Tanner noted the time with a sense of detachment, not concerned or hurried, but with an awareness that his guest would soon arrive. A geisha, Tanner thought while gazing out through the expanse of windows in his penthouse apartment. Tanner rolled the word through his mind again, sampling its meaning as if he could taste its implications. Would she offer sex?
Probably, but there was no guarantee. From what little he understood, the geisha were high-class entertainers who serviced the most wealthy and sophisticated men of Japanese society. Certainly, she would be beautiful, no doubt she would possess impressive skills in music, dance, and poetry, but sex?
Such erotic pleasures are always suggested, but never explicitly included. Offering personal gifts from expensive wine, works of art, or even high-class call girls was fairly common in the world of investments Tanner lived in, but being offered the services of a geisha must have been some kind of first, at least in the States.
The fact that Noboru knew of one skilled enough to meet his standards was more proof that all things could be found in New York City. He had questioned Noboru when he spoke of his gift, why something so personal, so intimate? In the end, Tanner decided that decorum dictated that he graciously accept the offering. Regardless, Tanner was excited by the prospect of sex with such a skilled woman.
He was at a point in his life when he had little time to date and his chances to sate his considerable sexual appetite had become scarce. This was more because of his dedication to his work than his ability to lure a woman into his bed.
At six-foot-two, he was a striking man, with an analytical mind and subtle wit. He simply hadn't been willing to put the effort into a relationship while he was working eighty hours a week. He was as meticulous about his appearance as he was about his life and he worked hard at both.
As a result, his lean body was sharply defined but not overly muscled. Being a man of multi-racial heritage, Tanner was more aware than most of how easily people tended to form undeservedly limited expectations of others based on their own preconceived notions.
Though his dark skin made most people simply assume he was black, the truth, as it usually is, was for more rich and varied. His mother had always called him a Renaissance man, saying his background of so many races was the future of what humanity would someday be. That knowledge gave him a strength that matched his intellect and allowed him to succeed in the conservative and judgmental world of finance where others so often failed.
In a sense, his corner penthouse on the forty-third floor was simply an extension of himself. The furniture and decor were modern and minimalist, yet still managed to be warm and comforting. With the lighting dimmed, the city lights below made a beautiful backdrop for a living space that provided him a sanctuary away from the ultra fast pace of his work.
This same disciplined self-awareness had become second nature to him, so it was no surprise that he took pains to ensure Miharu would see him for the man he was, rather than just another 'Gaijin' or foreigner that the Japanese so often secretly disdained.
He made certain that his normally well-kept space was immaculately clean. Like Japan itself, he mused, the combination of his modern space would contrast perfectly with her traditional skills, providing an ambiance of which he was sure she would approve.
How he dressed would be equally important. His choice of a silver-grey leisure suit with a darker silk shirt gave him a look that combined relaxed informality with a sophistication that he was sure would catch her eye. Pouring two fingers of Hennessy neat, Tanner lifted the tumbler and saluted the thought of his friend. With any luck, though he dared not hope, something else would salute his friend tonight. Her name flowed effortlessly off his tongue and Tanner wondered how it would sound to her.
Sipping his drink, Tanner let the stress of business slip from his mind and body, intrigued now by his impending guest. She often thanked her ancestors for being blessed with the opportunity to be geisha. Wondering what effect leaving had on her family, but not letting it burden her, Miharu recalled how her life evolved over the years. There was no other word for it. Miharu dreamt of the world of geiko since seeing her mother and aunt entertain several businessmen, including her father, as geisha.
The young girl was fascinated, maybe even obsessed, with the lifestyle. The beauty of their attire, their ability to enthrall through poetry, dance, conversation, and as she learned later, even their superior skill in the art of sex immensely appealed to her. Immediately upon telling her mother what she wanted, her family was pleased. So after finishing junior high school, Miharu began her training as a maiko. It would take years, nearly six to be exact, before she became a geisha.
She exhibited the best of her mother, a superior dancer, and her aunt, the ultimate conversationalist, and poet--those talents, combined with those that were drilled into her by her okasan house mother made her one of the best in the okiya where she trained. However, Miharu was not a perfect maiko; she often paid too much attention to the trappings of modern life and western ways. It was that imperfection that brought her to New York City. During her training, Miharu became deeply interested in ballet.
Although she was instructed exclusively in traditional Japanese dance and despite her contract, she applied to and was accepted by Juilliard. Miharu was given a fully furnished loft, a more than adequate bank balance, and the names and addresses of several contacts that lived in New York.
While studying dance, Miharu did not wish to hide her status as geisha but instead wanted it to become secondary to what had become her newest obsession; the life of a ballet dancer.
Tanner Brock, Noboru said, was a brilliant young investment professional with no time for the fickleness and pretense of dating. Miharu listened intently to the details given, spoken and unspoken. Knowing something about Tanner prior to their meeting seemed like a good idea, so she learned everything that she could via an in-depth web search. Preparing for their meeting, Miharu paid much attention to the details. Miharu lingered in the warm and fragrant bath.
Images of Tanner, of his deep, bright eyes and his trim and powerful body, played through her as she slowly sponged her legs. He was exotic and remarkably handsome, and she sighed as the telltale warmth of arousal slowly began coursing through her body. Soon, her hand moved over her mons and she allowed a single finger to slide into her rapidly moistening slit. The young geisha embraced the moment, caressing her tender flesh until the heat she felt in her core matched that of the water embracing her skin.
Her other hand cupped her pert breast, gently pinching her dark nipple until tortuous pleasure began pulsing through her. There were no hurried or jerking movements, and the bath barely stirred as she wound the sensation into a magical aura that made her heart beat with the rhythm of her desire.
Every nerve in her body was tuned into that aura and she let it grow, consuming her body in a dance of gratification that caused her legs to tense and shake. Her breath grew deeper as she approached the edge and the single finger was joined by another. Every nuance of her skill built her arousal until she felt her orgasm burn like the sun.
She was more than able to ride the edge for as long as she desired, but on this night, her duty lay with the man who had so powerfully captured her thoughts. With him in mind, she drove herself over the edge and cried out softly as her orgasm thundered through her body. Relief poured through her and she felt a strong desire to lay in the water and let it caress her now tired muscles, but time was passing too rapidly and she composed herself, wrapping her mind in her professionalism as surely as she would soon wrap her body in silk.
Afterward, Miharu carefully considered her attire as she prepared to dress. A simple golden silk kimono with flecks of vibrant primary colors spread throughout it was her choice for the evening, perhaps if Mr. Brock was worthy, she would don the full attire of the geisha at a future meeting.
Did she even want a second encounter? She swept her hair up in a loose, elegant bun and noting the time, she applied her makeup--again nothing traditional, just enough that he would be able to recognize what she was.
Thankful for the limo and the time it took to arrive at his penthouse, the oddly nervous Miharu replayed the conversation with Noboru. Miharu was impressed--beyond impressed with Mr. Still, there was something that compelled her The voice of her okasan sounded in her head. Remember what you are. Glancing at the clock, he noted with satisfaction that it read 7: Being punctual was important to him and it would have felt awkward had she been late, so he was pleasantly relieved that she was not.
Still, he felt an unexpected rush of excitement, and he took a moment to compose himself before opening the door. Nevertheless, the vision of beauty he beheld upon opening it almost left him speechless. Miharu, for that was surely who she was, stood nearly a full foot shorter than he and her golden kimono covered her slim frame with a subtle beauty that was very formal and yet still highlighted her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry.
Large, almond-shaped eyes gazed at him, surrounded by a face that was delicate and smooth. Please, come in," he managed to say without letting his voice show his sudden excitement. Brock," she demurely replied as she dutifully followed him into his foyer. Her English was flawless, with just enough of a Japanese lilt to perfectly fit his image of what she would be like.
Following the direction of his arm, Miharu lead the way into his living room. As she paused to take in the grand, city vista, he had time to appreciate the delicate grace in the way she moved. She seemed to almost float as she made her way to the window. A small, wicker basket was gently clasped in her hands in a way that made her appear both submissive and comfortable in his presence.
Her bearing and dignity, it was almost regal, had caught him off guard and he struggled for a moment, unsure exactly how to proceed. I am here for your pleasure tonight. Please allow me to serve you. I would very much enjoy that. It will be my pleasure to entertain you tonight. She was sweet and confident yet managed to make him feel like a man. He stepped toward his couch with every intention of complying with her wish but paused when her hand rose to her mouth, hiding a smile that turned into a grin.
We can sit close and face each other as we begin, yes?