The Blonde Geisha [Secure eReader]
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eBook by Jina Bacarr
eBook Category: Erotica
eBook Description: "The early summer of 1892 brought a heavy rainy season that year in Japan. Plum Rain, the Japanese called it, because it comes when the fruit bulges with ripeness and promise. Like a young girl reaching womanhood. A girl like me." In the ancient Japanese tradition of beauty and grace, sex and erotic fantasies are hidden secrets that only a select few may learn, and which are forbidden to foreigners. But when a threat to her father's life puts her own in jeopardy, young Kathlene Mallory is sent to live in safety at the Tea House of the Look-Back Tree, where she is allowed to glimpse inside the sensual world of the geisha. During the years of her training in the art of pleasuring men, Kathlene's desires are awakened by the promise of unending physical delights, and she eagerly prepares for the final ritual that will fulfill her dream of becoming a geisha--the selling of her virginity. The man willing to pay for such an honor, Baron Tonda, is not the man for whom Kathlene carries a secret longing, but he is the man who will bring ruin to the teahouse, and danger to Kathlene, if he is disappointed....
eBook Publisher: Harlequin/Erotic Spice
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2006
8 Reader Ratings:
I couldn't tell anyone, not even the gods, but I was scared…really scared. Even before I got to the nunnery, I knew I had to escape. Though I respected the nuns for their piety and servitude, I wanted to be a geisha. Had to be. Didn't nuns shave their heads and their eyebrows, making their eyes bulge big and unnatural in their faces? I held on to my long hair, vowing never to let them cut it. Even more disturbing, nuns wore plain white kimonos. White was the color of death. Why was my father taking me to a nunnery? Why?
Was I being punished?
I didn't do anything wrong. Stroking myself until I found pleasure wasn't wrong, though I was often overcome with a rising desire, a hunger that threatened to explode within me. I wanted to love and be loved. Until then, I had so much sexual energy I had to do something to release it.
But not in a nunnery.
I can't go. Please.
The world of flowers and willows is my destiny, I wanted to tell my father, no other. Didn't the geisha possess the high qualities of heart and spirit? Didn't they inherit a compelling destiny? Didn't Father say I was uprooted from my homeland like a beautiful flower replanted in uncertain soil? Didn't a geisha also leave her home to find her destiny?
But it was not to be.
"Don't dawdle, Kathlene!" my father whispered harshly in my ear, pulling me through the railroad station, my small suitcase banging hard against my thigh. It hurt, but I didn't complain. I'd have a bruise on my leg by morning, but it wouldn't show through my white stockings.
Morning. Where would I be then? Why were we here now? What happened to my peaceful world? The girls' school in Tokio run by the Women's Foreign Missionary.
Rain pelted me in the face. I had no time to anguish over what lay ahead of me. I noticed the lack of noise and scurrying all about me, as if everyone had disappeared in the mist. That was strange. Rain never stopped the Japanese from moving about the city as quickly as hungry little mice, seeing everything, nibbling at everything. They never thought of rainy days as bad-weather days, but rather a blessing from the gods because the rain kept their rice baskets full.
As I plodded through the empty train station with my pointy shoes pinching my toes, wishing I were wearing my favorite clogs, with the little bells, the ones my father bought for me in Osaka, my entire body throbbed with the slow, steady beat of the ceremonial drum. No, it was more like a sexual lightning that struck me at the oddest moments. Since I'd reached my fifteenth birthday, more and more often the hint of such pleasures came to me. When I bathed in the large cypress tub, I wiggled with delight when the warm water, smelling of citron and tangerine, swam in and around my vaginal area, teasing me with tiny sparks of pleasure.
And at night when I lay naked in my futon, the smooth silk lining rubbed against the opening between my legs, making me moist. I wished for a man who would fill me up inside so deeply the wave of pleasure would never end. I dreamed of the day I'd feel the strength of a man's arms around me, his muscles bulging, his hands squeezing my breasts and rubbing my nipples with the tips of his fingers. I smiled. I had the feeling the nuns would frown upon me thinking such delicious, sexy thoughts.
I asked, "Where is this nunnery, Father?"
"At Jakkôin Temple, not far from here."
It isn't far enough.
"Why did we leave Tokio in such a hurry?"
"Don't ask me so many questions, Kathlene," Father said, popping up his large, black umbrella to keep the rain off us. "We're not out of danger yet."
"Danger?" I whispered in a soft voice, though I was certain my father heard me.
"Yes, my daughter. I couldn't tell you this before, but I've made a powerful enemy in Japan who wishes me great harm."
"Why would someone wish to harm you?"
I played with the torn finger on my glove, ripping it. I couldn't help it. I was worried about my father, terribly worried. A gnawing ache told me something worse than going to a nunnery had taken place.
"If you must know, Kathlene, a great tragedy has occurred," my father said, his voice muffled by the rain. His harsh words shot through me, making me hear the pain in his voice.
I dared to ask, "What do you mean?"
"A man has lost what is most dear to him and he believes I've taken it from him." My father looked around the railroad station, his eyes darting into every corner. "That's all I can tell you."
"What could you have done—"
"Don't speak about what doesn't concern you, Kathlene. Something you're too young to understand," my father said, never looking at me, only at some hidden enemy I couldn't see. He held my hand so tightly my bones felt as if they would break.
"You're hurting me, Father. Please…" My eyes filled with tears. Not from the pain, but from the fear for my father's safety, making my heart race.
"I'm sorry, Kathlene," he said, loosening his grip. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know," I said in a quiet voice, but the pain in my heart remained.
Father continued to look everywhere, then, satisfied the platform was empty except for the old stationmaster on duty at the wicket, he kept walking. Faster now.
Copyright © 2006 by Jina Bacarr.