6.
PG warning for adult contents. Nothing worse than a striptease act.
Sitting on a worn, wooden school desk that was part of the props, legs dangling, she had kicked off her shiny black low-heeled lacquer shoes and was now peeling off her socks. They were white, virginal white, with lacy frills.
She let one flutter, almost casually, off stage. The audience began to warm up. She sprang down, turned her back on the catcalling, hooting, halfdrunken men and unzipped her dress.
It was a dark blue sailor outfit, reminiscent of the Japanese school uniform. That was the idea: a strip act of innocence. The audience cheered as it fell to the ground. She half turned to face it, one strap of her singlet sliding off her shoulder as she did so. She pulled it up with an embarrassed gesture. They invariably loved this part: the bashful schoolgirl stripping for the first time in public.
It wasn't all an act.
Though she had done it night after night, she still found it hard. The first time had actually been easier: she had stripped in a sort of daze. Now she was becoming increasingly aware that she was halfnaked in front of men. And that she had to strip further. The singlet was quickly pulled over her head, held shyly in front, then dropped. All that was left to remove was the tiniest of bras, A-cup, the smallest size to hold her budding breasts, and the loveliest of strawberry-patterned knickers.
The audience was wild now, except, she noted, a youngish gaijin in a corner, with a glass of whiskey he had barely sipped. He looked disapproving, but with gaijin, who could tell? Those pursed lips and that bobbing, rather prominent Adam's apple might mean high excitement with them. She 'd seen all sorts.
Cheeks reddening - how easy it had become to blush on demand!- she reached back and undid the bra.
The audience was granted not a front but a side view of her pert little breasts, the nipples already erect.
She covered them with her crossed arms as she went to face them again, head bent, eyes cast down,
every inch the demure schoolgirl again. Then as she performed the most perfect saikeirei, arms tight alongside her body, her long pigtails swept forwards, hiding the view. The public whistled and jeered.
It was not the end of the act.
Still at the 45° bow, she slipped her hands inside her knickers and pulled them down.
The gaijin in the corner swallowed his whiskey in one gulp.
She sprang backwards landing on the school desk, and the slip flew into the audience. They fought each other over it.
And still that was not the end: the schoolgirl had undressed, they wanted the woman now. With a wild gesture she pulled the pigtails loose. Shaking her head, straight, midnight hair fell about her shoulders, her breasts…she blew it away from her face, and with a cry that was not shy at all, she leaned back and drew up her legs, opening them as she did so.
The music stopped, the lights went out. The audience had seen Everything, and Nothing, for one brief moment.
Yet they clapped and screamed and cheered as if they had seen All.
She felt nothing but contempt as she hurried into the wings where Jacob stood waiting with her dressing gown. The lights went back on and it rained yens. The Russian boy skipped on stage to collect them.
She didn't think she could do it without the support of Jacob. He had taken it all in his stride, cheering her up with his impish grin, always directly at her side at the slightest sign of unpleasantness.
"Think of it this way: at least it isn't 'hands on'." he had told her, when she had been offered the job and had flatly refused; then, in the privacy of their room, reconsidered it, " You're better off than the bar-maids…pays better too."
That had been the decisive factor: she needed the money. She'd found someone who had promised her false passports for both her and Jacob. Fortunately, being Siberian, he had rather Asiatic looks, he would be passed off as her little brother. His light hair had been dyed already. As for her, she was happy she looked older than her fourteen years, and small wonder. You grew up pretty fast in the Pink Bunny Bar. But the pay was good and the tips even more: if those creatures were willing to throw up to 10.000-yen bills for a glimpse of her most intimate parts, she would not be complaining. They were lower than worms really: they did not matter. Only her freedom mattered now. According to her calculations, she'd have enough to conclude the deal in only a few weeks.
And then she could leave Japan for good.
She quickly downed the cup of sake a stagehand had handed her. It was traditional after the act, the only strong liquor the Boss permitted his girls to take while on duty. Even the 'entretaineuses' who had to cajole the customers into buying them champagne and expensive cocktails merely wetted their lips, and were experts at making their drinks disappear: potted plants at strategic spots and conniving bartenders helped.
Applause welled up behind her: one of her colleagues had come on stage. The audience had already forgotten her to be titillated once more by a new performance.
She hurried to the shared dressing room.
"'Lo, Miho" greeted Minako, one of the Bar Bunnies as she entered. The older girl was reapplying her make-up.
A 1000-yen bill was sticking out of her costume, halfway her left buttock. Yes, Jacob was right, strip dancing was preferable to being groped by sweaty hands all the time.
She fished out the bill without Minako noticing and slipped it in her pocket.
The Bunny Girls were friendly with each other, but competition for tips was fierce. They were all in it for the money, and it would be stupid not to grab the opportunity if it presented itself.
Jacob came running in all excited.
"You've made big time, Mi'. It's almost all paper money today, only a few coins from the stingy ones. " he chirped in his mixture of Russian, English and the Japanese he'd picked up in no time, "Oh yes, and there is a Johnny Sailor who wants to see you."
"He can keep wanting." she answered curtly, " The Boss knows I do strip only."
"Yeah, sure, but it's a gaijin diplomat, and the Boss says being nice to them is good for business: they are the ones with lots to spend and they keep coming back. Well, there is little else for them in Tokyo, is there, when they haven't a home and a family."
"I'm not an Bunny Bar Girl anymore."
"Go on!" said Minako, who had followed their conversation, "Gaijin's are big tippers. You know how you need the money."
Miho had made no secret about her financial distress, and since she was so young, all the girls were sympathetic.
She regretted stealing the 100-yen off her friend now, so she covertly dropped it, and bent to pick it up.
"Need it, yes, but not that badly. Here, this is yours, it just fell out of your costume."
"Oh, thank you!" the older girl exclaimed gratefully, " I'd forgotten that one."
Miho remembered how her Minako had told her she'd become a Bunny Bar Girl to support her father who had been made redundant three years previously, a fate worse than death in Japan. For a full year he had kept up the pretence for the neighbours, leaving each morning in his best suit, briefcase in hand like any salaryman *, and spend the rest of the day in hiding. Minako had noticed, and had left school to support the family that could not keep on living on their savings alone. Her mother was still unaware of everything.
"You can borrow my make-up if you like. Put your hair in a bun. That will make you look much older. If he's a lolicon** he will be disappointed and not try anything. And if he's not, well, just say no. You know the Boss tolerates no hanky-panky on the premises; if a customer tries anything a girl doesn't want, he'll be out on his ear, even a diplomat. "
"Oh, very well. I suppose there is no harm in having a go. Thanks, Minako, I'll use your lipstick. What would be best, cherry red?"
"Try this pink. A little blusher…and some eyeliner, no, not too dark. What colour is your dress? Pink blouse and blue skirt: perfect. Now, don't worry, I'll be around. Just call."
Miho gave her friend a hug.
"Min', you're an angel. Jacob, will you collect my costume, and perhaps go out to buy some noodle soup for our supper? As soon as I've finished with the gaijin I'll be coming home."
Home was a small room at the back of the bar; two floors up, just large enough for a washbasin, clothes' chest, a gas cooker and their rolled up futons.
"Right, Miho, see you. Take care."
The boy scurried away to collect the discarded clothes which the stagehands would have put on a hanger (or in a heap, depending on their mood) in the wings. He would iron them for the next day, with a fresh slip.
"He's a good lad." said Minako appreciatively," Very plucky. So are you. You deserve better that to live in a place like this; I at least have a home to go to."
"Does your mother still think you work the night shift a hospital?"
"Hmm-hmm."
"I'm so sorry. At least we will be out of here soon."
"Still planning on gong to America? I hear it isn't all that it's cracked up to be, over there, so maybe getting acquainted with a gaijin isn't such a bad idea. Insurance."
"I believe he's an Englishman." said Jacob, making his reappearance, arms full of crumpled uniform.
"A Johnny is a Johnny. Come on, Miho, you mustn't keep him waiting."
The Johnny was indeed English: none other than the whiskey drinker with the Adam's apple.
His name was Reginald. Reginald Fletcher-Parks, to be precise, as he formally introduced himself, with a very adequate keirei too. His Japanese was almost accentless.
She looked him over as he gallantly pulled out a seat for her. Like all gaijins (as far as she knew) he had a big nose, a rosy face and pale eyes, but he was nice enough. He wore a three-piece suit and a striped green tie.
"May I offer you a drink?" he asked politely.
"A gin and lime." She smiled at him. The bartender would pour only lime on ice with some tonic, and make the man pay for the gin.
Fletcher-Parks frowned.
Aren't you a little too young for alcohol? I was thinking a fruit juice.."
"We Asiatic woman always look younger than our real age."
"You are fourteen." said the man.
She was slightly taken aback by his spot-on accuracy. Then she laughed shrilly, to cover up.
"You have been taken in by my act. Did you see the little boy collecting the money? Seven years old. My son. I admit that I was very young when I had him."
"His name is Jacob and he is Russian." said the Englishman quietly, " Not your son. Miss Miho, I know all about you. It would be best if you stopped playing your game: I have only your best interests at heart, but we won't get anywhere if you keep lying to me."
She jumped up so fast that her chair clattered to the ground.
"Out!" she hissed at him, " Out! I have nothing to say to you! You can tell Saori Kido she has to do better than send a gaijin to win my confidence. And if you so much as lay a finger on Jacob…"
"Is there a problem?" asked Minako, popping up behind Fletcher-Parks, true to her word.
"Not at all, miss. Miss Miho has misunderstood me. I have no harmful intentions." said the man, taking out a card from his breast pocket. "My credentials."
He handed it to Miho. It showed his name under the Coat of Arms of the United Kingdom complete with its 'Honni Soit Qui Mal Y Pense", embossed in gold. 'Cultural Attaché to Her Majesty's Embassy in Japan' it read.
She gave Minako a reassuring nod.
"It's true, Mina'. You can leave us now. "
The older girl, still with a worried glance, retired, but remained watchful at a distance.
"Who are you?" Miho whispered at the man, " What do you want?"
""I am a friend of a friend of yours, and I want to help you."
"I have no friends in England!" exclaimed the girl, totally out of her depth. She knew nothing of that country, save for what she had seen on television, and that wasn't much.
"You have now." smiled Fletcher-Parks, " Please, Miss Miho, you must believe me. But can we not continue this conversation somewhere more private?"
The audience cheered, not at the young diplomat's words, but at the stripper on stage finishing her act.
Miho almost laughed.
"You could plot to assassinate the Emperor and not even whisper in here: no one would pay attention."
Fletcher-Park's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Yes well, all the same, I'd prefer a quieter spot. I doubt if Her Majesty approves if she knew that her representatives were seen in places like this. My business with you is…ah…not altogether official, the Foreign Office won't cover for me if I get caught."
That sounded very mysterious, and half-trusting, half in doubt, the girl led the man to her room. Minako followed, staying behind on the staircase where she had a full view of Miho's door: she was not taking any chances.
Miho felt glad to have such a good friend.
Jacob was busy heating up the noodle soup on the gas cooker when they entered. He had opened the window so that the smell wouldn't linger; the curtains drifted slightly in the wind.
The boy greeted them with his typical forthrightness.
"Bozhe moi ***, Miho, you didn't have to go it all the way!"
The girl reddened - a real blush this time- and so did Fletcher-Parks. His tie suddenly seemed too tight.
"Ah. Hem (cough, cough) you must be Jacob."
"Must I?" asked the Russian, warily.
"If you are Hyoga's friend, yes!"
"Hyoga!" Miho exclaimed, " Is he the one you were talking about? Is he all right? Where is he? He hasn't come back to Japan has he?"
The young diplomat struggled to answer her barrage of questions.
"Yes, indirectly…as far as I know, yes…somewhere safe…no."
Then he drew a deep breath.
"Miss Miho, listen carefully, please. The machinations of the Graad Foundation have drawn the attention of both the Foreign Office and the Intelligence Service of my country. By pure coincidence your friend met an ex-SOE man with contacts still in both Departments…"
"SOE? Is that like our KGB?" inquired Jacob.
Fletcher-Parks was indignant.
"Certainly not! SOE, or Special Operations Executive, was a Secret Army of brave men and women who, during the Second World War were to 'set Europe ablaze' as their patron, Sir Winston Churchill, our Prime Minister at the time, told them ****. They were meant to take covert actions of sabotage and…anything to holdback the Nazi War effort. It is little known that there was a Far Eastern branch of the SOE as well to which our mutual friend was attached…anyway that is not important now. What matters is to get you all to a Safe House ******, where Graad can't reach.
"I was hoping to buy fake passports to leave Japan, to that end." offered Miho.
Fletcher-Parks ran his finger through his collar.
"Yes, I was given to understand that that is why you…ah…work in this...erm…establishment. That will no longer be necessary. The Embassy will take full charge of you. I believe there is also a Chinese girl involved…"
"Sunrei. Can you do something for them as well?"
The Englishman nodded, " That was the idea. It would be best if you informed them. All the Chinese girl has to do is apply for political asylum at our Embassy. The same goes for you, young man," he added with a glance at Jacob," As you both come from Communist countries ******* and are under age to boot, you will be granted asylum relatively quickly. Japan however is not considered a country with a repressive regime…"
"You'd better readjust your views on that point." muttered Miho.
"…so it will be harder to provide for you and the other Japanese girl. We could issue you with British passports outright, but that would involve too many people at the Foreign Office. This is a rather hush-hush operation after all. If only we had some sort of legal document for you…a birth certificate would be nice."
"Would this do?"
They all started at the words coming from the open window. Something was thrown at feet. Miho shrieked.
Immediately the door burst open and Minako came rushing in, a wet mop******* in hand, screaming:
"Let her go, you filthy lolicon gaijin freak!!!"
And then she too shrieked, being confronted not with a gaijin freak forcing himself upon her friend, but with an athletic feminine form in armour, wearing a white eyeless mask.
Fletcher-parks too gasped at the sight, turning into a well-cooked lobster. For all its armour, the feminine shape left nothing to the imagination. His Adam's apple bobbed.
Jacob was the first to come to his senses. He slammed the door shut behind Minako so that none would disturb them further, and picked up the object the female Saint- that that is what the figure was, was obvious to both him and Miho- and examined it. It was a passport.
"You are Shaina, aren't you? Hyoga told me about you. He said you'd disappeared, though."
Shaina frowned behind her mask. She had not understood half of what the boy had said in his weird mixture of tongues, as she herself only spoke Classic Greek, Italian and a little English. Still, she had caught her own name and the Cygnus Saint's.
"I am Shaina, Silver Opiuchus Saint."
"Doesn't wearing that thing give you pimples?" asked the Russian boy, this time using English only.
She removed the mask.
"Can you see any?"
Jacob grinned broadly. "I thought you female Saints weren't supposed to be seen barefaced by men. Not that I am complaining, mind…"
She shrugged in answer.
"How…how did you get in?" asked Minako, rather frightened, " I was watching the door all the time."
"Through the open window, of course."
"It's the second floor!"
Shaina shrugged again, accompanying it with a slight smile.
"That doesn't hold back a saint."
Meanwhile, Fletcher-Parks was gradually returning to a more normal colouring. He even managed a question out.
"Who…what…are you?!"
"You mean you don't know about the Saints?" asked Miho, "You said Hyoga sent you."
"Nothing of the sort: I have never met the boy." said the man, regaining his composure, "My brief was to get you, Miss Miho, and Miss Seika, Miss Sunrei and the boy Jacob to the Embassy and out of Japan. I was told that you knew things about Graad that the Intelligence Service dearly wished to know and that you were at some risk. That is all. Ah…may I see that passport?"
Jacob handed it over. After a brief perusal, the young diplomat exclaimed: " Why, this is exactly what we need! A passport for Miss Seika!"
Miho gave a small cry. "Seika told me she had obtained one, and had been working in a place like this - that's what gave me the idea- in order to earn money for a plane ticket. Graad got wind of that and caught her at the airport even as she was boarding. They send her back to the orphanage where the Director kept her passport. Some time later she broke into his office, stole the thing and stowed away on a ship bound for…Australia I think it was, where she bought a plane ticket for Greece, but there Sanctuary caught her. That is why I wanted false passports: I don't think it will be possible to leave Japan under our real names, if at all. " she turned to Fletcher-Parks, "Graad sees all, hears all, controls all."
"Ah, but not us." smiled the Englishman proudly, " There are means of transportation out of this country that not even they can stop."
"Would they have room for one more passenger?" asked Shaina, " My presence in Japan is now known, I'm sure, and I too would like to leave. My habitual mode of travel is unavailable because watched."
Fletcher-Parks eyed the young woman dubiously.
"You will appreciate the fact that you were not included in my brief."
However, every inch the diplomat again, he added: " We can work something out, Miss Shaina."
"Antonia." corrected the Opiuchus Saint, " My true name is Antonia Marini. I am from Sicily. I ran away as a little girl, when the Mafia murdered my father, a policeman in Palermo. I was living on the streets when a nice man approached me and told me about Sanctuary, where he would teach me how to become strong enough to avenge my father. I went with him, and they put the Mask on me, gave me a new name, made me forget everything except my desire to become a Saint. I would be fighting for Justice, they said: instead I became their executioner. Another Soldier in their Secret Army. Madonna! I didn't even know what Justice is. "
"So you are like Hyoga!" cried Jacob, " A Renegade. How come you remember, now? And where did you find Seika's passport? Why come to us with it…how did you know where to find us in the first place?"
"I stopped wearing my mask after Seiya died." Shaina/Antonia replied, gravely, " My memory slowly returned.
What they did to me was not just. As for the passport: I discovered it in Saori Kido's private safe at the mansion. I was looking for information on the others…I figured that their stories where similar to mine, so I wanted to find out if she kept files on their different backgrounds. Here they are!"
She produced the floppies she and Asterion had copied earlier from a pouch dangling at her hip
"Since they are in Japanese I went to look for you, Miho, to translate them for me; "she smiled at the younger girl, " I knew I could trust you when I heard what you called Athena, and how she treated you. I also knew were you were because I had Asterion scan Seika and Sunrei: I guessed that they would know where your hideout would be. And so I came here, and caught your conversation with il Inglese …"
"Asterion, he's the telepath of the bunch, right?" asked Jacob, " Hyoga said he was a nasty character. Isn't there a risk he'll double-cross us?"
"He won't." answered the Opiuchus Saint darkly, " I made sure of that."
At Fletcher-Parks sharp intake of breath she added: "I told you I was an executioner."
Minako looked from the one at the other in complete bewilderment.
"I don't understand any of this. But you mentioned Graad. That Foundation took over the Company my father worked for, and then they cut down on personnel. I hate them, and would see them crushed. But everyone knows that those people, who have so much power, are dangerous."
"Then we had better make sure they won't find any of you." said Fletcher-Parks, taking charge, " Not even you, Miss…er, Miss?"
"Minako Asatani. But I cannot leave Japan: I have my father and mother to think of."
The young Englishman smiled at her: " I appreciate that, Miss Asatani. There may be a position open for you at the Embassy. At any rate you must cease working in this place: thus, even if Graad discovers where Miss Miho has been, they can not follow the trail any further. We are inviolate even to them."
"You hope." said Antonia.
To be continued
*Salary man = term for a Japanese employee who has no life except his work and his pay. This caused Edith Cresson, one time French Prime Minister, to call them: 'ants'
** Lolicon = a lover of 'lolita's', young girls (after: Lolita, the novel by Nabokov)
*** Bozhe moi (Russian) = My God
**** Authentic
*****Safe House: a government-owned place where secret meetings can be held, or persons in hiding are kept by the secret service.
****** It is 1986, the Wall hasn't fallen yet, and the Soviet Union, though on its last legs, is also still in place.
******* In Japan, wet mops and buckets are ever present, and sometimes used as fire extinguisher