Culture Clash

   The capital is cold in February, with nothing much to do and the
reception I was attending that evening, put on by one of the larger
Japanese camera firms, was a bit of a treat for me.  The invitee's to the
function included many famous photographers and directors, many of whom had
brought their best known models or latest hot actors along as their walking
portfolios .  The zine jackals were out in full bay, cameras were clicking
and flashing everywhere.  I was no paparazzi myself and couldn't recognize
Julie Roberts from Milla Jovovich.  Probably because I hadn't photographed
a model since college, a long ways behind me.

   " When I think back on all the crap I learned in highschool . . ."*

   Although a professional photographer, I wasn't in the market for new
equipment, seeing as how I hadn't sold a picture in months.  However, free
drinks, expensive snacks and the chance to possibly hobnob with friends was
an excellent excuse for attending.  Being a freelance photographer , lucky
enough to get some of my shots printed in a couple of major magazines.  I
was well enough known that their publicity department had send me an
invite. It wasn't as if I could afford any of the hi tech gear on display,
besides Nikon was my gear of choice..

   The mix of people did not impress me much.  There was no one there I
knew, but that was to be expected.  Freelancers have to travel a lo, t
following their nose for news.  It sounds glamorous but the excitement or
beauty is most often experienced in a far away place, most often alone and
lonely.  Relationships are impossible to maintain at a distance and years
of living a fast jetset lifestyle had worn a hole in my soul.

   Staying put in Washington for the winter was for me the safe refuge
needed to rebuild my energy levels, but the opportunity to make some money
was sparse.

   Besides free food or not, some things are just too much of a pain to
handle .  A clown in a Sears suit had persisted in hitting on me until my
drink accidently landed in his lap.  After that I was surprisingly left
alone to my thoughts which consisted of me character assassinating a
complete roomful of people I had never met, nor wished too.

   That is until . . .

   She . . .  Walked into the room on the arm of this grey haired old
Oriental man.

   I was absolutely destroyed the second I saw her.  Literally destroyed.
My heart stopped and every thought in my head as well.

   Have you ever stared at a full harvest moon on a warm summer night in
all it's radiant glory?  Shining so huge, bright and powerful that all the
stars in the universe are mere twinkles in comparison .

   To all the other girls in the room, to all the girls in the whole world,
at that moment of time.  She was the goddess.



   When my brain had finished rebooting, I thought to myself , "She's
Chinese, no Japanese, She's definitely Japanese."

   She was so small, in all her body features, breasts, feet, hands, tiny,
demure.  But her facial features, cheeks, eyes were huge and wonderfully
attractive.

   Over all her essence was of innocence and purity, a pleasure to feast
one eyes capon, to view, to owrship.

   She made me feel, dirty, coarse.  Ungainly.



   And wonder of wonders she saw me staring, turned, glanced at me and
smiled.

   Ecstasy, joy, bewilderment!

   Passion, heat, flame flared in my face, my loins.

   Embarrassment followed.

   Not for me, surely not for me, couldn't possibly be for me.

   I looked around, behind me was just a smirking potted plant?

   Looking back she was still smiling at me!

   Holy Shit!

   I smiled back .  Hell!  I Texas grinned.  Oh ho ho ho!

   "He looks around and around ~ My nights are soo long ~ If you be my
bodyguard you call me Al - doesn't speak the language"*

   How the heck was I going to get to speak to this vision.  Does she even
speak English?

   Her date was ignoring her, he must have been somebody really important.
He was surrounded by a gaggle of media and artsy types.  He had a drink in
his hand . . .she didn't.

   An opening not much but what the hell!

   I was probably gonna make one supreme fool of my self.

   But what hell, who cares . . .

   "fools rush in, where angels fear to tread, and so I come to you my
love, my heart out in my hand . .  "*

   I stood up, grabbed a glass of champagne off a waiter's tray and walked
over to her.

   Stopping in front of her I made a gentle bow, head slightly lowered and
offered it to her.

   One hand holding the perfect crystal by the stem , my other, palm up.

   Kinda coolie style.



   Her little mouth popped open, her chin dropped and then she formally
bowed back and accepted the glass.

   Why did I approach her that way?  I don't know why.  It seemed the thing
to do, maybe I saw it in a Akira Kurosawa movie once, who knows?





   It must have meant something though.  Her eyes were wide open and she
frantically grabbed the arm of her date, softly but insistently, speaking
to him rapidly in Japanese and he, confused, gradually pulled himself away
from the circle of vultures and turned to her . . .  and to me.

   His old appraising eyes looked right though me and he spoke angrily to
her but she insisted something, so he spoke to me.

   "May I please introduce myself, my name is Shinao Taballo, my companion
is Chiasa Anuma and she is, I believe, confused by your actions , may I
help you?"

   "Confused?"

   "A mistake, a cultural clash, I'm sure.  She says, she thinks . .  you
have offered yourself, in Ahh?, service to her.  What pray, may I ask, did
you do to cause her misunderstanding."

   "In service?  To her?  I gave her a drink.  Well offered it I guess."

   "Oh perhaps I see now.  Chiasa is from a noble family and has been
brought up by her parents mainly in our ancient and traditional ways of
Reigi, . . .  Ah?  Etiquette in your language.  She misunderstood your
hospitality as a aizu or hige suru. . .Ah . . .a signal though gesture of a
action, very similar to our ancient custom of offering oneself as . . . 
well, in your culture, I guess the closest word is slave.  But in our
culture it means as a lifelong personal attendant or bondsperson..  I am so
sorry about the misunderstanding .  "



   I was to say the least, Stunned and as his words sunk in, I almost
shouted as I thought out loud.



   "Slave!  Me?  A slave . . .to her?  Bonded!  to her?.  As a servant!"

   He apologetically interrupted my outburst.

   " We are sorry , she meant no offense please accept our apolo~"

   Thoughts, forbidden images, strange dark fantasies , harbored deep in
secret corners of my mind poured up out of their prison and flowed over and
though my mind.  My body started tingling.  My knees went weak.  My sweaty
hands matched the wetness filling my inner thighs.

   Her eyes, knowing, deep, amused, watched me as I struggled with inner
demons.  Etheridge laughed at me and sang my song for me.

   "Sign says do not enter, no trespassing allowed ~ confusion on the
ground ~ the demons day in madness kissed ~ conscience quiet pleading -
forbidden, but I can not resist ~ hey hey hey, oh oh oh,, hey hey hey ~
forbidden but I can not Resist!"*



   "NO!"

   "No?" The poor man was growing very nervous and upset.



   "No! . . .Please inform Miss Chiasa . . .  there was No
misunderstanding."



   And once again I made a deep bow and kept my head down as a confused
conversation in Japanese flowed from the man to her.

   When I stood up, the old man was staring at me in stunned silence and my
new mistress was wearing a cat's pleased grin.

   She spoke curtly and the man translated.

   "She says , Ah . . .  orders, you to come to her hotel room at ten
tonight.  We are at the Fairmont, Suite 1010.  Bring your things.  She say
you'll be staying."

   They turned and left the room.



   Dutifully at ten o'clock.  I entered her suite.  A maid politely led me
into a large living room.

   There she sat, tiny almost lost on a large pillow filled chesterfield,
flipping though the pages of a book.  The book was a Japanese-English
dictionary.

   She beckoned me to her with a small elegant hand and in confused English
said . .

   "Strip, naked, Kneel here, No not there, here ."

   So small, so sweet, so bossy.  I shivered in delight, undressed quickly
and knelt in front of her.

   Naked.

   Close to her, at her feet as ordered.

   She slid to the edge of the couch and opened her kimono, baring her bare
thighs.

   For the first time I gazed on the wonder of her nakedness and minute
glistening sex.

   "I no know words . . .Namreu. . .  here!

   By my hair, she pulled my face to her sex.

   I pretty well knew the word. .  She wanted .  I wanted it too.

   Lick

   and Lick

   and Lick

   and Lick.



   "~ One look from you, I drift away.  I pray, that you, are here to stay.
Anything you want , You got it.  Anything you need, You got it.  Anything
at all, You got it.  ~ I live my life to be with you."*

   "~ There can never be another for me ~ All I need . . .  is a Rhythm
Devine ~ so lost in the music ~ your heart will be mine ~ nothing else
matters just you and the night ~ Can you feel the rhythm?  ~ Can you feel
the rhythm?  ~ Can you feel the rhythm?  - Can you feel the rhythm? 
Burning , Burning ."*