Tanner rolled the word through his mind again, sampling its meaning as if he could taste its implications. Would she offer sex? Probably, but there was no guarantee. From what little he understood, the geisha were high-class entertainers who serviced the most wealthy and sophisticated men of Japanese society. Certainly, she would be beautiful, no doubt she would possess impressive skills in music, dance, and poetry, but sex? Such erotic pleasures are always suggested, but never explicitly included.
Noboru himself had been evasive on the subject and it was he who had arranged Miharu’s visit. “A gift for you, Tanner-San,” he had said. “In appreciation for your help in closing the Matsu Electronics acquisition of Micro-Tech.”
Tanner couldn't help but smile at the irony. Offering personal gifts from expensive wine, works of art, or even high-class call girls was fairly common in the world of investments Tanner lived in, but being offered the services of a geisha must have been some kind of first, at least in the States. The fact that Noboru knew of one skilled enough to meet his standards was more proof that all things could be found in New York City.
He had questioned Noboru when he spoke of his gift, why something so personal, so intimate? In the end, Tanner decided that decorum dictated that he graciously accept the offering.
Regardless, Tanner was excited by the prospect of sex with such a skilled woman. He was at a point in his life when he had little time to date and his chances to sate his considerable sexual appetite had become scarce. This was more because of his dedication to his work than his ability to lure a woman into his bed. At six-foot-two, he was a striking man, with an analytical mind and subtle wit. He simply hadn't been willing to put the effort into a relationship while he was working eighty hours a week.
He was as meticulous about his appearance as he was about his life and he worked hard at both. As a result, his lean body was sharply defined but not overly muscled. Being a man of multi-racial heritage, Tanner was more aware than most of how easily people tended to form undeservedly limited expectations of others based on their own preconceived notions. Though his dark skin made most people simply assume he was black, the truth, as it usually is, was for more rich and varied.
His mother had always called him a Renaissance man, saying his background of so many races was the future of what humanity would someday be. That knowledge gave him a strength that matched his intellect and allowed him to succeed in the conservative and judgmental world of finance where others so often failed.
In a sense, his corner penthouse on the forty-third floor was simply an extension of himself. The furniture and decor were modern and minimalist, yet still managed to be warm and comforting. With the lighting dimmed, the city lights below made a beautiful backdrop for a living space that provided him a sanctuary away from the ultra fast pace of his work.
This same disciplined self-awareness had become second nature to him, so it was no surprise that he took pains to ensure Miharu would see him for the man he was, rather than just another 'Gaijin' or foreigner that the Japanese so often secretly disdained. He made certain that his normally well-kept space was immaculately clean. Like Japan itself, he mused, the combination of his modern space would contrast perfectly with her traditional skills, providing an ambiance of which he was sure she would approve. How he dressed would be equally important. His choice of a silver-grey leisure suit with a darker silk shirt gave him a look that combined relaxed informality with a sophistication that he was sure would catch her eye.
Pouring two fingers of Hennessy neat, Tanner lifted the tumbler and saluted the thought of his friend. With any luck, though he dared not hope, something else would salute his friend tonight. “Miharu,” he whispered reverently. Her name flowed effortlessly off his tongue and Tanner wondered how it would sound to her. Sipping his drink, Tanner let the stress of business slip from his mind and body, intrigued now by his impending guest.
~~~
Miharu glanced around the open, airy loft and thought again how fortunate she was to be living in New York and studying dance at Juilliard. She often thanked her ancestors for being blessed with the opportunity to be geisha. Wondering what effect leaving had on her family, but not letting it burden her, Miharu recalled how her life evolved over the years.
Destiny. There was no other word for it. Miharu dreamt of the world of geiko since seeing her mother and aunt entertain several businessmen, including her father, as geisha.
The young girl was fascinated, maybe even obsessed, with the lifestyle. The beauty of their attire, their ability to enthrall through poetry, dance, conversation, and as she learned later, even their superior skill in the art of sex immensely appealed to her. Immediately upon telling her mother what she wanted, her family was pleased. So after finishing junior high school, Miharu began her training as a maiko. It would take years, nearly six to be exact, before she became a geisha.
Miharu’s training was intense though it served her well. She exhibited the best of her mother, a superior dancer, and her aunt, the ultimate conversationalist, and poet--those talents, combined with those that were drilled into her by her okasan (house mother) made her one of the best in the okiya where she trained. However, Miharu was not a perfect maiko; she often paid too much attention to the trappings of modern life and western ways. It was that imperfection that brought her to New York City.
During her training, Miharu became deeply interested in ballet. Although she was instructed exclusively in traditional Japanese dance and despite her contract, she applied to and was accepted by Juilliard. Miharu’s father, a powerful businessman, managed to negotiate her departure, and upon being granted the status of geiko (full geisha), Miharu found herself leaving her homeland.
Her father’s connections seemed limitless. Miharu was given a fully furnished loft, a more than adequate bank balance, and the names and addresses of several contacts that lived in New York. While studying dance, Miharu did not wish to hide her status as geisha but instead wanted it to become secondary to what had become her newest obsession; the life of a ballet dancer. Her studies at Juilliard consumed her at times, but the messages from Noboru’s assistants could not be ignored.
Tanner Brock, Noboru said, was a brilliant young investment professional with no time for the fickleness and pretense of dating. Miharu listened intently to the details given, spoken and unspoken. Knowing something about Tanner prior to their meeting seemed like a good idea, so she learned everything that she could via an in-depth web search.
Preparing for their meeting, Miharu paid much attention to the details. She would not meet him in full geisha attire as she didn’t feel that it was important for this meeting, but she did prepare with care. Miharu lingered in the warm and fragrant bath. Images of Tanner, of his deep, bright eyes and his trim and powerful body, played through her as she slowly sponged her legs. He was exotic and remarkably handsome, and she sighed as the telltale warmth of arousal slowly began coursing through her body. Soon, her hand moved over her mons and she allowed a single finger to slide into her rapidly moistening slit. "Ah, yes," she whispered as her finger began playing with all the skill she had learned in her life.
The young geisha embraced the moment, caressing her tender flesh until the heat she felt in her core matched that of the water embracing her skin. Her other hand cupped her pert breast, gently pinching her dark nipple until tortuous pleasure began pulsing through her. There were no hurried or jerking movements, and the bath barely stirred as she wound the sensation into a magical aura that made her heart beat with the rhythm of her desire.
Every nerve in her body was tuned into that aura and she let it grow, consuming her body in a dance of gratification that caused her legs to tense and shake. Her breath grew deeper as she approached the edge and the single finger was joined by another. Every nuance of her skill built her arousal until she felt her orgasm burn like the sun. She was more than able to ride the edge for as long as she desired, but on this night, her duty lay with the man who had so powerfully captured her thoughts. With him in mind, she drove herself over the edge and cried out softly as her orgasm thundered through her body. Relief poured through her and she felt a strong desire to lay in the water and let it caress her now tired muscles, but time was passing too rapidly and she composed herself, wrapping her mind in her professionalism as surely as she would soon wrap her body in silk.
Afterward, Miharu carefully considered her attire as she prepared to dress. A simple golden silk kimono with flecks of vibrant primary colors spread throughout it was her choice for the evening, perhaps if Mr. Brock was worthy, she would don the full attire of the geisha at a future meeting. Did she even want a second encounter? As handsome as he was, Miharu wasn’t sure. She’d only agreed to this meeting as a courtesy to Noboru, and she didn’t necessarily need the money. She swept her hair up in a loose, elegant bun and noting the time, she applied her makeup--again nothing traditional, just enough that he would be able to recognize what she was.
“A limo.” Miharu uttered breathlessly, “Noboru’s generosity has no bounds.” She glanced in the mirror a final time and satisfied that the kimono was near perfect and her makeup was flawless, the modern geisha gracefully took her leave.
Thankful for the limo and the time it took to arrive at his penthouse, the oddly nervous Miharu replayed the conversation with Noboru. Miharu was impressed--beyond impressed with Mr. Tanner Brock. His accomplishments were plentiful, but she was accustomed to the very best in that regard, so those things didn’t alter her opinion of him one way or another. Still, there was something that compelled her... something definitely out of reach but undeniably real that made her take the meeting. Oh, she recognized the intelligence, the handsome face, and incredibly toned body, even his eyes mesmerized her, but it was something in Noboru’s words that formed her impression.
‘Surely,’ Miharu thought, ‘surely he is not what I’ve made him out to be in my mind.’ The limo ride did little to settle her nerves. The voice of her okasan sounded in her head. “Calm, young maiko, remember your place. Remember what you are.” And with that, Miharu closed her eyes and remembered.
“Enjoy your evening, miss,” said the driver as he opened the door for her.
Miharu bowed her head and simply said, “Thank you.”
The building in front of her was magnificent, and as she looked up she thought she saw the silhouette of the man that she had been summoned to entertain for the evening.
~~~
Tanner hadn't realized he was staring out the wall-sized window until he heard the chime from his door. Glancing at the clock, he noted with satisfaction that it read 7:03. "Excellent, she's right on time,” he said to himself as he came to the door.
Being punctual was important to him and it would have felt awkward had she been late, so he was pleasantly relieved that she was not. Still, he felt an unexpected rush of excitement, and he took a moment to compose himself before opening the door.
Nevertheless, the vision of beauty he beheld upon opening it almost left him speechless. Miharu, for that was surely who she was, stood nearly a full foot shorter than he and her golden kimono covered her slim frame with a subtle beauty that was very formal and yet still highlighted her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry. Large, almond-shaped eyes gazed at him, surrounded by a face that was delicate and smooth. "Miharu, it is an honor to meet you. Please, come in," he managed to say without letting his voice show his sudden excitement.
"Thank you, Mr. Brock," she demurely replied as she dutifully followed him into his foyer.
Her English was flawless, with just enough of a Japanese lilt to perfectly fit his image of what she would be like. Following the direction of his arm, Miharu lead the way into his living room. As she paused to take in the grand, city vista, he had time to appreciate the delicate grace in the way she moved. She seemed to almost float as she made her way to the window. A small, wicker basket was gently clasped in her hands in a way that made her appear both submissive and comfortable in his presence.
Her bearing and dignity, it was almost regal, had caught him off guard and he struggled for a moment, unsure exactly how to proceed. "Can I get you something," seemed the most appropriate opening but when he asked, Miharu turned with a smile and just slightly shook her head.
"No, Tanner-San. I am here for your pleasure tonight. Please allow me to serve you."
Feeling slightly chided the way a child might, Tanner relented to her care. "Of course. I would very much enjoy that."
Miharu nodded politely but her smile grew even warmer. "Then, please sit. It will be my pleasure to entertain you tonight."
Tanner was quickly becoming enamored with his guest. She was sweet and confident yet managed to make him feel like a man. He stepped toward his couch with every intention of complying with her wish but paused when her hand rose to her mouth, hiding a smile that turned into a grin. "No, on the floor, please. We can sit close and face each other as we begin, yes?"
Tanner felt a blush rise in his cheeks. He should have remembered that the Japanese often sat on mats, but Miharu's ease had him feeling off balance. Gathering himself, he sat, cross-legged on the rich carpeting. "Thank you, Tanner-San," she replied coyly and carefully knelt in front of him. Even this motion seemed effortless to her and her kimono remained smooth and unruffled by her movement. "Would you prefer tea or saki?" she inquired as her dark eyes held his.
Tanner smiled. "Saki, I think. I could use a drink, right about now."
"Of course," she replied with a soft laugh. "You are a man, and a man should always feel comfortable in a woman's care."
Opening her basket, she pulled out a small, porcelain decanter and a matching cup, no bigger than a shot glass. These she handled with extraordinary care, pouring the liquid without spilling a single drop. Then, using both hands, Miharu handed him the cup and waited for him to drink.
"None for you?" he asked, but she shook her head, more emphatically than the last time.
"No, Tanner-San. This night is for you. I am here as your guest and your geisha. It would be inappropriate for me to drink. Please, taste it and tell me how it makes you feel."
Once again, Tanner felt the unease of his ignorance of her customs but he swallowed the liquor without hesitation. It was smooth and burned only slightly as it went down. "That was wonderful, Miharu," he responded as he sat the cup between them.
"It is a favorite in Tokyo. It will help you relax," she told him as she refilled the cup as carefully as she had before.
"I can see why."
Miharu watched patiently as he sipped, and then, as the moments slowed, she began to sing to him. The words were of her land, but the tone and beauty of her voice filled the room with a feeling of peace and tranquility. Tanner sat back, gazing at her as her voice carried to him, and he began to feel swept away in whatever tale she was singing. He wasn't sure how much time passed as she sang to him, but he finished another shot before her voice finally grew silent.
"That was magnificent," he told her, and the honesty in his words made Miharu blush in a way that made his blood run hot.
"It was the story of two lovers defying their lord to be together," she told him. "Love is a universal feeling, yes?"
"Yes, it is. I could feel it in the song."
"You are too kind, Tanner-San. There is much poetry written about love. I know many, but they would have little meaning to you. However, if it pleases you, I know much more by poets of the west."
Tanner had never been much for poetry, but then he never would have guessed her singing would have affected him so deeply. With a slight nod, he asked her to quote some for him. For the next hour, Miharu recited poems from Angelou, Keats, Bogan and many more he had never heard of. Each was spoken with a heartfelt passion that had him riveted to every word. She was intoxicating, and though he had long forgotten his pent-up desire for her body, he began to feel an attraction that went far more deeply into his soul. Every word seemed a love sonnet meant only for him, and his desire for her grew strong and profound in a way he could never have expected.
Eventually, sitting in this unfamiliar position began to take its toll. He was having the time of his life with the Asian beauty, but he could no longer quell his tired muscles as they complained.
"You grow tired, Tanner-San. We must get you to relax. Please, where is your bedroom?"
Her blunt request caught him by surprise, and his desire for her instantly spiked. "This way," he too eagerly replied and began to rise, but Miharu eased him back to the floor with a light touch to his shoulder.
"No, Tanner-San," she softly urged. "Please stay here. I will be right back."
Then, with the preternatural grace she displayed all evening, she effortlessly rose and padded off to his room. Moments later, she returned with a blanket and a couple of bath towels tucked under her arm.
“Please, stand. I will remove your clothes and give you a massage." Tanner could have been knocked over with a feather, but fighting the cramps in his legs, he rose without complaint. "Hmm, you are a large man, Tanner-San," she mused as she carefully eased his jacket over his broad shoulders.
Tanner remained silent as her hands caressed his chest through his shirt. Her fingers flicked and played over the buttons, opening it until his bare chest became exposed in the dimmed lighting. Miharu sung quietly as she touched him, letting him feel her hands on his skin in unbroken moments as she removed his shirt. The song felt like the mutterings of a lover and his penis began to harden as her palms traveled over his abdomen on their way to his slacks. A shiver ran up his spine when she knelt in front of him and drew the button through the eye. "Oh, my gosh, Miharu..." he said in a low moan.
He half expected her to touch his cock, but her hands carefully avoided the rising bulge. Instead, she lowered the zipper and slowly drew his pants downward, exposing first his well-defined hips before his penis appeared and rose pridefully toward her. Miharu smiled and blushed as his erection grew close, and she lightly let her fingers caress his impressive length.
"Yes. Tanner-San, you are a very big man."
With any American woman, Tanner would have expected her mouth to engulf him at the point, but Miharu continued to surprise him by moving away and spreading the blanket on the floor. "Please, lay on your stomach," she requested innocently.
Tanner was in no position to argue, and as he had all night, he followed her will. The blanket felt soft over the carpeting and he quickly relaxed as she stood in front of him. Then, wordlessly, she reached back and untied the knot holding the sash around her waist. Tanner's gaze was fixed on her as she opened her dress. Underneath, her slim and toned body appeared, covered only in a black lace brassiere and a matching scrap of cloth that barely covered her womanhood.
More than ever, her feline grace inflamed him and his cock began to throb as he took in her beauty. Her breasts were larger than he expected and seemed incredibly firm. Her flat stomach was toned and rose erotically with her breath. Letting his gaze fall, he took in every curve and line of her body, right down to her legs. She was incredible and his heart beat rapidly as the idea of plunging his cock into her became a roaring desire.
"You are a very handsome man," she praised as she moved behind him. He almost rolled over to take her in his arms, but her hand on his back stayed his effort. "Please, relax. I am going to massage you."
Miharu felt him give in to the gentle prodding on his back and wondered if he would continue to reach for her. She knelt on the side of Tanner, slightly intimidated by his size, but her own strength invigorated her enough for her to continue the intimate task. She’d been prepared for the massage but strangely, she was not prepared for the shock of finding him so incredibly in tune with her. He seemed to be acutely aware of her needs when it was she that should have been more aware of his.
Her eyes took in the sight of long, sinewy limbs and the subtle curve of his ass where it connected to powerful thighs. She longed to throw herself on top of him but chose to reach for the oil in her basket instead. Miharu poured the odorless oil down his legs sensing that he ached to feel her there first. Small but strong hands rubbed the oil into taut muscles that surrendered to her every action.
Her attention to him, her devotion to his pleasure, compelled her to reach for his shoulders and the oil seemed to burn her as she made contact with the smooth skin. Suddenly, she understood that it was his skin that had grown considerably warmer as she moved from limb to limb.
Miharu leaned down close to Tanner’s ear and in her native tongue she whispered, “Turn over.” A moan escaped his lips before he understood and did as she suggested. She again poured oil over him, stopping only to glance at his body with admiration. Just as suddenly as Miharu realized that he was burning with need, she decided. Standing and smiling as she did so, the young geisha removed her bra and the inadequate cloth that covered her sex.
“Beguiling,” Tanner uttered breathlessly.
“Thank you, Tanner-San.” Miharu continued, “This is not what you think but please… just relax.”
Slowly, she freed her hair from the bun; soft tendrils of hair settled on her face and a cascade of dark, wavy locks fell upon well-toned shoulders.