Haruki Murakami - Dance Dance Dance

The other woman wore glasses and a soft-colored dress. She wasn't beautiful like her companion. She was more what you would call appealing and fresh. With long legs and slen­der arms, and tan as if she'd spent the last week on the beach in Guam. Her hair was short and neatly pinned up. She wore silver bangles that played on her wrists with her brisk movements, her flesh trim and taut, like a sleek carni­vore.

Memories of high school came to mind. These two dis­tinct types were to be found in any class. The elegant beauty and the quick-witted mink. It was like being at a reunion. Especially with Gotanda there, so relaxed and effervescent. He seemed to have slept with both of them before, so it was all, «Hey there, how's it going?» Gotanda introduced me as a former schoolmate, now a writer. Both smiled warmly, fine-we're-all-friends-here smiles.

We sat on the floor with brandy-and-sodas, Joe Jackson and the Alan Parsons Project playing in the background. Gotanda put on his dentist act for the girl with the glasses. Then he whispered something to her and she giggled. Then the Beauty was leaning on my shoulder and holding my hand. Her scent was lovely. She was every man's, every boy's dream. The high school girl you'd always wanted, now come back years later. / always liked you though I didn't know how to tell you at the time . Why didn't you try to reach me ? I put my arm around her, and she gently closed her eyes, seeking out my ear with the tip of her nose. She kissed me lightly on the neck, breathing softly. Then I noticed that Gotanda and his girl weren't around. Why didn't I turn the lights down a bit? my coed cooed. I got up and switched off the overhead lights, leaving only a low table lamp on. Bob Dylan was droning it's all over now, baby blue .

«Undress me nice and slow,» she whispered into my ear. So I took off first her sweater, then her skirt, then her blouse and stockings. Out of reflex I almost started to fold her things, but then realized that in this scene there was no need to do that. She in turn undressed me. Armani tie, Levi's, T-­shirt.

She stood before me in scanty bra and panties. «Well, what do you think?» she asked with a smile.

«Super,» I said. She had a beautiful body. Full, brimming with life, clean and sexy.

« How super?» she wanted to know. «If you tell me better, I'll do you the best ever.»

«It's like old times. Takes me back to high school.» I was being honest.

She squinted curiously, then smiled. «Unique, I'll say that.»

«Did I say something wrong?»

«Not at all,» she said. Then she came over next to me and did things nobody in my thirty-four years had ever done for me. Delicate, yet daring, things you wouldn't think of so readily. But somebody obviously had. The tension slipped out of my body as I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the flow of sensations. This was utterly different from any sex I'd known before.

«Not bad, huh?» she said, whispering again.

«Not bad,» I agreed.

It put my mind at ease, like the best music, released the pockets of tension from my being, sent my temporal senses into limbo. Instead, there was a quiet intimacy, a blending of time and space, a perfect self-contained form of communica­tion. And to think it was tax deductible! «Not bad,» I said again. What was Dylan going on about now? «A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall.» She snuggled into the crook of my arm. What a world, where you can sleep with gorgeous women while listening to Bob Dylan and then write off the whole works! Unthinkable in the sixties.

It's all just images, I found myself thinking. Pull out the plug and it'll all go away. A 3-D sex scene. Complete with eau de cologne, soft touchie-feelies, hot breath.

I followed the expected course, I came, then we took a shower. We returned to the living room, wrapped in over­sized towels, to listen to Dire Straits and sip some brandy.

She asked me about my work, what kind of things I wrote. I explained briefly and she said, how uninteresting. Well, it depends, I told her. What I did was shovel cultural snow. To which she responded that her work was to shovel sensual snow. I had to laugh. But wouldn't I like to shovel some more snow, right about now? And so we rolled over on the carpet and made love again, this time very simply, very slowly. And she knew just how to please me. Uncanny.

Later, both lying full-length in Gotanda's luxurious tub, I asked her about Kiki.

«Kiki?» she said. «Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while. You know Kiki?»

She pursed her lips like a child and tried to think. «She's not anywhere now. She just disappeared, all of a sudden. We were pretty close too. Sometimes we'd go out shopping or drinking together. Then, without warning, she was gone. A month, maybe two months ago. But that's not so unusual. You don't need to hand in a formal resignation in this line of work. If you want to quit, you quit. You don't have to tell anyone. I'm sorry she left. We were friends, but that's how it goes. We're not girl scouts, after all,» she said, stroking my thighs and cock with her long graceful fingers. «Have you slept with Kiki?»

«There was a time we lived together. Four years ago.» «Four years ago?» she said with a smile. «That's ancient history. Four years ago, I was still in high school.»

«Hmm.» I let it pass. «You know of any way I could get

to see Kiki?»

«Pretty difficult, I'd say. I honestly don't have any idea where she went. It's like I told you, she just up and left. Prac­tically vanished into a blank wall. Haven't a clue how you'd go about looking for her. So, you still got a thing for her?»

I stretched out in the tub and looked up at the ceiling. Was I still in love with Kiki?

«I don't know. But that's almost beside the point now. I just have to see her. Something's been telling me Kiki wants to see me. I keep dreaming about her.»

«Strange,» she said, looking me in the eye. «I sometimes dream about Kiki, too.»

«What sort of dreams?»

She didn't reply. She only smiled and said she'd like another drink. She rested against my chest and I threw my arm around her naked shoulder. Gotanda and his girl showed no sign of emerging from the bedroom. Asleep, I

supposed.

«I know you won't believe me,» she then said, «but I like being with you like this. I enjoy it, no business, no acting.

It's the truth.»

«I believe you,» I said. «I'm enjoying myself, too. I feel really relaxed. It's like a class reunion.»

«Unique, again,» she giggled.

«About Kiki,» I pressed on, «isn't there anyone who'd know? Her real name, her address, that sort of thing?»

She shook her head slowly. «We almost never talk about those things. Why else would we bother with these names?

She was Kiki. I'm Mei, the other girl's Mami. Everyone's four letters or less. It's our cover. Private life is out-of-bounds. We don't know and we don't ask. Manners, you know. We're all real friendly and we go out together some­times. But it's not really us. We don't actually know each other. Mei, Kiki. These names don't have real lives. We're all image. Signs tacked up in empty air. That's why we respect each other's illusions. Does that make sense?»

«Perfect sense,» I said.

«Some of our customers take pity on us. But we don't do this just for the money. Me, for example, I do it 'cause it's fun. And because the club is strictly for members only, we don't have to worry about crazies, and everyone wants to have fun with us. After all, we're all in this made-up world together.»

«Shoveling snow for the fun of it,» I threw in.

«Right, shoveling snow for fun,» she laughed. Then putting her lips to my chest, «Sometimes even snowball fights.»

«Mei.» I said her name over again. «I once knew a girl whose name really was Mei. She worked as a receptionist at the dentist's next to my office. From a farming family up in Hokkaido. Skinny, dark. Everyone called her Mei the Goat Girl.»