oval shaped, her chin, just a little soft, her mouth a perfect bow, and naturally rosy, her nose straight, unobtrusive and her eyes half as long as they were ride. Her eyelids were generous but subtle. She had such serenity in her face. Her hair, long and brown but not dark, more a sweet color, like caramel and toffee's and coffee just brewed in a pot, that kind of clear dark, hold it up to light and all of a sudden brown was interesting, dark. It had a bend in it, from being in ponytail holder. Her tank top was white, the straps and yoke red. Her shorts red. Her feet were bare. She smiled, her hair swinging as she pushed the door open to let them in. Her breasts were so tight, her body self contained, her breasts so white, that even though she bent at the waist to open the door, and her hair swung in the air beneath her body, he couldn't see them. She and her mother kept a clean house, the bottoms of her feet as she walked away weren't even dusty. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked and when he declined offered him a muscat kiss. He unwrapped the candy and crammed it into his mouth. The sticky sweet taste something to concentrate on as he watched her not skinny body, and listened to the chatter of her pleasantly even toned voice. She was excited, happy that he'd come to visit, especially. The movie, she hadn't seen before, he neither. * * * Ken knelt in front of her, her name forgotten. The curtain she held around her shoulders and shook. "You want me to call the police." Her dark eyes were completely dilated, her. Holding her chin in his hand Ken tilted her head. She had the beginnings of a black eye and bottom of her perfect low mouth was split like an overripe plum, already scabbing over. "I'm sorry." Closing her eyes she shivered. "NO! Stay with me. Stay with me. Don't take a shower. The police will need," "No! No police." Appalled, he stopped. "They said if I was quiet they'd be nice." She looked at him. "Will you be nice? I won't scream if you're nice." * * * July 17, 2000 Jun didn't try hard. Ken tried really hard to beat her. She didn't take it seriously. He worked his heart out. Jun made it look easy. It wasn't. He'd never tried to do anything harder than run a four minute mile. Jun didn't it with a, "Really? Four minutes? Wow." * * * Ken goes looking for a gift for Jun. Gets her a pink cut glass perfume decanter(?) Climbs over her fire escape to give it to her. * * * Jun's a woman? Ken said. Which earned him a scolding from Ryu and a week of hostile glares and almost trippings from Joe. "Nobody understands my humor," Ken said under his breath. * * * Ken makes girls take him. That's his thing. He makes girls take him. Shizumi, looks like that Korean half-caste girl with the American name. White like chalk and skim milk. Red hair, hair that didn't go with the fairness of her face, dark eyebrows, black eyes. Technically brilliant, she couldn't make the weight requirements, but she and ken studied together. And ate together. Ken knew food, and what money he had went towards food, and so he took Shizumi around trying to fatten her up. It was a marvel, she could eat, not as much as he could, but not enough to get big enough to get in a plane. They were sitting at a yatai, scarfing down ramen, when Ken confessed he could go for a fourth bowl but couldn't. "I can't," Ken said. "Got to watch what I eat. How much I eat." "Why?" Shizumi asked, "You're perfect." Skinny, pale, weird looking, with that delicate bow mouth that hardly opened no matter how much she talked. She thought he was perfect, and realized that she'd been staring when she said it. Oh she was embarrassed, but not flustered. "You're perfect." She'd said artlessly. Not a flirtatious bone in her body. For that he fucked her over and over and over again, and when he couldn't keep going, used anything on hand in her little studio, so that all he had to do was pick up a highlighter and put it on his chin for her to blush straight up to the roots of her limp hair. Shizumi. Snow milk skin, dying flame hair and amazing, dark blue and darker blue eyes. Why? Shizumi asked. "I'l * * * Give up the shirt. That's what Ken wanted Neet to do, he wanted her to give up the shirt. He heard other guys brag about making their girlfriends give up the ass, but he wanted her shirt. All the necking, all the frenching between the palms set up for lovers along the sea shore, and all the other things that Neet was more than happy to have them do did not temper his obsession with her shirt. Pullovers she pulled down on, so that his mouth ended up on her knuckles, trapped between her shirt and her hand. Button down blouses she only wore beneath body suits and leotards. One day he did get it off and she squirmed, wrapping her arms around her torso and squeezing against the mattress and pillows and shrieking so hard that Ken heard her father pounding up the stairs before he relented and gave her back her shirt. When Mr. Sandoval had been deflected with a tall tale of a spider and Ken crept off the outside window ledge and back into Neet's room he laced his hands through his hair and made big eyes at Neet and asked, "Why?" Neet groaned and hit him with her stuffed snake, and when he said, "What?" She hit him again. "It's bad enough that my boyfriend's cuter than me, but then he has a bigger chest?" Boyfriend? Finally! And he kissed her, but she slapped him away. And at his confused look she dragged him over to the mirror, made him close his eyes, and pulled off her shirt and unbuttoned his. "Open 'em but don't you dare laugh!" And bemused, because this was the most she'd spoken to him in a week. Boyfriend. She'd finally said it. He stared at their reflections. She wasn't blushing. There was terror in her eyes, their expression pleading. Her narrowed one eye at her, and cocked his head, reached for her, and drew her, unresisting into her arms. "You're gorgeous," he said, kissing her neck. "Look at you" his arms crossed over her waist, covering her nipples with his upper arms. "Feel what you do to me?" And he pressed his erection against her. "I sit and think about your skin, how pretty it is, and your little freckles, they go up into your hair," he kissed some, "Over your shoulder. Always wanted to see," his hand lifted and trailed from her neck to the negligible rise of her nascent breast, "Where they go, where they start." She tried to hide her face into his neck. Lifting his hands he held her face forward, pressed murmured against her ear, meeting her dark gaze with his, "You're the most beautiful girl in the world. I've never seen anyone prettier than you." Guam was great. After screwing around with Neet, he'd climb out the window, run over to his bike, pedal back to Neet's house. Ring the doorbell. Wait for Mr. Sandoval to answer the door and be let in for dinner. After that he and Neet would study. Or he would study, and do her homework, while she talked on the phone, which was weird, because she mostly twisted the cord around (Guam was that backward) and flex her foot against her knee and say, yeah, unh-hunh, and hold on. Sometimes she'd cut her eyes to him and her tone of voice would change to, No!, None of your business!, Yeaaaaah, Nooooooo, Unhhhhh-hunnnh. But if he grinned at her while she was talking she'd turn on her back, taunting him with her heart shaped only when she was lying down, rear. She was the strangest girl. Ken went home singing. Once, Joe confronted him. He looked disheveled. Was rubbing make-up off his cheek and his clothes were full of burrs and sand. At Ken's look of disgust Joe snapped. "You're a fucking hypocrite. Like I don't know what you and Neet Sandoval are doing all the time you're over there studying." "We're in love. I love her. There's a difference." * * * At Sayuri's grave, where the path where the girls went to visit their waterbabies, Ken ran into a girl and he worried that she was visiting his baby. * * * Jinpei said, "It's bad enough I'm an orphan, but then my sister can't cook?" * * * Nambu refused Jun ballet lessons on the grounds it was bad for her joints. * * * 1.Ken in ISO dining hall with Joe. Joe asks Ken what he's getting Jun for her birthday. 2. Ken takes the bus, meets Froglover and Kero Kerope. He has sex with them (he's leaving their apartment). "Would you kiss me?" She did. "Wow. Thank you." Girls - "Do you have a girlfriend?" "I have obligations. I'm really grateful, and I feel really special that we shared that time together, yeah? But, I can't have a relationship like that with you. Can we keep it like this, two people who are happy to see each ocher when we see each other? "You're great. Thanks. I don't have the words. 3. The flashback & the cemetery. Ken goes to visit his mother Sayuri's grave. He sees the area where the girls Go to visit their waterbabies. He sees a girl he recognizes and it makes him sick to his stomach. She's the equivalent of a ghetto ho. Philipina, she had a train pulled on her by Ken's `new friends' when he was fifteen. He taught those guys the meaning of ass-whupping. Hurt the guys really bad, messed up the girls room. She was screaming and crying. The guys were running out. He helped her clean-up. He realized he had a hard-on, and she took a shower and he began to salivate, swallowing rapidly so he wouldn't puke. She came out, and asked him to stay. He ran out of the house and got sick in the bushes. Later that night, Lonnie confronted him. "She's trash. That's what she does, what's wrong with you man?" Ken teaches him the real meaning of an ass whupping, and clings to Jun like a limpet. He starts sparring with her for real. Maybe Jun and this girl have superficial sexual characteristics. 4. Food Ken begins his life-long obsession with food. He knows every food vendor he passes by name. Bang-bang chicken? Roasted yam? Wasabi roasted peas? Ramen? serve Japanese Soba (noodle), Japanese Udon(noodle), ramen, Onigiri (Rice ball), A. Saimin [http://www.aloha-hawaii.com/c_saimin.shtml]: Ken has a thing for Saimin (noodle broth). "You'll take saimin anyway you can get it." "That's not true." "Face it, you're a saimin slut. I've heard some people are like that about Chinese take out in New York City." B. Yoshinoya (5 dollar beef bowl meals). "I think the food at Yoshinoya sucks big time. The slices of beef always has disgusting fats around it and the chicken isn't anything to rave abt, esp when the staff just scoop a dollop of sauce on it. There's no quality control whatsoever. The miso soup is extremely salty, maybe the price of salt has gone down? I rather pay a bit more to have a nice authentic Jap meal." "seriously speaking...i think Yoshinoya's jap food sucks too!!! I dunno why they still have customers patronising them...but the food definitely sucks...i think i rather pay this amount to get myself some Mac extra value meal then!" "I personally can't agree more with Mae and Jo. I never like Jap dishes other than Sushi, Tepan Yaki, and their Satay. I always make my own California roll. Easy and tasty. " I think the most affordable and tasty Japanese rice meals must come from Yoshinoya. Their thinly slices of beef and teriyaki chicken is simply fabulous. At just $5.00 per set meal, you can get a beef/chicken or pork bowl + a miso soup. Its the cheapest Japanese meal I have ever eaten. Nothing beats eating at Yoshinoya. You can find Yoshinoya outlets at hmm..... Ngee Ann City, Bugis Junction, Plaza Singapura, Northpoint, OUB Centre & Great World City. C. Fish on a stick. D. Yatai [http://www.asojuku.ac.jp/gakdat/AFTC/Inet2/1999/yataitoppage. htm] Yatais started after World War Two in Japan. Because there weren't enough money and food. So people couldn't go to restaurant. Yatais are very cheap. Masters thought food taste or many kind's of menu and they work hard to become popular among people. In the result yatais became popular. But these are disappointing. Now there are many yatais just in Fukuoka (especially in Nakasu). Fukuoka is famouse for Yatai as sightseeing spot. Now Yatais have a problem. Yatais trespass the traffic rule because these are on side of streets. Nowadays Yatai's rule were made(for example, what time do they open the Yatai.) i. Ramen 1. "Soy sauce Ramen" This ramen's taste is soy sauce. It's the most popular ramen in Japan. 2. "Egg Ramen" It's pork stock taste ramen. There are SLICED EGGS, SEAWEED, LOST PORK and LEAK on the top. 3. "Garlick Ramen" This ramen is garlick taste only . 4. "Dried seaweed Ramen" You can see some dried seaweed on top of the ramen. It's pork stock taste. 5. "Roast Pork Ramen" It's many lost pork on the top of ramen. So, we called "roast pork ramen". 6. "Thick noodle Ramen" It's thick noodle ramen. There are only dried seaweed and a lost pork. This is pork stock taste. 5. Izakaya/ nomiya, robatayaki [http://www.slowfood.com/food/places/yaki.html] The French Robert dictionary defines the term taverne (tavern) thus: "Public place where food and drink could be bought". Geographical specification is then added to this far-reaching historical definition: "Small caf,, inn or popular restaurant, in some countries (Greece, Turkey...)". And to end the subject, a sociological insight: "Caf,-restaurant of an old-fashioned and rustic kind". In Japan you can find public places where you can eat and drink, which can be likened to popular restaurants of an old-fashioned and rustic kind: these are the nomiya, and the robatayaki. The word "tavern" conjures up an image of a dimly-lit haunt where you drink alcohol and eat simple dishes served without a menu. Desserts, if any, will be few, and the surroundings totally unsophisticated. This image fits the restaurants mentioned above extremely well. Also known as izakaya (literally: a shop where you can have alcohol), the nomiya (literally: the place in which you drink) may vary in size, but they all share the same lively atmosphere. The robatayaki differ from the nomiya in their lay out, which, as the Chinese characters suggest, revolves around (bata) a fireplace (ro) on which the yaki are grilled. Drawing inspiration from the square fireplaces that once graced the main rooms of Japanese country houses, the style of these restaurants is based on a somewhat contemporary idea of rusticity, with lavish use of wood in beams and benches. The waitresses wear kimonos made of a coarse fabric that is very different to the hand-dyed silk of the outfits worn by the waitresses in elegant restaurants, the ry"tei. New customers to the robatayaki will be heartily welcomed by the waiters as they pause for breath from shouting their orders to the kitchen. It goes without saying that the first thing to be ordered is an alcoholic drink (generally beer or sake), which is served in summer with a bowl of small snacks, such as soya beans cooked on their sprigs (edamame). There is plenty of time for contemplating the next orders. Customers are largely intent on having a good time with their friends, so they order a little at a time, until their appetites are completely satisfied. Although these are not the establishments one would patronize for a cup of tea or coffee, they do also offer fresh and non-alcoholic drinks. Popular on account of their moderate prices and the total lack of ceremonial, the robatayaki offer simple food prepared with inexpensive ingredients, including ready-made sauces. Served without ceremony, the food is arranged on crockery with no pretensions of elegance. Yet this is Japan, where a certain attention to presentation is never lacking. The cuisine comprises several Western and Chinese recipes as well as a wide range of Japanese dishes. Pride of place, as one might expect, goes to the grilled dishes, particularly in the robatayaki. The grilled buttered potatoes, bata yaki, could be said to exemplify this cuisine's lack of pretension and its attention to simple flavors. The shio yaki, or small fish grilled whole with salt and arranged slightly bent over in a rectangular dish, are also very popular. The meat skewers and shell fish, grilled in their shells, are cooked to order and served as they are ready. Fried food also features on the menus as do some slow-cooked dishes, such as nikujaga, potatoes with meat. The enormous conviviality that can be found in these restaurants underlines the importance given to well-being and pleasure in a society that has always appreciated places of pleasurable abandon. 6. Rough Notes: June 21, 2000 Inspired by : Bjork's Venus as a Boy. His wicked sense of humor suggests exciting sex. His fingers they focus on her, a touch is, he's Venus as a boy. July 23, 2000 Concerns: this is a rascist fic. That's what I'm worried about. That I'm writing a story that busts on everybody. That everyone has a race and a country of origin and that it's mean, unloving. Like, Dalila Lina Hanan Bumpers. In my mind she's a skinny girl, mother's african american, unmarried. She has a sister. They all smell like cookies because they wore cocoa butter. Yesterday I went out on Doug's CM Voyager, I had a fabulous time. I do believe I must have a boat. It's a beautiful boat, and they're beautiful people. He's very generous. With beautiful eyes. He's very affirming and solicitous and ministering to his girlfriend, dianne's woman in a love relationship needs. Kiss without ooky. She's nice. A small face. I guess you could call it delicately featured. She's very slim. Great legs. No breasts. I figure it's usually an either or sort of thing. You know what's sad, some women will just go out and get a pair of tits, and they'll be tooo high and tooo shiney and tooo swollen for a Looooong time. If I were her I'd traipse, yeah traipse, in bitty skirts. She can wear um and not look trampy. ? She mentioned having a white ass. Said he, "It's a sweet ass!" Now, I didn't hear it as crude. Mums and Dad's would be appalled and disgusted, but I wasn't. I thought it cool. And also, he said that in front of us. He's a good person. Met his step-brother Leif. LAYF. Attractive man. Insta connect. I think it concerned, oh, Doug, Diahnn, Brad. He was very attractive. diDn't look 38 to me. Two children. Conceived in his early twenties. Can I work in night diving? Have to release pressure to go up and down. The ocean will look blue in the flashlight at night. Sometimes you can still make out the dark patches were there's sea grass, and then lighter ones. Below the water it's weightless. Play matrix. Everything looks closer than it is. The ocean is always so salty. Ken likes the taste of salt. Makes a girl sweat so he can lick her. Loves to find the saltiest place and suck dry? He's such a perv. He's solicitous. gets the job done, but he's ultimately about his own self concept. I'm a stallion. I am the best of fucks. I''m making her day, she'll live on this for years, and, yeah. She's so lucky. What a nice girl. Okay, Shizumi, flight school girl, he spends time with her to protect her. He wouldn't examine it like that, but Ken believes that his job is to protect the weak. But he likes her. "You're perfect." She says. And like, in a hundred million years, girls like her don't get guys like him. He's changing her life. It's the coolest. Kindness and attentive sex, and he's like, I'm so cool. I'm such a good person. Look at Shizumi, she can't believe this. Do you love me? K'so! What kind of question is that? You're as smart as I am. Smarter. You score just the same in the simulations and the tests. We don't' laugh together, but you . why are you here, Ken. I know you have friends. I know you have. girlfriends. "Okay, I see other people, but I like spending time with you." "It's not sex cause you could get tht anywhere." "I can't get you anywhere." Leaning forward, hands clasped b/n his legs, he's grinning one sided. They were in public, which was a little inappropriate, but he touched her knee anyway. "Cheer up. Don't look so glum. I'll buy you a garlic flavor ramen. We'll go back to your place. She made no comment. "Shizumi-girl, Shizumi-sweetheart, Shizumi-pretty one---" "I'm not! I know I'm not beautiful! I know I'm not pretty! Why do you fuck me? Why are you here?" Taken aback, Ken sat back. "So maybe we shouldn't be seeing each other." Lovefool July 19, 2000 1