and lead him into the living room.
Blood pounding, cunt dripping, nipples tingling, I needed relief, but I was already running late for work. Jenn would notice if I tried to sneak back into my room. She would never allow me to pleasure myself in private. She’d make it a big ol’ love fest. With a sigh, I placed my mug in the sink and headed toward the genkan —the entry.
“Are you going to the train station?” Sanchez asked.
I nodded.
“Great. Give me sec, and I’ll walk with you.”
When Sanchez opened the door into the living room, Brent’s moans filtered into the entry. He was obviously enjoying himself. Oh, how I wanted to take a peek, to see the action, but I didn’t have the guts.
Clothes in hand, Sanchez shut the door and returned to the genkan . I watched as he covered his muscled chest and tried to button his pants over his erection.
“Tight squeeze, but I’ll be okay by the time we get to the station.” He held the door for me and waited as I grabbed my briefcase and purse.
Gorgeous and a gentleman.
I liked to spend the twenty-minute walk to the train station in thought, clearing my mind before going to work. Impossible when all the blood in my body pulsated in my pussy.
“So, you have a thing for some guy at work, huh?” Sanchez smiled.
“Yeah, but he’s way out of my league.”
“Guys don’t have leagues. We’ll screw anyone.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I tried to ignore the punch to my gut. Images of my humiliating interview danced through my head. How could I be stupid enough to think any man would want me as a hostess? This was Japan, for God’s sake. I wasn’t petite, blonde, or perky. The fat pimp at the bar didn’t care about my fluent Japanese. The pity on his face nauseated me. Everyone knew Japanese men wanted dainty Western women. Western men wanted willowy Japanese women. A year in Japan had yielded me, Natalie James, a big fat zip in the date department.
“So, what about this guy does it for you?” Sanchez pulled me from my thoughts.
As we walked past the odd only-in-Japan combination of cabbage fields and suburban homes, I explained. “I’m not sure exactly. He’s tall, attractive. His hair is so thick and black it shines blue in the sunlight. When he laughs, my toes curl. He smiled at me once in the canteen, and I thought I’d pass out.”
“Smiles are good. That means he likes you.”
“Well, I don’t think he was actually smiling at me, maybe at the woman standing next to me, but it was in my general direction.”
“Ha! You’re funny.” Sanchez’s strode much faster than I, and I struggled to keep pace. He noticed my heavy panting and slowed. “What do you talk about?”
Fifteen minutes stretched between me and the train station. There was no way to outrun the guy, so I figured I’d go ahead and talk. Might as well take advantage of the male perspective. “Nothing.”
He stopped and turned to me. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think he knows who I am.”
“How long have you worked together?”
“About a year.”
“Then, trust me, baby, he’s noticed you.”
“Yep. A year. And he hasn’t talked to me. So, woohoo, he’s noticed me and doesn’t like what he sees.”
“Baby…” It felt nice being called such a sweet endearment. I didn’t care that he was using one because he probably couldn’t remember my name. I’d take it. “You’re very noticeable. Especially around all these skinny chicks.”
He should have just hit me in the stomach. It wouldn’t have hurt nearly as badly. Fat pimp guy’s laughter filled my head. “Japanese man want skinny blonde. You fat, like sumo. No one want you.”
I couldn’t stop it. Tears filled my eyes. I clenched my jaw, hoping to stop their flow and trudged forward. Sanchez grabbed my arm, “Baby, stop.”
“My name’s Natalie,” I said, no longer appreciative of the endearment.
“I know, Natalie.” He pulled my arm, making me stop. “I hurt your feelings.
Blood pounding, cunt dripping, nipples tingling, I needed relief, but I was already running late for work. Jenn would notice if I tried to sneak back into my room. She would never allow me to pleasure myself in private. She’d make it a big ol’ love fest. With a sigh, I placed my mug in the sink and headed toward the genkan —the entry.
“Are you going to the train station?” Sanchez asked.
I nodded.
“Great. Give me sec, and I’ll walk with you.”
When Sanchez opened the door into the living room, Brent’s moans filtered into the entry. He was obviously enjoying himself. Oh, how I wanted to take a peek, to see the action, but I didn’t have the guts.
Clothes in hand, Sanchez shut the door and returned to the genkan . I watched as he covered his muscled chest and tried to button his pants over his erection.
“Tight squeeze, but I’ll be okay by the time we get to the station.” He held the door for me and waited as I grabbed my briefcase and purse.
Gorgeous and a gentleman.
I liked to spend the twenty-minute walk to the train station in thought, clearing my mind before going to work. Impossible when all the blood in my body pulsated in my pussy.
“So, you have a thing for some guy at work, huh?” Sanchez smiled.
“Yeah, but he’s way out of my league.”
“Guys don’t have leagues. We’ll screw anyone.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I tried to ignore the punch to my gut. Images of my humiliating interview danced through my head. How could I be stupid enough to think any man would want me as a hostess? This was Japan, for God’s sake. I wasn’t petite, blonde, or perky. The fat pimp at the bar didn’t care about my fluent Japanese. The pity on his face nauseated me. Everyone knew Japanese men wanted dainty Western women. Western men wanted willowy Japanese women. A year in Japan had yielded me, Natalie James, a big fat zip in the date department.
“So, what about this guy does it for you?” Sanchez pulled me from my thoughts.
As we walked past the odd only-in-Japan combination of cabbage fields and suburban homes, I explained. “I’m not sure exactly. He’s tall, attractive. His hair is so thick and black it shines blue in the sunlight. When he laughs, my toes curl. He smiled at me once in the canteen, and I thought I’d pass out.”
“Smiles are good. That means he likes you.”
“Well, I don’t think he was actually smiling at me, maybe at the woman standing next to me, but it was in my general direction.”
“Ha! You’re funny.” Sanchez’s strode much faster than I, and I struggled to keep pace. He noticed my heavy panting and slowed. “What do you talk about?”
Fifteen minutes stretched between me and the train station. There was no way to outrun the guy, so I figured I’d go ahead and talk. Might as well take advantage of the male perspective. “Nothing.”
He stopped and turned to me. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think he knows who I am.”
“How long have you worked together?”
“About a year.”
“Then, trust me, baby, he’s noticed you.”
“Yep. A year. And he hasn’t talked to me. So, woohoo, he’s noticed me and doesn’t like what he sees.”
“Baby…” It felt nice being called such a sweet endearment. I didn’t care that he was using one because he probably couldn’t remember my name. I’d take it. “You’re very noticeable. Especially around all these skinny chicks.”
He should have just hit me in the stomach. It wouldn’t have hurt nearly as badly. Fat pimp guy’s laughter filled my head. “Japanese man want skinny blonde. You fat, like sumo. No one want you.”
I couldn’t stop it. Tears filled my eyes. I clenched my jaw, hoping to stop their flow and trudged forward. Sanchez grabbed my arm, “Baby, stop.”
“My name’s Natalie,” I said, no longer appreciative of the endearment.
“I know, Natalie.” He pulled my arm, making me stop. “I hurt your feelings.
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