Free Woe in Kabukicho by Madelynne Ellis Page B

dislike winds its way around my synapses, makes me drawn to him even more, perhaps because it marks him as an outsider too.
    When Sky returns, a black T-shirt stretches across his chest. The pattern is that of a girl astride a fearsome snake. The symbology is not lost on me, regardless of how I’m assured by my companions that sexual conquest is not the nature of the game. We are here to play at koi —romance, not to land upon our backs in somebody’s bed. And yet, when I glimpse the hint of pale skin and musculature as his body shifts, what I crave from him is physical contact not conversation.
    Barriers. There are always barriers. It’s what tore Gavin and myself apart. Two different worlds. Too different expectations. I shake my head and laugh. If I were at home at a bar in England, I’d be desperately trying to keep my knickers on, but here where I’m supposed to just talk, I can’t wait to take them off. I glance around at the women and hosts and I wonder if it’s always so formalized and distant. Do they ever go home together? Are there real relationships formed beyond the pouring of drinks?
    Do they kiss? Do they fuck? Get hot and sweaty? Scream in frustration and passion? Screw in shop doorways? Or do they simply crawl home to bed and lie there still yearning?
    I’m tired of yearning. I want to live.
    “Do they serve warm saké in here?” I’ve never tried it and I want to.
    Sky shakes his head when I ask. “I think it’s better you stick to supping your woe. Sake and cocktails don’t mix.”
    “Is that advice borne of experience?”
    He glances at my companions. “Perhaps, yes.”
    I concede. Still, somewhere between the third and fifth drink, woe becomes whoa and I make myself a promise. I’m not leaving until he agrees to come too. My relationship with Gavin is surely over. Simmering excitement bubbles within my chest, nullifying the lingering threads of former relationship pain. I’m past grieving and ready to move on. I crave contact and the feel of strong arms. I want to drive myself against this charming rogue, shove up his T-shirt and score my nails across his chest.
    Does he see the change in me? I think he senses it.
    My hand strays towards his neck. Is touching even allowed ? A pewter pendant hangs upon a leather thong. Sky doesn’t edge away as I’ve seen one or two of the other hosts do. He just watches me with unfathomable patience as I trace the lines of this second serpent, this one with a long moustache and an even longer tail.
    I grow bold, lean in, eyes closed and breathe in his scent. Sky smells of rich sharp cologne. He closes his hand over mine and allows our fingers to link.
    Promises… promises…
    Anticipation—heat flares in my womb. I have to leave, before I make fools of us both. There are some social boundaries it’s best not to cross.
    I rise unsteadily, but Sky is there, supporting me.
    “I can’t stay,” I insist. Surely he sees the lust shining in my eyes. How I want to use him like the plaything he pretends to be. Grip his butt tight; make him stand naked in a corner like an erotic ornament that I can play with at my leisure. I want to touch and lick every inch of his skin. Having him so close just makes the desire stronger.
    “I understand,” he says.
    It takes willpower not to shove him back down against the leather and hold him there while I open his fly and dive upon his cock.
    “Not here, you understand.” He meets my gaze. Holds me there for several long seconds while his meaning sinks in.
    I swear he can read my mind.
    He strokes the ends of my flaxen hair, and lets the strands fall between his fingers. “What I do on my own time is my affair. And what you want is perfectly apparent.”
    “Seriously!” My chest expands with the rush of my indrawn breath. Oh my God! We’re actually going to fuck. My insides start to jig, and heat coils in my pussy.
    Sky’s lips curl into an uneven smile.
    “Wait,” I say. “Is this normal for you?”