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Foreign Affair
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
FOREIGN AFFAIR ( Part One)
by Ann Douglas
(AnnD@Pipeline.Com)
"God this is boring." Amanda McIntyre thought to
herself as she reached for another drink.
For the hundredth time, she cursed Jim Peterson for
getting sick two days before the trade delegation was to leave
for Osaka. Then she cursed her boss, Bill O'Hare who had
volunteered her to take Jim's place. Nine days in Japan and
she
hadn't been included in any discussion of importance. Every
day they would hold meeting after meeting where nothing was
really accomplished. Then at night, the men on both sides
would go out and survey Osaka's night life. And of course she
wasn't included in this male-bonding ritual. Never mind that it
was during this hedonistic forays that the real deals were
made.
She had considered telling Bill to go to hell, but then
she'd be looking for a new job by now. Ever since she had
come out last year, Bill O'Hare had made no secret that he
didn't want that "dyke", as he always referred to her in
private,
in his department. He never said or did anything in public
that
Amanda could prove, but the signs were always there.
Looking at her watch, the 24 year old blonde decided
she'd done her bit for the company and started to make for the
door. The cocktail party was already gearing down and she
knew she wouldn't be missed. Besides, the men were probably
already gearing up for their next pornographic excursion.
As she neared the door, she ran into Pete Wilson, the
head of their delegation. Her luck was really running in the
red
today, Pete's view of her was only slightly less antagonistic
than
Bill O'Hara's.
"Leaving already?" The tall gray bearded man said.
"I have a little headache, I was going to lay down." She
lied.
"I see," Wilson said in a disapproving tone. "Well I'm
not surprised. It's not like you've been much of a team player
on
this trip. When we go home tomorrow without the trade
agreement, I'm sure your lack of cooperation will be noted."
"Lack of cooperation...?" She asked.
"That's what I said." He replied. "There's not a man on
our delegation that wouldn't put it all on the line to get the
Japs
to sign. Yet when Hitanuma asked you out for drinks, you
insulted him by refusing. He's not the type of man who
forgives
or forgets."
"Wait a second ,buster." Amanda shot back. "No way
you're going to pin this one on me. You've never even looked
at all the position papers I've submitted. If you did and
followed some of their advice, the people here at Hiraizumi
Industries
might've been more willing to deal. If this agreement falls
through it's become of your hard nose non-cooperative
negotiation stand. Not because I wouldn't roll over for Mr.
Hitanuma. If you wanted a corporate whore, you should've
brought your secretary."
With that she turned and walked away. She could feel
his eyes burning into her back. Of course Wilson and the
others
had already agreed to put the blame on her. They'd report that
if only she'd have been a little friendlier to the Japs, they'd
have
gotten the agreement.
"I've been set up." Amanda noted. "It had all been a set
up." Jim Peterson had never been sick. It had all been
arraigned
beforehand. If the mission went sore, it was all that dyke's
fault.
Her face flushed with anger as she reached the elevator.
"Well fuck them all." She said out loud as she hit the call
button. "I'm better off leaving this lousy job anyway."
Amanda took the elevator to the rooftop gardens
instead of her room. She needed the night air to clear her
head.
After about a half hour, she began to regret her earlier
outburst.
She should've quit this job months ago, at least then it
would've
been on her own terms. Now as a fired employee, one which
was blamed for the failure of a important trade deal, her
future
prospects would be few.
Lost in thought, she hadn't heard the soft footsteps
behind her. When the new arrival finally spoke, Amanda nearly
jumped five feet.
"Konbanwa, Amanda san." A soft fluid voice said.
Amanda whirled about to find herself facing a rather
attractive Japanese woman. She stood a few inches shorted
than Amanda's own five foot six. Her short black hair showed
the slightest touches of gray and Amanda guessed her age to be
about mid- forties. Of course it was always hard to tell with
some oriental women. They looked pretty much the same from
thirty to sixty. She wore a bright green cocktail dress which
accented her small breasts.
Searching her temporarily hazy memory, Amanda tried
to place where she had seen the woman before. She had to
have been some executive or other's wife. How else could she
have known her name. Try as she could, the young woman just
couldn't place her.
The older woman just smiled for a moment, then made a
hand motion leading to a large glass door off to the left of
the
garden.
"Yokoso oide kudasareta, Amanda san." She said as
she made an inviting gesture with her hand.
Now seeing that there was an apartment beyond the
glass doors, Amanda realized that she had just been invited in.
The woman must be married to one of the corporate big wheels
to rate a home like this. Reaching the door, she stopped and
gasped in amazement at the decor. It was totally western. It
could've been a Penthouse on Park Avenue.
"Dozo." The woman said as she again motioned for
Amanda to enter.
Once inside, Amanda took a moment to take in her
surroundings. Most apartments in Japan were tiny affairs yet
just this living room could house an entire family. A large
screen TV occupied the far wall, surrounded by a state of the
art stereo system. On the nearby piano was a photograph of a
younger version of the woman standing next to a much older
Japanese man. She didn't recognize the man, he hadn't taken
part in any of the trade talks.
The woman said something else that Amanda didn't
quite catch. She felt a little foolish not being able to
understand. Yet it wasn't her fault that she didn't speak
Japanese. Searching her memory for what she hoped were the
right words, Amanda said the only Japanese phrase she had
been able to memorize.
"Gomen nasai nihon goa hanase masen" She said,
hoping that she'd just said she didn't speak Japanese and not
some other ridicules remark.
The woman just smiled again and pointed to herself.
"Mariko." She said simply.
Amanda breathed a sign of relief. At least she hadn't
insulted her.
"Amanda." She replied. "Then I guess you already
knew that."
Mariko moved over to a small wet bar and asked with
her hands if Amanda wanted a drink.
"Why not," Amanda said as she indicated acceptance
with a motion of her hand.
Silence reigned for a few minutes as both women tasted
their drinks. Amanda kept asking herself, what did she do now.
There was only so much she and Mariko could do with hand
gestures.
"This is good." She noted out loud as she sipped more
of her drink.
"Hai!" Her host agreed.
"Well, thank you for the drink, but I guess I really
should be going." Amanda finally said as she placed the glass
on a small table.
Mariko seemed agitated as the American woman started
to turn in the direction of the door. She reached out and took
hold of Amanda's hand. The smaller woman's grip was quite
strong and surprisingly warm. Amanda looked into her dark
eyes and smiled.
"If only we spoke the same language," Amanda mused
as she enjoyed the touch of Mariko's hand in hers. "Then I'd
be
able to tell you what an attractive woman you are. Back home I
might even try to entice you back into my bed."
She paused a moment then went on, knowing that the
Japanese woman didn't understand a word she was saying.
"I don't even know if they have such a thing as lesbians
in Japan." She concluded.
Mariko's eyes suddenly lit up at the word lesbian. Her
grip grew stronger and she seemed to pull Amanda closer.
"Les-bins." She repeated, again looking deep into
Amanda's blue eyes.
A confused look covered Amanda's face. Was Mariko
asking if she was a lesbian? Had some member of the
delegation made a remark identifying her as one? Or was
Mariko trying to say that she too was a lesbian?
The tall blonde didn't have a lot of time to ponder the
questions as Mariko took her hand and pressed it firmly against
her small breasts. As the naked palm pressed against the
exposed flesh at the top of her dress, the Japanese woman let
out a soft sigh.
If she wasn't a lesbian, Amanda said to herself, she was
at least curious enough about girl sex to have brought her
here.
However she had heard about Amanda, she must have decided
to take advantage of her sudden appearance on the roof. If
only
to satisfy her curiosity.
To respond was very tempting. Amanda had always
been very careful to keep her business and personal lives very
separate. Back home, a husband might head straight for the
divorce court if he found his wife with another woman. Over
here there was no telling what could happen. From what she'd
seen of Japanese husbands, they were so conservative that they
made Jesse Helms look like a bleeding heart liberal.
Then again, there wasn't much more she could do to
screw up her career. Mariko was very beautiful, and it had
been
so very long since she'd broken up with her last girlfriend.
Maybe it was time to throw caution to the wind.
Mariko then took the decision out of Amanda's hands.
Pulling the American closer, she leaned forward and kissed her.
So fluid had been her motion, Amanda was surprised by the
sudden touch of her lips. She opened her mouth to respond and
felt a soft touch as Mariko's tongue entered her mouth.
Ann Douglas
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