It's only minutes since she left, but my body yearns for her.
After some more personal contact, I get dressed and go down and get a bottle of coke, racing up at 11PM because I know Noboko will call as she always does for some quiet, love talk.
"Moshi-moshi, beautiful," I sigh into the phone.
"Eiiiii?" says the slightly familiar female voice on the other end. "How did you know it was me?"
I might have to write the word 'crap' here because I try to keep the swearing in this blog to a PG-13 level, but I can guarantee you, I was thinking triple F-bombs all the way, as every single muscle and my sphincter tightened to the point of strangulation.
"How was your evening?" Junko asks in her near-perfect English with a voice that could make honey so sweet a bee would become diabetic.
Every paranoid bone in my body (and I have quite a few) suddenly shifted causing every hair to stand up on the back of my neck…
Did she know I was sleeping with Noboko… was she spying on me again? Where the fug is she?
I stood up from my comfy chair and slowly peered out the glass sliding door to see if I could see her anywhere outside the apartment complex.
"Don't worry… I'm not outside."
Oh sh!t!!! She's inside my apartment!!!
"So… where are you?" I ask expecting the worse.
Junko was, until I met Noboko, the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. The big differences between Junko and Noboko were in the level of sexual appetite… while Noboko could be freaky and let me do whatever I wanted, Junko's tastes were more fetish-like than freaky, hot sex, with lots of bondage, lots of spanking and lots of insertions… all of which I was quite happy to provide.
Sex was all pretty new to me physically, having only first experienced things when I arrived in Japan in 1990… but I had been doing a lot of one-handed reading of men's magazines for more than half my life, and actually read the articles to broaden my understanding of a world I was not (at that time) privy to.
Junko… she opened up my mind.
The only big problem was that while the sex was fantastic, Junko was jealous, and began following me everywhere, threatening to threaten every female who crossed my path.
Not only did she drop her three Japanese boyfriends when she met me (one to buy her things; one to take her to dinner; and one to sleep with), she sometimes bought me things, would bring dinner in to my place; and would spend many sleepless days and nights at my place in marathon sessions of sex and tantric sex and fetish sex that left me so tired I knew it wasn't healthy.
She even dropped out of university to follow me around.
I might be a horny bastard, but I wouldn't ask anyone to drop out of school for me, because I think that's very important.
Her constant demands for sex - and me being very weak-willed when it comes to sex - my lack of sleep, her threats, her curvy body, round butt and very nice boobs, and succulent lips confused me so.
I confided in my situation with a fellow JTE (Japanese teacher of English), who with help from my board of education fellows, picked her up and took her back to her mom's place and to hopefully get her some much needed psychological help... though I wonder if obsession is a psychological threat.
Of course it is. It's called stalking.
Anyhow... after several months, Junko is now back in my life, sounding as sweet as ever, and all I can think about beside her near instantaneous wetness, is that she's going to hurt Noboko to get her out of the way to have me all to herself again.
I should note, however, that Junko did not mind having an FFM three-way, but only if she was the dominant female in my life. While I don't know if Noboko would have been into that sort of stuff - probably, because she trusted me, she did know about Junko and would not have trusted her.
Noboko knew about Junko, because I told her, and I did so loving the fact that I was in love with Noboko.
So... Junko on the other end of the phone.
Was she outside? Had she already intercepted Noboko and was holding her tied up in the trunk of her car? Was that why Noboko hadn't called? Where Junko was concerned, anything was possible. Oh yeah... Junko called exactly at 11PM when Noboko was supposed to have called - I don't have call-waiting.
A very small part of my brain wondered if I could date Junko while still dating Noboko, but I cared too deeply for Noboko to actually consider that more than a fantasy. I was happy and sexually exhausted with Noboko... I was just exhausted—physically and emotionally—with Junko.
"I'm home," she smiles sweetly through the telephone.
Is she lying? Where is she, I think as I jut my head up again to peer out the door...
"I'm not in front of your building," she says.
What the fug is it with the Japanese women in my life and their effing mind-reading abilities?!
"So, how are you?" she continues, but before I can answer, she says, "I just wanted to say sorry for my behavior.... I was... chotto crazy desu kedo ( a little crazy, though). "
You could have knocked me over with a feather... but despite how things had ended, I don't like it when other people put themselves down, and told her she wasn't crazy... probably just excited about a lot of new things going on....
If I knew any better at that time, I would have said that Junko had experienced a hyper-sexual episode of manic behavior... I never saw the depression, so I can't say she was bi-polar....
We chat some more, she apologizes again and again, I tell her she has nothing to apologize for, thinking that I hardly helped by being her willing partner in crime... and then she asks if I'm seeing someone.
"Andrew," she coos in her near-perfect English, "are you seeing anyone right now?"
I know that tone... and I know that if I could still get it up after that wonderful evening with Noboko just some 45 minutes ago, I might have said something else.
Instead, I said I simply said "Yes, I am."
To her credit, Junko did not pry and did not beg.
While I liked it when she begged... she simply said, "Me, too."
I immediately became jealous, and wanted to know who, what, where, when, why and if she wanted to spend the weekend locked in my apartment...
But, I, too, almost without emotion, simply said, "I'm glad."
Continuing, I add: "I'm expecting her call. Feel free to call if you want to talk or are feeling out of control again."
"Why, so we can fug?" she asks.
That wasn't what I implied, but now that she mentioned it - no! Noboko!
"No, so we can talk."
"Good night, Andrew. I love you," her voice rings out holding its melodic air in my ear as the dial tone begins to drone.
Thankfully, she didn't give me time to respond... I'm not sure what I would have said.
As I hang up the phone, it rings.
"Hello, beautiful," I say.
"I'm sorry, my father was talking to me about work, it's why I couldn't call earlier."
"It's okay, Noboko... do you want to talk now, or are you tired?"
She mutters some Japanese at me that sounds like whining, and it probably is, but she says 'yes', she is tired.
"Good night, An-do-ryu-kun (she can say my name in the proper English way, but she knows I like it when she uses the Japanese girlfriend variant of it). I love you."
"I love you, too, Noboko."
And, like typical lovers, each one waits for the other to hang-up first... both of us hearing the other's breath kilometers away.
Being sort of romantic back then... I should have just quoted some Shakespeare or Alice In Wonderland or Dylan Thomas and gone gently into that good night (or do not)... but I gotta be me.
"I can still taste you on my fingers."
"Bayakyarao (stupid idiot!)" she laughs and hangs up.
So, is romance dead? No... it's just a little bit mixed up.
It's no wonder she used to call me a diamond in the rough.
I took it (at the time) to mean I wasn't as refined as a diamond, but now in 2014 I can also see that it means I'm not as perfect as a diamond... that I'm still just a lump of coal feeling a little bit of pressure.
The image above is from a website I found with a whole bunch of interesting Japanese record singles:
The image features the duo of Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart, and the singles: "I Wonder What She's Doing Tonight?" and "The Ambushers".
These two boys also wrote songs for Paul Revere and the Raiders (I'm Not Your Stepping Stone) and for The Leaves (Words), both of which were hits for The Monkees in 1967. I have always like Stepping Stone. Anyhow, without knowing what these two songs are like on this Japanese 45-single, I just thought the titles seemed appropriate - especially since it's a Japanese print.