To Hoseki House

You leave separately, you first. You call a car to your location and get in the back seat. A female voice, tailored to be as pleasant as possible, asks, “Where would you like to go?”

“The Hoseki House.”

“I understand.” The car floats up and then merges with traffic. You close your eyes and clear out every extraneous from you mind. You are Yozora now. You have to make everyone you meet from here on out believe that. One false step and you’ll not only blow the mission, you’ll probably end up dead or as a sex **** in some bedrock yakuza hellhole. Ishikawa is tailing you, partially to help if things go sideways. You don’t have a lot of faith in him being able to do much against a gang of yakuza though.

The car stops at the Hoseki House, a small building floating over the city on an artificial island. The House was designed to evoke the old days. It was a squat, two-story pagoda style building colored red and white with a swooping, black tiled roof. Even the lighting was handled by red lanterns. Yet you knew as you walked along the garden path to the building sophisticated sensors were analyzing you DNA. If the sensors had decided you didn’t belong, then when you tried to open the simple-looking sliding door, you’d be electrocuted. Fortunately, you have Yozora’s DNA so the door slides right open for you.

You step inside, take off your shoes and place them in a slot so they are whisked away and hidden from view. The clientele that visit the Hoseki House like their women a certain way. A pair of platform shoes just wouldn’t do. You step up onto the tatami floor and enter the House proper. The entertaining room is completely empty for the moment; it will be configured very soon to match the guests who have reserved the House for the night. As you enter, so to does another person, from the opposite side of the room. It is Ayako Chigusa, the proprietress of the Hoseki House. She is carrying with her a small tray with a tiny teapot, a bowl, a container for the tea, a ladle and a tea whisk. She must be returning from her ritual afternoon tea on the balcony of her room. You knew she would and that is why you had picked this time.

“Yozora.” Her tone and her voice are both stiff. It doesn’t worry you. That’s just the way she is. Chigusa is in her late forties but she is still very attractive. Part of that is how well put together she always is. Today she is wearing a breathtaking lilac kimono with a spread of pale pink flowers across the sleeves and chest. Her hair is up with carefully placed ivory combs and pins. Her makeup is understated but flawless. “You’re early.”

Yozora was often early but she always came up with some lame excuse. “Jun was just being a shitbag again so I decided to leave.” It was actually true that Jun was a shitbag. The NPA had hired a low-level prostitute to ‘entertain’ him and he had jumped. Currently he was handcuffed to a radiator in an apartment where the neighbors didn’t give a fuck about someone screaming. You put your hands on your hips and sigh. “Maybe I should’ve just gone shopping.”

Chigusa’s face turns severe. “I have told you to break up with that boy. Women in your line of work should remain pure outside of it. For the best customer experience.”

You smirk, hearing the lie in voice. “For the customer or for you, Chigusa-dono?”

The tray in her hands trembles, just slightly. "I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” You advance toward her. “I think you don’t like the idea of us sleeping with anyone if it isn’t making you money.” You stop right in front of her and give her Yozora’s patented sly, coquettish look. One you’d practiced in the mirror for hours. “Or maybe you just don’t like me sleeping with anybody, period.”

The utensils on the tray are clearly and audibly rattling now. “You...you are mistaken.”

“Oh? Then what was that a few nights ago?” You pitch your voice so that it is a poor mockery of Chigusa’s. “Oh, Sora-chan, you are my light. Your body is art, is poetry! You taste sweeter than sakura candy!” You subside and start laughing raucously.

Chigusa carefully sets down her tray. Then she straightens up and tackles you to the floor. You can hardly believe it, even though you were expecting it to happen. Even though you’d seen it before. The dichotomy between how Chigusa normally acted and how she behaved when she was horny was vast. “You little skank,” she spits, her hand going under your short skirt and ripping down your panties. “You think you can talk to me that way? Do you, you little bitch?!” Her hands are everywhere. You struggle against her but not too hard. You don’t really want to escape after all.