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I looked up as she slipped off her jacket and sat down several tables away, and while she was looking away I quickly scanned her face and figure unobtrusively before returning to my book. She was dressed to the nines in a conservative business suit, her jet-black hair curling under at her shoulder around an elongated face of the sort widely sought in Asian cosmetic ads. She had only briefly glanced at me as she looked around the coffee shop and then took on a forbidding manner with a clear intention not to be bothered. Each of us read silently as we sipped our coffee, and as I read I pondered her. Twice when I glanced up she seemed to have just glanced away, so I quickly glanced away too, pleased at the sight of her svelte figure inside her well-cut white shirt and tailored skirt.

Twenty minutes passed as I reimmersed myself in my novel, eager again to figure out whodunnit, and at the end of the chapter just before the detective gathered everyone in a room and settled their hash, I got up and went to pour myself some fresh coffee. I’d never been in this shop before, but unlimited free refills for less than a cappuccino elsewhere was enough to bring me back even without its being good coffee brewed well. When I finished I turned and saw her standing next to me, so I moved aside, and as she leaned over to start her own refill I said, “Wait, I think I know you.”

With what seemed a stifled sigh she said, “What’s my favorite color?”

“Aquamarine.”

“Wrong. What’s my blood type?”

“A-plus.”

“Double wrong. Besides, I said blood type, not GPA. Where am I from?”

“Japan.”

“No shit. Which city?”

“Tokyo.”

“So no, you don’t know me for shit.”

“No, I mean I recognize you from somewhere.” She glanced up at me in exasperation, and seeing that look on her face I had it. “You played trumpet. Charred Garlic Smoothie. And I think…a recital. Halsey Stevens, Haydn, and…”

“Ewazen.”

“Yes!”

“And as you seem to be the chairman of my fan club,” she said with much less exasperation and perhaps even the beginning of a smile, “what else did I play in?”

“I have no idea.”

She smiled this time, “Not a jazzbo, eh?”

“I am, but I guess I missed you.”

“You missed a lot then. Those were my best performances.”

“I still have that CD you guys…gals…put out when you graduated.”

She grinned, “Yeah, so do I. At least fifty copies. ‘Hey, gals, let’s run off a thousand disks as a graduation present to ourselves! We’ll each get 125, and we can sell’em in no time! Aruba, here we come!!!’”

“Well, sounds like you made it to Omaha if not Aruba.”

“That’s not nearly as funny as you think it is,” she smiled. “I did make it to Omaha. That’s what you get for hitching your star to a ska band. You end up in fucking Omaha.”

“Hey, Omaha’s not that bad. They had Jimmy Skaffa…”

“And?”

“And…hell if I know.”

“Exactly.” We laughed and she asked me to join her at her table by the window, saying, “I have another half hour. Tell me more about myself.”

“Do you still play?”

“No. I work.”

“What do you work?”

“Shouldn’t tell. It’ll dim all the stars in your eyes.”

“Traffic cop.”

She grinned, “Fuck you, I’m an accountant.”

We laughed and she smiled, “You know, I sort of recognized you across the coffee shop. Not up close, of course. I saw you in the audience at some of our gigs. You have the same gaga look, seeing a woman playing a horn, like that’s some sort of big deal.”

I avoided saying I had actually been gaga over the gorgeous and busty Korean saxophonist who was usually behind her in a low-cut top and little to no bra and just said, truthfully, “You played wonderfully. Your solos were tight and when you guys teamed up, it was incredible.”

She nodded, “It was. We were on fire. Ska or jazz or in our brass quintet.”

“Huh, I missed that last.”

“You missed out then. You went to lots of shows?”

“All that free music around campus? Oh hells yeah.”

“You were which year?”

And the rest of the half hour passed far too quickly. She had moved back three months previously in a lateral transfer and worked odd hours in odd places in a curious arrangement I didn’t quite understand. She had played from a very young age and formed the group with her girlfriends as a way to let off steam near test time, and they kept it going after discovering how much pleasure it gave them. She had added a few music classes just for the fun of it and was allowed to give the recital I had seen more as a courtesy from the music department to the pianist accompanying her than anything. “But I still have the CD they burned of it for me,” she said proudly.

At the end she said, “My time here is up. I’m glad you agreed to accompany me for the rest of the day.”

Casting my fate to the winds, I just smiled and said, “Almost like heaven.”

With a mischievous glance she said, “But in heaven there is no beer…”

“That’s why we drink it here.”

We giggled like teenagers and she smiled winningly over her shoulder and winked, “Come on.”

We wandered around the neighborhood and through two of my favorite local used CD stores, where we bought each other a few of our favorites the other didn’t know, and soon it was getting dark. “Come this way,” she said with a wicked smile and conspiratorial arm squeeze and led me into a club. “It’s far from heaven, so what’ll you have?”

I mentioned a local microbrew and she pondered, “Okay, this I gotta try. Next round’s yours.”

We sat drinking and chatting until the band came on, and a bit before their set ended, she said, “Accompany me to the bathroom?”

Ever the gentleman eager to please, I just nodded and followed her down the hall, then when she came out she grabbed my hand and said, “This way.” She pulled us into a sort of sound room and locked the door and pushed me against it. She grabbed my head gently and held it in place as she leaned in and kissed me eagerly. I returned her kiss and enveloped her in my arms, feeling her body taut and muscular against me, and she pulled away long enough to say, “From behind.” She leaned over the chair in front of the sound board and helped me lift her skirt. My left hand rubbed her back as my right hand slid down her taut ass to feel only her skin. I had noted her panty lines earlier, so as she reached back to caress my erection I realized the reason for her bathroom trip, and as she unzipped me I caressed her swollen moist lips.

When I was free she caressed me with her fingers and chuckled, “Quite the trombone! Now fuck me fast and hard. Don’t hold back.”

I asked, “Just to be safe, no disease?”

She grimaced briefly and said, “Nothing you can catch. No babies either. Now fuck me.”

I pushed against her lips and entered easily, and with a thrust I penetrated deep within her. She was eager for it, hot and wet and immediately responsive, and she groaned as I plowed her like a machine. I reached up to feel her breasts within her bra and shirt as firm as the rest of her body; they filled my hand but no more, their pearl-like nipples hard under my fingers. She built quickly to a first climax that only left her hornier, and as she pounded back against me she said, “I’m getting close to the big one. Faster.”

I saw her reflection in the glass in front of us, her face twisted in pleasure and lust, her business shirt and coat visible underneath it, and I sped up as I stared in awe at the sight. I gripped harder on her hips as thrust wildly as I said, “I’ll come soon.”

“Good. So will I. I’ll try to time it with you.”

The room was filled with the squishes of her fluids around my pistoning cock and our gasping breath in time with the swishing of our fabric, and then as her cunt tightened down on me in the unmistakable beginnings of orgasm, I heard a click of a switch and the squeal of feedback and echoes as she began screaming loudly and freely in time with the spasms of her belly. I screamed in unison as the sperm that had been simmering all day finally boiled over and sprayed hot and hard inside her, and as I drained into her she screamed louder and then squealed once. She then said into the microphone, “Attention, K-Mart shoppers, that has been an authentic female orgasm, manufactured from only the finest American cock and worked with traditional Japanese artistry and passion. Sorry, it’s not for sale.”

She flipped the switch off and dropped her skirt, and with a joyous grin said, “Zip up, let’s go!” Not a fool, I was already halfway zipped up, and she turned the lock, slipped the door open after turning out the light, and pulled me up the hallway, round a bend, and into a broom closet just before three loud lummoxes rushed past the junction. She then peeked out, pulled me further down the bend into the kitchen, and strolled past the oblivious staff hand in hand with me and out into the club. Someone started clapping and others joined in; she froze for a split second and then grinned at me, “I was going to catch the second set, but I think we won’t get any peace.” We strolled to the exit and she turned and bowed, motioning to me to do the same, and then blew everyone a kiss as the bouncer looked in and said, “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, we’re leaving. We were reminded we have some private business to transact.”

“Only in handcuffs.”

She gave a surprised look and said, “Whatever for?”

“What’s your name?”

“Pak Jeongja.”

He stood there puzzled, and said, “You’re not Japanese?”

A very ugly look crossed her face and he backed down, “Sorry, sorry.”

“You fucking well better be,” she said, and then said something in Korean. He didn’t respond so she said something else in Korean, rather longer, and dragged me out. “Fucking pigs, let’s go find some place where they don’t mistreat decent people,” she said loudly over her shoulder, and when we got around the corner and two blocks away she started laughing.

“What did you say to him?”

“I first said he should fuck himself, and when I knew he didn’t know Korean I said you fucked my brains out and gave me the biggest load ever, and if he didn’t let us leave you’d do the same to his mother and his older sister.”

“God damn.” I chuckled as she giggled, then we fell apart laughing.

She stopped laughing long enough to say, “All those Korean classes in high school really paid off, didn’t they?” We then laughed even harder, and she added, “Pak Jeongja. Jeez. Semen Park. What a name.”

“Semen?”

“Jeongja, yeah, semen. Cum. Love juice. Pearly essence of the divine rod. And at the moment, that sticky stuff dripping down both my thighs. You must have come half a liter.” I started laughing anew and she joined in. She pulled me to a dance club and we paid the cover, and after she returned from wiping up in the bathroom she pulled me into a booth in a dark alcove around the corner from the noise and cuddled up next to me. After I went and bought us each a drink a few minutes later, she whispered in my ear, “Have you ever taken a woman in public?”

“No…”

She unzipped me and smiled, and saying “Already resurgent,” moved and settled on my lap, pulling up her skirt and with a quick positioning slowly working her hips in a delicious circle to settle onto me. I was pleased the lights were so low, but she gave a quick frown, “We need a spotlight.”

“Whatever for?”

“To make everyone jealous.”

“Fuck everyone else.”

She grinned, “No, fuck me.”

“Fast or slow?”

“Slow. You, you don’t move. I’ll do what I need.” She chuckled and added, “And what I need most now is a nice chat with my delightful witty gentleman friend as he’s nestled inside a warm nest. So tell me, kind sir, you’ve never fucked a Japanese girl before?”

“No.”

“But you wanted to all that time you watched one on stage, didn’t you?”

I’d mostly been hot for her Korean bandmate, but even with my cock deep inside her I had far more than enough brains not to say so. “God yes.”

“Am I as good as you hoped?”

“Better.”

“Damn right. Do you watch a lot of Asian porn?”

After a second I admitted, “Yes.”

“Inspired by little old me?” She gave a beguiling rounded-lipped look of surprise when I nodded, and she said, “Let me guess…You like watching…the pretty Japanese businesswomen done up perfectly, impeccable hair, almost like models, as they lift their skirts and rub off for you. Show you their hairy honeypots with meaty purple lips?”

“God, how did you know?” I growled.

She smiled, “A girl can tell these things, kind sir. And you probably love it when those busty girls wrap their beautiful tits around pulsing cocks and make them spray all over them, and smile like perfect service employees as the cum shoots all over their kilos of mammary joy?”

“Those are good too. Especially…the way they act.”

“Like it’s just the bright side of a good day’s work?”

“Exactly.”

She nodded. “Yes, I like all those too. I’m not built for the second kind…”

We laughed and I said, “They feel fine.”

“Of course they feel fine. They are fine. They just don’t have the same visual appeal.”

We chuckled and she said, “So, you’re a typical white guy with a thing for Asian chicks.”

“No, not really. I don’t have a thing for Asian chicks.”

“He says while he has his thing in an Asian chick.”

“Okay, I have that thing for Asian chicks. Well, one Asian chick.”

We laughed and she said, “When you started talking to me, I was afraid you’d just start hitting on me like a dumbass motherfucker. So many dumbass motherfuckers do, you know. A girl has to shut that shit down.”

She had been largely still in my lap, her body warm against me as her belly enveloped me, while we chatted like nothing was happening, but now she moved slightly fore and aft, letting my cock advance and retreat an inch each time as her pussy took obvious delight in her visitor.

“I have to say, you fit nicely inside me. Amazing for someone so long.”

“I’m not that long. Average, probably.”

“You must be at least ten inches.”

“Not even close.”

“My pussy concurs, you’re at least ten inches.”

“If I were ten inches, you’d yelp each time you thrust down on me from my cock pounding your cervix.”

“Now you’re just trying to scare me, but it won’t work.”

We chuckled and she gripped down on me as she moved a little more quickly. I asked, “And how many times have you been taken publicly?”

She gave a look of shock and said, “Oh, dear sir, I have never! Never ever! I’m a good girl! We don’t do that where I come from! What sort of woman do you take me for?”

We laughed, the tremors delicious in her belly as she ground down more strongly, and she said, “Just this time so far. It was better than I’d hoped.”

I had lifted her skirt enough to slide my hand up her thigh to feel her thick thatch of hair and then reach down to feel her clitoris lightly with a fingertip, and then further down to feel her hairy lips around my shaft. She reached down to lift my wrist and whispered, “When your fingertip’s wet, hold it steady against my little clitty. –Yes, like that.”

We settled into rhythm with the music, and finally the soft ballads ended and something more up-tempo started. She clapped time with the music and wiggled her hips as if dancing in my lap, leaving us both breathless as release approached. Her hips circled relentlessly, her cunt squeezing me in ways I had never felt before as she tried dance move after dance move, and finally she stopped moving her body. Stock still, she grabbed the edge of the table as she ground down hard on me, and the spasms that suddenly exploded in her cunt squeezed the cum out of me as contraction after contraction swept over her; my fluid shot thick and hot into her as her own fluid shot out of her, and as she drenched my pants as she squirted, she groaned quietly in what sounded like a mixture of pain, joy, and overwhelming pride.

Finally her rigid spine and back relaxed and she melted into my arms. “Did anyone see?”

“No.”

“Damn. I wanted to share that with the whole world.”

“They’d kick us out.”

“Totally worth it. God, I’ve never done that before.” She reached down and giggled, “I think you wet yourself.”

“T’weren’t me what did it,” I said in exhaustion.

“Did you ever make a woman do that?”

“Squirt? No, I’ve never been so lucky.”

“Lucky schmucky, I was the lucky one. Damn that was good.”

“You’re the luckiest Japanese woman in the world tonight, and I’m the man lucky enough to be with her.”

She checked to see I wasn’t being sarcastic and smiled, “You’ll get a lot luckier tonight. Assuming you can still get it up. I didn’t break anything, did I?”

“Just a few records.”

“Oh, well that’s nothing. I do that all the time. Are you spent? Are you drained?”

“Not even close.”

“Good, coz I’m tired of not seeing your face when you give me your cum.”

“Good, because I want to strip you naked and see every square millimeter of you. Drink you dry and lick you till you’re wet again and fuck you deep as I watch you come repeatedly underneath me.”

“Great minds think alike.”

We settled ourselves, zipping up and patting down and catching our breath as her deep orgasmic flush slowly faded, and she hummed to herself happily next to me and whispered sweet dirty nothings from time to time. She soon led me home, lending me her jacket to hold so’s to cover the wet spot from her release, and when the door to her apartment closed she turned to me and said, “You wash up while I get ready to make our night. Shower and don’t bother dressing afterwards.”

I lathered up and soaked happily in the hot water to relax for the next few innings, and when I came back into the living room, she stood before me with trumpet in hand, dressed as on the cover of their CD and on stage at one concert at least that I had seen, beautiful aquamarine beret above her perfect face, tight blue dress with a scarf around the neck, and dark hose.

She smiled as she looked closely at my face, and then down to my swollen staff. I looked down as well and smiled, “See? That’s hardly ten inches.”

“Of course it is! It’s…” She then giggled. “Shit, I hate converting from metric. I never can do it right.”

We laughed and I retorted, “Some accountant you are.”

“Sorry, I don’t deal with foreign cocks in my day to day work.”

She lifted her trumpet and looked into my eyes as she quietly played the slow movement from Concierto de Aranjuez, and at the end said, “Sorry I’m not Miles Davis.”

“Why the hell would I want a man in front of me right now?”

She laughed and blushed slightly and said, “You damn well better not. I have plans for you.”

She played some more as I watched her melting into the music, desire mixing with musical joy, and after a few more minutes she lowered the trumpet, kissed me, and said, “Do you like my blue dress?”

“I love it.” I looked more closely and said, “What are those stains?”

“What stains?”

I pointed down towards the hem and without looking down she knelt before me, ran her tongue around the head of my cock, and stroked me lightly as her tongue swirled my precum around her mouth. She pulled back, swallowed with gusto, and looked me in the eyes as she said, “That would be my husband. He always fantasized about Monica treating him like the leader of the Free World, and when he saw my picture on our CD…?” She shrugged, leaned in, and with one lunge took most of me into her mouth and worked me into her throat.

I stared into her gluttonous eyes as she worked me with pleasure and skill, her hands caressing me as she delighted in my responses, and too soon I started throbbing hard in her mouth. She winked, pulled back, spread her dress carefully before her, and leaned back as the first spurt shot out of me onto the lower half of her dress, soon joined by many more in one of the largest loads of my life. “That’s it, wash him away. Take his place. Cover his worthless seed with your precious jizz. Oh yes, so beautiful! Another spurt! All for me? More?!?” She looked up at me with evident pride and pleasure in her eyes, a beautiful smile on her lips half those of a pleased lover, half a talented service employee, and stroked and aimed my cock to direct my cum to shoot all over the front of her dress, stream after stream making an abstract pattern soaking her dress as white streaks spread out in darker pools of wet fabric. She bent forward and took the last three small spurts in the back of her mouth and swallowed happily.

She pulled back after sucking out the last drops and my heart leapt as she said, “You came so much more than he ever did. You taste better too. Now let me remove this dress. I don’t want to mess up the stain.” She turned around and let me unzip it, and then she carefully slid out of it and draped it over the back of the sofa to dry. Her body was thin, even thinner than when she had played on stage, and she carried herself with elegance even as her clothes disappeared.

She turned around to face me, and I came up to her, stood beside her, and knelt. “May I?” She giggled as she put her arm over my shoulder and again as I lifted her effortlessly and took her into her bedroom. I laid her down on the bed and undressed her slowly, smiling as I saw her watch me with pride as I uncovered her breasts. I sucked on them as her body came fully alive again, and when her hips started circling I kissed down to her waistband and kissed each new square millimeter of skin I uncovered as I pulled off her panties.

Her hair was wiry and rough, and despite being well-trimmed at the edges overflowed in sodden tangles; I licked into it and then worked my way down. She spread her thighs and smiled as I gazed in awe. “She’s even better than the cunts of all those pretty pretty businesswomen spreading for you, isn’t she?” I nodded and reached out to explore her hairy outer lips spread wide open to reveal the wrinkly lips inside, flushed and swollen for me. “You have to kiss and lick her a long time, and then she will make both of us happy all night long.”

I leaned in and tasted her as my fingers caressed her, slowly circling closer and closer to her tunnel, and as my fingers finally entered her, she held my head and guided me as she moved under my tongue. “Yes, lick my lips like that. Leave your fingers there, just press hard on that spot. Yes, like that, right there. Now lick my clitty and whatever you do, don’t stop. I’ll do the work.”

She moved around and under me, my fingers rubbing hard against her spot as her clitoris circled under my circling tongue, and even as my jaw tired and my fingers grew sore, she didn’t stop as orgasm after orgasm washed through her. After fifteen minutes the big one started, and finally her body overflowed again, spurting onto my jaw as she screamed in abandon.

Finally she released my head and lay exhausted in front of me, her engorged labia a shocking purplish-red orchid gaping open for me between her wiry white thighs sodden with her second squirtings, and I rose and covered her, thrusting my cock into her. She groaned, “God, yes!” as I took her roughly, fiercely, all the way to the hilt on the first thrust, regretting for once that I wasn’t ten inches so as to fill her to overflowing.

As I thrust into her, she groaned, “That’s it, fuck every trace of him out of me. Replace his cum with yours. Give me every drop you’ve got.”

“Did you ever swallow him?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll have to wash him out of there too.”

“God yes, I’ll suck you like you’ve never been sucked before three times a day if you just wash him out of my cunt right now.”

We went at each other in senseless lust for fifteen minutes, pounding against each other like two enemies in a deathmatch, and as her body lost complete control and fucked against me like a trapped animal, I pummeled her cunt as it squeezed down on me like a vise. My first spurt shot into her spasming belly as she screamed loud and dirty in Japanese, and finally I collapsed on her as she passed out.

I held her underneath me as I resettled the cover around us and then slid off her to hold her as she lay unconscious against me. I watched her face as the passion left it and a sweet peace seemed to fill it, and after a few minutes she awoke. “So it really happened.”

“Yes,” I said.

She nodded and yawned, and after resettling against me she smiled, “If we ever have a reunion, I’ll wear my dress with pride and make you add some more stains afterwards.”

We giggled and I looked at her. She smiled again and said, “So.”

“Yes. So.”

“Separated.”

“Divorcing?”

“I don’t know.”

We lay there for a while and she said, “So.”

“So.”

She smiled, “So.” After a pause she continued, “So anyway, I have no idea if he’ll ever want me again. In Japan…well, we have old superstitions that…so, I had cancer. Ovarian. This,” and she pointed to what I had thought an appendectomy scar. “I was so damn lucky we caught it so early. A routine total checkup, and I’d had…well, early on it’s like IBS, you know. But I had read…well, and had them check…So it was caught about as early as possible and both were removed. So no children. And some people still believe…it’s an old idea…that it’s contagious. Fucking stupid. But he got all scared and squeamish. And hurt, that no children…Like I wasn’t hurt?”

After a minute she added, “So he hinted I should leave, and I told him to get his shit together and left. I was on sick leave, so I work part time here as I recover. First month was hell, but it’s been fine since then. No children? Well then, that dream is over. No husband? We’ll see. But I’m alive and plan to stay that way.”

She kissed me and chuckled as I started caressing her hairy mount. “I think she’s gone to sleep finally. Oh, I see you haven’t yet. Well, let’s wash his bad taste out of my mouth, shall we?” She chuckled as I lay back in awe, and she watched me proudly as I fell to pieces under her mouth. Her head bobbed as she explored me with her mouth, and she pulled away long enough to say, “Am I the best you ever had?”

“Yes! God, yes!”

She nodded, “Yes I am.” She redoubled her efforts, her deep red lips shocking around the white shaft of my cock, and when I started cooing to encourage her, she opened wide and worked me in as far as she could, eager to take me completely. She soon had my shaft nestled fully in her mouth as my head rested in her throat, and she smiled as it pulsed madly and gave her my seed. She swallowed as I groaned in pleasure and passed out, and when I woke up the lights were off and we were nestled together in bed.

She chuckled, “Awake? Sleep, but remember, I loved every second of it.”

“You give incredible head.”

“You inspire me.”

She rolled over to lie in my arms and soon started snoring. A minute later I slipped back into sleep myself.

I awoke to sweet hot jazz playing in another room and got up and walked into the living room. “Good, you’re awake. I have a meeting in a couple of hours, so get dressed and I’ll buy us breakfast. You’ll be spending every night with me from now on, so plan accordingly. Later you can take me to your place and take me at your place and we’ll take it from there. And rest up so you can give me lots of tasty cum tonight.”

I grinned and said, “Good morning to you too.”

Suddenly someone knocked on the door and she opened it slightly and peaked out. After a few seconds she said, “Sorry about the noise.” After another pause she said, “Um, no, I shouldn’t be ashamed of myself…Because I’m an incredible fuck, that’s why. And an incredible cocksucker, and God, you wouldn’t believe the cunt sucking I got last night…I’m so sorry your boyfriend’s ego and cock are so delicate he can’t get it up when a healthy woman gets it good and hard from a healthy man.” After a long pause she just nodded, “But yes, I promise to keep it down. Or at least try.”

She shut the door and grinned at me as I stared at her, and she smiled, “She wasn’t as angry as she sounded. We’re friends. We were joking. Well, she was joking, I was bragging. Damn, that felt good.”

“The sex or the bragging?”

“Both, but that time the bragging.”

Over the next few weeks we took each other repeatedly every night and were simply inseparable. She had developed a taste for public sex, dragging me into assorted offices, stores, and one time a church whose schedule she had checked so we wouldn’t disturb any good gentlefolk seeking paradise in less worldly ways, and as we left she jammed a large donation in the box. “What? We have to help the poor,” and we laughed as I added a few dollars. She set to with gusto, whether in public or private, and took pleasure in driving me crazy with pleasure.

After about a month, however, she became a bit distant, less impulsive and carefree, and would put on jazz or ska albums as sit quietly in a pensive mood until grabbing me tightly and kissing me until she felt better, then she would usually settle us on the floor for our regular but never routine sixty-nine to start. We would end in bed and on occasion she would put on one of her own albums, jazz or ska or her recital or the brass quintet, and stare into space as if wondering what the point was.

After a week in which she was suddenly too busy to see me three nights (“Seeing an old friend,” she said), she took a vacation for two days. When she returned she proposed we paint the town a particularly bright shade of crimson. We went to the first club we coupled in and snuck again into the sound room, where she sat on the edge of the desk and held my head as I licked her juicy center. I heard the sudden click as her thighs clamped down hard on me, and as she squealed, the echoes came weakly through the hallway. After thirty seconds of intense pleasure, she said, “This is not an emergency, nor is it a test, and I didn’t get drilled either. Ladies, this could be you…if you were me, but you’re not. So sorry. This has been a public servicing announcement.” She turned off the switch and ducked out with me into the broom closet, then after we heard the rushing past the hallway we ducked into the kitchen…where the bouncer we had met before stood arms akimbo with a slight smile playing around the corners of his lips.

“You again.”

“Us again.”

“So, Ms Pak, do you get your jollies in public often?”

“Not often enough by my druthers.”

He nodded and smiled, “We’d rather you didn’t do that, not here, but you’ve actually become a bit of a legend here. People ask when our next aural sex show will happen. You were even so kind as to record it that first time, did you know? It’s been used in at least two jazz mixes.”

She grinned, “And…?”

“And so, please don’t do it again, but do have a drink on the house and enjoy the second set.” He smiled at me, “And you, sir, might wish to wash your face before joining Ms Pak in the main room.”

I ducked out with a smile and returned a moment later, and she took my hand and said, “So, shall we go have some fun?”

The second set passed uneventfully, and we ended up later at her place, where she put on the one and only album by Charred Garlic Smoothie and came out dressed in her dress. She stared up at me as she unzipped me and fellated me, and I boiled over onto the front of her dress, which I streaked thickly from the collar down to the knees, taking a deep pride in each spurt as she smiled up at me, winking when each thick stream launched onto her. She smiled and let me help her remove it carefully, whereupon we coupled repeatedly on the floor, the couch, and her bed.

Finally we lay there exhausted about three, and she said, “Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Eternally? Purely? Only me forever and ever, come what may?”

I paused and she nodded, “I don’t love you that much either. My husband I do. And he realized he does as well. Came to his senses. I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry. You were the best friend I ever had and the best lover, but not the best love. I’ll never forget you.”

I thought and said, “Yes, you were the best ever. If only there were that last little bit more, but without it…”

“And you’d think it doesn’t matter, but it does. More than anything. Thank you for loving me like you have. I’ll always be there for you. If you ever need to make a major foreign currency transfer in the best way not to draw the attention of federal authorities, or need someone on your side going up against the IRS when they fuck up your taxes again like they always do, or charter your own corporation and you want the best financial control system to make sure your underlings don’t embezzle you blind…” We laughed and she added, “Really, I won’t forget this, or you. It was what life should have been like, if only I hadn’t been so used to doing what good Japanese girls are supposed to do.”

We woke late and she made breakfast as I helped, and we ate it like an old married couple that still felt passion. After we had washed up, she whispered, “One last time, and then we’re just friends, okay?” We sixty-nined on the kitchen floor and I took her on the dinner table, and after I washed my face she met me at the door and kissed me farewell. As I left, she smiled, “Goodbye, my friend,” and waved before closing the door.

A week later I looked up as a woman slipped off her jacket and sat down several tables away, and while she was looking away I quickly scanned her face and figure unobtrusively before returning to my book. She was dressed in a T-shirt inside a denim jacket, her jet-black hair falling to her ears around a round face of the sort not widely sought in Asian cosmetic ads. She had only briefly glanced at me as she looked around the coffee shop and then took on a distant look. Each of us read silently as we sipped our coffee, and as I read I pondered her. Twice when I glanced up she stared into my eyes as if daring me, so in a dare of my own I ignored her despite the sight of her plump, busty figure.

Even though I was at the beginning of the chapter where the detective gathered everyone in a room and settled their hash, I stood up and went for a refill of coffee. When I had refilled it, I turned to see her standing behind me, a head shorter than me, and I stood aside to make room for her. As she refilled it, I said, “Wait, I think I know you.”

“For your own sake I hope so. I’m well worth knowing.”

She lifted her coffee cup and took a sip as she looked at me appraisingly over the rim. I smiled at the coincidence. “You play, or at least played, saxophone. Charred Garlic Smoothie. Pak…Jeongja, no, Jeonghwa.”

“Right, Jeongja’s someone else. No one calls her that though. Family’s as traditional as they come so they followed the naming customs with the cycles of characters by generations, and they named their daughter that, never mind what it means, because that’s the rules. She only answers to ‘Jeong.’”

“Really?”

“Maybe, maybe I’m just bullshitting. But will you ever know?”

“I like the story, so I’ll accept it as true.”

She smiled.

Over dinner she sat back and watched me. I finally raised my eyebrow and she said, “What’s wrong? I must be losing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re supposed to be staring at my tits by now. All the men do.”

“That would be disrespectful.”

“They’re very attractive tits. Even the women say so.”

“I’m sure they are.” Remembering a comment from a month before, I added, “I’m sure they do.”

“Maybe you should be less respectful.”

I stared into her eyes and said, “Actually, I’ve been staring at them all night long.”

“I’ve been watching. You haven’t.”

“Not when you’re looking, no.”

“I’ve kept a very close eye on your eyes. Like that gold fleck at eight o’clock in your left eye. I’ve mapped your irises out.”

“But I only look down when you blink.”

After a second she smiled and stared wide-eyed at me like an unblinking lynx and said, “Go on, look.”

“Nope.”

She blinked finally and I said, “Nice, very nice. Full and well-rounded.”

“I didn’t close my eyes completely, and you didn’t look down. I call bullshit.”

She then leaned over to pick up her purse, and out of sheer contrariety I continued staring ahead despite the nice view I could have had past the collar. She sat back up after a minute and said, “Damn, you didn’t look once.”

“I stared. I gorged my eyeballs on your charms.”

“Bullshit. I was watching you in the mirror behind your head and you didn’t even glance down once.” We laughed and she smiled, “Thanks for not looking. It’s a nice change.”

After dinner she led me to a park next to campus where a jazz band was giving a free concert and she smiled, “Just like old times.”

“It is. You said you still play. With them?”

“No, the next one.”

“Will you play tonight?”

“If the stupid fuckers don’t lose my horn or drop it out of the van onto the fucking freeway, yeah.”

I shudder, “God, did they ever do that?”

“No, because I told them what would happen if they didn’t take care of my horn like she was their own mother.”

The jazz band was hot and talented, and I was almost sorry to see them go. She had slipped away and after a few minutes of preparation the lights went up and Crunchy Surprise launched into a medley of Skatalites covers that did the masters full credit, then they did several originals, all heavily jazz-tinged, all catchy, and most with bitingly satirical lyrics that she bragged earlier she had penned. The set lasted a bit over half an hour, and when she joined me carrying her horn, I said, “The queen of ska in these parts.”

“With these kids I feel like the queen mother.”

“That…Charred Garlic Smoothie was excellent, but you outdid yourself.”

She nodded, “We’re getting tighter, the kids are getting really good, learning the tricks from the old classics…Want a beer?”

“Of course.”

“Cool.”

She led me three blocks to a dark house and walked up to open the door. I goggled and she said, “What? You think I’m gonna pay for a beer for someone who’s not me? What do you take yourself for?”

I laughed and she led me inside. She put up her saxophone carefully in its appointed place and slipped off her jacket, and before my third sip of beer she had moved next to me and breathed on my neck. I looked at her and she said, “I watched you staring at my tits the whole time I was on stage.”

“I was watching your fingering.”

“Bullshit.”

“Your fingers are very quick.”

By this time one of her tits was pressed deeply into my elbow and she replied, “You think you’re going to get into my pants by acting the nice guy, don’t you?”

“I’d never dream of doing such a thing.”

“You don’t want in my pants? Bullshit. You lie like a shitty toupee on a fucking rug.”

“What?”

“It makes sense. Just think about it.”

We laughed and I said, “No, about acting like a nice guy. That’s bullshit.”

“So you do want in my pants.”

“That doesn’t at all follow from the statements that have been made thus far.”

“Fucking chop-logic. Are you sure you’re not a lawyer?”

“Now you’re going too far, Missy.”

“Woah-ho, ‘Missy’? Well, goddammit, you’re getting in my pants whether you want it or not, just so I can wipe that shitty grin off your face.”

Both her tits had enveloped my upper arm by that time, and she reached up, turned my head to her, and locked her lips to mine. I reached up to cup her breasts, which were as full and soft as I had dreamed, and as I stripped her bare she said, “If you don’t stare at my breasts all night long now, I’ll leave you hanging when you need to come the most.”

I laughed, “Then I’ll just push you down and stare at them while I fuck the shit out of them.”

“No, you’re doing that right now, mister.”

“Who says I’m only doing it once, Missy?”

She grinned, “Do it, I dare ya.”

She helped me unzip and unbuckle, and pulling a tube from under the sofa cushion she lubed me up. I thrust deep within her breasts as she held them tight around me, a decade-plus dream coming true, and stared greedily at their flawless light brown with darker nipples, and she stared up at me proudly as I lost myself in them. I thrust fast and hard and in three minutes sprayed up onto her chin and neck, smiling more broadly as each spurt paid proper tribute to her, and when I finally started to soften I chuckled, “There’s a new lake around these parts right under your chin.”

“That’s a new fucking ocean. Fucking hell, I was worried you didn’t like them.”

“I worship them.”

“So I see,” she said as she sat up and looked at the massive load I had left on her. “Okay, we’ll do that again when you’ve worn out my cunt. I assume you’re up to that?”

“Forever and ever.”

“That won’t be necessary, just three times a night.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

She grinned, “And if you need more, we can work something out.”

After she wiped up with her T-shirt and tossed it aside, I reached for her belt and she reached down to help me strip her bare. Her hair was thick between her thick thighs and obscured her sex, though when I pushed her down and she spread her thighs for me, it was fully open to me and not at all shy. I dove deep and felt her build almost immediately to a thundering climax that left both of us exhausted. She giggled, “New Christmas song. ‘Boyfriend the red-nosed cunt-munch/Has a very shiny nose/And when my clitty feels it/Oh how my cunny flows!’”

“I like it.”

“We’ll play it at our next concert.”

“God. You’ll make all the girls jealous.”

“Only the Korean ones. No way I’d sing that in English.”

“And why not?”

“Too passé.”

We laughed and she said, “So are you hard again because you think you’re gonna get something, or because you like sucking my cunt?”

“Because I love sucking your cunt, and I love staring at your tits.”

“Well, I guess you get all three then.” She lay back so that her head lay in my lap as she looked up at me, and as I played with her tits she rolled her head back and had me lift my hips until she had room to suck me, and as she took me into her, I groaned, which only encouraged her to open wide and take me deep into her. I lasted three minutes and flooded into her, and she coughed but swallowed it all. I pulled out and crouched above her as I lowered my head and sucked her again, and as she responded I started hardening again.

She rotated her hips as I circled my head to keep on target, and when I was fully hard she said, “Now fuck me like we’ve both wanted all night.”

I changed position and thrust into her, and as she held me in her arms and between her thighs and looked up at me like a woman who had finally found he perfect man to take pride in pleasuring and possessing, I said, “Actually, I’ve wanted this for over a decade.”

She laughed, “I hope you don’t take that long to come! I had one guy who’d take well over an hour, and believe me, that’s only sexy once or twice in a blue moon.”

“How’s fifteen minutes?”

“Make it twenty and you’re golden.”

After three golden couplings and a final load between her breasts to apologize to her tits for ignoring them so insultingly before, I collapsed onto the floor and she pulled me to bed and said, “I don’t do one-night stands. Never have and I’m not starting now, so be warned, I’m a serious woman.”

“I’m yours. Seriously.”

She smiled and said, “Now hold me and keep me safe, and when you wake up I’ll still be here.”

Three weeks later she said, “Let me take you to lunch.”

“I’ll pay.”

“Of course, that’s understood.”

“So you’re not taking me…”

“I am, I’m just not paying.”

I smiled and accompanied her to a nice French restaurant. A few minutes later I looked up in surprise and she said, “Surely you remember Emiko, our trumpeter? And if you don’t remember her for that, surely you remember her as your lover before me?”

I blinked and said, “I remember her forever as both.”

She sat down and said, “I’m glad you two are so happy. I told you I’d always help you. So…”

“Your plan?”

“Her plan when she heard I was returning to hubby. I’d told her all about you and she was quite taken with you.”

Jeonghwa stared looking at the corner with a slight blush until she said, “I even followed you two on dates a couple of times. ‘Public servicing announcement.’ I like that. Fucking radical. Yeah, I needed that.”

“If you two hit it off,” Emiko added.

“And we did.”

I just smiled and said, “Thank you. Both of you.”

After a while I asked her, “And how are you? Are you happy?”

She smiled, “I am. It was…he was very different when I returned. Much more like I’d become. I was worried that when he saw the dress he’d change his mind, but I just held it up and said, ‘This is what it cost you not accepting me before. Accept this too, or I’m gone. He made me happy and kept me alive, but I’m all yours if you’re man enough to accept the consequences of what you did to me.’ And after a minute he did. He didn’t even say something stupid like forgiving me for cheating on him, so I forgave him.”

Jeonghwa said, “Fuck’im, it’s only fair.”

She and Emiko looked at each other oddly but without any easily placed emotion like anger or sadness, and Emiko said to me, “Fair is fair. I stole him from her.”

“He was stupid. That’s what I thought at first, but no, he’s just different. I wasn’t what he needs, and she is. At least he didn’t cheat on me. He broke up with me and said he was in love with her, and he pursued her and won her without any help or hindrance from me. He was so stupid though, pushing her away when she was sick, but I’m glad he’s gotten somewhat intelligent in his old age.”

Emiko laughed, “He’s our age.”

“And we’re old.”

“Old enough, not old.”

We laughed and Emiko added, “I always told you Japanese men were a lot of trouble, but did you listen to me?”

“Yeah, well, I told you Korean women are the hardest ball-busters in the world. Of course he ended up with some girly-girl. He couldn’t handle a real woman.”

They were grinning by this point and they turned and looked at me expectantly. After a minute watching them back, I simply said, “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”