Mitchell's Take
Copyright© 2026 by Midori Greengrass
Chapter 4
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 4 - husband's perspective
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction White Male Oriental Female Oral Sex Voyeurism
He found the studio apartment where she lived then only a little disordered. She hadn’t expected his company. Still, the scene was hard to square with the Akemi he knew: tidy, impressively so, almost a neat freak by American standards. Why was stuff on the floor? From overnight? Party aftermath not yet straightened up? It didn’t look like a war zone or anything, just out of character for Akemi.
How much did he know? When had the guy left? If it actually was a guy and not Hiroko. Was a scent lingering? Tobacco? Weed? Something else? How long had he or she been there, how long had they stayed in bed? All morning and beyond?
Was that even where they’d “slept” together?
Mitchell didn’t ask.
They’d been with each other only a few months. He knew she felt she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought. The news he was still seeing Pam came as a shock, though when she suggested they take time apart to think on their own she hadn’t seemed angry- which was actually even worse. No appeal to emotions would work. Her “suggestion” was iron-clad.
And then Mitchell had blown it by paying a visit. Breaking the rules! And found this!
They were both surprised. Neither demanded an explanation.
Hard to tell at first glance what’s on the floor and doesn’t matter. They aren’t clues to anything. No condom box in sight. And he doesn’t scrutinize, lest Akemi notice him checking.
They weren’t officially a couple at the moment. That was the deal. Three months at least, then meet and talk.
Akemi in fact had a right to ask, “What the fuck are you doing here?” She didn’t have to. He was asking himself.
Years ago.
She wouldn’t have gone back to that guy, that person, now, would she?
Mitchell favored some questions over others. That of whether she’d been with a woman rather than a man wasn’t just wild wishful thinking. Akemi had never said she and her former roommate were lovers, but their intimacy was hard to miss, had, yes, surprised Mitchell from the beginning. Did close women friends in Japan carry on the way they did, laughing at unspoken jokes, cuddling, sparring with each other verbally and physically?
He knew Hiroko didn’t like him, so it made sense Akemi wouldn’t mention if they’d spent the night together.
Her problem might not be with Mitchell himself, but his presence definitely irked her. He’d pushed her out of Akemi’s life.
“Nothing personal.”
She wasn’t buying that.
All’s fair in love and war.
So she really might have taken advantage of his absence now to seduce Akemi.
Or had they seduced each other?
He’d forgive that.
If with a guy a one-shot thing? Experiment?
The questions he didn’t ask.
He could have pressed for details, now almost wished he had. On that rough morning years later he lacked answers.
She made a great wife.
Akemi had her own life, a strong sense of self, wasn’t the type all over you all the time.
The disarray on the floor. A gut punch. Freaking past noon already. The bedroom like a crime scene.
No cum-clotted tissues. Mitchell’s eyes darted in search of any, by reflex. Of course fastidious Akemi wouldn’t have left that.
It hadn’t felt real.
Akemi offered refreshments before he left, apologized for not having much ready for him, he hadn’t been expected. She looked in the refrigerator, said, “The muffins he made. There are still a lot.” She counted. Eight. “But for a lot of people it isn’t a lot.”
Turned around from the bright interior of the fridge to face Mitchell again.
“Organic matcha. He’s young, into food trends, especially healthy ones.”
It was then she revealed that her family had visited. She’d ceded the bedroom to a cousin. “He wouldn’t accept the pillow.” He wanted her to have it. “I offered him at least a sofa cushion but he wouldn’t take that either.” So Akemi had slept in the living room with her aunt!
She told more, all of it, that in the morning she’d said, “Do you know what day it is?” For a moment no one seemed to. They still weren’t adjusted to the time change.
“It’s a Saturday, not a week day. That means free. Does anyone want to go biking?”
Hands had raised. So did hers. She told Mitchell they’d all gone out and her family was still shopping, would be back soon probably but she wasn’t sure. She’d said that while she was with them on her way home she’d met a very cute little boy in front of her apartment building just as she was getting off her bike, he was playing by the curb and she’d waved to him from her bike.
At first he was shy. She said, “You should tell your mother she raised a very nice boy!” And he smiled happily. It was a good moment, she said. She felt a special connection and saw how good having a child might be (she’d never spoken to Mitchell of the idea, was too into her art work). She also said the boy had tousled blond hair and she bet that was probably how Mitchell had looked at his age. So she did have feelings for him!
Picturing their bike ride Mitchell thought of the pollution in the city, the black soot that drifted across surfaces like iron filings. It couldn’t be helped. Too much congestion. Well, everyone tried to get along.
Sometimes he wanted to leave the city. But Akemi’s visitors probably hadn’t minded, and neither had Akemi. She was excited to be here. She liked the city and that made Mitchell like it too. In general, she changed how he saw things for the better.
The reason the bedroom was slightly a mess was that her cousin, the lanky twenty-year old, was using it. She also said she thought he was gay. He at least liked gay fiction, was carrying a book about a romance in San Francisco. So even if Akemi had slept with him and not her aunt in the living room nothing would have happened!
As to the presence of her things on the bedroom floor, there was probably a simple explanation.
Akemi said she worried her guests would have trouble getting back from shopping. She’d shown them the way when they left together but it was easy to forget, especially if jet-lagged. The the city streets were complicated. One wrong turn could take you far from where you wanted to go; you’d have to retrace all your steps.
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