Chapter 1 – The Set-Up
One night at Private Dancer, two women requested private services—yep, women frequent strip clubs too. These two regulars worked for our competition: Cherry Jubilee’s. Their kink was storytelling not flesh, and from time to time, I provided them with illicit tales for a cost. They wanted something hidden, secretive, confessional—the more surreptitious, the better. I told nobody about Snowblood and what happened that night in Tokyo. My hesitancy made me pause, but the pile of greenbacks stacked before me changed my mind.
The duo listened as I recounted a few harmless anecdotes about my time in East Asia. After a few more drinks, they loosened my tongue. Between slurps of my vodka and orange juice, I said, “It’s the cause behind my bad luck. Do you wanna hear about it?”
The clients nodded. Their expressions showed they weren’t sure where this was going, but they humored me because I was a master storyteller. This wasn’t my first provocative tale for them.
“Ladies, I have a spirit inside me,” I admitted.
“Really. I’m serious. I picked it up in Japan. The thing clings to me like a kitty-kat. It sounds baffling, but it manifests when I dance on stage, taking control of my movements and dictating what happens on the platform like some otherworldly puppet master. It also pushes me to do scandalous things.”
I stirred my drink masterfully, waiting for them to hunger for more. I remained silent a moment, staring off at the current dancer, Jasmine, whirling around the pole. The primary-colored club lights shone in my eyes, but I ignored the glare. I continued: “Over time, it became clear this spirit has a sinister aspect. Sometimes during wild dances, it wrests control of me to get what it wants. The thing feeds off the crowd’s desire. It drains me. It’s a bit of a curse.” After another sip of vodka and orange juice, I pulled my eyes away from Jasmine’s taut body to the stack of cash laid in front of me. I turned to them and divulged, “The pinky—that’s what I call it—makes me do nasty things. Some nights, it forces my pussy to go ballistic. I can’t stop it.”READ MORE
Chapter 2 – Stuck with Snowblood
“How did you get it?” Charmaine asked in astonishment, nursing her Manhattan.
Ariadne, the other woman, added, “Yeah. I have to know.”
I threw them both a shrewd side-eye as my head whipped back and forth. My stripper perfume drifted into their faces. They moved closer. Charmaine caught my forlorn expression and added, “We’ll tip good. You know we will, Vic.”
I nodded. They would tip well. With a finger tap on the rim of my Collins, I motioned for Toni to top my drink. Her bartender hands worked their magic as I studied Charmaine. She was new to dancing—green for this business. Ariadne knew better, but she slapped down more money. I shrugged. Ariadne needed to know. I motioned for them to lean closer. Their breaths reverberated against my neck. I looked around and whispered, “All right. It’s a saga from several years ago. It involves an extraordinary event in a Japanese nightclub. I crossed a line.”
Both women brought their elbows up to the bar and rested chins on palms, the standard poise for captivation. I took a breath and began my tale.
Snowblood was an older woman, a shukujo, the wife of the owner of Jazz Izakaya, a juicy bar in Shinjuku district. Yuki, a friend who was trying to get me out of Japan, introduced her to me a few weeks prior. Don’t ask how I ended up in Tokyo. That’s a story for another day. Months before, I was stuck in the Philippines. Then I was stuck in Taiwan. Then Japan. I’m the girl who gets stuck in places.
Anyway, I met Snowblood at a table of rich business executives. Don’t ask why I was with them. In these kinds of clubs, dealing men buy tables. They bring girls to them along with American whiskey and fruit spreads. The produce trays and booze are more expensive than talking to the women. Most girls just chat with the older gentlemen. Some girls go further. I was the only foreigner.
Yuki left us to run an errand. Snowblood suggested we head to the bar for a shot. She was an attractive woman, despite her years. Asians often mature gracefully, and she was no exception. In fact, it was impossible to discern her true age. She was a killer pool player and something of an onibaba, the word for ‘hag’ in Japanese, but she was more ‘sorceress.’ Yuki had told me some stories about her. If I had to guess, Snowblood was pushing forty-five, but her witchery made her seem much younger. She wore modern fashion with the typical asymmetric design of East Asia. Her melodramatic makeup with sky-blue shadow and hot-pink lips made her seem right out of a Nagel airbrush, but her eyes carried a hint of Francis Bacon, and her aura, hair, and manicured nails reminded one of shunga erotic art, classic yet dangerous.
After a bit of chit-chat, she looked around and admitted, “Vicky-chan, you are kireina.”
I stared into her eyes as she addressed me like a child. Her beauty comment lingered in my mind. I wanted to kiss her, but I feared her husband. He’s what people call a “wicked man.” We chatted longer, downed our shot, and soon we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. My dark skin from years in the Philippines contrasted with her fair as snow complexion. Our long black hair matched, although hers was more meticulous than my rock-n-roll cut. I played with a strand of her hair as we chatted. From time to time, I glanced over at her husband’s table, but his colleagues locked him in a deal. Our conversation shifted to her husband and then she cried.
Her candor made me do it. I can’t explain it, but I kissed her deeply. Our lips met, soft and moist, as our warm breathing mingled. Her cherry blossom perfume drove me mad. Snowblood moaned softly as I pressed my tongue into the corners of her mouth and tasted the teary salt. We parted reluctantly, but she smiled sweetly all the same. “It’s been so hard to get you alone,” she whispered in accented English. “You’re always surrounded by suitors.”
“And what about you?” I asked her. “What man has ever held your heart? Not your husband… That’s a marriage of convenience.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. But a man needs to try. Women like us aren’t meant for anybody. Are we?”
I remained silent. I motioned to the hall that led to the washrooms. Our eyes met. Lust smoldered between us. She looked around. Her eyes connected with mine again. It was time. We left together, moving briskly to the club’s rear, walking down a corridor between two high walls. I glanced back to see if her husband noticed. He didn’t. He remained at the table, locked in conversation. Not yet, but you’re playing with fire, Vic, I thought. The blue club light reflected off his bald head as we disappeared from sight.
Chapter 3 – Kamikaze Maneuvers
The air down the hall felt cool after the heat of the main room, but it smelled of burning Shoyeido Golden Pavilion, a pleasant Japanese incense. An indoor garden was nearby. Dampness hung in the air. In this city, it seemed everything grew everywhere. A small stream might gurgle indoors, running over rocks slick with moss and algae. A tree might climb to the heavens through a skylight. Activity everywhere. Even there, deep inside the club, we heard the sounds of traffic: horns honking, motors rumbling, people shouting.
“I must warn you. My husband’s jealousy is unparalleled. If he finds us… shibou.”
“I understand. I don’t care. I can handle myself.”
We ducked into a broom closet.
I locked the door in one swift motion. I removed her top. Snowblood’s breasts were pert and firm, with tiny nipples the color of brown sugar. They fit in-between my fingers as I slid my hands up and down her figure; my hands finished their appraisal cupping her ass. I lathered her breasts with my tongue. Snowblood’s body was hairless, athletic, which only contrasted with her age. This contradiction made my mind hover between wanting to dominate her youthfulness and submit to her experience.
I moved from top to bottom, making sure both breasts received equal attention. Then I took Snowblood’s left nipple into my mouth and sucked on it until it grew hard. The brown flesh looked so full and flush that I imagined what it might taste like if I ate it.
My hands were busy between her legs, rubbing her clit and pussy lips before pushing two fingers inside. As soon as they touched her, she moaned.
“Mm,” she purred, leaning back against the wall. “That feels delish. Don’t stop.”
I leaned over her and kissed her neck while continuing to fuck her with my finger. I slid down her skirt and panties. Musk filled the room. When I felt her juices wet my hand, I pulled out of her vagina and buried my face into her crotch. My tongue slithered its way inside. She whimpered as my digit searched her body. Her hands clasped my hair as she pushed me deeper.
Her voice got more aroused with each maneuver, and she was close. “Oh baby, I’m going to come. Oh, yeah… My husband never…”
I went faster and harder on her clit, slapping my tongue against it. I continued for several minutes, until her body tightened in orgasm. A grunt came from her, and then her body relaxed and she fell limp against the wall. I smiled as I looked at her mostly naked form; her breasts hung limp, covered with light beads of sweat, raising and falling with post orgasmic bliss. Her eyes remained closed, enjoying the afterglow.
But I wasn’t done. I removed my jeans and panties. I laid her down on the floor and stood over her. This time I didn’t kiss or lick her, but I slowly lowered myself onto her face. Lazily, she opened her mouth to accept me. My drenched vagina dripped, pitter-pattering her face as wet flesh met wet flesh.
Her tongue entered me. My breath quickened. Snowblood was proficient at eating pussy, and within minutes, I was close to orgasm. She buried her face in my vagina and her tongue slid back and forth, up and down, side to side, licking every crevice of my hot cunt. I was moaning with pleasure as the feeling grew stronger between us. My moans were getting louder until they sounded like pleas for help as I reached orgasm. After the first wave passed, another started—more intense than before. It felt so good when she licked all around my clit. My muscles tighten again on her tongue and lips, and I knew what would happen next. The tension built, but this time it exploded into an incredible climax that left us panting from exhaustion. I came so hard I almost passed out. But somehow, I managed not to lose consciousness. I rebounded.
She inserted her finger into my gash. I pushed forward, grinding, feeling every inch slosh around inside me. Then she withdrew her finger and licked it clean. “You’re ready, aren’t you? You want more?” she asked.
I nodded yes.
“Good girl,” she murmured in her accented English. She turned around and knelt on the ground, facing away from me. Then she spread her ass cheeks apart and positioned herself with her tiny butt in the air. “I want you there. I want you there so badly,” she murmured.
I dove forward, unable to contain myself. My tongue slid around her rear hole, then down to her pussy, and then back to her anus. Soon, her entire genital region was sloppy with spittle and kisses. With a hand holding open her ass cheeks, she guided my index finger to her asshole.
When my finger wormed its way into her wet backdoor, we both groaned. I fucked her in the asshole as my tongue lapped at her clit. She moaned as I worked her over with two fingers. Her pussy lips were puffy from the attention. The hot wetness of my tongue felt so good on her swollen labia. I licked up every drop of her juice. It got even better when my soft little tongue snaked its way into her ass. It was an amazing feeling.
Snowblood whimpered, “Oh, you know what you’re doing…. Work me like a pro. Goddamn. I love being fucked by another woman!”
My finger entered her butt, and I hammered it in and out. I couldn’t believe how tight she was around it. I pressed my thumb against her sphincter muscle.
She bellowed, “Oh god… Oh shit… Oh fuck.”
Her body started shaking uncontrollably.
“Yes…” she moaned. “That’s it, baby. Push it. Jam your finger deeper.”
As soon as she said those words, I heard myself say something else: “I want you to eat … my cunt … while I do this.” My own voice sounded strange to me, but I didn’t care. What did matter was that now I was lost in lusting for this beautiful creature who seized control of my sexuality. It didn’t take much longer before we both came hard.
“Oh yes… That’s it,” she moaned as she came. “Fuck me harder. That’s it…”
Chapter 4 – The Pinky
I was about to oblige her, but our sounds gave away our position. A voice outside the door yelled in Japanese about women fucking in closets. Footsteps approached us. I tried to pull my finger out of Snowblood’s butthole, but she held tight.
The door burst open and five men rushed inside. One pointed his gun at our faces. He wore a white tank-top, a black sports coat, and tight blue jeans. Behind him, Lord Snowblood’s bald head gleamed in the club’s lighting. His thick black eyebrows raised as he exclaimed, “Get off her.”
“Now,” his subordinate ordered with a gun at my temple.
The three others who followed them had weapons trained on me. The first man wore attire like the one with the gun to my head. Another had dark skin and ratty dreadlocks. Finally, a tall blond guy who looked almost exactly like that famous actor—I’m blanking on his name—the one from that martial arts on the moon flick. Anyway, he talked on a walkie with his free hand. They all glared at me, daring me to say something.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lord Snowblood. “Why are you pointing your weapon at her? You think she can hurt us?”
“No, sir,” replied the lead gunman. “It’s just… well…”
He pushed the man away from me. “This American bitch shags my wife under my nose…” continued the leader.
“And it appears something else,” the dreaded subordinate muttered under his breath.
“It’s no matter. I’ve had enough of my wife’s two-timing,” he muttered, spun on his heel, and whispered to the American actor lookalike, “Did you do what I asked?” They exchanged glances and the blond man shook his head in grim affirmation.
Then I realized. “What did you do?” I growled through gritted teeth. “What did you do?”
Before I could speak, a whimper came from behind me, and I heard Snowblood’s body hit the floor. My head whirled to see the poor woman’s mouth foaming. Her hands grasped at her throat, and then she went still, eyes staring into space. My head pivoted back to my enemies as I repeated, “What did you do, you bastard?”
Now for the baffling part. I glanced back at her still body. The club lights lit her motionless figure in shards. Then I saw it. Almost imperceptible. A mist rose from the corpse, flittered around, and entered my body. It appeared to be an illusion, yet I felt something inside.
“Tetrodotoxin, a potent poison from the blowfish. It’s a thousand times deadlier than cyanide. I knew once she saw you, she couldn’t help herself. My employee laced her shot. I knew you were too beautiful and lascivious for her to resist. This was her final dishonor to me.”
“And now she’s dead,” I spat at him.
“Not because of you. Because of her own actions.”
“What will happen to me?”
“Your future is mine, but the demon, the amanojaku, will have you … as it did her.”
Charmain and Nancy stared at me in disbelief.
“And that’s it. That’s the story. Snowblood was dead, and I inherited her wonky spirit. I named it after her sultry hot-pink lips—the pinky, I call it. Ever since then, I’ve felt it take hold of me at certain times—if you believe in that sort of thing. Sometimes I feel transported to another world when I perform—or rather, a world the pinky creates. Other times, lust wells up inside me and I wonder if it’s me or the pinky. Either way, I can’t control myself. I’ve become a nymphomaniac.”
The two girls slapped more cash on the bar as Charmaine said, “There has to be more. What happened after with the gangsters?”
“It’s unimportant and uninteresting. Let’s just say the rest of my time in Japan was eye-opening.”
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