Chapter Five

Just a Little, Teeny-Weeny Obsession

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS.

Syaoran closed the door to his penthouse suite and slipped out of his work shoes. He placed them neatly in the foyer closet and turned off all the lights as he went to his room. It was after midnight, and he had finally decided to call it quits after having taken out some of his executives and managers for a night of drinking. His head was buzzing slightly and now that he thought about it, he probably should not have driven himself back to the hotel.

Placing his laptop, safe in its case on his bed, he took a warm shower and attempted to wash away all the tobacco residues stuck to his skin. Usually, he did not smoke, except for times when one of his uncles insisted they had found a greater, better brand that he should try. However, since everyone else smoked, the smell of tobacco was not something he could get away from. He scrubbed at his skin until it was sterile enough to make a hospital janitor proud and then, he applied an unscented moisturiser all over his body. Syaoran wrapped a towel around his waist and moved over to the sink to brush his teeth.

His night-time ritual completed, he returned to his bedroom. Donning a pair of boxer briefs and dark green pajama bottoms, he made up his already straight bed and fluffed his pillows before he sank into them. He lay there for a few quiet and peaceful minutes, water dripping from his damp hair onto his chest and shoulders. After being around people for most of the day, he usually revelled in this time he had to himself, no other voices in his head but his own.

He exhaled a long, weary breath as his gaze drifted around his dim room, lit only from the natural moonlight pouring through his windows. He sat up and grabbed his laptop case. Zipping it open, he pulled out his sleek, silver computer and opened it. The screen lit up instantly, casting his face in blue light. He typed in his password and opened a new webpage. Before he could stop himself or was aware of what he was searching for, he was clicking on a link that said: Hikaru House.

He selected the gallery of girls and scrolled down until he found the one he wanted: Sakamoto Ayame. She was the only courtesan who had short hair from what he could tell, and he liked that. It was different, which made her interesting. His gaze slid down her profile - age, weight, height, dress size. He sank low in his bed when he read her measurements. She had a nice body. Her waist was not small enough to make her hourglass, however, she was close. He skimmed her About Me paragraph. The pictures said more to him than those words ever could. He took a deep breath, suppressing the bubble of excitement growing within him.

He tapped his fingertips over the laptop keys as he filled his eyes to their absolute satisfaction. In most of the pictures she was dressed in fitted skirts and dresses but there was one in which she was dressed in a white swimsuit with provocative cut-outs at the sides. Even in the pictures she was a tease. She could not find a sheer bikini or some lingerie like the other courtesans on the page? Her poses were innocent, but he had a vivid and healthy imagination, and it did not take long before her static pictures were in motion and she was twisting and stretching every which way for him to get a better look at her. He sank even lower on his bed. Bending his knees, he raised the laptop a bit as his hand moved beneath the device. He took a firm grip of himself and stroked a few times, head tilting back in contentment.

Then the courtesan was there, standing with poise beside his bed in that white dress she had worn to the club - last night it had been the black dress from the restaurant. She moved towards him in that alluring way she had and as she climbed on top of him, every stitch of clothing disappeared from her skin. She sank onto his hardness. Her eyes smouldering, she rode him with such skill, he saw galaxies that had not been discovered yet. Syaoran gripped himself tighter, mirroring the way he imagined it would feel to have her hot, wet, please let it be tight -

His joints locked in place and his eyes flew open wide.

No.

Yanking his hand back he clicked off the webpage and shut the laptop screen with a snap, shoving the computer away so hard it skidded to the end of the bed. There it lay, gleaming at him treacherously. Dragging his palms down his face, Syaoran groaned.

That damn girl…

She was one of those women. Loose, conniving women. Yet he had been peeved when he had seen her dancing with that guy at the club, his hands on her hips and waist, feeling her body move the way he had wanted to feel it when he saw it in action. Then at the charity fundraiser, she and Yamada Shoji were all over each other like the picture-perfect couple. He snorted. How exasperating it had been to listen to her fawn over the artist like there were no better men in the room. She probably had not meant a single word she said either.

Syaoran fisted his bedsheets. She had never behaved like that with him - not that he had given her the chance. She did say he was sweet to buy the watch but what man wanted to be called sweet? She might as well have said he was impotent. Yet, he did not mind so much because of that voice.

Unlike Eriol who felt women kept business dinners civil which was why he had insisted on hiring the courtesans, Syaoran felt that they distracted the men. Needless to say, he was right because at the restaurant all he had listened to was her conversation with the other escort. That voice of hers was intoxicating. Her little gasps of awe, electrifying. It was good the other escort's crude behaviour gave him a reason to get rid of the courtesan so he could direct his brain elsewhere.

Syaoran's cheeks burned. As irritating as she was, physically, she was appealing to him. He nestled his hands behind his head and studied the smooth white ceiling, still trying to wrap his mind around that. It had been over a week since he had last seen her and whenever his mind wandered, he would find her there and he did not know why. He never thought that he had a "type" but maybe he did. Maybe she was 'it.' Maybe that was why. He had seen women with her figure, eye colour, hairstyle, kawaii-ness as they liked to call it in Japan, but all those things combined on her was... remarkably tantalising. And that smile… it could melt an iceberg.

He stared at the ceiling for over half an hour before jumping out of bed. Stomping to the kitchen, he ripped open the refrigerator – which nearly blinded him with white light – and grabbed a bottle of water. He twisted the cap off and put the bottle to his lips, grimacing at the icy coldness sliding down his throat. He set the bottle down hard, the glass clinking sharply against the marble countertop. Leaning back against the refrigerator, he took steady breaths, ignoring the tight feeling between his legs.

This courtesan was like a disease slowly infesting his mind. He honestly had not noticed how much he had been thinking about her until just then. But he had been thinking about her and keeping an eye out for her at meetings and events he went to. He had even mentioned such dates to Eriol, secretly hoping the man would be a nuisance like he always was and somehow convince her to show up. It did not help that Tomoyo kept on asking him for her contact number either.

Syaoran yawned tiredly. He put the water bottle back in the fridge and returned to his bedroom. The courtesan was not so important that he should lose sleep over her.


Was her skin as soft as it looked? It must feel like silk.

He had almost touched her that time on the balcony. He could have found out then.

"... meeting with the company lawyers. Then you have a conference call at 1:30 pm and a 15-minute meeting with Mister Hiiragizawa at 2:20 pm. After that you have a meeting with the Chief Product Officer at 3:15 pm."

Her hair looked soft too. And it was thick and glossy. He would like to touch that as well. Among other things.

"... thought it best to cancel and reschedule the commercial review to..."

Like her lips. Yes, her peach-coloured lips were definitely on the list of parts of her that had to be felt. They were full and looked quite succulent... perfect for endless kissing – damn, her mouth must taste like sweetest sin.

"Your sister Li Feimei called while you were meeting the HRM. Do you want me to get her on the line?"

And her eyes... the prettiest pair I have ever seen.

"Mister Li? Mister Li."

Syaoran blinked. His thirty-year-old assistant Ming Gho came into focus in front of him. She had been scrolling down the screen of her tablet but paused to look up at him.

"Do you want me to get her on the line?" she repeated.

Syaoran sat up straight and rested a hand on the papers on his desk, grounding himself in the moment.

"No." He cleared the rasp out of his throat. "I know what she wants. I'll call her later. You can leave now."

Ming peered like an owl over her eyeglasses at him but stood without uttering another word. Bowing, she left the room. Syaoran leaned back against his executive chair with a deep sigh. All morning he had been distracted. He could not seem to truly comprehend anything that day and it stemmed from his thoughts late last night.

He turned his open laptop towards him and stared at the screen full of financial charts and graphs displaying quarterly financial reports. His fingers hovered over the laptop keys. Then sighing again, this time in defeat, he typed in what it seemed was fast becoming his vice.

He scrolled through the gallery of women with expert swiftness and clicked on the main attraction. He reclined on his seat, elbow on the chair arm, the tip of his thumb wedged between his teeth. He must have read the courtesan's profile a thousand times and if quizzed on it he would not get a single word wrong.

In her About Me paragraph she talked about how much she enjoyed meeting people and engaging in conversation with everyone. She was athletic and liked to bake and cook for her family, friends and special people in her life. Her About Me did not sound particularly enticing in the intimate sense. Of course, a professional had probably written it with titbits from her, but he found a recurring theme throughout - the words pure, playful, young and innocent were sprinkled about with great enthusiasm. He looked at a few other courtesans and their profiles were laden with words like sensual, exotic, delightful and satisfying.

He became even more puzzled to read that she was only available for public engagements. What kind of courtesan did not take private meetings? Despite what people wanted to believe about having quality conversations and dates, the point was to eventually take these women to bed. He did not understand why he could not have this one that way. Not that he really wanted to; his night-time and early morning fantasies were just that. Fantasies. But how was she supposed to make money like the others? Men tended to tip big when they were in for a treat.

He got up from his seat and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his office. He slipped his hands into his pockets. As he gazed over Tokyo city, bustling with energy just like his brain cells, he attempted to figure out the strange case that was that green-eyed thorn in his side.

The tinkling sound of her laugh when he described Wei to her had made him quite pleased with himself. He was not a funny person and though he had meant to be sarcastic, she had seen the humour in his words. Reluctantly, he admitted that he liked it - getting that response from her without any conscious effort on his part. She might have been faking as most women like her often did to get more money out of you, but he had welcomed it.

He turned around to stare at his computer screen when his smartphone rang.

"Yes Takashi," he answered, eyes fixed to the courtesan's pictures.

"You still having that business lunch today?"

"Since you called, you already figured out that I'm not."

"Yeah yeah. We having lunch together then?"

Syaoran shook his head. Sometimes he wondered if Takashi had hung around too many girls as a child. He was always trying to make plans to have brunch or lunch or whatever meal was appropriate to the time of day, just to spend time with him. But he was only in Japan for so long, so he never minded these impromptu dates.

"Sure," he said.

"What time?"

The screensaver came on and Syaoran quickly went over to his laptop and tapped a random key, bringing the courtesan's images back into his eyesight.

"What did you say?" he asked, lightly tracing the outline of her hip with his finger.

"What time?" asked Takashi. Then he added, "You busy or something? You sound distracted."

"Just looking over a few things," said Syaoran. "Meet me in the lobby at 12."

"All right," said Takashi, excitedly. "Wait, Italian or Chinese?"

"Chinese."

"You always pick Chinese!" whined Takashi.

"And yet you always give me a choice. And never pay the bill."

There was a loud huff.

"I don't know how she puts up with you."

For a moment, Syaoran wondered what the courtesan was saying about him to his best friend. Then he realised Takashi was not referring to her.

"You need to start taking risks outside of business," preached Yamazaki. "Try something new every once in a while. Fuck man. Let me ask again, Italian or Chinese?"

"Chinese."

"I give up!" said Takashi, but Syaoran could hear the grin in his voice. "See you at 12."

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Syaoran sat down at his desk, leaning forward until his face was inches from the laptop screen. He could not deny the heaviness in his groin or the goose bumps on his arms. The hairs on the back of his neck raised and a pleasurable shiver ran along his spinal cord. He glared fiercely at the screen, silently cursing the instigator Eriol into the deepest pits of hell. Had it not been for him, he would not have known this girl existed.

Now she lives in my head rent fucking free.


It had been a regular Friday afternoon. Sakura was in her apartment, munching on popcorn and watching the celebrity gossip channel without a care in the world, when she got a call from Naoko. The message was brief. Satomi wanted to see her pronto. She hurriedly dressed and bustled to the agency because you did not leave Satomi waiting.

When she arrived at the Hikaru House, Naoko told her to go right into Satomi's office. The lady was smoking a cigarette by the open window, with the most feminine grace Sakura had ever seen someone smoke. She never allowed the courtesans to smoke but watching her, Sakura almost felt like she wanted to. When Satomi saw her, she took a short pull, then walked over to her desk and outed the thin, white stick in an ashtray.

She sat down and breathed out, a thin mist of smoke issuing from her scarlet red lips.

"Li Syaoran spoke with me this morning," she told Sakura, without preamble.

Sakura gripped the sides of her chair. Did he call to complain about her? She thought they were good now! Was she going to get fired because he did not feel entertained, when he was not even her client that night?

"He wants your company Sunday afternoon. Three hours."

Sakura gawked. She must have hallucinated. She gave herself a mental shake.

"I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?"

"Li Syaoran wants your company on Sunday," repeated Satomi, patiently. "Three hours."

Then it was not a hallucination? This was happening? It had been a couple of weeks since she had seen Li Syaoran at the fundraiser. She never expected him to call. For her. Sure, they had one pleasant conversation, but she was pretty sure he hated her.

"Naoko-san informed me of your reluctance to entertain him again and I spoke to him about this matter. He told me to assure you that it will be a pleasant experience if you come. He's willing to pay $6 000 USD an hour. An incentive for you to accept the date."

Sakura's jaw dropped. He must really have it in for her! She should start writing up her last will and testament because this was how it all ended - going on a date alone with Li Syaoran. Without Hiiragizawa Eriol or Yamazaki Takashi? She was not coming out of this alive.

But then the shock started wearing off and even darker thoughts invaded her mind. What did he want from her for all that money? He did say he thought he should be entitled to certain things if he was paying a lot. This time it was not Eriol's money. It was his. If she took the money, would he expect certain things from her?

"Is it a normal date?" she asked with uncertainty. "Because I think... I think he wants..."

"Something all men want," said Satomi, a hint of a smile on her face. "Why else would he offer to pay more?"

"But-"

"On the website it's clear what you offer," said Satomi. "You provide a chaste girlfriend experience. You know this. He knows this. He wants you all the same and he's already paid in full."

Sakura glanced away in shock. If he had already paid, then Satomi was not really asking for permission to set them up on a date. She was telling her that she had to go.

"Normally I'd leave the decision up to you," said Satomi, confirming her fears. "However, it is Li Syaoran. He's quite low profile so you may never have heard of him but believe me when I say, he's a man you'll want to have for a regular client. In a matter of hours, look at what he has accomplished for you, raising your salary like he did. I can't charge any less for you now."

"Why's that?"

"Once a client raises your salary, do you think I'll accept anything less from your future ones? This is a business. The services are worth what people are willing to pay."

"Oh..."

"Whatever he said or did to you before doesn't matter," said Satomi. "This is a new beginning. You will be the sweetest, most amiable, exhilarating date he's ever had. I want you on your most ladylike behaviour. I have a reputation to uphold, and he runs in an elite circle that is difficult to penetrate. I offered him someone more experienced and willing, but he insisted on you."

"I understand, Matsushita-san."

After she was dismissed, Sakura fell weakly against the front of Satomi's office door. Had Li Syaoran really been offered someone better and chosen her, nevertheless? For a fleeting moment Sakura felt a surge of womanly pride but it quickly fizzled out when she remembered it was Li Syaoran that she was thinking about. Satomi had basically said to be his perfect date but what in the world was that?