UNEXPECTED ENDINGS
III
Seiji's mind six blocks away, through a half drowse; he listened with only half attention to Nasuti reading off his case file.
"Who ever made out this file doesn't know how to write simple sentences. Everything is so technical." She mumbled as she shoved another tea cookie in her mouth, "Apparently this Korean man is blackmailing one of Japan's ambassadors to Australia." She whistled, "And he has a nice mile long record to boot. Check out all the names he uses. I can't believe no one has caught him!? Oh-my," she paused and squinted her eyes. "He's suspected as an informant to North Korea. I never met a spy…well," she trailed off and glanced at Seiji's sleeping form, "You don't count. We're married."
"Good," Seiji settled deeper into bed, too damn tired and worn out to care.
"I bet I can hack into the main computer at your bureau and get more information on this murderous creep. This paragraph says that he hacked into some classified files at the embassy and your department and deleted as well as copied them. I can so find those;" she said self-confidently, "The computer never fully deletes anything. You just need the magic touch. And if I can't do it, I bet Touma can. He needs to put those brain cells to work anyway; his mom tells me he's been a lazy bone recently." She relaxed back into the feathering pillows that were stacked up against her canopy and crossed her legs, tapping her feet to silent music. "This dimwitted criminal probably sent them flying around the net, never staying in one spot, which would explain why your guy never tracked them down. They keep changing locations."
"Umhm," Seiji said into the pillow, praying she'd run down soon. She'd put as much energy into them as he had, and now she was sitting up nude beside him while eating tea cookies and doing a play-by-play of his case file. And she wonders why he hates it when she gets involved in his work. If she didn't shut up in the next five minutes, he was going to have to drug her. Was sleep too much to ask for? He would love to have silence right now. It was hard enough to commute to work on packed trains, work in a small cubical reading and making out paperwork, listening to briefings by his superiors, and then come home late after he had a drink with his colleagues. He wasn't your average cop, it was a high risk and hush-hush government job which permitted him to rub elbows with important politicians, and yet he felt like your typical Japanese salary-man.
"Hey," She smacked his shoulder, and he rolled back to see her grinning down at him, the cookie bag in her hand, his case file in the other, her hair making her look like a firecracker in the moonlight (soon to be dawn light). "We are too new at this marriage thing for you to take me for granted. The seven year itch it's even near. Let's have a little courtship here, shall we?"
"No," he croaked and pointed to the manila folder she held. "You have a courtship with that."
She let her mouth drop open in mock rage, and he closed his eyes again.
"Seiji, I'm being serious."
"It's good to be serious."
"I mean it."
"Of course you do."
"Seiji…"
"And your name is Nasuti."
She hit him with her pillow, laughing at his smart-alecky responses. He took the pillow and stuffed it under his head.
"You're welcome," she said, referring to her pillow he now was using as his. Twisting her body she turned off the light and dumped the cookie bag and file on the Victorian nightstand. Then she scooted down on the bed, curling her body against his, arms encircling his chest, her hand lazily started caressing his shoulder. He closed his eyes in pleasure at all her suddenly plaint softness pressed against him.
"I'm happy," Nasuti whispered in his ear, her voice all smiles, and he thought, I can sleep later
He rolled so they were side by side, pulling her closer, still amazed how they came to be, that he's finally done all the things he'd been trying not to think about and that they'd turned out to be so much better that he'd tried not to imagine. "Sleep, partner. You are getting up in a few hours and you're going to need all the sleep you can get if you want to tag along." He kissed her softly.
"Does that mean I get to use a badge too?"
His eye remained closed, but his lips quirked in a smile. "You can wear mine."
"You are so kinky!" He laughed against her throat, squeezing her tighter, and held onto her until she fell asleep. Eventually he'll say it but for now he would say it secretly… I'm happy too…
~-~-~-~-~
Nasuti groggily walked out of the bathroom and fainted backwards on the bed. While Seiji looked like a fashion model in his Ralph Lauren slacks and polo shirt, she thought she looked like a fashion mistake. Her only pantyhose sprouted a run, her hair went frizz-O-mantic because of the humidity and all her favorite dresses and suits were at the dry cleaners so she grabbed a yellow sundress that was too loose. Since the marriage between her and Seiji she couldn't pig out anymore on Hershey's chocolate in the privacy of her own home. Shedding the weight was a confidence booster but she sure missed her Hershey babies.
"Nasuti, where did you place my holster?" Seiji called out from the walk in closet, looking about for the strap which he usually kept on his tie rack.
She rose slightly from the bed as though she was a mummy awakening from her coffin. "I placed it in the safe with your gun. I thought it was better to keep them together then apart." She crumpled back on the bed with a moan as he exited the room. "Mon Dieu," she muttered and covered her eyes from the glare of the sun that shone a butter-yellow, on the far side of the morning haze, filtering through her French doors and lace curtains. "How does he function? I can barely walk straight without stumbling."
Eventually she managed to get off the bed and stagger in front of her huge dressing room mirror. Grabbing some pink lip stick she applied it to her lips and added blush to her pale cheeks. "It's no use," she grumbled and dropped the makeup back on the glass counter. When one was near the brink of drooping dead from sleep depreciation; one could not improve their state of image, not matter what they had in their makeup bag. Muttering curses at the humid weather she grabbed a summer hat from her closet and pulled it tightly over her frizzy hair. Dark glasses gave her the all star look. Just what every tourist looks like she thought at the reflection she saw in the mirror. With weary feet she dragged herself out of the room and down the stairs.
"You look nice." Seiji complemented while he placed his unloaded gun and holster into a meddle case, which he then locked with a key.
"Shut up,"
"Grumpy are we," he observed. "Just the girl I want my parents to meet. Grandpa will love you."
"Shut up Seiji."
"Forget the parents, you go and make my rounds and interrogate any suspicious men. You're perfect for the job."
"Seiji shut it or I shut it for you." She retorted, but the edge was gone from her voice and there was a tinge of reluctant amusement in it. "Where are the luggages?"
He lifted his hand and pointed to the door where a few suitcases laid. "We have everything that we need, I already checked."
"No we don't." she replied as she began inspecting the bags, looking through all the zippers and feeling with her fingers.
He came to stand by the doorway, his hand braced on the high beam. "Why don't we try telling me what you're looking for?"
She suddenly became uncomfortable with his question. She would rather not say because it was rather embarrassing to tell him she forgot to take her birth control last night and now she couldn't even find the damn pack which she knew she placed in the bag. "It's nothing. I probably left it in the other bag." If that wasn't bad enough, they forgot to use protection last night. Seiji was always good about taking cautions; it was usually he who made sure they were stock up. Odd that he somehow forgot it. Though it didn't matter even if she did found it; she'll have to take a morning after pill within the next seven days. It was not that she didn't want a child; she would perhaps farther into the future plan for one. But at the moment, it was too soon and she didn't think Seiji would like to touch on the subject.
A white B.M.W pulled up in the stone driveway and beeped his horn twice, letting the occupants know the cab has arrived.
"Go out to the cab." Pulling away from the doorframe Seiji opened it, and indicated for Nasuti to head out with the toss of his head "I'll bring the suitcases. Just let the driver know we're coming. You know how those cabs drivers are if you don't come out right away; you'll likely to give them a hernia."
Nodding understandably she slipped off her slippers and slid her feet into white flat heels. The taxi honked his horn again, adding a few more beeps here and there for the extra measure of annoyance. As soon as she left he turned around and strode toward the kitchen. Stopping in front of the cabinets he opened the oak doors to revel a trashcan and pulled out a case that contained pills from his pocket, the same case Nasuti was looking for. He tossed the package without even a second thought and exited the kitchen whistling an unusual happy tune.
Fin
or to be continued…
Author Notes: Well, I wasn't planning on toping chapter 2, but merely leave it off should I ever continue with this story. I've been watching a lot of American Justice lately, so my mind is clouded with dark crimes. (I watch all the crime channels before I go to sleep. "hehehe" Let me tell you, not many can watch a special on serial killers and then go asleep with an open window. Ah, what can I say…I'm stupid. LOL) If I continue, I was thinking of having Seiji deeply involved in his new case and ends up being set up as a fall guy for a giant cover up. I tell you, those politics are rotten! And recently, if anyone read the Metropolis Japan Today, a very important man has been charged with being paid off, even though he denies accusations. (I forget the details. It's like last months J-news. LOL)
Another note:
I have been e-mailed by a few people that informed me how they appreciate the little facts about Japan. As a result, until I get my own web-page where I can have a page dedicated to Japanese facts (I never seen a section on an anime-page explaining little tidbits about the Japanese culture. It's a fantastic idea because I know when I first started writing I would have appreciated it. It helps to be accurate and it may even give you a few ideas to work with.) Well, for the meantime I will give little tidbits about Japan that I think is important for authors or readers to know.
Maryd brought up a very good subject; "Love Hotels". I actually thought about using one of those for this story, however considering Nasuti and Seiji are married and "love hotels" are almost solely used by couples, mostly not married, to spend some time by themselves I nixed the idea. I'll explain a little what a 'love hotel is'. Some of this information is from a book about customs in Japan.
Love Hotel-This is a little complicated to explain. The Japanese are not overly bound up by Judeo-Christian constraints on sex. Buddhism thinks sex as the origins of human nature, the origin of religion. Even good girls have done it. But everyone in Japan seems to live in tiny apartments with loads of relatives. So I guess couples need 'love hotels' to protect their privacy. However, nowadays I think slightly differently. Though there is a space factor, more essentially it's because Japanese like such fantastic and non-daily experience. (Hey, I think couples should be creative…with as many devoices as we have in America I think spicing up your love life keeps your man wanting to come home 'straight' after work. "hehehe" I'm not one to ask considering I'm single and really young, but I know when you get older that TLC is not enough to keep you happy. 'Oh-boy', this coming from a girl who made a pack with her friends at age 10 that she planned on becoming an old maid. *rolls eyes*)
You will see Love Hotels everywhere is Japan, especially near the off-ramps of large highways. Unlike the rest of Japanese architecture, which is either achingly beautiful or heartlessly functional, love hotels are of Disney-esque fancy. There are ones shaped like UFOs and castles and boots. And even the relatively normal-looking ones offer themed bedrooms. "A night in a Dungeon Room, anyone?" ^^
Most have a below deck, so you can park your car underground. I think the idea of love hotels is that, in an overpopulated country, it is the one place you can go and never see anyone. Check-in normally consist of an empty lobby with a lit panel displaying photos of all available rooms: Cowboy Room, where the bed is in the back of a pick-up; Arabian Nights, with lots of pillowing sheets; Jungle Room, overgrown and very green; '70's Disco Room, where the whole room is covered in red velour, are just a few examples. You'll find in some of these rooms the superb example of the Japanese's habit of mishmashing American culture. For instance, the '70's room may have walls partitioned with stained glass representation of American '50's waitress with a poodle skirt and a tray full of Cokes. I always thought it was bellbottoms that were popular in the '70's, not poodle skirts. =o_0= The bathrooms sometimes contain freebies which include condoms and for some odd reason green hair elastics. (This is told by an American female who used many Love Hotels with her fling. Before she left Japan she said she had a collection of green hair elastics.)
After you select a room, a room key should slide out of the slot next to the panel. Some hotels have a light that will flash over the room you have chosen. A thoughtful touch. You can choose an all-night pricing plan (you can also get rooms in 4 hour chunks—for the businessman and office lady on the go). When you are finished the checking out normally consists of paying a vending machine that controls the door lock. No pay, no leave. (Joking) This makes me wonder if there are other couples, slowly starving in the back seats of clown cars behind the door of the Big Top theme room for want of exact change. Some people stick around the same love hotel because you can get a members card that earns you points every time you visit. A frequent flyers sort of thing. The prizes are designed to appeal the Japanese girls and tend towards pink and fluffy.
Since Maryd brought it up, I guess one of these days I'll have to write a story around a Love Hotel. "hehehe" It is rather surprising no one has used one in stories when writing lemons. Instead of paying attention to the Japanese aspects of mores, many tend to lean toward American culture.
