Frank Harris - My Life And Loves, vol 5

Soon the foreigner finds out that the geishas are really dancers and that the prostitute or joro is of a lower class altogether. Every city in Japan has its joroya a licensed quarter of prostitution. The supervision is rigid. But even these women are not looked down upon in Japan as they would be in Europe. Many of them are apprenticed in childhood to the keepers of the houses and there trained for their work. A few have sacrificed themselves freely for those they love. Many romances are written about a virtuous joro who has sacrificed herself for her loved one and finds a lover willing and eager to make her again a respectable wife and a mother of decent children.

There are theatres for men and theatres for women, but the two sexes never play on the same stage. I don't know why. The performances last all day from eight or nine in the morning till eight or nine in the evening. They were not especially interesting to me.

But the most peculiar and important entertainment is the fortune-teller. Of course they have a great deal of influence with the lowest class, but they are consulted on important occasionsmarriages, journeysby all classes.

The freedom in Japan is very interesting. I remember being asked by a court official to stay with him and study Japanese manners in his house. My friend, the captain, advised me to accept and I did so.

The first evening, my host told me in his broken English that his wife would be too old to be attractive to me and his daughters too young, but he would send me a pretty girl to entertain me during the night. I laughed, never thinking that he meant what he said.

But when I got to my bedroom, I found a pretty maid awaiting me. As soon as I entered she began to undress. She was too pretty to be sent away. I recognized her at once as the most charming of the servants who had waited on us at table.

Much to my delight, I found that she had an exceedingly small cunt that she had scented with rosewater. We fucked in every position imaginable. I took her flat on her back, with her legs upraised, on her knees in canine fashion, and even as she lay on her side. She seemed to love seeing my stiff cock shuttle in and out of her sopping pussy. She reacted passionately to every variation of embrace and reached her climax at least four times until finally her soft and sweat-lathered body fell limp in my arms. My friend, the captain, laughed when I told him and said that nothing was more usual.

Nevertheless, it is undoubtedly the system of concubinage that degrades the whole status of women in Japan. The Emperor, in accordance with the old Chinese code, is allowed twelve concubines or mekake, the samurai two. All men of the upper class are allowed to introduce these mekake into their families and naturally these concubines, though beneath the wife in position, are often more beloved than the wife herself.

In the lower classes, the wife often protests and maintains her exclusive rights, but the wife of the nobleman is not powerful enough: The nobleman is not dependent on her toil. Consequently, the position of the wife of the noble in Japan is usually unhappy and often tragic. By a recent law, no child of a concubine can inherit a legal title and this may do much to establish the upper class woman in a more secure position.

During my travels in that country I often came upon some woman or girl taking a bath. Never did I see the slightest trace of embarrassment, much less modesty. The woman would get out of the hot bath and proceed to dry herself with her little blue towel just as if there was no man within ten miles of her. I would watch excitedly as she dabbed her breasts, belly, and the generous mossing on her mount. She would proceed without concern. At the same time I have heard Japanese ladies speak scornfully of the low-necked dresses worn by English and American ladies at Court. Who will ever explain the thousand eccentricities of manners?

In many respects I found life in Japan much saner than life in Europe. But in one respect there was no comparison. If you took a geisha as a mistress and asked her whether she was healthy or not, you could rely on her answerespecially if you treated her fairly. Consequently there was far less danger of foul venereal disease in Japan than in Europe. Also, there was less danger of begetting a child, for every geisha knew how to prepare a little wad of oiled paper which she introduced into the vagina and so made pregnancy practically impossible.

In many ways, I came to regard Japan as the France of the East, not only in the disdain of ordinary modesty, but also in love of art and appreciation of artists and writers. Besides, just as there is a heroic soul behind all the flighty heedlessness of the French character, so there is an extraordinary heroism in Japan that every now and then astonishes the observer. If a wife injures her husband, or a soldier makes some blunder that brings ruin to others, each does justice by taking his or her own life. I could go on almost interminably, extolling the virtues of this great people, but try as I would, I could never, considering the shortness of my stay in the country, hope to give an adequate historical document. Instead, I shall move on at once to what I can speak of with authority, to the subject of the young woman who, more than any other person, was responsible for the longing I still feel after all these years for “the land of flowers.”

I was invited by my friend, the captain, to a festive evening. He had brought together a special corps of geishas, and they were attended by women who came and sat with us while their more exalted sisters danced. The young lady who came to me was the prettiest of the whole lot; I suppose I showed her that I admired her. At any rate, the dance was not half over when her hand began to stray against my thigh. She soon went on to bolder demonstrations of desire, brushing the stiffening bulge of my cock with her fingertips. At length I said to her, “Later,” one of the few Japanese words I knew. She pouted and then laughed with enjoyment. I allowed my hand to move softly over the silk of her tunic.

When the geishas finished their dance and came back to sit with us, I said to my host: “Is it possible for me to keep my attendant?”

“Sure,” he replied, and with a word or two made my resolve known. Never did I see such gratitude in any human face as the young lady showed to me there. I was sure that the compliment paid to her in preferring her to the more important geishas would be returned in full. I was not mistaken.

As soon as we were alone together in the bedroom, she evinced a mixture of affection and passion such as it has seldom been my good fortune to experience. She was pretty and beautifully formed and had all the wisdom of a perfect lover. She drew my trousers down and took my engorged tool in her mouth without hesitation. She swished around the mushroom head, flicking lightly over the tip, then used long strokes to lave the length of my shaft. When she arrived at my balls she gently took them into her mouth one at a time, then released them with a wet popping sound. She returned to the darkly blushing crown while she manipulated me with her hand, urging me to spend in her mouth. So relaxed was I that this was not long in coming. Yet, as my spunk rose, she gripped me tightly enough to force it down, only to commence the voluptuous cycle once again. By the third repetition I was squirming with incredible desire and raging orgasms that had been brought upon me without the release to which every man is accustomed. This was the sign of my geisha's skill and I have never met another woman who could emulate her talents. At last, seeing that my body was unaccustomed to such unadulterated pleasure, she once again brought me to the precipice and this time urged me over. I fairly exploded in her mouth while she expertly swallowed every drop, though she let some dribble past her lips and shared this with me in a long and lingering kiss. A strange thoughtful mistress, she was clever enough to cease exciting me when she knew my body was satiated, her own body a perfect instrument of love. Both by her passion and by her self-control she made the nights memorable for me.