Author’s Notes: (insert stream of swear words here) I hate myself for taking so long to update. I shall go shoot myself in the head right now.

… Or maybe I should finish my stories first. :3

I’m still trying to develop my own writing style, so don’t be too surprised if this chapter isn’t written quite like the previous chapters. I’m also still screwing around with the paragraphs. Sorry.

Warnings for this chapter: Torture, bad language, torture, the seventies (I know, I know, that’s just like torture), torture, sex the Dutch way, and the introduction of the sadistic ex-boyfriend (does anyone who reads “Insincere Saints” recognize him and his friends?). Hold onto your afros, kids! XD

Chapter VI: Battleground Shinjuku I/The Dutch Way

23:34, an apartment above “Eden”, Shinjuku, Tokyo

White hands appeared above her and spread their fingers, giving her the impression of a white butterfly, or a moth. A feeling of terror wrapped like a second pair of hands around her throat and squeezed, the fingernails cutting through her skin where the flesh was softer. She was going to die, she knew it.

The creature sitting atop her chest was pure evil personified. From the white hands wrapped around her throat, up the arms clad in black leather, to the wicked grin and the merciless, blood red eyes. “Please,” she whispered, choking on a sob. “Please, I’m sorry. I don’t want to die.”

The grin became even wider. “Oh, you don’t want to die?” She shook her head frantically. The albino’s face contorted to a mask of rage. “Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you betrayed me, you stupid bitch. I’ve made it clear from day one that I do not tolerate traitors!! You’re lucky I took you in; I’m not like the other yakuza bosses! I treat my girls well; I protect them from violent customers, I make sure they don’t get any venereal diseases and I make sure they get enough money to finish college if they want to, I give them a chance to have another life! And how did you repay me, Kumi?! You try to plot my downfall with that sorry excuse for a yakuza Miwazaki!” His eyes briefly fell on the other body in the room, lying in a puddle of blood. The body twitched every now and then. “Once I’m through with you, I’ll finish him off. Him, I’ll send back to his gang in teeny tiny pieces and tell them it’s fresh sushi. You,” the grin came back, “I’m going to send your corpse to your parents with a list of all the guys you’ve fucked!”

Kumi began to cry. “Oh no,” she sobbed. “No! Please, Shiro-sama!”

“Don’t you ever say that name again!” Shiro punched her in the face, hard enough to break her jaw and knock out several teeth. He moved off her and flipped her onto her stomach, then straddled her waist and grabbed a handful of her long black hair. Kumi tried to breathe around the blood that oozed to the back of her throat as Shiro savagely pulled her head back, but there was too much blood and she slowly began to choke. She wondered what was going to happen now. Was he going to rape her?

“Rape you?!” Shiro laughed. “I wouldn’t stick my cock into any of your holes; I know where they’ve been.” He bent closer so he could hiss in her ear. “Raping you wouldn’t nearly hurt as much as I want it to. I’m going to make you suffer, Kumi. By the time I’m through with you, you’ll wish that bitch of a mother had never given birth to you!”

He reached down and pulled a knife from the strap around his thigh. The end of its handle was shaped like a skull with large fangs and two blood red rubies as its eyes. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do to you, Kumi,” Shiro said, holding the knife close to her face so she could take a good look at it. Kumi began to struggle; she bucked, flailed her arms and legs, beat her head against the concrete floor, driven mad by the pain.

Shiro watched her struggle and laughed. “I’m going to cut open your back,” he said to her, laughing again when she let out a choked cry, “and then I’m going to hang you by your spine and watch you die.”

Kumi let out a gurgling cry. “Miwazaki-san!!” Miwazaki’s hand twitched.

“I can’t believe you two were stupid enough to think planting a bomb in my car would be the perfect way to get rid of me,” Shiro snorted. He began to hum ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts’ as he plunged the knife into Kumi’s flesh.

Outside of the room, the most important members of Shiro’s gang were seated in two rows on the tatami, facing the door to Shiro’s infamous torture chamber. Before each man a small, delicate china cup filled with sake had been placed. The men were pale, and they winced when another scream of agony pierced the air.

The tall African standing next to the door to Shiro’s torture chamber was amused by this display of weakness. “You’d expect the ‘cruel’ yakuza could handle a little pain,” he said to the Japanese standing beside him. “Wouldn’t you, Yasuo?”

The handsome man standing on the other side of the door had straight, shoulder-length black hair and eyes so dark you couldn’t see his pupils. He smiled a little. “Well, he is being rather vicious tonight, don’t you think?” he said quietly. “I must admit this is a good strategy, though. Rather than showing them how he treats traitors, he only lets them hear it and leaves the details up to their imagination. The human mind will come up with the most terribly scenarios.”

Jabari shrugged. “Perhaps now they’ll finally realize it doesn’t pay to betray the great Shiro-sama. I’m amazed the girl was stupid enough to try.”

Yasuo sighed and stared at the ceiling. “You don’t pity her, then?” he asked. “She was only trying to survive, just like all the other unfortunate people who are forced to sell their body.”

Jabari smiled nastily. “But she failed, didn’t she? She was too weak and too stupid to succeed, and too proud to keep her mouth shut and accept her fate like the other girls do. And now she’s dead. That’s what we in Africa like to call ‘natural selection’.” He looked down when there was a tug on his pant leg. His four-year-old son looked up at him with a big, triumphant grin plastered on his chubby baby face.

“Oh, he got out of bed again,” Yasuo said, sounding amused. The child’s grin became even bigger.

“Right. I’m going to put this little rascal back in bed and make sure he stays there.” Jabari leaned down and picked up the giggling infant. “You’ll tell the boss the joyful news, then?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Come on, Runako,” he sighed. “Daddy will get you to bed.”

“Bye-bye!” Runako said over Jabari’s shoulder, waving at Yasuo with his small, chubby hand.

“Bye-bye,” Yasuo said with a smile. When the shoji screen closed behind Jabari and Runako, he noticed the sudden silence in the room. The screams of agony had stopped. And just in time, from the looks of it; some of the gang members looked like they were about to have a nervous breakdown.

A few seconds later the door opened and Shiro came out, humming ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts’. He was covered in blood from head to toe. When he stopped humming and raised his red eyes to his gang members, they all raised their china cup and shouted, “Shirooooooooooooooooooo!!” Then they drained the cup in one gulp.

Shiro grinned, pleased with their performance. “Are you alright? You boys look a bit green,” he chuckled. “Thanks,” he added when Yasuo handed him a wet towel. He began to wipe the blood from his face. “Fujisaki?”

The man nearest to them stood up immediately. “Hai!”

“You’re responsible for the bodies,” Shiro said. “I want Miwazaki chopped into tiny bits and sent to his gang. Tell them it’s fresh sushi, with the compliments from Shiro-sama. Make sure some of the pieces are still recognizably human.” Fujisaki turned even greener than he already was, but he nodded and bowed. “As for Kumi,” Shiro continued, “sow her back up. Make her look pretty, and then sent her to her parents in a nice coffin.”

Yasuo smiled knowingly. “With or without a list of men she’s had sexual intercourse with?”

Shiro threw him a scathing look. “Without!” he barked.

“I knew you wouldn’t – ”

“I know you knew!” Shiro snarled. “Now get out, all of you!” The yakuza were glad for an excuse to leave, and they were gone within ten seconds. Only Yasuo remained, for which Shiro threw him more nasty looks. “I meant you, too,” he growled.

Yasuo bowed, but it wasn’t a bow from an inferior to his superior. “Forgive my disobedience, Shiro-sama,” he said. “But I’m afraid there are still some important matters that need to be discussed. Today,” he added, seeing Shiro was about to protest.

Shiro sighed and sat down on the tatami. “Fine, tell me what’s so important.”

“Miwazaki’s gang has been usurped by a new gang, which have not yet identified themselves,” Yasuo said. “It happened only two days after you kidnapped Miwazaki, so we can be sure the unidentified gang had been waiting for an opportunity.”

“They’re pretty quick, I admire that.” Shiro frowned at the dried blood in his white hair. “What did Miwazaki’s gang own? Anything we might be interested in?”

“They owned most of the adult night clubs in west Shinjuku, a few shady restaurants on the poorer side of town and a smuggle route for cocaine and opium.”

“Drugs,” Shiro sneered. “Certainly nothing I’m interested in. Let that new gang have those routes.”

“There is another thing involving drugs that concern us.”

“We don’t do drugs, so drugs don’t concern us.”

Yasuo sighed. “Do you know about those murdered artists?” Shiro nodded. “The police found out that they were all on some kind of new synthetic drug, but they haven’t found out yet what it does or how addictive it is. They also don’t know what role the drug may have played in the murders and why only artists have been murdered so far. They’re investigating all the yakuza gangs that are involved in the distribution of drugs, so by all means that should rule us out. But there is someone who can link us to the murders, if not because of the drug, but because of the specific wounds inflicted on the victims… the same wounds inflicted on the people who frequently visit “Eden”.”

“Put a bullet through his head,” Shiro growled. “I don’t feel like scaring some wannabe-famous reporter; scaring doesn’t seem to work anymore these days.” It was silent for a few long seconds. “You’d better have a good excuse for still being here, Yasuo.”

“You do not want me to kill this man.”

“Didn’t you just hear me? If you don’t want to shoot him, drown him, or something. Hang him with his intestines for al I care. Just get rid of him!”

“It’s Aidan.”

Yasuo didn’t even have to put emphasis on the name; Shiro looked as if he had been hit with a sledgehammer. “What?”

“He’s seen photos of the wounds on the victims,” Yasuo said. “It didn’t take him very long to figure out where he’d seen them before. He’s been snooping around the club ever since and once he’s found enough evidence to convince himself that we’re involved, he’ll either go to the police or one of his father’s many Private Investigators. And I may be loyal to you, but I will not kill law-abiding men with a wife and children.”

“I know, I know.” Shiro moaned and buried his face in his hands. “Why Aidan? He knows I don’t do drugs!”

Yasuo didn’t think it was necessary to remind Shiro that Aidan didn’t trust him anymore; that would be pointing out the obvious. He silently watched Shiro get up and start to pace the room.

“That damn brat always was too smart for his own good,” the albino mumbled. “Why can’t he keep his freckled nose out of other people’s business, just once?!”

“This is his business,” Yasuo said. “Although it wasn’t the reason he became interested in the murders, the concern for his new lover is probably what makes him so passionate to find the perpetrator.” He saw Shiro’s wince. Immediately he wanted to wrap his arms around the albino, press his lips against Shiro’s ear and whisper that everything would be alright. He took a deep breath to calm himself and thought about the dead girl in the next room. “Jabari said he saw him with Hirasaki Yoshi-kun at Nakagawa-san’s museum.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Shiro said, even though he didn’t believe his own words. “He could just have developed an interest in art.” Yasuo rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, I’m talking shit now.” He sighed. “It’s just that… After three years, I had hoped he would come back.” ‘To me.’ For a few moments he looked utterly miserable and Yasuo had to think very hard about Miwazaki’s mutilated body.

Then Shiro began to grin. “But let’s look on the bright side of things,” he said cheerfully. “It’s my moral obligation as his ex to traumatize, blackmail and possibly torture his new boyfriend. Get me Hirasaki’s address!”

Yasuo stared at him long and hard. “Felix…”

“Do not use that name!!” Shiro snarled with unexpected ferocity. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But don’t use that name in public. Please.” Yasuo nodded. Shiro threw the dirty towel to the ground with a look of disgust. “I want to know his address, and I want to know when he works, eats, sleeps, has sex or parties. While I’m trying to scare him away from Aidan, I might as well figure out if he’s involved in the murders. He does drugs, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but no more than weed. At least not voluntarily.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow at that. “Explain.”

“He lives in an apartment complex owned by a transvestite publicly known by the name Yato. This Yato has been known to take sexual favours from his tenants as payment and considering Hirasaki-kun has little or no money in his bank account, we can safely assume he pays the bills with his body.”

“Yato? You mean that ugly bastard who tried to fuck himself into a VIP membership of “Eden”?” When Yasuo nodded, he went pale – an amazing feat, considering his skin was already white as snow. “It figures he has to use drugs to get people to have sex with him. But how do we know for sure Hirasaki isn’t using the drugs voluntarily? For all we know, he could be addicted to this new synthetic drug just like all those other poor bastards.”

“Highly unlikely. The new synthetic drug the police found was injected into the blood stream, at least that’s the theory. Hirasaki-kun couldn’t have injected himself with that drug, because one: he cannot stand blood, the very sight of it makes him nauseous. He can’t even look at blood vessels for too long without losing the contents of his stomach. And two: he’s trypanophobic.”

“Come again?”

“Trypanophobia, also known as aichmophobia, fear of injections or fear of needles. The symptoms vary for each person suffering from this fear, but what it comes down to is that they have an irrational fear of being injected with anything. A trypanophobe can’t inject himself with any kind of drug.”

“Has one of ours gotten his hands on that drug?”

“No; your orders were not to touch any kind of drug and they are loyal to you.” When Shiro snorted, his eyes flickered to the closed door. “At least, an estimated ninety-nine percent of them are loyal. They have been making a point of avoiding contact with anyone who is heavily involved with drugs. It is, unfortunately, rather bad for business.”

“Tough. We deal weapons, not drugs. I’d like to know what’s in that drug that makes it so popular, though. Are we monitoring the forensics investigating the contents of the drug?”

“Yes. Jabari also sent some men to keep their eyes on the private investigators Yamamoto Ban put on the case, but he pulled them back after a few days. The investigators are all but working for the police this time; anything and everything they discover is sent immediately to the Tokyo Police Department. It was too dangerous for our men to follow them.”

“Doesn’t matter; one of the PIs owes me a favour. I’ll pay him a little visit and ask him what he’s found out so far. Meanwhile, we’ve got to do some investigating ourselves. Tell Jabari to keep an eye on that new gang; I want to make sure they’re not involved in this, or planning to take over all businesses in Shinjuku. You see how things are going at “Eden”. Tell me if anything suspicious is going on; clients being just a little too enthusiastic when they’re torturing each other, an unusual amount of people applying for membership, people talking to the clients when they leave the club, etcetera. And find out when Hirasaki and Aidan are together, so I can talk to them at the same time.” And maybe, just maybe, if Aidan was there, he wouldn’t kill Hirasaki.

“You could go now; they’re on a date at “Love Not War”, that seventies club.”

Scratch that; he’d kill the son of a bitch.

“Find another occasion when they’re together!” Shiro snarled.

Yasuo nodded, but still looked hesitant. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Hirasaki-kun in person,” he said, “but he seems like a genuinely nice young man. It would please me if you didn’t hurt him.”

‘And you know I’d do anything for you, you bastard.’ “I won’t hurt him, Yasuo. I promise.” Yasuo threw him a suspicious look. “I mean it. Cross my heart and hope to die, scout’s honour and all that stuff.”

Yasuo shook his head, laughing. “I apologize; I half expected your nose to become longer with each word you spoke.”

“Have a little faith in me, will you?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes, that was all… Would you like to take a bath?”

“That’d be great, thanks. I stink.”

They left the room together, talking quietly about things that had nothing to do with business. As Yasuo told him about the things Runako got up to when he’d once again escaped his bed and his heavily secured room, Shiro was looking forward to “talking” to Hirasaki. He absent-mindedly fingered the strap around his thigh.

‘Note to self: Sharpen knife.’

It all depended on how you defined “hurt”, really.

23:34, in front of “Love Not War”, Shinjuku, Tokyo

“So this is Connelly’s new beau, huh?” Anthony squinted at the picture in his hand. A young Japanese man with gorgeous green eyes smiled enthusiastically up at him. He whistled appreciatively. “Damn, he said this Hirasaki guy looked young, but I didn’t think he meant this young! I mean, look at him! I’m gonna have to get him a fake ID, just so he can buy alcohol!”

Tabansi rolled his eyes. “I think you’re overreacting,” he said. “Yes, Yoshi looks young, but so do most Japanese. No one in this country is going to have trouble believing he’s really twenty-six years old.”

“Twenty-six? Shit, Tabby, he looks like a minor! I never knew Connelly liked ‘em so young.” His hazel eyes went to Tabansi, who, just like Yoshi, didn’t appear to be an adult, and he began to grin. “I take that back; Hell, I did know he likes ‘em young!” His grin faded when Tabansi gave him the you-are-so-sleeping-on-the-couch-tonight-look. “What? What’d I say?!”

Tabansi glared at Anthony a little longer, but when he saw this was only annoying the handsome Russian, he decided to use a sneakier tactic. He turned on his puppy eyes. “Tony, you’ll be nice to Aidan tonight, won’t you?” he asked in his best pleading voice. “After all, this is Aidan’s first date in three years and I would hate to see it ruined because you get off on being a prick.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be real nice to your dearest goluboj.”

“I mean it, Anton Lavrenti Kessler.” Tabansi’s voice would have made a polar bear shiver. That voice, in combination with the use of Anthony’s real name, was never a good thing. “If Aidan and Yoshi’s date is ruined because of you, bad things will happen. Cities will fall to ruin. Kittens will suffer. Your penis will stop functioning properly.”

“Leave Louis the Eighth the Hell alone, will you? He’s already been mutilated enough for one lifetime! And stop staring at me like that; your Jedi mind tricks won’t work on me. Connelly hates my guts, Tabansi. If it wasn’t for you, he’d feed my balls to his Cats from Hell and piss on my grave. Give me a good reason why I should be nice to him.”

“Because if you’re nice to him tonight, I’ll let you molest me in public like you always wanted.”

“It’s a deal.” The other people waiting in front of the club were absolutely mortified when, after having that sinful conversation in English, the blond gaijin threw the squealing, shorter gaijin over his shoulder. They had no shame, acting so affectionate in public!

“Put me down!” Tabansi demanded.

Anthony grinned and squeezed the little Negro’s ass, eliciting another squeal from Tabansi. “So sorry, hubby,” he said without any regret whatsoever. “You said “in public” and it doesn’t get any more public than the streets of Shinjuku. C’mon, let’s give those prudish Jappos some kinky masturbatory fantasies.”

“My reputation is ruined!” Tabansi wailed, as Anthony began to carry him away from the queue in front of “Love Not War”. He’d said what he had because he really wanted things to work out right for Aidan and Yoshi, but now he was wishing he’d just convinced Anthony to stay home and laugh at the censored Japanese porn. ‘I’ll never be able to show my face in public again!’ he thought. ‘What will my colleagues think? What will my patients think?!’

Normally he wouldn’t have to worry about these things; he and Anthony would just be dismissed as two filthy gaijin failing to adjust to Japanese society. But because they were Aidan’s friends, they had become a favourite gossip subject for the tabloids. Having sex in public would surely get them on the front page of every single newspaper and magazine in Japan. Anthony would think it to be goddamned funny, but Tabansi would rather be stoned to death in the village square.

The gods must have been in a good mood, because a familiar figure appeared from the crowd on the street. “Anthony, look! They’re here!” he said, pointing. “We can’t leave now; it would be rude. Put me down so we can properly introduce ourselves.”

Anthony grunted, but made no move to put Tabansi down. “Alright, a quick intro and we’re gone,” he said.

“No, we have to go inside with them,” Tabansi said. He tried to wiggle free, but stopped moving when he noticed it was only turning Anthony on. Damned pervert. “Remember, we’re here to make it look like Aidan and Yoshi are just friends hanging out together.”

Anthony snorted. “And that’s easy, because Aidan doesn’t look like a complete poof,” he said sarcastically. “Besides, it’s already too late to make it look like they’re just friends; a few more pints and Connelly’s ready to announce that he’s queer on national television. Have you ever seen him so pissed? He must have raided a whole fucking wine cellar!”

Tabansi looked at Aidan. The redhead did appear to be drunk; his cheeks were flushed, he was swaying a little and he wasn’t snarling when he bumped into people. He seemed to be genuinely happy – very uncharacteristic. Tabansi squinted suspiciously. It would take an enormous amount of alcohol to get Aidan drunk. The redhead only had one bottle of whiskey and a bottle of red wine in his house, and that wouldn’t even get him tipsy, even if he drank it all at once and through a straw. What was going on?

“You know, I reckon your goluboj thinks getting drunk so he can throw himself at Hirasaki with a clear conscience counts as using “heavy artillery”,” Anthony said.

Tabansi gasped. “You listened in on our conversation?!”

“Duh. You know I’m sloppy, I leave bugs all over the place. Hell, our fish aren’t able to take a shit without being heard! That I heard you was purely coincidental, I swear.”

“Oh no,” Tabansi moaned. “He didn’t want you to know; he was sure you’d laugh at him.”

“Can you blame me, really? Tabansi, he thinks he can have a good relationship by acting slutty. Someone’s gotta wake him up and tell him that the way to a man’s heart isn’t through his balls – well, most of the times it isn’t, anyway.”

“He can’t help it,” Tabansi mumbled. “He hasn’t a clue how to start a relationship, thanks to my brother and Faust.”

Bull, as Tabansi’s elder brother was known, had been Aidan’s boyfriend shortly after Aidan had accepted his homosexuality. Aidan had been seventeen at the time and couldn’t figure out the difference between love and lust, because he was used to ignoring his body’s hormone-fuelled demands. There certainly was no real love between him and Bull; Bull had just been looking for “a piece of white ass” and didn’t care if it was a man’s ass or a woman’s, and Aidan just thought he was attracted to Bull because he reminded him of Tabansi. Aidan had found out he was gay when he fell in love with his best friend. Having been raised a Catholic Christian, he had a hard time accepting his sexual preference, even though he’d already become an atheist by then. And just when he’d come to terms with himself and was about to tell Tabansi how he felt, Anthony had shown up to snatch the little Negro away. It was the main reason Aidan couldn’t stomach Anthony.

Because he was much older and more experienced, Bull had tried to force Aidan into the physical aspects of their relationship a little too quickly. This had annoyed – and frightened – Aidan immensely, but the real reason for his dumping Bull had been the discovery of the more than just brotherly feelings Bull had for Tabansi. Aidan had completely shied away from any contact with men other than Tabansi and his college professors, he even went back into the closet, and Tabansi never dared to be alone in a room with his brother again.

And then Faust had come along. Tabansi’s small hands balled to fists. He didn’t hate his brother for his feelings; after all, he knew very well that you couldn’t choose who you fell in love with. But Faust had been perfectly, deliberately evil. Many psychologists believed that sadism was the only true evil, and Faust had been a perfect example of that. He had smoked Aidan out of the closet and more or less scared him into a relationship and the sick bastard had enjoyed doing all that. Oh, there had been a few times, many times, actually, that they were so sweet together that you just wanted to eat them, but those moments never lasted very long.

And Aidan had changed for the worst. Faust had brought back the spoiled brat Tabansi hated so much, the cruel boy who had beaten another boy so badly he was in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, the boy who liked to drown baby birds. The boy who knew no limits, because no one had ever punished him for doing something wrong; he was the little master of the house, he couldn’t do anything wrong.

Faust, whose eyes should have been as good as blind, because albinos all had poor eyesight, but saw much more than you wanted them to see. Faust, whose purpose in life was to provoke; he loved to raise people’s hackles. Like an experienced psychologist, he could tell what people feared most and he would keep on pestering them until they went mad or they gathered the courage to face their fears – which sometimes drove them mad, anyway. Tabansi thought confrontation was a good therapy, but the way Faust pushed people to confront their fears would just traumatize them; if Aidan had been afraid of heights, Faust would have pushed him out of an air plane.

Faust and Aidan’s relationship had gone through several stages. In the beginning they had seemed hell-bent on destroying each other; they had acted like two spoiled brats fighting over a toy, neither one giving in, just to spite the other. Tabansi thought that was possibly the most miserable period in his life; he had worked so hard to soften Aidan a little, to make it clear to him that the world didn’t revolve around him, and Faust had ruined all his hard work in a few weeks.

But Aidan and Faust had realized they couldn’t go on like that forever and had formed an awkward sort of truce. Slowly they had begun to find similarities and they both matured a little; they actually began to consider the feelings of other people. What followed then were eleven years of happiness.

What Tabansi had found most particular about their relationship, was that although he and Anthony knew each other a few years longer and they were very honest with each other, Aidan and Faust had been much, much more intimate than he and Anthony would ever be. Tabansi had been so happy for them and he had been sure Aidan and Faust would stay together like he and Anthony, but eventually Aidan had been right; the redhead had always said: “When things are going right for you, something will go horribly wrong to compensate for it.”

The end of their relationship had been disastrous. Faust, that filthy rat, had been sent away, and Aidan had grown cold.

And now Yoshi Hirasaki was hoping to thaw him. “Put me down,” Tabansi commanded. Anthony knew him long enough to recognize his no-nonsense voice, so he obeyed without a word. As soon as he was back on his feet, he pulled his shirt straight and produced a fake, but sweet smile. He cheerfully waved at Aidan and the others. “I really want this date to go well,” he whispered from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t want Aidan to be miserable anymore, Tony. He’s already past thirty and being single at that age can really make people insecure. He might get a midlife-crisis.”

Anthony produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He snorted. “The way he acts, it’s more like he’s already having his menopause. I’ll help ya make this date a perfect – Well, fuck me raw. Speaking of perfect… Rawr!” In the process of lighting a cigarette, his eyes had fallen on the two women walking a short distance behind Yoshi and Aidan. “Oh, man,” he sighed, the cigarette falling from his lips. “Man, that one with her hair slicked back… Wow!”

“Lesbian,” Tabansi said, sounding smug. Anthony said something nasty in Yiddish that made him laugh.

Aidan and the others reached them, and now Tabansi could clearly see that Aidan showed all the signs of a tipsy person. But the only time Aidan drank enough alcohol to get tipsy was on New Year’s Eve (He usually couldn’t drink on Saint Patrick’s Day, because he had to work then). Tabansi wasn’t buying this.

Aidan’s hand rested comfortably on Yoshi’s shoulder. For Aidan, it was a very uncharacteristic display of affection. “Yoshi, Kiku-san, Akane-san, meet Tabansi Brown,” Aidan said.

“Hi!” Tabansi said cheerfully, his fake smile firm in place.

“And this,” Aidan said, looking at Anthony, who’d lit another cigarette, “is Anthony Kessler. I like to think about him ending up as road kill.”

Anthony blew smoke at him. “He wants me,” he said to Yoshi.

Yoshi grinned at him. “Yeah, he expresses his love for me the same way.” And that was it – one simple sentence was enough to immediately like the green-eyed painter. No wonder Aidan couldn’t resist him.

“Let’s get back to the queue, shall we?” Tabansi said. “By the time we’ll be allowed into the club it’ll be morning.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Yoshi said. “The bouncers are… uh… acquaintances. They’ll let us in.” Apparently “acquaintances” meant exactly what Tabansi had thought it meant; Yoshi turned scarlet and refused to meet anyone’s eyes. The bouncers recognized Yoshi and for the price of a quick grope of Yoshi’s ass (for which Aidan tried to throttle them) they let them in, much to the irritation of the people in queue.

“Hey!” someone shouted. “Get in line like the rest of us!”

One of the bouncers turned all of his two hundred and fifty pounds towards the person who’d complained. “Sexy people don’t have to wait in line. You wanna show me how sexy you are?” That got no reply, only some nervous shuffling at the back of the queue.

As soon as they set foot in the club they were assaulted by a bad fashion sense and music which Tabansi recognized from the musical “Hair”. He silently applauded Yoshi for taking Aidan to this club; Aidan didn’t remember much of the seventies because he had been so young then, but he felt more at ease here than at some club where they only played irritating pop songs.

Disco balls spun on the ceiling, casting a glittering light on everything around them. The dance floor was in the middle of the room. It was packed, and it even had tiles that lit up in all the colours of the rainbow when you stepped on them. Yoshi led them to one of the brightly-coloured booths against the graffiti-decorated walls. Aidan nudged Kiku against her shoulder and pointed at a group of people whose costumes were so bright it hurt to look at them. “You’d think one decade of bad taste would be enough, wouldn’t you?” he said, amused.

“You don’t like it here?” Yoshi asked as they sat down.

“Oh, I like it. It’s very amusing. And I like the music.”

“Is it really like the clubs in the seventies?” Akane asked curiously. She was the youngest of them and had never seen so many people wearing clothes that clashed so badly.

“Yeah, we just called ‘em “disco”s back then,” Anthony said. As the oldest of the six he remembered more of the seventies than Aidan, Kiku or Tabansi. “And, of course, in Europa and America there were significantly more black people.”

A girl on roller-skates rolled over to them. She wore glow-in-the-dark lipstick. “Hi!” she said cheerfully. “Would you like to order drinks?”

“A Harvey Wallbanger,” Aidan said.

“I’ll have a Snowball, please,” Tabansi said with a big grin.

Aidan and Anthony both immediately objected. “That’s a tart’s drink!” Anthony said. “And I’ll have a vodka.”

“This tart would like a Snowball, too,” Kiku laughed.

Yoshi and Akane both ordered a Bloody Mary. When the girl had left to get their drinks, Yoshi asked, “Would anyone care to dance?”

Aidan smiled warmly. “Only if you ask properly.”

“Huh?” Yoshi had to think about that for a while. “Oh, right!” He stood up. “Let’s boogie!”

“Thanks, but we’re stayin’ here,” Anthony said. Tabansi suddenly looked rather eager to leave the booth. Anthony wrapped an arm around his shoulder, preventing him from getting up. “Tabansi has a promise to keep,” he said with a grin that slowly turned lewd.

Aidan grabbed Yoshi by the arm a little harder than he’d intended and pulled him out of his seat. He was grateful for the loud music; it drowned out the sounds of Tabansi’s protests being muffled by a wet sound. He resented having invited Anthony along, but Tabansi refused to come without the blond Russian. Those two seemed to be stuck together like Siamese twins some times. ‘You’re jealous,’ his inner voice accused. But he wasn’t; he never wanted to be that close to anyone. Not again; he couldn’t take that.

Yoshi briefly slipped his hand into Aidan’s when they’d cleared a spot for themselves on the dance floor. This wasn’t a gay club, or even a club for openly bisexuals, and because Aidan was afraid of getting caught with another man by one of the tabloid photographers who had made harassing him their hobby, they couldn’t dance together. While dancing with Akane usually required all of his attention, because Akane had all the grace of a hippo and Yoshi’d rather keep his toes intact, tonight he couldn’t keep his eyes off Aidan’s body, twisting to the rhythm of the music. He was insanely jealous of Kiku, even though he knew Kiku didn’t feel anything for Aidan but respect and admiration.

“Oh, I love this song!” Kiku shouted above the music, when ABBA began to play. Aidan looked like she had just told him she was expecting his baby; utter shock, horror and disbelief were etched onto his face. “I’m serious! When I was a little girl I used to dance in front of my mirror and pretend I was the Dancing Queen.”

“You’re a very sick woman,” Aidan said with a smile. Kiku laughed and grabbed him, so they could dance closer to each other.

“Ouch!!” Akane cursed and hopped around on one foot, bumping into the other dancers. “I thought I was the clumsy one!” She frowned when she noticed Yoshi wasn’t paying any attention to her; he was looking very angrily at Kiku and Aidan. Akane rolled her eyes and grabbed one of Yoshi’s arms. “Come on!” she shouted in his ear. So what if Aidan and Yoshi couldn’t dance together? They could still dance next to each other. Kiku smiled when Akane and Yoshi moved closer; she understood what was going on. She used her grip on Aidan to push him away from her, at the same time as Akane yanked Yoshi forward.

Yoshi swallowed hard when Aidan smiled lazily at him. The redhead held his gaze for a few seconds in which they seemed to be the only two people in the world. Then he turned around and resumed dancing with Kiku. Yoshi was hurt. To him, it felt as if Aidan had dismissed him for the rest of the night. But when he started dancing again, Aidan used the dance as an excuse to touch him. A hand on his back, a hip touching his. They were fleet, subtle touches, but they were enough to let Yoshi know that Aidan was happy he was there.

When Aidan ran his finger down Yoshi’s spine before grabbing a good handful of his ass, Yoshi had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom and pour cold water down the front of his pants.

The bathroom was a sanctuary of silence compared to the rest of the club and, strangely enough, it was completely deserted. There was no shady figure waiting for someone to sell some party drugs to and there wasn’t anyone who was taking a leak. Yoshi found out why, when Tabansi stumbled out of one of the stalls, pulling his pants up his hips with shaking hands. “Oh!” he gasped when he saw Yoshi.

“What, “oh”?” Anthony came out of the stall after Tabansi. “Oh. Hi, kid.” He washed his hands as if nothing had happened, while Tabansi hid his face behind his hands in shame. “What’re you standing there for, Hirasaki?” Athony said when Yoshi just stood there gawking. “Don’t you need to piss?”

“Uh… no… No, I just came here to… err… cool off a little.”

Anthony grinned. “He’s got you all hot and bothered already, huh? Poor you; he hasn’t even put any effort into it yet.” Tabansi threw him a warning look.

Yoshi was about to ask what Anthony had just meant, but Tabansi spoke up first. “Remember your promise, Anton,” the little Negro hissed with a viciousness Yoshi hadn’t expected from him. Apparently there was some sting beneath the sweet appearance.

Anthony wrapped an arm around Tabansi’s shoulder and bent over to press a kiss against his temple. “How could I forget?” he said innocently. “Especially when just now you so faithfully kept your part of the bargain.” Tabansi sputtered. Anthony gave him a little shove towards the door. “Why don’t you go keep the others company, Tabby? Hirasaki and I need to talk man to man.”

“But – ” Before Tabansi could protest properly, he was pushed out of the bathroom. “Oh, that man!!” He moved to the dance floor, stomping his feet angrily.

When Tabansi had left, Anthony lit a cigarette. “There’s nothing like a cigarette after sex, don’t you agree?” he said, after making a perfect smoke ring. Yoshi watched the smoke ring drift to the ceiling and didn’t answer. But Anthony could tell the Japanese wanted to say something and the only reason he didn’t say it was because he thought it would be rude. Damned Japanese and their damned manners. “Look, kid, let’s be honest with each other, alright? I like you; I recognize a part of myself in you. You, on the other hand, have been giving me the death glare ever since you walked in on me and the Brownie. You’re not a homophobe, are you?” he joked.

Yoshi frowned at him. “I know this really isn’t any of my business, but I really don’t think you should be cheating on your wife, Kessler-san,” he said.

Anthony blinked stupidly at him. “My wife?”

“I noticed the ring around your finger,” Yoshi explained. “It’s hypocritical of me to say this, but once you’ve made a commitment to someone, you should stay faithful to that person. If you prefer men, you should be honest to your wife and tell her. You shouldn’t cheat on her… Excuse me, have I said something funny?”

Anthony picked himself off of the floor and wiped the tears from his face. “Oh, my stomach,” he moaned. “You’re funny, kid.”

“This is no laughing matter; I’m dead serious!”

Anthony was still snickering, but there wasn’t even an attempt at humour in his voice. “First of all, who do you think you are, telling me to be faithful, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou? From what I’ve heard from Tabansi your girlfriend’s still breathin’, but that didn’t stop you from playing with other people.” Yoshi winced. Anthony had hit the nail right on the head. “Second, not that it’s any of your business, my wife and I have come to an agreement that we can fuck whoever we want, as long as we do it safely. And third, my wife just walked out of here, is about five feet tall and answers to the name Tabansi. Permission to feel embarrassed granted, soldier.”

And Yoshi did feel embarrassed. “I – I’m sorry,” he said, turning scarlet. “I thought… I thought – ”

“You thought about marriage as something between a man and a woman, because marriage between two people of the same sex is forbidden in Japan. Well, screw Japanese law! It’s legal in Holland and that’s all that matters to Tabansi, so that’s all that matters to me.”

“I’m so sorry, I really am.”

“No problem, kid. I guess I had expected Aidan had told you that Tabansi’s my “wife”.” He lit another cigarette; the other had fallen to the floor when he’d collapsed in a laughing fit. He actually hadn’t expected Aidan to tell Yoshi about their marriage; it was a much too painful subject for the redhead. Which was why every now and then, Anthony felt the need to rub it in a little bit. And it had been funny to see Yoshi uncomfortable. He held the pack of cigarettes out to Yoshi. “Want one?”

“No thanks, I’m trying to quit.”

Anthony grinned. “On Her Majesty’s orders, I presume?”

Yoshi sighed. “Yeah… I must admit I haven’t been trying very hard, though. I don’t smoke a few hours before I meet him and I brush my teeth every ten minutes, so he won’t smell cigarettes on my breath.”

“Smell and taste,” Anthony teased. The colour of Yoshi’s face went past scarlet and Anthony burst into laughter. “Oh kid, you’re too much. But I’m a nice guy, so I’ll provide some encouragement. If what his ex-boyfriend told me is true, then Connelly is worth every sacrifice.”

“Yeah, he is,” Yoshi sighed dreamily.

“You don’t know half of it, kid. You see, your sweet, innocent, anal-retentive redhead deep throats and swallows.”

“He… I… Oh, gods… You just said that to torture me, didn’t you?”

“Get him drunk and find out for yourself,” Anthony said with a grin. “Connelly gets very nice after a few drinks.” Before Yoshi could ask anything, Anthony wrapped an arm around his shoulder and began to steer him towards the door. “Come on, let’s get back. The sex appeal of our little group has dropped drastically since we left.”

While they made their way across the dance floor and tried to avoid stepping on people’s toes, Yoshi thought about what Anthony had said. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Anthony to speak the truth, but if it was the truth… No, he couldn’t think about that for too long, or he’d have to go straight back to the bathroom. And he certainly couldn’t think about the dreams that would be plaguing him. He was getting sick and tired of having to change his sheets every morning. He was sick and tired of wanting for so long, but it was the not getting what he wanted that bothered him the most. He wasn’t used to waiting this long to get to a more intimate level with someone. It sometimes made him wonder if Aidan felt the same for him.

They were halfway across the dance floor when Anthony stopped and cursed loud enough to be heard even over the music. Yoshi stopped as well and looked back, wondering what was keeping the foreigner. At first he couldn’t see what Anthony was glaring at because of all the people around them, but when he saw a couple of flashes that didn’t come from any lights in the club, he could guess what it was. “A photographer?”

“Yeah. You go back to the others. Me and Lois Lane are going to have a nice little chat. If Tabansi asks where I am, just tell him I’ve met someone interesting.” He disappeared between the dancers.

Yoshi walked back to their booth, hoping that Anthony would catch the photographer before the whole evening was ruined. So far they hadn’t done anything suspicious, but he was sure the tabloids could turn something innocent into a scandal.

“Where’s Anthony?” Tabansi asked when Yoshi sat down next to him.

“He said he saw someone interesting.”

“Oh. Oh… Right.” Tabansi’s face may have been perfectly blank, but he hadn’t been able to keep the disappointment out of his voice. And he couldn’t keep up the façade very long; after a few seconds he looked away, pretending to be interested in the graffiti on the walls. His behaviour made Yoshi wonder if Tabansi really agreed with the rule: ‘We can fuck whoever we want, as long as we do it safely’, or if he’d just pretended to agree for Anthony’s sake. When Tabansi absent-mindedly began to stroke his wedding ring, Yoshi decided he’d been pretending.

Their drinks arrived just as Aidan and Kiku emerged from the flock of dancers. “We’ve lost Akane,” Aidan said when Yoshi was about to ask. “She was abducted by a gorgeous Turkish tourist. I told him that if he date raped her, I’d return the favour. Move over, I want to sit next to you.”

He’d said “sit next to you”, but what he did was more like sitting on Yoshi. He draped a leg over Yoshi’s and Yoshi nearly jumped three feet in the air when he felt a hand on his thigh, just a little too close to his crotch for comfort. He got hard instantly. Maybe going back to the bathroom for some cold water wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

For a few moments he toyed with the idea to tell Aidan about the photographer, but in the end he decided against it. It would probably ruin Aidan’s good, alcohol-induced mood and Yoshi wanted the date to go well. Because he loved Aidan and wanted the redhead to trust him. Not at all because he wanted to find out for himself exactly how nice Aidan was after a few drinks. Although, if Aidan was any nicer than he was now, rubbing his thumb over Yoshi’s thigh, Yoshi was pretty sure he would crack and hand the tabloids their scandal on a platter.

“Ah…” He cleared his throat. “Let’s… let’s not forget where we are, shall we?” He took Aidan’s hand and removed it from his thigh.

Aidan looked at him with wide eyes. “You don’t want me?” he asked.

‘Oh, I want you so badly I can only think about bending you over this table.’ “I do, I do want you,” he said. “But you wanted to keep it a secret, didn’t you? That’s why we both brought friends, remember?”

It took a long time before those words seemed to reach Aidan and when they did, the redhead began to frown. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding very sincere. He turned his attention to his drink, but he didn’t move his leg.

Three drinks later and Yoshi himself was feeling like a very, very nice person. Tabansi and Kiku had disappeared somewhere between the second and the third drink, there was still no sign of Akane, and Anthony kept ordering drinks for them. Yoshi couldn’t remember when the blond had returned, but he did remember that Anthony had ordered vodka for them and they had been drinking it through a straw. No wonder he was feeling a little light-headed at the moment.

But that also could have something to do with Aidan kissing him breathless.

Anthony was feeling rather smug at the moment and his cock was wishing for someone to share the moment with. Both Aidan and Tabansi would probably be angry with him, but the sight of two sexy men groping each other was worth a few cold and uncomfortable nights on the couch. He wondered if they were drunk enough to do each other right there. Now that would really be worth a few nights on the couch.

“Hmm, now this scene’s familiar. Are you two always stuck together like that, or do I just have good timing?” a familiar voice drawled.

Aidan tore his mouth away from Yoshi’s. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!” he snarled. He didn’t sound very drunk anymore.

Sudara grinned and wrapped an arm around the teenaged boy standing next to him. The boy was without a doubt the most beautiful creature Anthony had ever seen. He had green eyes, just a shade lighter than Yoshi’s. His skin was so pale, it seemed like it’d ever seen the light of day. On the left side, his black hair fell to his chin. On the right side, it fell past his shoulder. It was an unusual haircut, and it suited him. The boy wore only a pair of tight silk briefs in the same colour as his eyes, so Anthony had a very good view of the boy’s body. It was a little too slender and androgynous for his taste – he liked his men to be manly and his women to be womanly – but it was still a very nice body. When he noticed the look the boy threw his way, he was suddenly very glad he’d allowed himself to be tagged along to the discothèque.

“Sudie, introduce me to these pretty men who are not quite as pretty as you and me,” the boy commanded with a dazzling smile.

“But of course, my lovely lotus flower,” Sudara purred. Aidan gagged. Sudara ignored him. “Gentlemen, this is the magnificent Pete. Petey, do you suppose they’ll let us sit with them if they ask nicely?”

Anthony grinned and spread his legs in invitation. “There’s plenty of room, if you don’t mind sharing,” he said to Pete.

“I most certainly don’t.” Pete sat down between Anthony’s legs, pressing his backside against Anthony’s crotch.

Sudara sat down next to Yoshi and grinned defiantly at Aidan.

“I should have known we’d run into you in a place like this,” Aidan hissed. “This is a gathering place for people with bad taste, and you’re their queen.”

“Eat me, Puss-boy,” Sudara said.

Yoshi tightened his grip on Aidan’s waist when he felt the redhead tense. To make sure Aidan couldn’t break free and attack Sudara, he wrapped his arms all the way around Aidan’s waist – slightly amazed that he could – until their stomachs were pressed together. “So… uh… what brings you here, Minowara-san?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation as friendly as he could.

Sudara smiled sweetly. “Pete’s new in town, so I thought I’d show him the nice parts of Japan,” he said. “But it seems that for the moment, he’s more interested in discovering the nice parts of… What is it, America?”

Anthony broke the kiss to pant, “Britain or Russia, whichever you like.”

“I think I like the Russian taste better,” Pete purred, before slanting his mouth over Anthony’s.

“Sluts,” Aidan snarled. Anthony gave him the finger behind Pete’s back.

Sudara smiled at Yoshi. “It’s a happy coincidence that we happen to run into each other, you know; I’ve been trying to contact you for a while. I’ve been thinking – ”

“Hallelujah,” Aidan muttered.

“As I was saying,” Sudara continued through grit teeth, “I’ve been thinking about ways to help you. That art gallery at Nakagawa’s museum was child’s play compared to what’s waiting for you outside of Japan. If you ever want to be famous, you’ll have to reach Europe. So I contacted a French friend of mine, Manon, and she’s agreed to help you. Just say the word and she’ll be on a plane to Tokyo by morning.”

Yoshi sat up straighter. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it. He had been thinking about ways to expose his paintings to a larger public. He’d known all along that because of his Western style he would eventually have to leave Japan, but after his success at Nakagawa’s art gallery and the numerous flattering articles that had been written about him, there hadn’t been any offers to host some of his works. Yoshi didn’t want to seem desperate by calling every museum in Tokyo, so he hadn’t bothered. It would be nice if he could focus entirely on painting and let someone else worry whether anyone would ever see the paintings.

“Thanks, Minowara-san, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome, darling. Shall I give her a call, then?”

“Yes, please. But if she has other things to do…”

“Oh, Manon always has other things to do, but she won’t be able to resist the chance to work outside of France. You’ll be a real refreshment for her; she says European artists are all getting the same.”

Aidan pressed his nose against Yoshi’s, blocking Sudara from view. “You could have asked me for help,” he said. Hot breath on his lips. Yoshi had a hard time concentrating on Aidan’s words. “My family in Ireland could have gotten you all the contacts you needed. You could be famous within a year. Don’t you want me to help you?”

The way he said it with a slight, childish whine and a pout, went straight to Yoshi’s cock. It didn’t help that Aidan was still pressed against him. “I…” He had to swallow twice and push Aidan backwards a little, so their crotches weren’t pressed together anymore. “I didn’t ask for your help, because I didn’t want anyone to think I gain fame by sucking up to influential people.” As soon as the words left his mouth he realized he’d done something wrong.

“Oh, but it’s fine to suck up to the worst excuse for an artist ever,” Aidan said, his voice going cold. He pried Yoshi’s arms from his waist. Not too gently, either.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Yoshi said, wincing as he rubbed his arms. There would be bruises tomorrow. “I just want people to know I can do things on my own.”

It made perfect sense, even through the haze of alcohol, but Aidan was too angry to care. Sudara was threatening to ruin everything.

He got off Yoshi’s lap and sat down between Yoshi and Anthony. Anthony was still busy breaking his marriage vows and probably a few laws against statutory rape, as well. The fucking bastard didn’t deserve Tabansi. Kicking Anthony in the ribs was satisfactory for a few seconds. Anthony howled in pain, pushing Pete off of him and off of the bench. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Anthony shouted.

“Get me another drink!” Aidan ordered.

Anthony looked between him, Yoshi and Sudara. Then, apparently having decided it would be easier to give Aidan what he wanted, he stood up and bent over to speak to Pete. “Hold that though, beautiful,” he said, gently nudging the bulge in Pete’s briefs with his shoe.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” Pete said, running his hand up Anthony’s leg. Anthony grinned at him, and went in search of the bar.

Sudara was looking incredibly pleased with himself, which did nothing to improve Aidan’s mood. “Everything will start running smoothly for you, once Manon gets here. She’s been doing this for ages now – she won’t tell you her age, though. And while she’s off blackmailing other people into showing your art, you and I can work on that painting together.”

“Now that would be a great career move,” Aidan said sarcastically.

Yoshi smiled apologetically. “About that painting, Minowara-san,” he started hesitantly. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about it.”

“Well, no… Listen, please. I respect you for what you do and I admire you for being able to handle criticism so well, but you’re infamous. I’ve only recently gotten some publicity. If I do something wrong now, I can forget about my career. I’m really sorry, but I don’t think we should make a painting together. Not now, at least.”

Sudara rolled his eyes. “Oh please, not this again,” he said, looking tired. “Look, we’ve been over this before. Being subtle will get you absolutely nowhere. People need to be shocked, they need to have their safe little world crumble around them, otherwise your art will be as interesting to them as a piece of broccoli. It doesn’t matter if this or that person likes your art, as long as your art gets a reaction out of people. That’s why art should be provoking.”

Yoshi still looked hesitant. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

“No, not ‘I guess’,” Sudara said. “You need to shock the people with your perversion, your cruelty, your absolute lack of subtlety. They will pretend to hate you for it, but secretly they’ll love you for it.”

“Lord, what naïveté,” Aidan mumbled. Sudara raised an eyebrow at him, demanding an explanation. “It’s very simple,” Aidan said. “I understand your point about art being something you don’t see every day and I do agree that sometimes art will cover subjects most people would rather ignore. However, as an artist you must be very careful not to cross the line between provoking because you have a message and provoking purely because it’s fun to provoke.

“Take the Marquis de Sade, for example. His books, which were full of rape and other sexual perversions, can be seen as a protest against the prudish and what he considered hypocritical attitude of society in his age. The Marquis did say: “I am a man of nature before I am a man of society”. But when you look at his books closely, you don’t really get the feeling that he’s making a protest, because he approached it the wrong way. In the Marquis’s books the violent and perverse scenes follow each other so rapidly, that the reader is shocked too often and too soon for the message to sink in. The Marquis’s books are provoking, merely for entertainment purposes. And instead of being seen as the only honest man in an age of hypocrites, the Marquis de Sade is now seen merely as an old pervert.”

“That’s what you have to be careful about; shocking and provoking is fine, as long as you make sure that people get your message. You shouldn’t be too blunt, otherwise people will turn away from your work and you’ll lose whatever chance you had of conveying your message to them. And if you can’t bring a message onto canvas, or paper, or whatever material you favour, then our dear old friend Oscar Wilde was right: then all art is quite useless.”

“Thus spake the expert,” Sudara quipped.

Aidan threw him a foul look. “I may not know as much about painters and sculptors and art movements as you do, but I do know my literature.”

“Oh, please! The Marquis de Sade, literature?!”

“The French seem to think so.”

“Bah, the French have no taste!”

“Coming from you, that’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Bitch.”

“Striapach.”

Sudara flushed. “I don’t know what you just said, okama, but I don’t like the way you said it!”

Yoshi jumped between them in a last attempt to save what had been a nice evening so far. “Guys, please, let’s pretend we’re all grown men here, shall we?” he said timidly. “Please?” Sudara and Aidan glared at each other for a while, but eventually backed down for Yoshi’s sake. Yoshi let out a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Aidan. “I didn’t think you knew that much about art, or that you’d have such a solid opinion about it,” he said with a smile.

Aidan shrugged. “I’ve been confronted with art since I was a little boy; the interior of my grandfather’s house was done completely in one style.” He hesitated. He didn’t want to get the style of art wrong and make a fool of himself, but he didn’t want Yoshi to think he didn’t know anything about it, either. “I think it’s a baroque,” he said hesitantly. “It’s all very… It’s just too much of everything.”

“Sure sounds like baroque,” Yoshi laughed.

“And which of your grandfather’s houses would that be, hm?” Sudara asked with a voice that sounded like razorblades in candy. “Is it the one in Furbo? Or perhaps it’s one of the three mansions he owns in England? Or is it the villa in the USA? Oh, I’m afraid I forgot which grandfather’s house we were talking about. Is it Conroy’s, or Sakutaro’s? Because if it was Sakutaro’s, then you were obviously talking about the castle in Kyoto.

“How’s Sakutaro doing, by the way? I read in the magazines that he’s been a little stressed out ever since his wife died. I heard he’s been firing all the housekeeping staff when one of them folds a towel in a way he doesn’t like. How many people were working in housekeeping, again? Around seventy, am I right?”

Sudara knew a lot more about Aidan’s grandfathers than Aidan himself; for the next five minutes – seeming unperturbed by Aidan’s stony silence – he talked about the four million euros Conroy had spent on Persian rugs, the twenty-five masseuses Sakutaro’d had flown in from China and Malaysia, Conroy’s rumoured fourth mansion in England, and the five million yen Sakutaro had spent on gifts for his many mistresses.

And with every word about wealth, Aidan could feel Yoshi trying to distance himself from the situation. He wasn’t sure if it was because Yoshi felt it was unfair that he had to struggle to put food on the table while Aidan’s family was swimming in money, or because Yoshi felt he was beneath Aidan’s standards. The latter was probably the case; Yoshi was looking far too uncomfortable to be envious.

Aidan wasn’t uncomfortable at all; he was far too busy being furious. With every passing second, it was becoming more and more tempting to reach over and… ‘You will not attack him and rip out his uvula. You will not attack him and rip out his uvula.’

Sudara finally shut up when Anthony arrived with three glasses of vodka. The blond looked at Aidan’s face, then at Sudara. Then he put all three glasses down in front of Aidan. “I’ll get some more,” he said. He disappeared again.

Aidan drained a glass. “Listen, you,” he said to Sudara. “I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. I thought I’d made things clear the first time that Yoshi’s taken.” His voice rose in volume with each word. “He’s mine. And if you can’t take a fucking hint, I’ll shove this fucking glass down your throat and spell it out in your blood.”

Yoshi became pale. Aidan looked so serious and his grip on the glass had tightened so much Yoshi swore he could see crack appear in the glass. “Um… Minowara-san, maybe you should – ”

“Don’t worry, I’m already leaving.” Sudara stood up, smiling in a way that wasn’t smiling at all. “Come on, Petey,” he said. “I don’t think we’re welcome anymore.”

“Can I say goodbye to Mr. Russian Taste first?”

“Yes, but hurry up. From the looks of it, Puss-boy’s patience is about to run out.” They both looked at Aidan, whose hand had begun to shake. Now the cracks in the glass were clearly visible. But Aidan didn’t appear to be trying to break the glass; he seemed to be trying as hard as he could not to break it.

It seemed to take all of Aidan’s strength to put the glass onto the table. “Weren’t you leaving?” he said to Sudara without looking at him. The anger was apparent in his voice.

Sudara smirked. “Of course I’m leaving,” he said sweetly. “Yoshi dear, I’ll let you know when Manon’s coming. It shouldn’t be too long before she’s ready to rumble; give her a day or two to recover from the jet lag. Now, gentlemen,” he bowed theatrically, “I bid you bon soir. Enjoy your date.” He winked at Yoshi and left.

When he was gone there was an uncomfortable quiet at the table. It couldn’t be called silence, because of the loud music, but neither Yoshi nor Aidan said a word. Aidan emptied the two other glasses within a minute. His eyes had begun to tear and his cheeks had turned an unhealthy shade of red.

“Um… maybe you should take it easy on the alcohol,” Yoshi said carefully.

“What the fuck does it matter?” Aidan snarled.

“Eh… well, there probably isn’t fort percent alcohol in the vodka they’re serving here, but it’s still quite a l - ”

“I bet you think we’re the Prince and the fucking Pauper.”

Yoshi quickly shut his mouth. After hearing about the wealth of Aidan’s grandfathers, he had indeed been comparing Aidan and himself to the Prince and the Pauper. It was stupid, really, because he’d known for a while now that Aidan’s family was filthy rich. But he couldn’t help feeling he wasn’t good enough for Aidan. Even if, by the grace of his ancestors, Aidan’s family accepted his relationship with another man, they certainly wouldn’t be happy that he was having a relationship with a mere artist. Worse: an artist whose ancestry was unknown.

“What the fuck does it matter?” Aidan said again. He sounded furious. “Why should you give a flying fuck about what my grandfathers do? You stupid bastard, you’re putting too much value on family. Family means virtually nothing to me, blood lines mean even less. I’m not going to respect someone just because we’re related by blood.”

He looked bitter and sad. Yoshi moved closer to him and put his hand against Aidan’s hot cheek. Aidan sighed and leaned into the touch. ‘I want him,’ Yoshi thought. ‘I need him.’ “Are you alright?” he asked. “Maybe you should go home.” ‘Riiiight, because you’re reeeeeaally worried about him, aren’t you? Or maybe you’re just eager to get him somewhere private and see if he’s drunk enough to let you into his pants?’

Aidan sighed and shook his head. He placed his hand over Yoshi’s and squeezed it gently. “I’m sure you don’t agree with me, but you’re lucky you don’t know who your family is; you don’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations. You don’t have anyone to compare you to some distant relative or to say: “When I was your age…” You can simply be yourself, be Yoshi.”

“Was it difficult, having to live up to so many expectations?”

“You can’t possibly begin to imagine how horrible it was. I grew up in Ireland, where everyone treated me like I was the Emperor; I could never do anything wrong. No one ever punished me, not even when…” The way he abruptly shut his mouth made Yoshi wonder if Aidan thought it would be a mistake to tell Yoshi whatever it was he’d been about to say.

Aidan shook his head, as if he was trying to shake off a bad memory. “And then I was shipped off to Japan, where everyone expected me to live up to my fucking Ichijo ancestors, even though at the same time they kept reminding me that I would never be a true Ichijo because of my foreign blood.”

“Ichijo… You mean the Ichijo of the Fujiwara clan? You’re nobility?!”

“Yes, I am. My grandmother was a daughter of the Ichijo clan. She took my grandfather’s name when they married.” Aidan looked annoyed. “Does it matter?”

Yoshi’s heart was trying to leap out of his throat. “Jesus, of course it matters! If anyone finds out you’re with me, your family would never survive the scandal!”

“Gee, you think? As I recall, I wasn’t the one who insisted on this stupid date.” Stupid? He thought the date was stupid? That hurt a lot more than Yoshi liked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If I’d known – ”

“Well, that just makes everything worse, doesn’t it?” Aidan was working himself up to a nasty temper tantrum. It was a lot easier than usual, with the large amount of alcohol in his blood. But just when the anger was threatening to boil over, a voice in his head whispered, ‘I bet Sudara is laughing his arse off right now.’ All the anger evaporated. No, he wouldn’t give Sudara what he wanted. “Yoshi, I already told you it doesn’t matter. Alright?” ‘Please don’t be like everyone else. Please.’

“… Okay, if you say so. But we’d better watch what we’re doing in public.”

Aidan let out a deep sigh. “Thank you,” he said.

“No problem.” Yoshi still sounded unconvinced, so Aidan decided to change the subject.

“Want to boogie?”

Yoshi laughed. “Oh no, I think I’m too drunk to do anything but sway.” ‘And I’m too horny to think about anything but bend you over and take you. Right here, in front of everyone.’

Aidan snorted. “You think you’re drunk now? Most of the alcohol hasn’t even gotten into your bloodstream yet. Five more minutes and you’ll be too pissed to even remember your own name.”

‘And you? What happens when you get so drunk you can’t even remember your own name? Would you let me…?’ Knowing that Aidan was nobility somehow added some sense of adventure to everything; he felt like the secret lover sneaking into the princess’ bedroom in the middle of the night. It just made him want Aidan more.

He started when there were two heavy thumps on the table. Anthony had returned with two more glasses of vodka. “I’ve got some work to do,” he said. “I’ll round up Tabansi and the others and take them home. You two have fun.” He winked. “And be nice.”

When Aidan reached for a glass, Yoshi thought, ‘Oh yes, please be nice.’

03:42, Yoshi’s apartment

Aidan, Yoshi had concluded, was very nice when he’d consumed a few alcoholic drinks. Very, very nice. So nice, in fact, that Yoshi doubted they’d ever make it all the way to his apartment. They were standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning heavily on each other and swaying on their feet.

Yoshi squinted at his feet and tried to make them move. “Up, dammit,” he said to them, wiggling his toes. Aidan’s hands kept distracting him from his mission to get up the stairs, by fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “G’way!” Yoshi said. He tried to push Aidan away from him, but he could only find the strength to put his hand against Aidan’s chest. “Stairs first,” he said. “Then sex.”

“Oh no, no you don’t,” Aidan slurred, shaking his finger at Yoshi. “I dun think I’m drunk enough for… for that. Hold on, lemme check.” His expression became serious and thoughtful, but it would have been more impressive if he hadn’t gone cross-eyed. He thought and thought and thought, and then he gave up. “Brains gone. Try again later.”

Yoshi thought this was so funny it deserved to be laughed at, so he laughed. The hand against Aidan’s chest made a fist in the fabric of Aidan’s shirt and used its hold on the redhead to pull him closer. “Kiss,” Yoshi said.

“Hmm, yes,” Aidan mumbled.

It was a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, fuelled by alcohol and hormones. Yoshi’s brain somehow made the connection between ‘apartment’ and ‘sex’ and he tried to get Aidan to move up the stairs with him. But the redhead was much too fascinated by the sound Yoshi’s zipper made when he pulled it up and down, up and down, up and down, to notice anything else.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzip.

Yoshi tried to talk with his tongue in Aidan’s mouth, but for some reason it didn’t work so he broke the kiss. “Apartment. Sex,” he mumbled the two words that kept bouncing up and down in his head. Up and down, up and down, up and down… The friction of the zipper against his erection was driving him absolutely insane with lust. He had half a mind to throw Aidan to the floor and just take him there. Or against the wall; walls were good for sex, too.

“Apartment. Sex,” Aidan echoed. He thought for a while, going cross-eyed again. Then he shrugged. “Okay.” He turned around and began to ascend the stairs, holding tightly on to the railing so he wouldn’t fall.

Yoshi did a little victory dance at the bottom of the stairs, tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his face. Aidan laughed so hard he cried. Growling, Yoshi stumbled up the stairs until he reached Aidan and he pulled the redhead close for another kiss. Their hands and lips started to wander, zippers were pulled down and stayed down. It was a miracle they managed to get all the way up the stairs and into Yoshi’s apartment.

When the door to his apartment slammed closed, it was as if a door in Yoshi’s mind had opened up to let in a bit of fresh air. It sobered him up a little and gave his conscience a chance to make its opinion clear. ‘You’re drunk!’ his conscience accused. ‘And he’s completely smashed. It’s a wonder he’s able to stand at all, with all the alcohol he consumed!’

“Hmm,” Yoshi moaned. His conscience wasn’t really getting to him, not when he had Aidan’s mouth around his earlobe and hands in his pants to focus on. His slow brain could guess where this was going, though.

‘Who says he won’t regret this in the morning? You know he doesn’t just screw everyone he comes across, unlike you, Mr. Unfaithful. Do you want him to hate you? If you don’t, stop this right now! Look at him! Look at what his mouth is doing!’

Yoshi was looking, all right. He watched as Aidan dropped to his knees, pulling Yoshi’s pants down with him. Yoshi knew this was the point where he should say stop, but all he could think about was Aidan’s tongue darting out of his mouth and the things the redhead could do with it. And he was so hard. He’d wanted this for so long and now that it was within his reach he didn’t think he could find the strength to reject it. But a quick fuck wasn’t what he wanted from Aidan, was it?

Aidan’s hand went into the pocket of Yoshi’s pants and came back out of it with a condom. “Oh,” Aidan said. He looked surprised, but he sounded as if his suspicion had been confirmed. “Came prepared, did we?”

Yoshi smiled guiltily, painfully. “Look, I…” He had to clear his throat before he could continue; Aidan had placed a warm hand right on Yoshi’s boxer-covered erection. “This isn’t a good idea, Aidan. I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t want this, but you’re so drunk you can barely stand without falling. I just don’t want you to regret this in the morning. I don’t want you to hate me.” He began to bend down to pull up his pants, but his hands were slapped away and his wrists were pressed against the wall by hands that were much stronger than his would ever be.

“Drunk?” Aidan looked up at him with an amused glint in his eyes. “You think I could ever be drunk enough to do this?! You underestimate me.” He wasn’t slurring anymore, and he wasn’t going cross-eyed, either.

“You’re not drunk,” Yoshi gasped.

“Not even tipsy,” Aidan laughed. He tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth, as one of his hands slipped into the slit in Yoshi’s boxers and grabbed hot flesh. Yoshi’s knees suddenly felt very weak and he was beginning to feel light-headed. “You, however,” Aidan said, “have had a little more alcohol than is good for you. Tell me when you feel you’re going to faint, and I’ll stop.”

“But… Ah! Ooohh!” Yoshi threw his head back and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. He couldn’t look down, couldn’t look at the mouth he was feeling on his cock. If he looked, it would undo him.

When Aidan swallowed him, fast, three times in a row, Yoshi’d forgotten to breathe and was beginning to see black spots. His lungs felt like they were about to burst. He should really say stop now; he was so dizzy it wasn’t funny anymore. But he couldn’t find the word he was looking for; his brain was too busy interpreting the pleased messages from his cock to let him speak.

Yoshi-sama liked being inside Aidan’s mouth; he loved to feel Aidan’s hot mouth sliding up and down around him, loved the tongue that teased him. And he seemed to be damned determined to make sure he stayed inside Aidan’s mouth; every attempt Yoshi made at talking was aborted when his brain received another shock of pleasure.

But when Aidan suddenly stopped and pulled back, Yoshi was able to let out a strangled cry of dismay. ‘Don’t stop, don’t, don’t!’ Aidan was looking up at him, his mouth stretched just around the head of Yoshi’s penis. The sight would have stolen Yoshi’s breath away, if he’d had any left. As it was, it only made him dizzier.

Aidan frowned and began to pull back.

‘No! Oh gods, no, don’t stop now!’ “Please!!” He took a deep breath, and once again lost the ability to speak as Aidan flicked his tongue over the sensitive head of his penis.

Aidan began to pick up the pace, taking him in deep and then pulling back quickly. Now that he’d seen it, Yoshi couldn’t turn his eyes away from Aidan’s mouth sliding up and down around his cock. The sight was almost too much, and so was knowing Aidan was doing this for him.

“I only have sex with my lovers.”

“Oh yes, faster… Yes!” Yoshi knew he was moaning shamelessly loud now. If anyone were to walk past the door to his apartment there wouldn’t be a second’s doubt about what was going on inside, but he didn’t care. All he wanted now was to come, inside the rubber, inside Aidan’s mouth.

He knew he was close when he began to shudder. Silently he thanked the gods that there was a wall against his back, because he was sure his legs wouldn’t be able to carry him much longer. “Aidan, please… Deeper…” Aidan complied, taking him impossibly deep. Yoshi screamed, his wrists straining against Aidan’s grip.

“Please, please, please, please… oh… Touch… I need to… Please let me… oh gods…” His hands were released and he buried them in Aidan’s hair. It was the slide of smooth, cool hair that started the tremors in his legs; all his wet dreams come true.

When Aidan pushed a hand under Yoshi’s balls, it all became too much.

Yoshi could hear himself screaming as if from a great distance. Muscles he hadn’t known he’d possessed tightened as he came and came and came, holding Aidan’s head tightly as he thrust wildly into his mouth and listened to Aidan’s soft sounds of contentment.

Finally, it was over. With a groan Yoshi released Aidan and slid down the wall, feeling as if everything had been sucked out of him. Aidan fell back on the floor.

For a while the only sound was their heavy panting, as they tried to catch their breath. Then Aidan chuckled. “You have the stupidest grin ever on your face.”

Yoshi tried to say something, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a moan.

Aidan sat up and Yoshi noticed there was a wet spot on Aidan’s crotch. It was a good thing Aidan had gotten some pleasure out of it, too; Yoshi didn’t think he was capable of lifting his hands, let alone returning the favour.

Aidan pulled off the condom and tied it with a clinical precision that suggested he’d done it a thousand times before. As he stood up, he gave Yoshi a little nudge against his knee. “Tuck yourself back in. As much as I enjoy the view, I’m sure you’re cold.”

He disappeared into the kitchen to throw the condom in the litter bin. When he returned, Yoshi hadn’t moved a muscle. Aidan rolled his eyes and knelt down in front of Yoshi. “You should clean yourself up. Hang on, I’ll get you a towel.”

“No.” Yoshi came to life; he sat up a little and tucked his now flaccid penis into his boxers with slow, clumsy movements. Then he leaned back against the wall, not bothering to zip himself up again. He patted the ground next to him, and Aidan sat down.

“Are you alright?” Aidan asked as he rested his head on Yoshi’s shoulder. He knew it was a stupid question; Yoshi was still grinning like he was stoned. Endorphin high.

“Hmm,” Yoshi moaned, burying his nose in Aidan’s hair. They stayed like that for a while.

When Yoshi’s breathing became slower, Aidan hauled him off the floor and got him to the bed. He undressed them both – glad to be rid of his own wet pants and underwear – and tucked Yoshi in, before sliding under the blankets himself.

Yoshi wrapped an arm around his waist and scooted closer. He let out a deep sigh and rested his head on Aidan’s chest.

“Aidan?” he said, sounding half asleep.

“… Yes?”

“You’re nice.”

The Weeping Willow Hospital

“Good morning!”

Keiko Watanabe, nurse at the Weeping Willow Hospital since 1992, promised herself that she would burn twenty sticks of incense and say eight prayers for good fortune the second she got home tonight.

In the three years Aidan Yamamoto had been a neurologist at the Weeping Willow he had seemed to her like a walking icicle. He was unsociable, rude and short-tempered, he hardly ever smiled and he never gave anyone compliments.

That today he cheerfully wished her a good morning with a big smile on his face and then complimented her on her haircut either meant that she shouldn’t have eaten that leftover sushi last night or there was a serious glitch in the matrix.

Ichiro Nakagawa walked past the reception desk. He saw Aidan’s bright smile and replied to the cheerful good morning and kept on walking. Then he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around so fast his spine sounded like screeching tires on asphalt. “Yamamoto-sensei?!”

The redhead turned around as well and, still smiling – pleasantly, not nastily or obviously fake – asked his boss what was the matter and what he could do to help.

“You’re scaring me,” Nakagawa said. “Why are you smiling?” He looked at Aidan suspiciously. “Have they found an incurable disease that is only lethal for Englishmen?”

Aidan’s expression was one of pure wounded innocence. Damn, that boy was a good actor. “Nothing like that, Nakagawa-sama,” Aidan said pleasantly. “I am simply happy today, is that such an odd thing?”

“Well… usually you’re happy when you’ve seen a toreador get trampled by the bull he was fighting.” That made Aidan grin. “I want to know why you’re so happy. You’re not taking any drugs, are you?”

Aidan merely smiled dreamily and blushed a little. ‘Endorphin high,’ he thought.

Something clicked in Nakagawa’s head. “Oho, so that’s the reason!” He chuckled at Aidan’s puzzled expression. “Did you enjoy your date with Hirasaki-san?”

“I… um…”

“You really do look very happy. Did something “good” happen?”

Aidan snorted. “I hardly think that’s any of your business,” he said, but the red spots on his cheeks spoke volumes. “And anyway, you’ll just twist everything I say into some sick homoerotic fantasy.”

“Won’t you humour an old man?”

“No. I’m going now, before you ruin my good mood.”

Nakagawa watched Aidan bounce away and shrugged. He’d just ask his little brother to try and squeeze any information about kinky goings-on between Aidan and Yoshi from the green-eyed painter himself. Yoshi would be more willing to tell such things than Aidan, or he’d at least be worse at hiding his emotions.

“It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining. I feel good. No one’s gonna stop me now,” Aidan sang. He was all but dancing through the hallways and scaring his patients by acting friendly and listening to their complaints. He knew he’d have to stop acting so civil soon, otherwise his image of human icicle would be ruined. People might actually start to think he cared.

That thought stopped him from bouncing into Sazuko’s room. It was four o’clock in the afternoon, one hour and thirty-five minutes earlier than his usual check up of Sazuko. But today he had an operation at half past five, so he had to reschedule. He still had to call Yoshi to let him know he wouldn’t be available for their daily five-minute conversation and quick grope.

Thinking of Yoshi made his throat dry, his heart thump and his hands sweat. Ever since their date, and particularly what had happened after they’d left the club, he became extremely excited whenever he thought of Yoshi. He didn’t like it very much; he felt just as excited as when he’d been with his ex – the hedonist – and that brought back some painful memories.

“Well, so much for my good mood,” Aidan sighed. He shrugged. He’d never really expected to be happy for longer than a few minutes, anyway; life had made it its duty to let disappointment crash down on him when he was feeling even the slightest bit satisfied. The tragic ending of his seemingly stable, twelve-year-long relationship with Faust – or Shiro, or whatever the Hell his real name was – had been a very good example that Fate didn’t have a happy end in store for him.

It must have been karma, some sort of punishment for being such a terror as a kid – and still being one as an adult. If Aidan had believed in such things, he would have indeed blamed karma for his misery. Now he just believed that life was a long, useless, painful thing that would eventually lead to blissful oblivion. If anyone would ask him, “Why are we alive?” his answer would be: “To waste oxygen.”

He’d already decided that when he was too old to work and would become a burden to whatever family he had left, he’d take a few carefully chosen pills and take a nice, eternal nap.

Tabansi panicked whenever Aidan brought that subject up. Aidan thought he was just being realistic, if not a bit crude. He didn’t enjoy life very much, he never had, so what was the point in living as long as possible? Continuing his life with expensive medical treatment and medicines would just be postponing the inevitable. There were only two kinds of death he feared: a painful death and an embarrassing death. Death in general left him cold.

His work only strengthened his point of view, because every day he saw at least three people who would either wake up from their coma with sever handicaps and would never be the same people they once were, or people who wouldn’t wake up from their coma at all.

Like the young woman lying on the bed.

Who was now staring at him with big brown eyes.

Aidan froze completely. ‘No, no! This can’t be happening… not now!’

Sazuko blinked often and her eyes were wet. It meant she’d just woken up. The lights were hurting her eyes; they had been closed for such a long time.

Maybe she wasn’t really awake; maybe her eyes were open but she wasn’t really seeing him. That happened sometimes. Aidan hated himself for hoping that. His eyes darted to the equipment beside Sazuko’s bed. From what he could see, everything indicated that she was awake and well.

“Sazuko-san, can you see me? Do you know who I am?”

Sazuko nodded slowly and smiled at him. “Yamamoto-sensei,” she rasped.

Aidan began to laugh. It wasn’t a nice laugh.

First Faust, and now this. No, there certainly wouldn’t be a happy end for him.

To be continued…

The Dutch way oral sex (I do not want to know what my ancestors did to leave such an impression on the Japanese, I really don’t!)

Goluboj Russian slang for ‘gay guy’

Gaijin foreigner

Harvey Wallbanger drink made of orange juice, Galliano and vodka

Snowball drink made of advocaat (a disgusting Dutch drink that’s really only for tarts :P), lemonade, lime juice and cream (I think, there were several different recipes of this one)

Striapach Gaelic for ‘whore’

Okama Japanese slang for a gay person/male transvestite

Bon soir French for “good night”

Author’s Notes: Finally, it’s finished! Now I can die happily!

Oh, I mean the chapter’s finished, of course. Not the story. Don’t worry; there’s still much more to come.

How’d you like the blowjob scene? I’ve never actually written something like that before, and I don’t think it quite came out the way I wanted it. I’ve been reading a lot of slash/yaoi stories to see how other people write blowjobs, and I’ve noticed something: there aren’t that many people that actually use the word “blowjob”. Is it too vulgar? (but they all use the word “cock”, instead of “penis” or “erection”, and isn’t that vulgar too?) And why is it that it’s usually the top who gives the bottom a blowjob? I’m also worried that the scene is a little too graphic for FictionPress’ “M”-rating, but I don’t feel like going back and rewriting the damn thing. Oh well, we’re all adults here, anyway, aren’t we? (hears several readers whistle innocently)

Anyway, the next couple of events were inspired by a comment made by subtleline in one of her reviews, so we can all thank subtleline for the psychological warfare, angst, angst, more angst, and sex! Thank you, subtleline!! (bows)

And last, but not least, it’s time to Name The Kitties!! As I’ve said before, Aidan owns many cats. So many, that even I’ve lost count. And cats need names, of course. There are two cats with a name so far; Stalker, everyone’s favourite stalking tomcat; and the Rum Tum Tugger, named after the sexy tomcat in the musical “Cats”. But I keep changing the names of all the other cats so many times that I’ve had enough. So you can all give a cat a name. Be original, be creative… Don’t say “Fluffy!” Please.

Until next time! (which is hopefully, but not likely, soon)