Secret Desires
By Dany
The solitary figure moved through the masses like a ghost. He made no eye contact, yet he was also careful not to bump into anyone. No small feat considering the formidable number of tourists and the usual Tokyo weekend crowd on the move in this section of town this evening. No one would remember his passing here tonight; no one ever did. Hands jammed into his jacket pockets, collar pulled up, he moved purposefully, yet not hurriedly. He had a few minutes to spare.
His stride slowed as the familiar alley came into view half a block ahead. He resisted the urge of looking over his shoulder and instead simply slipped quickly into the murky alleyway. The solitude was as abrupt as if he had stepped not merely into a side-street, but into another realm altogether. He moved down the dark path, past rows of garbage cans to cut a right into an even smaller corridor until he came to a halt in front of a brightly lacquered door.
The first time he had come here, he had almost laughed out loud; the door was so out of place in this dank and smelly back alley. But hey, at least you knew you had arrived at the right spot – if you managed to find the door in the first place.
He had found it, of course. He was a treasure hunter, after all.
A simple shaded light bulb above the door frame was the only illumination. There were no cameras in sight. The men who knocked on this door did not appreciate their likeness captured on film. That didn't mean that his presence went unseen; that much he knew for sure. The surveillance around here was still done the good old-fashioned, human way.
He rapped on the door in no particular rhythm. There was no special knock or code word. He didn't need any of this Hollywood movie stuff; he was expected.
An eyelevel-high slot of lacquered wood was pulled back from inside, and a pair of black eyes peered at him silently.
The man on the doorstep kept his voice low and even. "Please tell your chief that Aka-san has arrived. I have a ten o'clock appointment."
A grunt was the only reply he received before the slab of rectangular wood was slid back in place. Before long, the door opened, and the man stepped across the threshold and started down the dim hallway without once glancing at the bouncer.
The proprietor was waiting for him at the end of the corridor. Dressed in an impeccable grey Western suit, middle-aged, moon-faced and bespectacled, he looked much more like an accountant than the owner of an establishment of a frowned-upon nature.
He smiled broadly and bowed. "Aka-san, always a pleasure to see you again. It's been too long since you last visited." Indicating his guest to follow him across the threshold and into the room beyond, he kept up a steady chatter along the way. "You will be pleased to know that I was able to accommodate your request, since you have contacted me so well in advance. I believe you will like what you are going to see. I wish more of my customers were like you, so organized and decisive about what they are looking for…"
They entered into the familiar reception area, and the proprietor waved towards a collection of plush chairs and sofas positioned throughout the chamber. "Please make yourself comfortable while I have your…company fetched."
Before taking a seat, though, his visitor reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and handed the owner a nondescript white envelope, which the proprietor accepted with a graceful bow and another smile before he traded a quick word with a boy of about ten years who was hovering behind a counter. While the boy was running off to carry out the order, the owner positioned himself behind the same counter to count the money inside the envelope. While he did, he cast a surreptitious look at the man in the chair.
It had indeed been quite a while since this one had visited. An infrequent customer, yet the proprietor prided himself in giving all of his patrons his patented smiles and charms.
Aka-san. Mister Red. Not that the owner believed for one minute that this was the man's real name. No one who availed himself of the services he provided gave their real names. There was also not a shred of red anywhere on this man. He was dressed as he always was, in black cargo jeans and a black shirt beneath a nondescript black jacket.
Not that it mattered to the owner what his customers called themselves; as long as the money was right and they made no trouble as long as they were here…
Footsteps on the stairs behind him told him that this client's motivation for tonight was approaching. A look and a barely perceptible nod were exchanged between employer and employee, indicating that all was well and paid for, before the male escort approached his seated client.
From his position in the chair, Satoru watched silently as the young man came closer.
He was approximately nineteen or twenty years of age, with an oval face framed by shoulder-length, light brown hair. Tight brown leather pants and a white shirt of a near translucent material showed a lean yet muscular body beneath and his full lips were formed into a half-smile that broadened slightly as Satoru rose to meet him.
The owner had done a commendable job; this young man came as close to Satoru's pre-set requirements as could be. He also had to be either new or outsourced, for if Satoru had ever seen him here before, he certainly would have taken notice.
Satoru did not frequent this establishment, or any other of its kind. But every few months, when the urge became too great to ignore or to satisfy with his own hand, he would inevitably find himself in this place.
Whereas Houses of Joy had a long and rich history in Japan, this particular establishment was little-known due to the particular nature of its services. It had taken careful and subtle research to unearth this particular location, but it had been worth the work, for it suited his purposes perfectly.
Here the exclusive clientele were men who only wanted other men.
"I am Hiro." The young man cast him a suggestive grin. "– but feel free to call me anything you wish."
He wasn't Eiji. The shoulders were not quite as broad, the hair, although hazelnut-brown, was missing the white strand, and while his face was certainly handsome enough, it came nowhere near Eiji's features.
For a substitute though, he would do.
Hiro stood patiently, his smile never wavering while Satoru scrutinized him. For him, this was business as usual, and Satoru was well aware of the fact that this was all just an illusion. But it was the best he could do. At least for tonight. Until the urge returned.
So he simply nodded in approval, gave the young man a slight smile and motioned towards the stairway in a 'lead the way' gesture.
THE END