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Girl fights seduction by the local stud.

"Looking forward to talking more with you tomorrow afternoon."

He opened one sliding door to join Mariko, and I opened another, leading to the front steps, which I descended unaccompanied.

I was glad especially this first day to have the evening to myself. The jet lag was just starting to catch up with me. I took my shoes off at the entrance, walked inside as far as the bed, and lay down.

Later, I was awoken by a knock, and the sound of my name, sort of, being spoken by a very high-pitched female voice.

"Danu-san! May I come in? Supper time!"

The voice sounded young. She had said enough to indicate that this woman may actually speak more than a few words of English, whoever she was. As I stumbled toward the door in my woozy state I somehow had time to think all of that, and to notice that I had been fast asleep for two hours.

I felt groggy and vulnerable at that moment. I had just only recently landed in the country. Then made it to the other side of the country. Unfamiliar surroundings were not unusual for me, but sometimes it's all a bit unbalancing. Upon opening the door it was only with great difficulty that I remained upright and managed to act sort of normal.

She looked to be somewhere in her twenties. Petite, with blonde hair in pig tails. Which would have been completely convincing if she weren't Japanese. Unlike the other women I had so far encountered on the mountain, she was wearing a lot of makeup, but so elegantly done.

The base made her look like a Scandinavian with Japanese features - light skin but with impossibly dark, painted freckles, on top of an unmistakably, beautifully Asian face with such delicate features. She was wearing a bright yellow dress, and webbed leggings underneath.

I never saw the movie, but on my first visit to Tokyo, years ago, I was taken to Yayogi Park, where dozens of young women dressed very much like this woman can be seen hanging out every Saturday, posing for photographs from passersby. I was face to face with an impeccable Japanese Lolita.

"Please, come in," I stuttered.

She smiled a smile that almost made me fall over, and I tried harder to get ahold of myself. I'm not like this normally. I don't consider myself a swinger, but very few people in my line of work have anything resembling a normal family life. I have had my fair share of lovers, and, well, I probably still do. But all that worldliness did not leave me with the capacity to cope with this, and for fuck's sake, all she was apparently trying to do was to bring me dinner.

Which initially is what she did. She was holding a tray, which she put down on the table in the dining room area of my little guest house. On top of the tray was a plate of food, with a cover on it. She lifted the cover, to reveal a plate of rice with Japanese-style curry on it, which looked and smelled delicious.

"Thank you," I managed to say.

If Lolita noted my intense feelings of awkwardness, or the growing bulge in my jeans, she didn't let on. I was suddenly glad I put on some of my tighter pairs of underwear that morning, rather than the boxers I've been wearing occasionally, which would have done nothing helpful in terms of hiding my erection.

"Would you like some company while you eat?" Lolita asked, tilting her head slightly.

"That would be lovely," I found myself saying, dreamily.

I was barely awake, still, but my mind was racing, as I was trying to grab ahold of anything Lolita and I might have in common to talk about. I noticed some of her consonants were more or less missing, like the "p" in "company" and the "t" in "eat." I suck at learning other languages, but I love guessing accents. And it sounded very much like she had learned English from an Englishman.

"It sounds like you learned English from someone from England. Am I right?"

Finally I managed to say something, more than a couple words. She smiled, which was very gratifying.

"I lived in London for a year."

"What were you doing there?" I asked.

"Studying fashion design."

Somehow not a shocking response, but one w

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