Free Piercing by Ryu Murakami

It was nearly seven. Considering all there would be to take care of when the ritual was over, he was eager to get things rolling as soon as possible. But he had to avoid making her uneasy or suspicious.
    ‘Anything, really. Tell me what you like. Or, for example, what’s the nastiest thing you’ve ever done?’
    She’d have to teach the man in the cheap suit how to get her hot, and how exciting it could be for both of them if they used an elastic band down there, with just her clitoris sticking out for him to look at and lick and touch.
    The nastiest thing you’ve ever done - Kawashima felt queasy just hearing the words, which immediately evoked a picture of the woman he’d stabbed with the ice pick. Beating the stuffing out of each other, to the point of exhaustion, then crying and begging each other’s forgiveness, caressing and kissing the sores and scratches and bumps and bruises as they peeled off each other’s clothes - that was the way she liked it. Sometimes, when she connected with a solid punch, he’d think: In a minute she’ll be licking that very same spot. He looked at the girl’s smooth, unwrinkled hands. He couldn’t wait to cut her Achilles tendons.
    ‘Have you ever watched a woman masturbate?’
    Chiaki smiled as she said this, then ran her tongue over her lips. She imagined that the cheap suit had never done anything nasty outside of a strip club or ‘soapland’ or whatever. The first thing she had to do was put him in the mood. Peering steadily at his face, she shifted on the sofa, lifting the skirt of her Junko Shimada and hanging one knee over the armrest, showing him the purple panties beneath her black stockings. She touched a finger to her tongue, as if to lubricate it with saliva, then lightly stroked her inner thighs. He’s probably never seen anything like this before, she thought. I’ll get you so worked up, Mister, that juice will ooze out of your willy and stain your cheap underpants. After that, we’ll take a shower together, and I’ll teach you about the elastic band on the shower cap.
    Strange shoes, thought Kawashima. Short, lace-up boots that covered the ankle bone. Black, with stiletto heels. He’d have her put them back on before he tied her up. Push forward on the heels to stretch her Achilles tendons, then press the blade of the knife down hard and slowly slice through. He wondered what would happen to the shoes then. Would they just sag forward, or would the recoil of the tendons send them flying?
    The girl closed her eyes and began to moan. In those black stockings, her legs looked incredibly delicate and slender. Not much meat even on her thighs and ass, he noted. When she was done, he’d ask her in a very gentle and patient tone of voice to undress. What a lame performance, though, he thought and laughed to himself. Someone must’ve told her that johns get off on watching things like this.
    Chiaki was tracing her finger along the crease in her panties when she heard the man laugh. She opened her eyes, and he was sitting there in his cheap suit, holding the handkerchief to his mouth and chuckling.
    ‘That’s enough,’ he said.
    Humiliated, she immediately swung her leg down from the armrest, and as she did so her heel struck the coffee table with a bang, knocking over the can of Cola. Kawashima reflexively grabbed the can with his bare left hand.
    ‘Idiot!’ he shouted, staring bug-eyed at the can he was holding and feeling as if his temples had burst into flame. ‘Watch what you’re doing!’
    Chiaki’s heart gave a hard thump and began to flutter. A pale mist blurred her field of vision. She’d been trying to arouse him but had only succeeded in making him angry. It was all her fault, and she found herself unable to fight off the eddying panic. Like lights going out one by one, words were whirling away, receding out of reach. AROUSE, MASTURBATE, SEX , then CHEAP SUIT, HUMILIATED, SIGN LANGUAGE , RESTROOM . . . It was as if neon signs in the shapes of