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With my hand, I pull her head down to rest on my chest, the crown of her head just below my chin. I hold her there, rocking back and forth, making soft, cooing sounds. I hold her for minutes, ten, fifteen, until her breathing has changed into a soft tempo and I know she is asleep.Cautiously, so as not to awaken her, I pick her up in my arms to take her to her bed. Still asleep, she nestles tight against me, her arms around my neck, relying in me completely, without the slightest hint of suspicion or doubt. She is serene in the knowledge that I will not harm her or violate her trust in me.She rouses slightly when I lay her on the bed but in moments her breathing has returned to the soft, rhythmic, cadence of sleep. I know that, for her comfort, I should remove her dress but I do not trust myself to be exposed to her soft, yielding flesh.I pull the covers up and turn to leave when her hand grasps my wrist. "Wait, stay with me, come take off your clothes and get into bed with me."This is. I knew of course what he was inviting me for: sex, sex and more sex, in private and in public. That would be lovely but I was worried that such an expensive date would mean accepting too many obligations for the future. I needed Natsuko’s advice, and we arranged to meet at a coffee-shop in the Dōgenzaka, the busy street in Shibuya a few minutes from her studio. She had only a short break between scenes in her new movie, and came bustling in still wearing studio make-up and looking glamorous in miniskirt and high-heels. As soon as we had sat down at a little round table and ordered our coffee I asked her about Bob. “He’s American,” she said. Well, I knew that of course. “He speaks very good Japanese,” I said, hoping to learn more about what he was doing in Tokyo. “He should do. He’s been here for years. At least twenty, I think.” “Yes, but most gaijin never trouble to learn it properly.” “He needs it for his work. He’s a journalist.” I urged her to tell me more. “He covers the Tokyo.
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