Tokyo October 1989
The hand was inside her panties. The fingers were intrusive and persistent and continued to move back and forth for several seconds. She remained motionless and expressionless even as the finger began to penetrate her. Inwardly she cursed herself for not wearing pantyhose.
She was Keiko Matsui born of Japanese Samurai and reaction to an invasion of this kind was beneath her dignity and not worthy of reaction - normally!
This kind of perverse occurrence happened all the time on the crowded subway trains of central Tokyo. These trains were so packed that your arms were more often than not pinned to your sides. The men so inclined made sure their hands were placed inappropriately whenever it took their fancy. The women and girls seldom if ever reacted. The perverted men of the city got away with sexual abuse constantly and unpunished.
Paradoxically it was safe in any part of Tokyo for young girls and boys of primary and junior secondary school age to take the subway or walk home alone late at night. Women walking alone at night were completely safe and never accosted or threatened in any way. The only folks who were attacked in this metropolis were the more dubious Arabs who came in their thousands to beg on the streets and hang out in Shinjuku at night. This made life difficult for those from the Middle East who were genuine businessmen and in casual dress indistinguishable for their more deviant countrymen.
On this occasion the perpetrator was an American soldier – no doubt about it. Her reaction was intentional but spontaneous. As the fingers continued to move on her, she released her bladder and soaked the invading hand in urine.
The hand withdrew immediately as if scalded and the surprised soldier yelled out an expletive curse in her direction and raised another hand to slap her.
This was the first motion or indication of trouble that Bill Douglas became aware of. Standing beside her at the bar, he had been ordering the gin and tonic she'd requested, as well as a cold Sapporo beer for himself.
As the soldier's slap progressed the short distance between them, Douglas intervened, halted the advancing blow in its tracks, broke every finger on the offending hand and with no hesitation hit the American soldier so hard in his throat that he went down like a concrete block, hitting his head on the bar as he fell, and cracking his forehead open.
The reactions of the asshole's friends were predictable in the aftermath. They circled the woman and her escort at the bar. Menacing, drunk and seeking revenge for their fallen colleague, they were in a pretty ugly frame of mind.
Douglas stood motionless and instructed Keiko to leave the bar and wait for him outside. The on shift barman leapt the intervening counter and in no uncertain terms explained to the three slobbering US Servicemen what was likely to happen to them should they decide to take further aggressive action on his friend Bill Douglas. An ex Israeli Special Forces Officer himself, he was in no mood to have his bar further destroyed by these inebriated pricks on so called leave.
He suggested that they pick up their fallen pal, and carry him outside into the street, or face the explosive wrath of the combined and lethal talents that he and Douglas possessed. We’ll take no prisoners” was all he said.
Douglas had still no idea of what had provoked the incident with Keiko and at that point was breathing slowly and deeply and concerned now with getting Keiko and continuing their night's enjoyment. It was just as well that his knowledge was limited or none of the three remaining Americans would have walked away that night carrying the bleeding soldier between them.
So it ended as quickly as it had started and Private First Class Dawson of the bleeding head, sore throat and wet and broken hand was carried away into the night.
Douglas thanked his pal from another time for the help and intervention, apologiezd for whatever caused the problem, said they'd be back on a quieter night and left the bar to hook up with Keiko.
She was standing against the opposite wall, and surprisingly she was smiling broadly and she flashed him a look that said thank you and “fuck me” at the same time. Not fuck me in the biblical sense for they were colleagues, but he knew immediately that she had been surprised and delighted with the turn of speed and ensuing events in retaliation for whatever transgressions had been perpetrated.
He walked over to her and said “Keiko, remind me never to go into Roppongi again with you! It is just too much potential trouble!”
She surprised him then by leaning forward and kissing him lightly but with genuine affection. He was now as surprised as she!
This girl, he had known for only one week, since he'd hired her from the “English Spoken” professional assistant providers in central Tokyo. Married, educated in Japan, the United States and the United Kingdom, she was multi lingual and she'd been an answer to all he required initially in Tokyo.
He needed local knowledge, computer literacy, discretion and above all total bi lingual capability. He wanted to learn Japanese quickly and knew the best way was to have to speak it endlessly and without respite. He also knew that a “native” English capability would smooth out the nuances in the two languages. She was a bonus in that her Japanese was both feminine at one end of the scale, and male chauvinistic at the other. This latter quality was essential for him to learn the street colloquial “man talk.” How she managed this was still beyond his knowledge at this moment in time. How she was also able to speak Mandarin Chinese perfectly was a great but satisfying surprise to have available.
Roppongi was awash with revelers as they reached the main drag. The lights were flashing in multicolored glory and the noise and music coming from the various nightspots, restaurants and bars was invigorating and exciting. The taxis weaved noisily amongst the drunks and sober alike. It was like a fairground at the height of summer. The smell of “mo mo” – the delicious chicken thighs and drumsticks permeated the musky thick Roppongi night.
She held his arm tightly and walked surprisingly close to him – seeming to be afraid of any potential for separation.
He said in English and against their agreed rules - “Keiko, what the fuck happened in there?
She told him everything and took his hand down to the wet (soaked) fabric of her skirt around her groin. She asked “Douglas san, would you mind if we went back to the Okura Hotel, so's I can get some change of clothing and call my husband. I can't go back home tonight like this. I stink like a filthy cat. After that I want to take you out to the Tokyo I know and love, and show you the grace and beauty that is my city.”
He remained silent, and deep down thanked her for her silence, resolve and quick thinking in the bar. The mayhem that would have ensued had he had foreknowledge of her treatment would have tested even his professionalism. He was capable of ontrolled violence by nature and training but was a soft pussycat for those he held in regard or loved. He knew his own flaws!
The walk to the Okura Hotel took twenty minutes and she led him down into the shopping mall beneath the hotel, where she purchased a trouser suit off the shelf. Her ability to part with almost $1000 dollars there and then surprised him to some extent, but her predicament and urine soaked skirt silenced all questions in his head. He made a note to have her more seriously checked out the next day.
Upstairs in the room, she stripped with no brazen intent but also with no false modesty. She spoke to him continuously in Japanese as she headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later she emerged, got dressed as quickly as she had undressed and then she too broke the rule and said in English “OK let's go get completely fucked up! We deserve it. I have called my husband and told him where I am, and that if he does not see me until morning, not to worry, I am with the most protective bastard I have ever met. My honor and body will come to no harm this night.”
The skirt, panties and jacket were thrust unceremoniously into the trash can by the door. “God” he thought as they left the room, “the maid's going to wonder what the hell happened in here tonight. Knickers and a full set of female clothes in a single reserved room.” He had returned to the good mood of earlier in the evening and laughed to himself at the strange twist of events which had seen perversion, violence and unabashed nakedness all role out on the stage of downtown Tokyo.
The taxi appeared as if by magic right as they left the foyer, and she spoke rapidly to the driver who whisked them off to the Ginza district and into the awaiting early morning of what was Tokyo at night.
The car was black luxurious and fast. It did not strike him as the typical yellow shit he had used so far in his stay here. He remarked on this to Keiko, and she just smiled at him and said. “Douglas san, it is my turn to look after you now.”
The restaurant was busy and the bar stools were mostly occupied. The behavior noisy but not the babble of the Roppongi bars they had been in earlier. This place was sophisticated, stylish and expensive. The bar staff knew Keiko and welcomed her with deep bows and a lot of smiling. She introduced him to each one in turn, treating them as long held friends.
She ordered white wine for them, and made much of giving a detailed food order for later, and gave a specific time that it should be served to them. He also thought he grasped that she had invited another guest. He guessed her husband would show up sometime soon.
She was in total control. This was a surprise to him and a complete turnaround. Here was a woman in her own environment - confident and secure. He would soon become privy as to why this was the case.
The next hour was spent in deep conversation of an educational nature. They destroyed at least two bottles of the best French white the place could provide. He learned about the nature of the Japanese men, the strange and perverse life of the subways, and why if the groping individual had been Japanese, she would have never shown any reaction or emotion.
It was a whirlwind of information and he absorbed everything and filed it for later use. The non reaction to sexual assault however was something he would never come to understand or accept during his time in Tokyo. Many altercations were to come as a result of this intolerance.
On the third bottle of wine, she stood up from the bar stool, took him by the hand and said “Now it is time for you to meet my father” ...
She led him confidently and easily through the groups of people drinking and chatting in the bar area and the crowd seemed to part before her. Many people greeted her as he passed, but none stopped the progress towards the double door on the far wall. The entry way was ornate and beautifully carved in solid oak or something more exotic. Trees once cut down and stained were not his strong suit, but nonetheless he was impressed.
The doors opened smoothly in front of them and they passed into a private dining area, set up as if for a feast. The tables, all low in traditional Japanese style, were covered in delicate Japanese appetizers. On the far wall was a complete bar and bar staff standing very much to attention.
There were thirty people in the room, almost even numbers of male and female. They were again standing smartly to attention and all well dressed smart and smiling at him.
To one side stood a man of medium height, but strong stature. Impeccably dressed in a dark business suit, he smiled at them and bowed deeply to Douglas and less so to his daughter Keiko.
She returned the bow, turned back to Douglas and said “Douglas san, please meet my father Yoshikawa Sensei”.
The man continued to smile warmly and extended his hand western style and gripped Douglas' hand firmly in a solid and warm handshake. He spoke with confidence, sincerity and perfect, nearly unaccented English.
“You have honored us tonight by coming to meet with me and my staff at such short notice. We could not countenance a delay in thanking you for your intervention on my daughter's behalf. I will be grateful to you for as long as we share our friendship, born of this night. Come meet my associates and share our tables with us. We will all see the sun rise together, so be prepared for a celebration of sorts”
At that the others all approached in single file, bowed and shook hands, before taking up more informal positions at the various tables. Yoshikawa Sensei led Keiko and Douglas to an angled table where they all sat. Drinks were served and the toast was a simple “Kampie.”
This was the first of what would be several more Kampies this night, and Douglas contented himself to go along for this ride, sure in the premonition that he was meeting people of significant position who had taken him into their society. He was totally unaffected by the earlier occurrences in Roppongi, seeing the event as nothing more than his duty.
Yoshikawa said to him quietly, almost as an aside. “Douglas san, forgive me for not talking business tonight, but if you would be so kind as to join me tomorrow at my offices, I will make more introductions for you and explain a little of my organization and our capabilities” If you are agreeable to this invitation, I will send my driver to pick you up at 5pm from your offices in Hiro-o.”
Douglas returned the smile, and said “It will my pleasure tomorrow sir. Thank you for your invitation”.
Keiko made sure he had a drink with what seemed to be every person in the room, and it was a slightly lightheaded man who was deposited back at the Okura Hotel at 8.30 am in the morning.
“Douglas san”, Keiko said, “Sleep now, get some rest. I will take care of everything in Hiro-o. Forget about the car picking you up there, I will have them come here to the hotel instead”.
He went to the room and slept like a baby not wakening until nearly 2 o'clock.