Tourists

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Ass

Chapter 1

A Chance Meeting

It never occurred to me that the tourist boom would have an effect on my sex-life.

I was feeling great! In fact I was feeling terrific! It was mid-afternoon on a sunny, summer Friday and in my brief-case and lap-top I had a virtually completed contract, and more importantly, the two critical signatures on a memorandum of understanding.

And what made it even better was that the few points I’d had to allow myself to be negotiated down over were so minor that my company’s nett from the deal would be considerably higher than the bottom line my boss had given me as our final position.

Apart from how obtaining the business would affect my long-term career it meant accolades for me on Monday morning, and a considerably higher bonus in a few months times. What made it even sweeter was that rather than having to persuade them to do so the client had virtually demanded I agree to a young woman from our office acting as our in-house project manager for them. The young woman in question had been desperate to get that job, and I felt sure her gratitude would be demonstrated in ways that made my blood run hot from just thinking about it.

And to top it off I’d had a pleasant but at least on my part, none too alcoholic lunch to seal the deal, and as the modifications I would have to make to the documents were so few I knew I could finalise them, and the already drafted report to my boss, in no more than half an hour.

So on the strength of all that I felt I was fully justified in giving myself the rest of the day off, and rather than hurriedly grabbing a taxi home to finish the work, was strolling back in the sunshine, trying to decide whether to then head for the gym, or the beach to surf a few waves.

My apartment, actually not much more than a glorified motel room, was at the top of William Street, a pleasant twenty to thirty minutes’ walk from the heart of the City, and although small the convenience of its location made it a good place to live.

Having crossed through the cool shade of Hyde park I started up the hill past a couple of large hotels which, especially since the Olympics, had become extremely popular with Asian, mainly Japanese visitors. Although many were obviously honeymooning couples, some others travelled in small, apparently single-sex groups and it had become quite commonplace to see excited and sometimes startled visitors heading off in coaches or on foot. So at first I hardly noticed the two young Japanese women standing on a street corner, but when I drew closer I saw that they were puzzling over a street map and something made me stop to see if I could help them.

One had relatively good English and explained that they were trying to work out how to get to the Botanical Gardens and the Opera House, which they had been told were not that far from where they were staying. Although she was right about that, as she was holding the map upside down they could easily have taken off in the wrong direction. So when I took it from them and simply turned it the right way up, they both gave a surprised giggle, then blushed prettily.

From where we were standing there were two routes they could take, one, following the major roads would take them twice as long as the other, but suggesting the shorter route would mean trying to explain somewhat more complex directions. I have no idea what prompted the thought but I was feeling so good, and it was such a beautiful day, that I said I would walk with them, at least as far as the Gardens.

They looked a bit hesitant at first but then after half turning away from me and exchanging a few whispered words in Japanese, one of them gave me a small nodding bow.

‘We would consider it an honour sir.’

I grinned at her formality and doing my best to emulate it, briefly dropped my head and answered. ‘I assure you it will be my pleasure.’

They giggled and blushed again but then their formal manner returned as we introduced ourselves and we exchanged the obligatory business cards, and it was only after we set off together down the side street that they began to relax a little.

I suppose like most Western men I had always found many Oriental, and particularly South-East Asian women extremely attractive. There was something about the contrast between their sensuous, almost overtly sexual grace, and their demure, almost innocently child-like bodies and expressions. Yet I had never had the same feeling about the Japanese, not for any overtly anti-Japanese feelings, just mainly because those I had seen didn’t seem to have those particular attributes. And, to be frank, they all seemed to be both flat-chested and have remarkably unattractive legs.

But both Keiko and Tushi appeared different, a little taller than most Japanese women I had seen, and more importantly there were hints that under their all-enveloping and rather shapeless clothes their bodies were more curvy. And if the bit from knee to ankle was anything to go by, they definitely Escort Çankaya had better legs than most.

It was only much, much later that I discovered the probable reason, which was that they actually had some Western genes, and that was one of the reasons why they were close friends. They were both products of the activities of the Allied occupation force after the second world war, their grandmothers having been two of the numerous women who become pregnant from liaisons with Americans.

As much of the time Keiko had to act as our translator she did most of the talking, and when I complimented her on her fluency in the language she blushed again and explained that she worked for the travel arm of a bank in Osaka where her job was to help visiting, English speaking business people, so she got plenty of practice. Her friend Tushi also worked in the bank, but in a position that didn’t give her those opportunities, and although she too had learned English at school she’d had little chance to use it since, so was not as confident.

I suppose the fact that I was in a business suit and carrying a brief-case prompted the question, and when Keiko asked how I managed to have time to walk with them I briefly told her of the success I’d had. Even although we had only met a few minutes earlier she seemed genuinely happy about it, and when she hurriedly translated for Tushi, so did she. They both insisted on stopping to shake my hand, and then gave me a small, but obviously sincere bow of congratulations.

In turn I asked how long they were visiting Sydney for and discovered it was just for the next two days, when they were to leave for Queensland, taking the inevitable trip to the Gold Coast, then North to Cairns, from where they would fly home in a week’s time. I said it was pity that they had so little time for such a large continent, and that they shouldn’t return with the idea that they had actually seen very much of Australia. Keiko fully understood what I meant but said that unlike us, they actually received very little in the way of paid holidays, and that seeing just a little was better than seeing nothing at all.

She added with the same prettily blushing smile I had seen before that if all Australians were as politely friendly as I was she was sure they would make the most of their visit.

By then I was starting to feel the warmth of the sun so paused to take off my jacket and loosen my tie, not really registering the whispered comments that passed between the two girls as I did that.

Although a degree of their natural formality of course remained, by the time we reached the path that wound around to Lady Macquarie’s Chair we were chatting like quite old friends, but when the harbour came fully into view they both fell silent for several long moments. Then they began excitedly talking to each other, obviously pointing out the various land-marks, and of course out came their cameras and they began to click away quite furiously.

I wasn’t too surprised when I was called on to take some of them together, but initially felt a bit foolish when Keiko politely asked another nearby Japanese tourist to then take several more, with me standing between them. Of course I had no idea what was being said between the three of them, but there was a good deal of giggling laughter and as he took more and more shots the two girls began hamming it up for the camera, insisting I put my arms around them, then pressing themselves close as they looked up at me.

We went through the same procedure once we had walked around to the Opera House and it, and the Bridge, and I, gave them even more subjects and backgrounds that simply had to be included in their innumerable photographs.

By then, after so much time in the sun, I was beginning to feel thirsty so I suggested we stop at a harbourside cafe for something to drink, and of course insisted on paying for them. It was only a few dollars but from their reaction and protestations you would think I’d proposed spending a week’s wages on the two girls. But by then we were all getting along really well with each other and the awkwardness of the moment quickly passed.

Apart from telling them something about what we were seeing as we walked along we had also chatted about our likes and dislikes in music and film, and even a little about our personal lives. I gathered Tushi had a serious boy-friend and that depending on their finances, they were hoping to marry in a year or so. Keiko didn’t have one. ‘I’m still a free-agent.’ she had said with a blushing laugh before adding somewhat more seriously. ‘Which my parents don’t really approve of.’

I had told them I was like Keiko, but that as I didn’t still live with my parents the comparison ended there, and that statement had brought on more of their giggling, half-whispered comments to each other.

Then by the time we had finished our drinks I realised the afternoon had all but gone, as of course had the chance of a surf. But I also realised Ankara Escort I had really enjoyed the company of the two girls, they were bright and bubbly, obviously intelligent, and seemed perfectly happy to be spending their time with me. But even so, just as I have no idea what made me stop and help them in the first place, I can’t say what prompted the suggestion I made as we got up to go.

‘What plans do you have for tomorrow?’ I asked.

They looked at each other, neither said a word but it was clear that something passed between them. ‘We have seats on a guided tour, a coach tour around Sydney.’ Keiko replied.

I knew the tours well, dozens of coaches plied the routes round the obvious places, various points around the City and Harbour, Bondi Beach, etc., etc. Disgorging camera-clicking tourists for ten or fifteen minutes at each spot.

‘Why don’t I take you instead? You’ll see more, and I can take you to places the busses never go.’

There followed a much longer conversation in Japanese than any of the others they’d had, and although I got the impression they both liked the idea there seemed to be something else going on between them. I sat silently waiting while they sorted things out, at the same time wondering what on earth had prompted me to give up an all too precious Saturday like that.

Keiko’s reply was in her much more formal tone of voice. ‘Your offer is really most kind, and if you are certain it is not too much of an inconvenience to you, we will accept it most gladly. But we insist that by way of some extremely small return, you share a meal with us this evening. There is a reasonably good Japanese restaurant in our hotel.’ she added.

So we agreed, I would eat with them that evening, and the following day I would show them something of Sydney. I suppose it’s something that thousands of people do with tourists they bump into every year, but I bet few of them result in what happened to me.

Chapter 2

An Unforgettable Evening

Having walked with them back to the hotel and agreed a time to meet in the restaurant, I headed home and spent an hour finalising all the stuff on my computer before sitting down for what I considered a well-earned beer.

Because of what I’d just been doing, right then I wasn’t actually thinking about the two girls I had spent half the afternoon with, but the girl in the office, Fiona, whose gratitude I was hoping I could look forward to. She was a good-looking blonde, with a figure that made most men take a second, and third look. But unlike the innumerable jokes floating around about blondes, Fiona was anything but dumb, in fact her degrees gave her a far better set of qualifications than those I had. All she needed was something where she could demonstrate she wasn’t just well qualified and attractive, but could, as the saying goes, ‘get her hands dirty’ too. The new project manager’s role would give her just that, and we both knew it.

But I had the feeling that contrary to the impression she gave many people she was actually reasonably street-smart. Which she would certainly need to be in the job she was going into, because the real question for a girl in her position who also had stacks of ambition, would be how far she’d be prepared to trade herself, and if necessary on occasions, her body, in the cause of her career.

I hoped she understood that but that with me as her boss at least the first step wouldn’t be too onerous a trade. I had been told by many women that my face was attractive, with what one had termed ‘come-to-bed’ eyes, and my years of surfing and visits to the gym had given me a much better than average body. And if the noises they’d made in bed were anything to go by, my love-making techniques had been appreciated by the women I’d shared it with.

So, hopefully, the outcome of my meeting with her, after I’d got my boss’s O.K., would be a mutually gratifying experience for both of us. Perhaps I’d start by suggesting we discuss the details over dinner, and see where that led to. Hopefully it would be her bed, and if so, that would perhaps be something we could enjoy again and again in the coming weeks and months.

As I sat there imagining some of the things Fiona and I might get up to together I felt myself getting a full blown erection, and even after I’d stopped thinking in such graphic detail about her, I still found it lingering on. So I roused myself and headed to the bath-room for a long, hot shower before starting to get ready to go out again.

Knowing the Japanese need for formality I guessed the restaurant would call for a jacket and tie, but chose a casual outfit rather than another business suit, and as the evening was still warm, picked something light-weight, then left and strolled down the hill.

The street girls were starting to appear and I saw several glancing hopefully in my direction as I passed. But although the thoughts about Fiona had stirred all the right hormones and some other time I might Sincan Escort just have been tempted to ease the discomfort I was still feeling, I disappointed them.

When I went up to the restaurant I found Keiko and Tushi already sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of white wine as they waited for me. But if they hadn’t immediately greeted me I doubted I would have been sure it was them, in the few hours since I’d last seen them they had quite literally transformed themselves.

I had heard enough about Japanese youth culture to know their love of things fashionable, but having only until then seen them as very casually dressed tourists, the attractive young women, who looked as though they had stepped straight from the pages of some magazine, bore absolutely no resemblance to Keiko and Tushi.

They each had on short, tight fitting dresses, in colours that would normally have been a bit too bright and glittery for my taste, but which somehow seemed absolutely right for their size and colouring. Keiko looked especially eye-catching, her thick black hair pulled back off her face, which was subtly enhanced with make-up that gave her eyes a cat-like sensuality, and her lips and mouth a glossy kissability. And the rest of her looked equally appealing, the dress outlining a body that was much more shapely than I’d imagined it to be.

Tushi looked good too, and perhaps it was simply knowing that there was a boy-friend waiting for her that made me see her a little differently, but whatever the reason, I felt my eyes drifting back to Keiko. ‘You look terrific! Both of you.’ I added hastily. ‘Very glamorous, I wouldn’t have recognised you!’

That seemed to be exactly the response they had been hoping for, their faces lit-up and took on a positive glow of pleasure as they thanked me, then Keiko politely asked what I would like to drink before we went in to dinner.

I had the same as they were and although at first they were quite formal with me, by the time we had finished just the one glass our conversation was as free and relaxed as it had been by the end of the afternoon.

The meal was excellent, having eaten Japanese food several times before that I knew what to anticipate, and what the expected formalities were, but had to admit the quality of what we had was much better than I had previously experienced. However, not being a great fan of sake I had been happy to agree when Keiko suggested that rather than having that, we have wine with the meal.

The next couple of hours went quickly, our conversation ranging over a wide range of subjects and from time to time we made each other laugh at various and quite silly aspects of our individual languages and cultures. Tushi contributed more than she had during the afternoon but her lack of command and confidence with English meant she often had to get Keiko to translate words or phrases for her, so for much of the time it was Keiko and I doing the talking.

Although their overt formality had slipped away soon after I’d arrived, something of it remained, like an underlying sub-text to everything that was said, which influenced not only what I said to the girls, but also how I thought about them.

Under any other circumstances the fact that I was being treated to a five star meal by two attractive young women would have had me probing for opportunities to see if things could be taken further with one or other of them. But that lingering attention to correctness of behaviour seemed to shut off my usually sensitive antennae. So although I had noticed that from time to time I’d find one or other of them staring silently at me, and that there had been a number of whispered exchanges in Japanese, it was some time before I even began to have even the vaguest thoughts of anything other than simply enjoying the time I was having with them.

Perhaps I actually noticed the change, or maybe it was just that the third glass of wine helped Keiko overcome some of her inner constraints, but whatever it was, by the time we were ready for a the final course, it seemed that either her manner, or my interpretation of it had subtly changed.

Her eyes, which had until then had looked at me with a bright openness, seemed to become darker, and somewhat hooded, making it harder to read them. Her fingers began toying with a fine gold chain that hung around her neck and filled most of the modestly cut vee shaped neck of her dress. And the expression on her face as she exchanged frequent smiles with me seemed different to those of earlier on.

I must have at least subconsciously picked up on something, because long before anything was said that had even the slightest innuendo to it, I was having thoughts similar to those I’d had earlier, about Fiona.

I found myself wondering exactly what lay beneath that tight fitting dress. Wondering what sort of underwear a girl like Keiko would wear. Wondering just how shapely those curves would be. Wondering how a young Japanese woman’s body would respond, and what sounds she would make during sex.

At first it was perhaps no more than a semi-intellectual series of thoughts, but they soon became more deeply stimulating, and I felt a faint stirring, then the all too familiar sensations of my cock responding to them.

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