Seikou, p.1
Seikou, page 1
part #3 of Ren'Ai Rensai Series
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
"SEIKOU."
Author Bio
Also Available
Interactive Site
“SEIKOU.”
BOOK 3: REN’AI RENSAI
Hildred Billings
BARACHOU PRESS
“SEIKOU.”
Copyright: Hildred Billings
Published: 31st January 2012
Publisher: Barachou Press
This is a work of fiction. Any and all similarities to any characters, settings, or situations are purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
WARNING: This book contains adult language and graphic f/f sex. It is intended for mature audiences only.
Editor: Lindsay York
Cover Design: Lindsay York
Photographer: Wisky
This book is dedicated to all of those who are whole.
And to those still on their journey.
"SEIKOU."
Tokyo; March 2rd, 2013
All Reina wanted to do was stare at her therapist’s breasts.
Dr. Katou had the nicest pair she’d seen on another Japanese woman in years. They weren’t bigger than normal, but their rounded tops poked out of her blouse in such a way that Reina didn’t know how she was not supposed to stare. This is a test. Usually Dr. Katou wore sweaters and button up blazers – today she wore something sexier, as if Reina’s libido were on trial. It probably was.
“Reina?”
She blinked, aware of Dr. Katou’s raised brow and tapping pen. Her notepad sat in her lap, atop crossed legs lined with dark hosiery. Reina’s groin ached.
“Mou, she’s asking you a question!” Beside her Aiko, her wife and currently embarrassed partner for the past twenty years, shook her arm.
“Sorry.”
“That’s fine.” Dr. Katou spared them both a somber look. “I’ll ask again. Did you attempt the submissive position when making love to your wife, like we discussed last time?”
Grimacing as if Dr. Katou had stabbed her, Reina decided that was preferable to the question at hand. “No. I mean, I tried.” She remembered Aiko’s petite body straddling her like a cowgirl as she attempted to lie back and enjoy the view of bouncing tits and grinding hips. But it took a whole ten seconds of that before Reina gave in to her dominating urges, throwing Aiko onto the bed and going at her as if they hadn’t had sex in years. Being submissive once in a while was supposed to be a part of her gender therapy. Too bad she failed at it.
“What happened?” Dr. Katou always retained her professional manner, including keeping her eyes level behind a pair of frameless glasses.
It took another nip from Aiko’s fingers to get Reina on track again. “Oh. Oh yeah. Well, what can I say? I like to be on top.”
“Yes, so you’ve said.” Dr. Katou made a quick note on her pad. “But we discussed how it would behoove you and your development to remain in the submissive position once in a while.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“I’m not helping much.” Aiko, forever the sacrificial lamb, threw herself in front of Dr. Katou’s slaughter. “I think I might be too submissive. I don’t assert myself in the bedroom, so she gets to do whatever she wants.”
Reina tried to not look at her wife, who sat with her head pointed down and her short brown hair obscuring her face. Were they alone, Reina would have put a reassuring hand on Aiko’s back, or shoulder, or head, but with the therapist’s eyes on them, she couldn’t move.
Dr. Katou allowed the silence to continue for a minute, wherein Reina fidgeted and Aiko sniffed. This couple’s shit was the worst idea ever. Originally therapy had just included Reina, who went for help with her gender dysphoria, but in the past couple of months Dr. Katou suggested they graduate to alternating appointments to couple’s therapy. Because Reina didn’t feel awkward enough talking about her gender issues, oh no, she needed her wife there too.
The buzzer on Dr. Katou’s desk chimed the last five minutes of their session. Reina sat up on the couch and waited for the go-ahead to get the hell out of there…but nothing was ever that easy.
“I’m going to give you two homework.” Dr. Katou pulled a sheet of copy paper out of her folder and handed it to Aiko. “Before you see me next as a couple, I want you to try the bedroom role reversal again. Afterwards, whether it’s successful or not, I want you both to fill out the form about how it made you feel and give back to me.”
Fuck feelings. Reina maintained a respectful visage as she stood up, bowed to Dr. Katou, and escorted Aiko out into the hallway. The whole point of sex is to not have any feelings.
Aiko read as they descended the staircase. “I can’t imagine you filling this out.”
“What does it say?” Reina stalled in front of the doorway. She plucked the paper from Aiko’s hand and glanced at the miniscule Japanese kanji spelling out her sexual fate. “Describe the position used in the role reversal.” What else was there besides “she’s on top, not me?” Of course, Reina had quite the library of sexual positions in her brain – perhaps she was a veritable Encyclopedia Fucktannica – but how boring was it to think of them strictly in terms of who was doing what? “I don’t want to do this.” Reina handed the paper back and shoved the door open, cool winter air blasting into her face.
They were halfway down the street when Aiko finally spoke again. “But Dr. Katou said you need to try this.” She attempted to take her spouse’s hand.
Reina’s eyes darted around the street, the hustle and bustle of Shinjuku’s office district erupting before them. Salarymen with designer briefcases trotted down the sidewalks while fashionable women daydreamed of entourages and Turkish delight. This was the part of Shinjuku Reina hated – the one dominated by the rigid gender roles she needed therapy to deal with.
“I’ll think about it.” Reina shirked Aiko off her but stayed close to her side, hands in pockets. “Let’s go get lunch.”
Aiko followed her lead. “Where do you want to eat?”
“Hmph. We’re in Shinjuku, aren’t we?”
“I suppose so.”
Three blocks away was Ni-chome, the Shinjuku neighborhood most infamous for its gay bars, gay clubs, and other gay-gay-gay businesses. Compared to the towering office buildings and heterosexual nightclubs swarming the rest of Shinjuku, Ni-chome was a haven to somebody like Reina, who had spent half her life exploring its hangouts and women. Over the years the lesbian presence had improved, but there remained only one café since Reina was old enough to realize she wanted to sleep with women forever and ever.
For a Saturday afternoon, La Lune Café was moderately busy, with women of various ages and gender representations dotting the tables. They spoke with high-pitched feminine vocals and gruff, manly tenors. Aiko pointed to their usual spot in the far corner, the same table they once had successful second and fourth dates at twenty years before.
“Do you want the usual?” Aiko didn’t bother picking up a menu – after two decades of visiting the same place over and over, they both had their favorites from the lunch sets. “Oh, except last time their vinegar dressing gave you really bad indigestion.”
Reina scowled, as if Aiko had held a microphone and announced it to the entire restaurant. “The usual is fine,” she grumbled through her teeth. There goes another chip in my reputation.
Lunches ordered, Reina sat and pondered the street outside the window while Aiko played on her new phone. Reina had one too, bought together as wedding presents to each other when they returned from their honeymoon that past New Year’s. Aiko already had hers covered in pink crystals and playing dated ‘90’s music – Reina’s remained set to factory default inside her pocket. She had no need to play with electronics when she could look outside and see old gay men stand in circles and smoke together.
“Mite.” Aiko shoved her phone beneath Reina’s nose. “Here’s a picture of the neighbor’s cat. Isn’t it adorable?”
“Cute.”
Another quiet second passed before a small group of women emerged from the restrooms.
“Ehh! Look who it is!” The three of them bounded past gilded chairs and agile servers. “Well if it isn’t Ni-chome’s most infamous couple!”
A petite femme hovered over the table while her two butchier friends stood behind her and chuckled. They were all around thirty, still babies in Reina’s aging mind, and as babies they were likewise obnoxious and attention-seeking. And not even that good in bed. She had screwed them all at some point, of course.
“Hello!” Aiko nodded at each of them. “What do you mean by ‘infamous?’”
The femme woman, whose name escaped Reina – fine, all their names escaped her – gave that giggle that could only be interpreted as “You know damn well what I mean, Miss Aiko.” If she were in a better mood, Reina would have found it arousing. “We haven’t seen you two since last year. Last I heard you were going to America to get married. Is it true?”
Aiko fumbled her phone. Reina had half a mind to slap a hand over her wife’s mouth and end that farce there, but knew better. Instead she answered on Aiko’s behalf with, “It’s true. This little good girl finally got me to behave and marry her. I’m so scandalized.”
A beat, and then all three women let out a chorus of “ehhh.” I
“Yes, sort of.” As Aiko talked and fiddled through apps on her phone, Reina wondered if she could crawl under the table. “We got married and had a party with some friends.” She brought up a slideshow as the women huddled around her chair.
The raucous responses varied between praises and disbelief. The two butch women laughed at Reina in a tailored suit, smiling and wrapping a tight arm around her wife, who wore a small and ruffled white dress with a pink ribbon around the waist. So this is married life. Together for twenty years, married less than three months, and now having her entire identity completely undone.
“Oh, but it’s not legal here in Japan, is it?”
Reina side-eyed Aiko, who lost all the glee from her round face at this rude reminder. She lowered her phone, hand limp. “No. Of course not. But it’s the thought that counts.”
“Eh, how romantic,” one of the butch women, the one with washed-out orange hair and a piercing in her nose, said. “Even if it’s not legal, sounds like something else. I’m surprised to hear somebody like Reina-san would be into that, though.”
Reina’s glare could have doused the entire sun, but fifteen years of life as a corporate drone had taught her to hide her contempt behind a blank mask of indifference. No, she didn’t like romantic bullshit. It had taken her weeks to work herself up to the point where she could declare her eternal intentions to the woman she barely admitted she loved, and the only thing keeping her from vomiting in the middle of the ceremony was the fact nobody there gave two shits about Reina Yamada’s status and reputation throughout Ni-chome as one of the most promiscuous and liable lovers that side of hedonism.
She wanted to keep the marriage not necessarily a secret – Aiko would have died keeping that inside – but at least not a big deal. Reina could handle goading from her close friends, but having these women point and laugh at her was like the time she crashed across the balance beam in middle school gym class. Only worse, because she hadn’t been trying to sleep with any of her classmates then.
“Reina was very elegant that day.” Aiko reached out and tucked some of her spouse’s short hair behind her ear. The trio of women covered their mouths to stifle their guffaws. “I couldn’t ask for a better day.”
Between Aiko’s demure smile and the group of mocking faces behind her, Reina couldn’t decide if she’d rather march out of the restaurant or fuck them all to prove how formidable she still was.
Something distracted the women long enough to lure them away from the marital table, much to Reina’s relief. She continued to mope through her lunch – drenched with vinegar dressing – while Aiko sifted through their wedding photos on her phone and said hello to every woman walking by. Reina remembered a time when she was the one who knew everybody. But that was before getting a job and getting older.
When she pushed aside her empty plate and went back to watching a male college student solicit salarymen for sex, Aiko tapped her foot and asked, “Do you want to go home after this, or should we stay here through the evening?”
Reina lost track of the student and glanced at her wife’s hand jumping between the phone and her salad fork – her wedding ring reflected every ray of sunlight streaming through the window. “I don’t know.” Going home was as good as anything, but staying in Ni-chome on a Saturday night was a good chance to party and, even better, pick up a mutual partner for them to take home to their bedroom. When Reina thought about staying in a smoky bar, flirting with beautiful young women and enticing them to sex, her stomach lurched and made her swallow, hard. “I don’t know if I feel up to staying here tonight.”
Aiko looked up. “Really? I thought that would be a rhetorical question. Are you okay?”
“My stomach kinda hurts.”
“Mou, it’s because you had that dressing.”
Reina leaned her chin against her hand and gazed at her wife, who had dressing and croutons dribbling out of her mouth. Any other day and Reina would have wiped a napkin against Aiko’s face while whispering sweet come-ons into her ear, the entire restaurant their captive audience.
But not that day.
* * *
Numbers swirled around Reina’s head as she added and subtracted them without a calculator. Once, math had been her best subject, but now the only time she used it outside of work was when she did the monthly household finances – which for some reason that night she decided should be done in bed.
Thus her frustration when the eraser on her pencil exploded against her notebook. She muttered a curse, her thumb smearing the pencil marks across the margins. Cheap piece of shit! The calculation forming in Reina’s head disappeared with the pencil when she flung it across the bedroom.
“Ara, what was that for?” Aiko watched the pencil roll past her feet. She put her hairbrush down on her vanity and picked the pencil up, her breasts sliding forward and giving a view of darkened cleavage. Tonight she wore a silk pink nightgown, layered beneath her white robe to ward off the late winter chill. All Reina cared about was the soft skin underneath.
Her wife asked her why she had thrown the pencil once more – Reina shrugged. “It’s useless,” she said.
Aiko put the pencil on her vanity and turned off the lamp. Her slender legs carried her to their bed, where she shed her robe and crawled in beside her spouse. “You’ve been so uptight today. Do you still have indigestion?”
Fuck your indigestion. Reina tossed her notebook onto the end table. “I don’t have indigestion. Stop worrying about me.”
She leaned her head against the wall; Aiko continued to stroke cotton and skin. “It’s hard for me not to worry about you sometimes.” She wrapped her hands around Reina’s and fiddled with her fingers. “You’re always a little upset after we go to the therapist together.”
“I guess.” To say the therapist made Reina uncomfortable would be an understatement. She only started going because of her gender identity issues: years living with Aiko and working a salary job had turned her into a neurotic mess. While she was content with her female body, society dictated she take over the “male” role in her romantic relationship. Therapy forced her to confront and verbalize issues she had kept locked up for decades.
Aiko continued, “And I’m surprised you didn’t want to stay in Ni-chome on a Saturday night. I thought that was your favorite thing.”
Sex is my favorite thing. And easy for her to come by as it had been for over half her life. Her voracious sexual appetite for every woman she met was condoned by Aiko on the condition that she got to partake in some way, usually a threesome, or the occasional voyeurism. Reina was only allowed one sexual partner outside of Aiko’s presence, but that woman lived an entire ocean away. “I’m not in the mood tonight. It happens.”
“Are you sick?”
Reina thumped her head against the wall. “No. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“If you say so.” Aiko reached toward her end table and picked up the copy paper from the therapist’s office. “Let’s look at this while you have your glasses on.”
Reina tugged her glasses off her face and put them on top of her notebook. So there. “I’m not in the mood for that either. Let’s go to sleep.” Her body sank beneath the covers.
But Aiko studied the paper, lips moving as she read. “Uwaa, there are some strange sexual suggestions on here!”
That bug crawled right into Reina’s ear. “Like what?” As long as she didn’t have to write down her feelings, it may be interesting to try anything once.
“This says we should try having sex without talking at all.”
“Fantastic.”
“And this one says we should try undressing each other with our eyes closed.”
“Wonderful.”
Aiko put the paper back on the end table. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Reina pushed herself into a supine position. “I told you, I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
