The Apartment In The Sky

I expected the elevator to open onto a hallway lined with the doors of other apartments. Instead, it opened directly into Keiko's penthouse apartment, revealing a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows straight ahead, and the shimmering lights of Tokyo's night skyline as far as the eye could see.

I managed to keep from saying something banal and expected, but the expression on my face betrayed me. My raised eyebrows alone were evidence that I was a little too impressed.

Buildings with apartments like this didn't exist in the Youngstown Ohio neighborhood I grew up in.

She removed her shoes and walked over to a dry bar a dry bar that stood against a mostly bare wall.

"I'm having a glass of wine. Pour yourself a scotch," she said, assigning me a drink.

I took my shoes off and walked over to the dry bar. She finished pouring a white Bordeaux into a long-stemmed wine glass. At the jazz club, she'd told me she was forty-one, but she didn't even look thirty. She looked up from her wine glass and caught me doing the math again. Serving myself, I removed the top from the crystal decanter and poured scotch into a glass.

"So, Cole, you take your scotch neat, I see."

Is she asking a question or instructing me not to reach for the ice?

I chose not to reach for the ice.

"Cheers, as you Americans say," she said raising her glass to me.

"Kanpai," I responded back in Japanese.

Keiko took a small sip of her wine and set the glass back on the dry bar. I started putting my glass down after finishing it, next to where she had, until the look in her eye made it clear that that was not what she expected me to do.

"Help yourself to another," she said, not offering but instructing.

So, I did, recognizing that for scotch to be so smooth, it likely cost more per glass than a pair of Yomiuri Giants baseball tickets.

"Come," she said, walking straight ahead. She slid the glass panel door to the right. After taking hold of my hand, she led me onto a narrow balcony with a railing that was too low for the comfort of my 6'2" frame.

Seeing her practically walk backwards and lean against the railing terrified me and she clearly saw the fear in my face. I wanted to escape back into the safety of her apartment.

"Afraid of heights?" she asked, observing how I still stood back near the door opening rather than approach her.

The scotch was kicking in, giving me a false sense of security.

Don't deny it, lean into it.

"Yeah, I've never even climbed a tree and now I can see that the only thing standing between me and the ground is a narrow balcony, a horizontal piece of metal that is barely higher than my kneecaps, and a five-foot-four inch Japanese woman who weighs half of what I do."

"Five-foot-five inches! Now, come closer," she said pulling me by my belt.

Don't look down.

Just keep your eyes on her.

I put one arm on each side of her body, white knuckling the railing alongside the small of her back.

"Tell me what you see," she said looking up into my eyes. I knew she expected me to look up and describe the skyline to her, but I was too afraid to do that. Instead, I looked directly into her eyes.

She's probably expecting me to give her some ridiculous complement.

Surprise her. You know Tokyo well enough, so just describe it to her.

"Directly behind you, twenty-five floors down, is the garden walkway leading to Ark Hills' entrance. Behind that and above Roppongi-dori is the elevated Shuto Expressway. Beyond that lies Shiba Park where Tokyo Tower stands," I said without taking my eyes off hers.

"Then there's Tokyo Bay which is about 3 miles south and east of your right shoulder. Between Tokyo Bay and this building lies Tokyo's grid of streets with its residential apartments and commercial buildings. There doesn't appear to be anything taller than this building until probably Yokohama, which is obviously too far away to see from here."

"Oh, I almost forgot, the Diet building in Nagatachō is about half a mile off to your left. Then there are the neon lights of Shibuya, and farther out, and beyond out, the towers of Shinjuku."

"Any questions?" I asked, feeling confident that I'd impressed her.

"You forgot Mount Fuji."

"We won't see Fuji-san until after sunrise," I said, hedging.

"Don't count on it," she said, her tone cold and calculated.

"Now go sit," she said, ducking under my arm, walking past me, and heading back inside.

Close your eyes...

I closed my eyes and turned around. Still gripping the railing, I opened my eyes and saw the open glass door and walked straight ahead toward her and the safety of her place.

She slid the door shut on Tokyo's humid summer air behind us.

Now that I was inside and on firm footing, I turned and admired the view of central and southern Tokyo's lit up skyline and watched the faint red-orange glow of Tokyo Tower's beacon standing out above it all.

Leave it to the Japanese to outdo the French by building a replica of the Eiffel Tower taller than the original!

The air conditioning felt great against my face and hands.

She took my hand and walked me to the sitting area halfway to the elevator and opposite the dry bar. I stood in front of an armchair facing an interior wall with nothing but an antique scroll with two columns of Chinese kanji and Japanese hiragana calligraphy brushed on to its cream-colored background.

She placed one hand on my chest and pressed softly against me, indicating without words that I should sit.

The moment I was seated, she got to her knees and said,

"Like I told you earlier in the club, don't touch my hair."

Before I could acknowledge what she said, she deftly removed my belt, unzipped my fly, and began pulling my suit pants down. I helped her by lifting my hips. Once she'd drawn them down to my ankles, I used my feet to get out of them.

She moved her hands back up and repeated the process with my briefs. And a moment later, having also picked up my briefs, I was sitting there in nothing but my dress shirt and socks. The cool air felt great where I began stiffening.

"Shall we finish our drinks," she said standing up causing me to feel even more ridiculous since she was still fully clothed.

I leaned backwards, stared at the ceiling, fantasizing about what would happen next. I was aware of one thing; it would be her decision not my move.

She walked back toward the bar for the glasses. Without turning around, I sat there, a twenty-seven-year-old American in a dress shirt and black socks, in a penthouse apartment twenty-five floors above Minato-ku, waiting for a woman I'd met three hours earlier to bring me my scotch. I heard her put the top back on the decanter.

She came back with both glasses, handed me mine, and set hers on the low table. Then she unbuttoned her blouse, one button at a time, and laid it over the arm of the other chair. Underneath was something white and thin and fitted her like it had been painted on.

She turned her back to me, like she expected me to do something. Then I saw the zipper off the left hip of her skirt. I unzipped it, not that she couldn't have but that wasn't the point.

I sat back with my scotch and watched her slide her skirt down, letting it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it without looking down.

"I'll take your glass when you're finished," she said. I took one last long sip and handed her the empty glass which she promptly set on the table behind her, then faced me and got to her knees between my feet.

Inching forward, she grabbed me with one hand, saying "unbutton your shirt. I don't want it touching my hair."

She slid her other hand across my chest as I opened my dress shirt, then began stroking me with the hand she had around me. I was rock hard.

"You're so hard. You're not going to come already, are you? Because that's not going to work for me."

What do I say to that?

I couldn't think of anything. So, I commented on the two columns of black brushstrokes on the ancient scroll hanging directly in front of me.

"What does that scroll say?" I asked.

She didn't turn to look. She didn't have to. It was her apartment.

"A frog in the well knows nothing of the great ocean."

When she closed her lips around me, I forgot about the frog and what it did or didn't know.

She was slow. She moved her mouth down toward her hand, then backed off, taking me a little further into the moist heat of her mouth each time.

Every time I thought I knew how far she was going to go, she changed it up. Twice she took me almost to the edge, then stopped and waited for me to cool back down. I kept my hands on the arms of the chair and my eyes on her eyes and mouth while she continued to tantalize me. I wanted to guide her mouth on me.

Don't touch her hair!

Now her slow pace was almost too much to bear, and I groaned loudly, equally out of pleasure and frustration.

Sensing the frustration, I was experiencing, which she'd intentionally created, she pulled back and looked up at me.

"Tell me what you want, Cole," she said.

"Don't stop, Keiko..."

"Don't stop what?"

I didn't answer.

So that's it, she wants to hear me say it.

"I want you to keep going and do it faster."

She took me into her mouth again but didn't change a thing. She pulled back slightly and said, "You Americans are so shy. Just say what you want."

I looked down into the beautiful forty-one-year-old's dark eyes looking up at me from between my legs. Her bottom lip was still half curled around me.

"I want you to suck me harder and faster, and swallow when I come."

"That's it?" she teased.

"No."

"And?"

"I want you to suck and lick my balls too."

She continued her relentless line of questioning.

"And why would I want to do that, Cole?"

"Because of what I am going to do to you later with my tongue, Keiko. That's why."

For the first time since leaving the club, she looked into my eyes and smiled slightly before lowering her eyes and closing her mouth around me. That's when she began giving me head with almost feral intensity.

This time she began working my cock and balls with both her hands and mouth. I gripped the leather cushion with both hands as the pressure built up at the base of my spine. Looking down and seeing her mouth on me heightened the sensation.

"I'm..." I said, letting her know how close it was.

She turned her head slightly as I watched my cock disappear into her mouth one last time and I grunted loudly and came hard, losing myself in a wave of ecstasy. She kept her mouth on me until I was entirely empty and soft. I leaned my head against the back cushion and slowly regained my breath.

Sitting up and looking in front of me, I saw her sit back on her heels and take a sip from her wine glass before standing. There was a mixed look of satisfaction and triumph on her face.

"Someone needs a shower," she said, holding out her hand, but stepping away before I could grasp it.

I followed her to the other side of the elevator doors. She slid a panel open that led into a full-sized Western style bathroom, like nothing I'd ever seen outside an exclusive love hotel in Tokyo. It had a large glass walled double shower and a Jacuzzi sized bathtub off to one side. On the other was a triple sink marble countertop.

Noticing my stare, she said, "This and the rest of the apartment is what's left from my marriage."

"Strip" she said.

She turned and stared at me. After what she'd just done for me, I felt no shame or embarrassment, until I followed her gaze and noticed how ridiculous I looked, buck-naked in a pair of mid-calf black socks.

"Take those off," she said, nodding at my socks. "Shower. I want to watch."

Thinking she might join me, I stood there waiting for thirty seconds until I realized she was there for the view and nothing more.

I turned on the water, lathered up and washed my hair. She leaned against the counter in her tightfitting camisole with her wine glass in her hand, watching me.

"You're being shy again. Turn and face me."

I turned toward her and rinsed my back first, then turned briefly to rinse the front of my body, checking to make sure there was no soap residue on my skin. When I faced her again, I noticed her nipples pressing against her silk top.

She stepped forward and handed me a towel as I turned off the water. Then she opened a second door, into the bedroom.

"Get in bed and wait for me," she said, pulling the bathroom door partway shut behind me.

I heard the shower as I got into bed. I lay back on silk sheets that probably cost as much as my monthly rent and got hard anticipating what was coming next.

When she exited, it was in a white silk robe, with her hair as perfect as it was when I'd first seen her at the Blue Note jazz club in Aoyama.

She untied the silk robe, peeled it off her shoulders and I watched as it fell revealing the beautiful body of a woman almost half her age. Her B cup breasts and hard nipples made my erection swell further until I was rock hard. She got up on the bed and gripped my cock with one hand, before straddling me at my knees.

I lowered my head onto the pillow expecting her to move up, straddle my waist, sliding me inside her. Instead, I felt her knees pin my arms to the mattress as she moved up toward the headboard, lowering herself onto my face. She moaned soft and low as I explored her folds for the next couple minutes.

A moment later she shifted her weight, and I watched as she grabbed the headboard above me with her hands and felt her move her hips against my tongue, grinding her hips against my face. She began moaning louder and at one point lunged toward the headboard and I heard a loud low moan as she finished above me.

She moved over and rolled onto her back. At that point I knew what we both craved and what I hungered to do. I positioned myself between her legs and continued eating her, taking her higher still. She tore at my hair each time she neared the edge, and each time I slowed down.

"What are you doing?" She asked almost pleading. I didn't answer and instead began sucking her clit and this time I let her unravel completely in a tremor of ecstasy against my mouth.

Then she went still and looked down at me, her hand was still gripping the headboard with her arms outstretched above her head.

"You're still not a man. A man would've taken me by now," she said in a voice that sounded as much a challenge as an insult.

"You haven't left much room for that," I said.

"I'm leaving room now."

She rolled onto her stomach and looked back at me over her shoulder.

I got onto my knees, pulled her hips toward me, and entered her from behind. She was tighter than any woman I'd experienced before. I knew I would have trouble lasting more than a minute. Fortunately for me she gasped and said,

"Wait, give me a moment to feel you."

I gave her ten seconds before reaching around grabbing both her breasts and thrusting upward into her. I held her close to my chest, reached between her legs and began rubbing her clit as I continued to thrust into her. I matched her moans with uninhibited groans.

I gripped her tightly around her waist, and continued thrusting into her, neither of us needing to say a word.

"Oh," she screamed as I felt her tighten around me further in tiny spasms. As I came, I released her from my grip, and she fell forward onto the mattress, freeing herself from my grip. I moved forward onto her and entered her again while I was still hard, thrust one more time and finished completely. Then I rolled off her and onto my back.

"Mmm," she sighed, with the same satisfaction I felt and we fell asleep side-by-side.

It was still early when I awoke and turned to see her sitting on the edge of the bed just before she stood, slipping her arms into her white silk robe. Unlike the plain white front, the back was covered in an array of light blue hydrangeas, hand painted I assumed. She walked past the foot end of the bed and across to a wall of glass identical to the one in her living room.

Even before I stood up, I could see the top of Tokyo Tower through the window over her right shoulder. Far off in the distance to the southwest of Tokyo, I could see the top of Mount Fuji illuminated by the rising sun.

"I'll make breakfast while you shower," was all she said.

I got up, walked to the bathroom and after showering, saw my socks and underwear neatly folded on the marble countertop. The rest of my clothes and tie were hanging on a custom wooden valet stand beside the bathroom counter.

I dressed, slid the paneled shoji open and entered the living area between the balcony window and the dry bar.

Keiko stood there with her back to me, looking out the window. She held a cup of tea in one hand and a breakfast snack in a plastic 7-Eleven packet dangling from her other hand over her shoulder

"Here's your breakfast," barely pausing, she added, "you can take the elevator back down to the lobby and catch a taxi on Ropongi-dori."

I walked to the elevator, stepped into my shoes and into the elevator as the doors opened. I stood facing the back wall until the doors slid shut. That's when I turned around and felt the elevator going down. I waited for the doors to open again.

Unlike the frog in the well, I knew the depth of the ocean I'd just left.

It didn't help.

* * *

The End