The Gentleman's Club, part II

This is a plot that has been in my head for a long time, and I put it to paper using my favourite band, BUCK-TICK, as the inspiration. You do not have to know who they are or even much about Japan to enjoy this story, however. Continue on!



When my senses slowly began to return to me, I wondered why I was laying down. My fingers pressed at the surface I was on; it felt cold to the touch. And hard. I groaned and turned my face downward so that it was directly on the cool surface. My head was pounding so fiercely it felt like it was trying to detach itself from my neck. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, willing for the pain to go away. And then I heard it.

A cough disrupted the stillness. It echoed loudly and I wondered where the hell I was. What had I been doing? I was at the concert with Jessie… Jessie!

“Jessie?”

With what little strength was left in my arms, I propped myself upright and opened my eyes, blinking back the fog to stare around at my surroundings.

“Jessie is not here, girl.”

Reflexively I turned to look over my shoulder to see who had spoken. I was not prepared for who I saw reclining sideways on what appeared to be a giant throne.

“You…Imai?”

A wicked grin spread across his lips and I gawked at him. There sat the main guitarist of Buck-Tick, wearing a black tuxedo and a cane clutched in his left hand. On his left side stood a man who was staring at me- my guess was that it was him who had spoken, as it was not Imai’s voice I had heard. Another man stood on Imai’s right side, though slightly behind him in the shadows. He was draped in a cloak, his face hidden from view. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room and I turned to gaze around me.

I was laying in the middle of a huge chamber. The cold surface I noticed earlier was actually black and white swirled marble, and it glistened under the glow of hundreds of candles. A massive, ornate chandelier hung from the high ceiling above me, and I realized that I must have found myself in some old mansion for the room to be this large and elegant. Then I realized that I was not alone in the room with the three men by the throne.

All along the walls there were cloaked figures, watching me. I could see their eyes glistening in the faint light, every single pair focused upon me. The feeling gave me the chills and I shivered, crossing my arms across my chest and hugging myself. No one seemed in any rush to tell me where I was, or what I was doing here.

The man from the bar must have had something to do with this.

The bar!

“How did I get here? I was just at a bar-”

Imai’s voice rang out in Japanese, followed quickly by the translation of the man on his left side.

“Don’t speak unless spoken to.”

The words died in my throat. Imai’s voice had not sounded hostile, but it was definitely cold. He seemed to find great amusement in my confusion, because he smirked and swung the cane around the side of this throne. He spoke, and the man translated.

“So, Miss Amy. I understand from my friend here,” Imai motioned to a man standing at the end of the group on the right wall, and I could vaguely distinguish the face of the man from the bar underneath the hood, “that you have only been in Japan for two weeks now.”

“I have, but-”

“And you are unhappy being here?”

“No, not exactly-”

“Then why did you tell him this?”

Irritation at being repeatedly cut off gnawed at my insides. Still reeling from whatever chemical odor lingered in my nostrils, I forced myself to remain calm.

“I was a little drunk. I’m not entirely sure I’m not dreaming all of this because, oh I don’t know, I’m sitting in this castle-looking place where Imai from the band Buck-Tick is sitting on a throne?”

Muted snorts and chuckles passed along the group against the walls before Imai banged his cane on the throne. The room instantly went silent again and he spoke, followed closely by the translator.

“If you are not unhappy, then why were you getting drunk in a private club?”

“I was not aware that it was private, the bartender did not turn me away and he,” I accentuated the word and pointed a shaking finger at the man from the bar, “did not tell me, either.”

Imai’s eyes narrowed, and hissed something in Japanese. The man translated, amusement plain in his voice.

“You will not address a Gentleman with such a tone.”

Before I could stop myself, I snorted and let out a derisive laugh.

“Some gentleman! He had his little cronies knock me out with something on a towel!”

Silence answered my little rant. Though no one said anything and Imai’s expression never changed, the very length of the silence unnerved me. I bit my tongue, not daring to say anything more. I tried to distract myself by counting how many men were standing against the walls. When I had reached sixty-two, Imai’s cold voice rang out.

“Suzuki-san.”

The man from the bar stepped forward, still hidden by his cloak.

“Get the rope.”

“What?”

The man called Suzuki nodded once and left the chamber, and I immediately began struggling to get to my feet.

“What do you mean ‘get the rope? Show me the way out of here, right now!” I cried in a mixture of fury and fear. When I managed to get to my feet, my legs wobbled and I collapsed to my knees again.

“Miss Amy,” Imai began, being translated by the man with the maddening air of explaining something to a child, “allow me to explain to you who we are. We are an elite group known as The Gentleman’s Club. The bar that you happened to wander into is our… less formal meeting place. The Gentleman with whom you are acquainted happens to be one of our highest-ranging officers. It is he who brought you here. You see, we are wish-granters.”

I stared at the translator and Imai, and then the still-silent man on his right. Mounting terror kept me from regaining the strength in my legs, and I could feel the excitement pick up amongst the other members. The translator went on.

“Suzuki-san brought you to us because you seemed to feel that you had lost all hope with the world, and had only one true wish. Would you like to inform us of that wish?”

Everyone’s eyes were on me. My face burned and I glanced helplessly at the faces around me, hoping to find someone who might help me escape from this place.

“Miss Amy,” Imai’s own voice rang out.

I flinched and turned to look at him. My mouth had suddenly gone very, very dry and I had to swallow and lick my lips before I felt I could even speak.

“I… I don’t recall. I had had a few shots and was ranting.”

“That is a lie. The other Gentlemen saw you, you were speaking the truth,” the man translated. “Now say it to the group now, or we will be forced to make this even more difficult for you.”

The man from the bar had returned with a wad of rope, waiting for my answer. Stunned, I merely slid off of my calves and onto the floor again. I laid down on the marble, hoping upon hope that this was all some strange, horrible dream from which I would soon awake. Maybe the bartender would be shaking me and telling me that I had passed out and needed to go home. Then I could call Jessie and have her come and get me…

“Very well, then. We do this the hard way.”

Hushed whispers reached my ears. The members lining the walls were speaking excitedly to each other, their quick Japanese unintelligible to my tired brain. Someone snapped their fingers and it went dead silent again. I lifted my head a fraction of an inch so that I could look up at Imai. The man on his right side had moved forward so that he was standing directly beside Imai. His face was still hidden with the hood.

A quick but quiet conversation took place between the two men. I could not hear the hooded man’s voice, but he stood very rigidly. His body language told me that he was not very comfortable with whatever Imai was telling him. Shivers ran the length of my spine and I buried my face in my arms again.

“Stand up, Miss Amy.”

The translator’s voice registered in my mind but I was still convincing myself that this was some nightmare that I would soon wake up from. I shook my head, willing everything else to vanish.

Without warning a pair of hands roughly grabbed my arms and pulled me into a standing position. My head lolled to the side and I gazed blankly up at Imai. The translator spoke.

“Please tell us what you told Suzuki-san here in the bar. What was your one dream in life?”

“I… I said that I wanted to meet Atsushi.”

“Atsushi who?”

“Atsushi Sakurai,” I answered dully, going along with it.

“And why do you want to meet him?”

“Because he seems…nice.”

Resounding laughter filled the room, and I jumped, startled. Imai was grinning at me.

“Do you think he would care about you if you were to meet?”

My face burned, but it was so dim in the chamber that no one but me knew. I clenched my teeth and looked away, tears threatening to flood my eyes and stream down my cheeks. Of course I didn’t, but I wasn’t about to bare my soul to a stranger again. He read into my silence and answered with a laugh which leaked into the translator’s own voice.

“I didn’t think so. But regardless, we are here to grant your wish. But for a price.”
When I lifted my eyes to glare at him, I did not see the jesting expression I had expected to see. Imai’s face was completely serious, and calculating. I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued despite everything.

“What price is that?”

Imai’s eyes sparkled maliciously, and he answered in his own voice.

“Our way.”

He let the words sink in and stared at me intently, waiting for my response. My eyes darted feverishly around the room, examining any face that I could see for a sign that this was some elaborate prank to humiliate foreigners, but the only thing I saw on their faces was dark greed. Finally, after a long pause, I turned back to Imai and briefly inclined my head. The corner of his lips pulled into a smirk, and the man on his right shifted his weight.

In an instant another man was before me and he gave me one devious grin before he began yanking my clothes off. With a shock I first realized that my coat had already gone. Then with terror I realized that this man was trying to strip me naked before everyone present, and I screamed at him.

“Don’t touch me, you bastard!”

“Our way,” Imai repeated, the laughter evident in his tone.

Try as I did to release myself from the men, my clothes ended up being strewn every which way. When I had gotten down to my undergarments, a loud cheer erupted from the crowd. Whereas before they had been silent as the grave, they now reminded me of spectators at a wrestling match, cheering until one of the participants was subdued. I shivered as the man who had torn off my clothes ran his finger down my abdomen.

“Enough!”

A rush of blood to my head had me depending on my captor to support my weight. There was no possible way… It couldn’t be…

“Aaaah, Acchan!”

Slowly, with trembling limbs, I lifted my head up and finally looked into the face of the man who had stood silent for so long.

If I hadn’t just felt the clothes ripped from my body, I would have still been convinced that this was all a nightmare. But the cold air on my skin and my shivering limbs and chattering teeth reminded me that this was all happening. Atsushi was gazing at me with a blank expression, but his eyes were hard. My stomach seemed to bottom out before I realized it was not me he was glaring at-- it was the man who was holding me.

“Let her go.”

Imai laughed and said something casually in Japanese. Atsushi responded, his voice dark and guarded. Imai laughed and the sound sent another round of chills through my core. The translator addressed the crowd.

“Sakurai-san has accepted his role in tonight’s Masquerade!”

The roar was deafening. I had no idea what masquerade he was referring to; all I knew was that for some reason, the man I had spent years idolizing was standing amongst these beasts. The revelation pained me more than anything had in a very long time and, if it weren’t for my captor still holding me upright, I would have crumpled to the floor.

Atsushi’s eyes never left mine. Absurdly I felt a surge of self-consciousness, as all but my bra and panties were scattered across the floor. But there was nothing of lust in his eyes. He seemed defensive about something, but I could not begin to comprehend what of. I could not bring myself to look away from him, and it was a shock to realize that something was being strapped onto my face.

A mask.

Simultaneously every other person in the room pulled on a mask. Atsushi’s was red and black with gold, and Imai’s was purple and gold with black. These small details kept me occupied-- I could not think about why we would have to wear them.

Imai waved his hand towards me, and the men cheered once more. Atsushi took a step towards me and they fell silent. Imai had reached out and put his hand on Atsushi’s shoulder; he was whispering something into his ear. He half-nodded and resumed his walk towards me.

It seemed to take forever. Every step towards me was slow and deliberate. I could see his broad shoulders underneath the cloak, and his long hair seemed to vanish beneath his lowered hood. Every moment was eerie beneath the ebony folds. The whole scene seemed to be something from a dream until, quite suddenly, he was standing before me. His eyes bored into mine for a long time, and there was complete silence in the hall. Without warning his eyes shot to the man who held me in his arms.

“Let go of her.”

He spoke in Japanese, but I could tell by his angry tone and the immediate release of my arms what he had said. Gingerly I rubbed my upper arms where he had gripped so tightly, and they throbbed. I would be bruised terribly in the morning. My captor had bowed so low that the top of his head brushed against my back. Now free to move, I stepped forward and turned to glare at him with as much venom as I could. He backed slowly towards the group against the wall and disappeared amongst them.

“Amy.”

His voice was soft and gentle. I turned around and looked up into his eyes. Despite the tone, his face was hard and dangerous looking. His eyes continued to search mine, and when he spoke again it was in good enough English for me to understand.

“I have to do this, or someone else will. You would rather it be me, yes?”

“Do what?”, I whispered, my voice shaking to match the rest of my body.

He did not answer for a minute. His eyes moved in the general direction of where Imai sat behind him, and then they settled on me again.

“Do you trust me?”

My mouth gaped, but no sound came out. He repeated himself, but with more urgency this time.

“Do you trust me, Amy?”

“Yes… I do,” I whispered, terrified as to what I was agreeing to. The tension in the room was palpable; everyone else seemed to be waiting for something that I could not see coming.

He reached his hand up to his neck and undid his cloak, tossing it carelessly to the side. Underneath he wore a black suit and boots, and I found myself almost forgetting the situation I was in, I was so intent upon staring at his body. Many years had passed where I frequently imagined what it would be like to see him in person, and here he was, standing before me and looking every bit as I had imagined him to.

Slowly he took my hands and pulled me towards him. His right hand moved up to cup the side of my face, and his left forefinger stroked my lips. When he whispered, it was in such a low voice that I had to strain to hear him.

“What I have to do might frighten you, but it has to be done, for your sake. I’m sorry.”

With that he reached behind me and, with experienced fingers, unhooked the snap of my bra. It fell to my wrists and the members against the wall cheered in appreciation. My hands reflexively went to cover myself but Atsushi grabbed my wrists. He pulled the bra off of my hands and threw it on top of his cloak. Then he pulled me roughly towards him and put my fingers on the buttons of the blouse under his coat.

“Undo them.”

Though I obeyed, my fingers trembled so fiercely that it took me far longer than it should have to get them all unbuttoned. When I had finished, he took hold of my hips and pulled me so tightly against him that I could feel something hard pressing into my belly. My eyes closed and my mouth hung open as his lips found my jaw line and left a burning trail all the way down to my collarbone. When his fingers hooked into the sides of my panties, however, my eyes shot open and I struggled to get away from him.

“No, please,” I begged him, tears filling my eyes once more. “Please don’t do this, I can’t do it this way, not with everyone watching-”

His mouth found mine then, and his lips were so soft that for a moment I had forgotten why I was crying. No man had ever kissed me with such tenderness before, and I found myself reciprocating it with mounting enthusiasm. My arms found their way around his neck when a loud crack echoing in the room made both of us jump.

Imai said something in Japanese. It was calm, but almost severe sounding. Atsushi did not turn around, but when I looked up into his face his eyes were closed tightly behind the mask. It was as if he were steeling himself for something. Then, without warning, they opened again and he was staring at me with eyes that looked almost black. Something was buried in them that had not been present before, and I tried to place what it was. And then I felt it press against me, answering my unspoken question.

Lust.

In one quick motion he had shoved me down onto the ground and undone the top of his pants. The men in the crowd cheered, and I could hear the “thud thud” of something blunt hitting the marble. I realized that Imai must have been finding whatever was happening between Atsushi and I before boring. He probably told him to liven it up.

My eyes found Atsushi’s. His hair was framing the sides of my face and I could smell some mixture of cigarettes and cologne on him. Despite my hatred of cigarettes, the scent was seductive. The longer he stared into my eyes, the more pronounced the stirring in my lower half became.

His lips found my collarbone again and he trailed downward… further…and then his lips found my right breast. I gasped for air as he kissed it, tracing his tongue over my nipple. The men around us cheered again and I squirmed underneath Atsushi’s weight. No matter how much I wanted to enjoy this, I could not forget the fact that the loss of my virginity was becoming a spectator sport.

The thought brought some eruption of clarity into my mind and instantly I began thrashing underneath him, screaming as loudly as I could.

“Let me go! Let me GO!”

But his hands held onto me. I screamed even louder but the sound did not seem to phase him. Instead he looped his forefingers into the sides of my panties and pulled them down my legs, tossing them onto the pile. My eyes watered and I stared at the ceiling helplessly. I felt him move in between my legs, and his right hand released my hip. He lightly touched my cheek and turned my face so that I would meet his eyes.

“Rape her! Rape her! Rape her!” the men chanted in unison. I could hear the tapping of Imai’s cane on the marble, and the raucous laughter of the translator by his side. My eyes finally met Atsushi’s, and in a fraction of a second there was an understanding between us.

I realized that he didn’t want to do this to me any more than I wanted it to be done. As the men’s chants became louder and more bawdy, the thought occurred to me that if he didn’t do it, one of the random men in the crowd would do it, or Imai himself. The thought made me shudder, and then I understood what he had meant when he asked if I would rather it be him. It struck me that as he stared at me he was waiting for something. What was he waiting for? He could do it right now, there was no one to stop him.

When I saw a single tear slide down his cheek, it dawned on me what was stopping him. He could not bring himself to do it without my consent. I felt my body respond to this single act of chivalry more deeply than anything else he had done to me, and pressed my hips against his. Propped up on his elbows, his hands cupped my face and he stared into my eyes for a few seconds longer. Then with one, swift thrust, he was inside of me.

The cries of the men drowned out my groan of pain. They were chanting something unintelligible but I didn’t care. I could feel Atsushi moving rhythmically inside me and the men began to cheer in sync with his thrusts. My eyes found Atsushi’s and his hands never left my face. My body was not prepared for the penetration-- despite my emotional response, there was nothing to physically make the sex easier for either of us. I could see on his face that he was aware of his hurting me, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. After awhile the pain gradually subsided and I felt my insides slowly begin to tighten around him, molding to his shape. I watched with surprise as his own eyes clenched shut, and wondered if it felt good to him.

“Come! Come! Come!”

The whole thing was reminding me forcibly of some sort of virgin sacrifice. Their chants only got louder and more excited as Atsushi’s thrusts became harder and more swift, but I could not tear my eyes away from his. I knew how it must look to the others. To them he was holding me down and thrusting as hard as he could to inflict as much pain as he could upon me, because that is what they wanted to see. Only he and I knew that it was truly consenting.

My body began to tense and my breath quickened. Instinctively my body began to meet his thrusts, and the men cried themselves hoarse when they saw me begin to take a part in it. There was a loud thundering of stomps that echoed off of the marble floors and stone walls. The candle light flickered and danced off of the chandelier that hung above us, casting rainbows on the ceiling. I noticed these things as if in through a haze, and my entire body seemed to be lifting off of the ground in my haste to meet Atsushi‘s.

His breath came in short huffs and he lowered his face so that his left cheek was touching mine. The long, black hair that I had stared at so often in pictures was dangling around our faces in curtains and hiding us from view. Shielded from the vision of the barbarians, his fingers intertwined with mine, and he whispered hoarsely into my ear.

“I’m so sorry.”

He had felt it coming. My whole body seemed to clench and tighten around him moving inside of me, and the only thought in my head was that I wanted him to be deeper. I lifted my pelvis off of the ground so he would be able to do just that, and he complied. With every thrust I came closer and closer to something that my entire body seemed to exist for and, when it finally came, I squeezed his hands so tightly that I vaguely wondered if I was hurting him. His hands held mine firmly on either side of my head as I whimpered softly into his ear, the shudders pulsing through my body for what felt like far too short of a time. Gradually I relaxed and went limp beneath him.

The force of my body’s clenching brought Atsushi pounding into me with such force that it hurt, but I did nothing to stop him. He had lifted his face to mine again as he had watched me orgasm, and his eyes burned into me. My mouth was opened slightly and I realized that nothing felt more natural to me than this moment. His body tensed and I felt him spasm against my skin, and something warm spurt inside of me. He gasped for air and drummed against me as deeply as he could, and I brushed my lips against his. When his body stopped shuddering, he let his body weight sink into me.

Then, quite abruptly, the screams I had pushed into the background of my awareness ended completely. The only sounds were the continued labored breathing of the two of us, lying tangled together on the marble floor. Then, much to my dismay, Atsushi lifted himself up. As he did so his lips brushed my forehead lightly, and he gave me a look full of some meaning that I could not comprehend. He stood up and fastened his pants. The blouse and coat that had been opened during the act so that he could feel my skin against his, he now buttoned. He then held out one hand and offered it to me.

Though I was unsure if I could stand so soon, I took his hand. There was a throbbing pain in my groin, and my legs felt weak. He gently pulled me up so that I was standing, and picked up his discarded cloak from the ground. With a whooshing sound he flung it around my shoulders and I felt it float down around me, hiding my body from view of the men who were now watching silently. Atsushi fastened it for me, and turned to face Imai.

I was not expecting the betrayed expression I saw there. He was staring at Atsushi as if he had done something very wrong, something taboo, but the former did not waiver in his protective stance in front of me. His voice was loud and firm as he spoke, in English so that I would understand.

“I’ve done it. Now take her back.”

The translator glanced at Imai, who’s eyes never left Atsushi’s. He seemed to be having some internal struggle, a battle of two evils inside of him that only he could comprehend. After a long, tense moment, Imai waved his hand to the man from the bar, Suzuki-san. He approached Atsushi and I with a damp cloth, but Atsushi held up his hand. The man froze. Atsushi held his hand out commandingly and, with a brief glance at Imai, the man gave it to him.

Atsushi then turned to face me, his face full of some emotion that I could not fathom. He lifted his hand to brush my cheek, and kissed me lightly on the forehead once more. Leaning forward so that his face was mere inches from mine, he whispered so softly that none but I could hear.

“Do you forgive me?”

I nodded, at a complete loss for words. There was nothing I could say.

A shadow of a smile lit up his face but quickly vanished. He enfolded me in his arms and placed the cloth over my nose and mouth. I stared up at him for as long as my eyes would stay open and, as the blackness once more engulfed me, I heard him whisper in my ear.

“Take care, Amy-chan.”





“Amy! AMY!”

“Uuunh.”

“Amy, wake UP!”

Someone was shaking me. There was a faint muttering of voices around me and I wondered where I was. Bleariness overwhelmed me but something triggered my memory. My eyes flew open and I blinked furiously, staring around the room.

He was not there. Instead, there kneeled Jessie. Her face was lined with worry and I could tell that she had been crying. My heart seemed to fall into the pit of my stomach at the realization of where I was.

The other students staying at the hostel were peering at me curiously. Instinctively my hand flew to my hair, futilely attempting to finger comb it.

“What happened?”

Jessie seemed relieved that I was able to speak, and her eyes closed as it all came out in one quick rush.

“I don’t know. You never came back to the hostel so I had everyone here round up a search party to find you. You had said you were going to find a bar so we looked for places in that area where you had walked off. We saw this place called The Gentleman’s Club. It was so late by the time we got there, almost five in the morning, and the bartender seemed very angry. He said that you had passed out from drinking too much and he wouldn’t just throw you out so he had to wait for you to wake up again. He seemed very glad when we took you away. Amy I told you not to drink, do you see what happens when you do? What is your mom going to say?”

I stared at her in disbelief, my mouth hanging open. Then, as if she had been holding in her emotions this whole time, she wailed and flung her arms around me, sobbing that she had thought I was dead. I winced and pulled away from her grasp. She looked at me, hurt, and I shook my head.

“No, no, not that…”, I winced again and pulled my coat off, then rolled up my sleeves. There, on my upper arms, were purple, hand-shaped bruises. I gaped at them. Jessie didn’t even flinch.

“Yeah, the bartender said that you got into a fight with one of the men there. A man, Amy? He could have really hurt you!”

My fingers pressed lightly into the bruises. They stung, turned white for a second, and then faded back to indigo. I lifted my eyes to meet hers. They were round and fearful, and I felt guilty that I had ever doubted her loyalty to me.

I managed a smile for her. This immediately cheered her and she clapped her hands imperiously at the students who still watched curiously.

“Okay, Amy needs her rest! Make yourselves useful and get some juice or something.”

Grumbling, but too tired to argue, they obeyed and trickled out of the room. My hands clenched at the coat in my lap. Jessie crawled closer, rubbing my leg.

“I’m sure it was scary… Do you remember anything?”

“No,” I lied immediately. “Nothing at all. Just drinking and passing out.”

She tilted her head and gazed at me. I knew she could tell I was hiding something from her, and I smiled wanly. She said nothing else about it.

“Hey, by the way, you’re lucky to have your coat back.”

“What?”

“Well I guess you had taken it off somewhere and the bartender said some guy with long, black hair had found it and given it to him. He said to make sure you got it back, as it was very cold here in Tokyo during winter,” she laughed.

I stared at her blankly and clutched the coat to my chest. She smiled and patted my leg again.

“I’m going to go get some breakfast, it’s been a long morning. Want anything?”

“No… I’m fine, thanks.”

Her blonde curls bouncing behind her as she cheerfully left to forage for some food, I watched with disconnected eyes as she left me alone. I turned ninety degrees so that my legs were hanging over the side of the bed and got to my feet. Instantly a searing pain in my groin answered the action, and I collapsed back onto the bed. The coat fell out of my lap and I saw a fold of something white sticking out of one of the pockets. Gingerly adjusting myself so that the pain wasn’t quite so bad, I curiously reached in the pocket.

It was an envelope.

I stared at it but there was no writing on it, and it was sealed. Reflexively I glanced all around me to make sure no one was near me before I ripped it open. Out fell a wad of yen, a thick, rectangular piece of paper, a plastic item, and a letter. I pulled the letter into my lap and read:

“Amy-chan,

The bartender, who speaks fluent English, agreed to help me with this letter. What you endured last night was something you should never have experienced, and for that I will be eternally sorrowful. However, if you would allow me, I would like to make it up to you. You may use the enclosed if you so wish, but if you don’t then I would understand that, as well…”

Though the letter wasn’t finished, my eyes flew to the other items in my lap. Upon inspection I realized that there was a wad of money with a little note that said “airfare“, one front row ticket to a Buck-Tick concert, and a backstage pass. I gaped at them, then hurriedly returned to the letter.

“Please know that Imai-san is not as horrible as he seemed last night. He inherited the organization from his father and has to look the part, but he only allows things to take place where he feels he can make them more humane. I joined the group to help support him. The masks, the concept of a masquerade, all of that is something he created as an attempt to distance ourselves from what we have to do. These men channel their violence through what is, unknowingly to them, usually a staged event with an actress. However, that damned Suzuki decided that it would be interesting to see if I would actually subject you to it. To protect you and Imai, I did. Of course no one could ignore that what happened between you and I was not the rape they were used to seeing… And the men could tell. Chaos was about to ensue. Normally the identity of the women we take are kept secret from the general members. When I asked for permission to contact you, Imai thought carefully and made a show of saying that Sakurai-san of The Gentleman’s Club was not permitted to contact you in any way. That would be the end of it, and I would learn my place. Then he winked at me. So instead, as Atsushi Sakurai the man, I ask you to allow me to make amends. I hope to see you in a few months, so that we can start anew.

Yours,
Atsushi Sakurai”

I stared at all of the items in my lap for a few minutes, stunned by all that I had seen and heard the night before, and knowing that it was all true. Many times I re-read the letter and gazed at the ticket and pass, and then quite suddenly I was overcome with such a fit of hysterics that my stomach began to hurt from laughing so hard.

In a flash Jessie was there, a half-eaten donut in her hand and a look of terror on her face.

“Wha’ happen‘?”

“The man in the bar who gave the coat back works for Buck-Tick,” I lied smoothly, “and gave me money for a flight over here, a front-row ticket, and a backstage pass for when their tour kicks off next month.”

Jessie’s mouth fell open, the powdered sugar stuck in lumps to her pouty lips.

“Wow… Someone out there must really like you!”

I smiled and hid the letter behind my back, tucking it carefully into my back pocket, and allowed her to ramble on about her newly-forming plans to get some money and come over with me, and how she might be able to see Gackt again since he would still be on tour. Then, with all seriousness, she turned to me with a thoughtful expression.

“What do you think the chances are that he might sleep with me?”

Her expression was so intense that I merely shrugged nonchalantly and smiled at her.

“You never know… Maybe you should go to The Gentleman’s Club with me next time. You might just get your wish.”

She looked so cheered by this idea that I had to work to conceal my grin as she rambled on about getting drunk and acting sad so she could get a free ticket, too, and allowed her to daydream as I quickly pulled the letter from my pocket. I laid gently down, the throbbing in my groin ebbing as I clutched the letter to my heart beneath the blanket. Allowing myself to remember with fondness the night before, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.