YF - Chapter 3

Riley goes deeper into the warren of streets, slipping through an alley to descend a short staircase to a warmly glowing doorway hidden between two old signs for the neighboring businesses. In the basement is a tight, intimate bar that smells of cigarette smoke. Riley takes her place at the bar, and the elegant barman immediately mixes her drink.

This is a weak point for Riley. A Yakuza’s drink should be attention-grabbing, expensive, or both. Hers is neither: a simple vodka soda with plenty of lime. It’s cheap and boring, but Riley doesn’t want excitement, and she doesn’t care about the flavor. A quiet moment in a place like this, sipping something cold and refreshing with a little **** is the closest thing to a break that she ever gets.

Naturally, someone intrudes. Riley scowls as Tanaka Mitsuko takes the spot beside her. It’s a tiny bar, but no one else is there. Other seats are available.

Tanaka is wiry and a little awkward with her long limbs. Her wild hair is contained by an old-fashioned flat cap, and she peers out at the world from behind big, round glasses. Her outfit is every inch that of an intrepid reporter. She hasn’t been covering Kamurocho long; that’s probably why she doesn’t understand it.

“Every night this week you’ve come here, Riley-san,” Tanaka says, accepting a glass of beer from the barman. “Are you hoping to meet someone? Could it be me?”

“It’s not you,” Riley replies tiredly, sipping her drink. She does not look at the reporter. Tanaka doesn’t stop.

“Can you comment on the clan’s desperation to hold Kamurocho?” she asks.

“Desperation?” Riley raises an eyebrow.

“Bullies with penises aren’t enough anymore. Now they need a white girl with one?”

She’s trying to piss Riley off. Riley doesn’t dignify that with a response for several moments.

“Bullies,” she echoes finally.

“Yes, bullies. That’s what you gangsters are.”

Riley turns to face her and leans very close. Tanaka looks uncomfortable.

“Do you want me to bully you?” Riley asks her bluntly. “Is that why you’re here?”

“I want you to comment.”

“You just said I was a bully. Not a conversationalist.”

“Is that a touchy subject?” Tanaka asks slyly. “Are you going to threaten me?”

“Not much of a threat when it’s what you want,” Riley replies bitterly, taking a big drink.

“No one wants to be bullied by Yakuza. People want to live their lives freely. Without protection money. Without your brawls and bloodshed.”

Riley finishes her drink and puts the glass down. She pushes to her feet.

“Sure,” she says, and walks out the door. As she climbs the steps, she can hear Tanaka behind her. “Go away.”

“Wait.” Tanaka grabs her hand as they reach the street. “I know who you are. How did they get you to come to Japan? How did they get you to give everything up? What do they have on you?”

Riley whirls and grabs Tanaka, shoving her out of the street and into the dark, narrow alley. There, she pins her to the wall, face to face, noses almost touching. Riley says nothing. She just leans against the slim reporter, staring. Chest to chest, she can feel her heartbeat. The seconds drag on, and Tanaka’s heartbeat doesn’t slow down.

“If you want to be bullied, you can just say so,” Riley tells her.

Tanaka searches Riley’s face. She looks uncertain. She swallows, then her mouth moves as though she were about to speak or offer up her lips, but Riley is not about to kiss her. Her leg is between Tanaka’s. She presses lightly and Tanaka makes a noise that gives her away.

Riley pushes her hand into Tanaka’s pants, going straight for it. Tanaka gasps and grabs her, burying her face in Riley’s neck. Riley doesn’t explore Tanaka’s damp lips, taut mound, or soft bush. She just plants the tip of her middle finger on the reporter’s hard clit and swirls it around as hard and fast as she can until the reporter’s fingernails dig into her back and her knees buckle. Tanaka cums with a series of choked gasps, and Riley doesn’t catch her.

The reporter falls to her knees with tears on her face, shaking.

Riley shakes off her wet hand and leaves the alley.