Dress on the couch. Be ready tonight.

-Harvey

Natsuki read the note about five times before she recognized that, a. it was for her, b. it was from Harvey and c. that it was legitimate. She walked slowly over to the couch. Her stomach turned over as she saw the beautiful embroidered white dress. It was western in style, and she knew she'd be expected to wear heels instead of her usual geta, but she swallowed her discomfort and smiled. Harvey was reaching out to her for the first time. He wanted her to think that she was being ordered around, but what he didn't know was that she'd been waiting for something like this. Besides, the dress was beautiful.

She went throughout the house, straightening up, and then went home. She took her time shampooing and conditioning her hair, brushing it out, drying it, and then curling it. She started to get nervous as she donned the expensive dress. She was too nervous to eat, so she paced the room back and forth, thinking that the silver high heels needed some breaking in.

Harvey stopped by her apartment. She opened the door and they stood opposite each other, standing still, for a few long moments. In those few moments a barrier was broken. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time: not as a helpless little girl, but as a woman who deserved his respect. He hadn't expected to feel that way, but when he looked at her wearing the white dress he'd spent thousands of dollars on, in an attempt to make himself look good, he'd inadvertently made her look irresistible.

"You look good," he said

"Come on in… I'll just get my purse." She said.

"This is the best you can get on your budget?" he asked, looking around. She laughed.

"I scrub toilets for a living, Harvey." She reminded him. "While I might look nice now, I still spend my days cleaning for others." He paused.

"Wait, what? You've taken other jobs?" he noticed for the first time how tired she looked, how her hands were shaking slightly, despite her bubbly demeanor.

"I work a few jobs," she said lightly. "I got a job as a waitress downtown and I also babysit whenever I can." He grabbed her arm and stopped her short.

"If you need a raise, all you need to do is ask," he said.

"You pay me more than fairly, Harvey," she said quietly. "I'm saving up."

"For what?"

"It's stupid," she said, smiling at him.

"No, tell me," he said.

"Alright," she said, excited, "Since I was a little girl I always wanted to own my own tea room. I imagined I would have dignitaries from all over the world come visit. I would charge a lot of money but the tea would be fresh and I would have geishas serve the tea in the traditional way." She looked down and shrugged. "There are a few sushi places around, but no tea rooms."

He swallowed.

"So you'd want to go back to that life?" she looked up at him in surprise.

"Of course," she said. "All my life I wanted to be a geisha. To be a geisha is to be a walking work of art."

"You're a work of art now," he said. He stopped short; he couldn't believe the words had come out of his mouth. Not because he wasn't charming – he could charm the skirt off of any girl from New York City to Timbuktu – but because he realized he had meant the words.

She smiled at him, not the mysterious geisha smile but a genuine smile that crinkled up the sides of her eyes and showed her pearl-white teeth.

"Thank you," she said quietly, making them both feel uncomfortable. He ushered her out to the car, hoping the rest of the evening would go smoother.