"You have to go to a maid café while you're in Tokyo," my friend had said to me as we enjoyed a coffee in the late summer sunshine.

"What are they?" I'd asked.

He'd looked at me incredulously. "Seriously? You've not heard of them? Fucking hell, you're in for a treat then!"

So here I was, a month later, wandering through the crowded streets of the Japanese capital; a flashy, bright, busy metropolis.

I snaked through the crowds to find myself in the Akihabara district. Maid Café central, or so Google informed me.

I turned into a side-road, skirting round the various groups of fellow tourists and fashionable gangs of Japanese youths. I checked the map I'd printed out off the internet. The café located on it came into view.

I entered with both trepidation and interest. A pretty young Japanese girl in a classic French maid's outfit - short black dress, black tights and frilly white apron - greeted me with a bow, saying "Okaerinasaimase, goshujinsama".

I smiled and decided not to attempt any Japanese right now. Wouldn't want to make a fool of myself.

The girl quickly switched to English. "May I show you to your table?"

I nodded.

The other patrons, five men, one woman, and two couples, paid me no heed as I was shown to a square table in the corner, by the window.

I slid onto the seat. The girl departed with a bow and returned to her role as greeter at the door. An instant later, another girl appeared at my table, bowed, and presented me with a laminated menu.

I studied the items before me. Pictures of the food and English words accompanied the Japanese descriptions, for the benefit of dumb foreigners like me.

"Kore," I said, pointing to a picture of a bowl of noodles.

"Hai," she said with a smile, perhaps impressed with my knowledge of one Japanese word. She noted it down on her order pad.

I scanned the pictures of beverages while she patiently waited. I sneaked a look at her over the top of the menu. Like the others she was dressed in the maid outfit, very sexy but innocent-looking. A big pink bow squatted in her hair at an angle. She had a smattering of brightly-colored badges pinned to her dress, depictions of cartoon characters it seemed. Her small face was terribly cute, like the rest of her. I wondered how old, or young, she was. Long, straight black hair spilled from her head onto her shoulders. I felt a stirring in my trousers.

"This is my first time in Japan," I said, wondering if she would understand.

She smiled with excitement. "You are American?"

I nodded.

"You like Japan?"

"Yes, I like it."

"I am Natsumi. I learn English every day," she said, boasted even. "I speak good English, right?"

"Yes, right." I wondered what she looked like out of her outfit. My erection tightened a little more.

"Good. I practice a lot."

"I'm a musician," I said. "I play guitar." I mimed a guitar then felt silly for doing so.

Her big brown eyes widened and she smiled. "I like music. I am student. I work here at weekends only. You like?"

I wondered what she was asking that I liked. Her? The café?

"Daisuki," I said.

She gave an excited couple of claps. "You speak Japanese! I like it too!" Her voice was high, soft, sweet.

"Would you like a drink too?" she asked.

"Kohi," I said.

She wrote it down. "Would you like anything else?"

"You're very sexy. Can I order one of you, please?"

She went to write it down then stopped. "Oh," she said with realization, "I am sorry. I am not on the menu. And I should not ... flirt with customer."

Did I sense a hint of regret in her voice? I was probably imagining it. Wasn't I?

I watched her walk away with my order, gazing lecherously at her legs and ass, temptingly hidden under that short, frilly dress.

She returned a few minutes later and set out my meal on the table. I managed to catch her eyes and held her gaze for what seemed like minutes. Finally she broke the gaze and blinked her pretty brown eyes.

"My..." she fumbled with her words, clearly flustered. I wondered if I'd gone too far. I didn't want to get her in trouble.

"My break is in ten minutes," she said at last, quietly. "I meet you outside."

And she rushed off before I could do or say anything more. I sat for a moment, surprised at her unexpected invitation. But ... was she thinking the same as me?

I scoffed down my meal and drink as quickly as I could, eager to find out the answer to that question.

As I ate, I imagined her sweet, young pussy and small, round breasts. My cock was rock hard in my jeans.

I finished my meal and exited the café, loitering outside a manga shop opposite, full of teenage boys.

After a few minutes, Natsumi came out, still wearing her adorable maid's outfit. My cock started to throb again.