Chapter 1

It was late Saturday evening, and I was walking in Okinawa City, Japan. I had been back here for almost two years, and loved it here. My normal routine was to get into my car and drive down here on days off for a little R&R not available in my local Ville. It was a piece of shit ‘82 Toyota I had bought off of another Marine, and it had seen better days. Of course, all I ever really used it for was taking trips to various dive spots around the island, and driving south.

I was stationed in the extreme Northern area of the island at Camp Schwab, and there was absolutely nothing there. Our nearest town had only one strip club, a decent yakisoba stall, a nice karaoke bar I liked to visit, and not much else. Club Tokyo was a nice karaoke bar, but with only two songs in English, that was mostly where I went during the week to unwind and get away from the other Marines. Hansen and Kinville about twenty miles south was better, but not much better.

Okinawa City was just outside of Kadena Airforce Base, and had a very active night life. Many strip clubs, bars, stores, arcades, even a bowling alley and pachinko parlor. While many of these places let us know that Americans were not real welcome, most of them welcomed us. Or at least our money.

I had gone to a couple of the normal clubs for me. Bamboo had their banana show, where an older Japanese gal shoved a banana inside her cunt, then pushed it out in little pieces. There was an airhead that actually got down and ate them as they fell out. I watched the show, killed my beer, and left.

I stopped at Club Paradise, and spent an hour playing with a little Filipina. Not unusual, as most of the bar girls here were from there. I was never sure if that was because either the local women willing to do this were so ugly, or that they wanted more money. This one looked like she was barely 18, and was barely five feet tall. I bought her a drink, and spent a while playing with her titties while she rubbed my cock under the table. For a small girl she did have some nice firm tits, so spending $5 to spend about ten minutes playing with them as she teased my cock seemed like a good deal.

But I knew her game, she was just a “buy me drinkee” girl, and was only trying to get more of my money. The “buy me drinkee” girls never put out, and would never get you off. They would tease you, and let you grope them until your wallet was empty, then move on leaving you frustrated and broke. Some I would chat with and have a couple of drinks, as it could be relaxing to just play with, and some let me slip my hand under their skirt after a couple of drinks. But this girl quickly finished her “champagne” (really ginger ale), and wanted another. That told me she was looking for as much money as she could as quickly as she could get it, and not really entertaining us. So after I refused to give her more money, she left. Too bad, because there were a few that I knew of in smaller clubs that would jack me off, but they were exceptions. And apparently she was obviously not one of the exceptions.

I was heading back to my car, and decided to take a different route back to base. Parking was difficult here in the bar district, so as usual I had parked on base at the USO and had walked out here. That meant a walk of almost a mile each way, but it was a nice night and I enjoyed the walking. I had walked about half way down a dark side street, when I heard a whispered “Psssst,” from the side of the road. I looked, and saw the shape of a woman next to a darkened building. “Wanna suckie fuckie?” she softly asked.

I realized that she was standing in the entrance to a darkened bar. The place looked like it had been closed for years, but through the crack in the door I could see a light was on inside. I was curious, so I went over to her. She was older, maybe 35 or so. It can be hard to tell the age on Japanese gals, but her body was pretty good. When I got next to her, I told her I was interested. She quickly grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the bar.

Once inside, she locked the door behind us. I looked around, the place was definitely a bar at one time. It was long closed, and in disrepair. The tables had a layer of dust on them, and the mirror behind the stage was dirty and broken. The only thing on the stage was a mattress, and a lamp with a dim bulb. Most of the lights inside were off, but the invariable holiday lights that were strung up in all of the bars were on, and most of the bulbs were still working.

“You want fast brow-job, $10. You want fuckie-suckie, $20. You want long-time, $30.” I took a closer look at her, and was definitely interested. She looked like she had been a knockout in her younger days. 5’4”, and no more than 110 pounds. She had long black hair, and deep brown eyes. She had nice breasts for a Japanese lady, and her nipples were faintly visible under her blouse. She was wearing a knee length skirt, and blue silk blouse. However, something about her voice just did not sound right. She was saying the things many of the prostitutes outside of the spas and hourly hotels would say, but her accent did not quite match. Most of them were actually from the Philippines, not Japan. And this gal was taller, built a little better, and lighter skinned. Most definitely a Jap, and not a Flip. And the prices were on the low side, like what I would have paid when I came to the island the first time many years ago.

I decided “What the hell”. I had just been paid, and had nothing better to do with my money. I pulled out a $40 and handed it to her. “Tell you what, that’s all yours. Give me my money’s worth, and I’ll be back again.”

Her face lit up at that. And it did not look to be with greed, as much as anticipation and gratitude. This was no average street whore I decided. I was surprised when she made a counter offer. “OK GI. You give me nother $10, I do it all night. I even make you breakfast in morning. It been long time since I’ve been with somebody as nice as you.”

I thought about it, and decided “why not”. I peeled off another $20, and told her to keep it. I was not looking forward to the one hour drive home, and was a little drunk. I occasionally got a hotel room for the night, and that ran $50. For just a little more than that, I would spend the night, have breakfast, and get my rocks off.

She sat me at one of the tables, which I noticed that this one had actually been recently cleaned. I then I said I would like something to drink first. She smiled at me and I watched her go to the back. But what caught my eye is that she just walked there. She did not sway, she did not strut. She just, walked. I looked around some more, but saw nobody else. But something still did not add up. While many Japanese dropped words in a sentence, she sometimes did and sometimes did not. And most avoided contractions. Yet she would use them sometimes, and not at others. And really, “GI”? That might have worked when my grandfather was here at the end of World War II, none of the girls said that here in the 1990’s. Was this a set-up? Was there some big guy hiding somewhere, waiting to shake me down? Or maybe she was an Office Lady, playing some kind of game. In any way, I knew things were not quite as they seemed.

I heard a stereo being turned on, and it started in the middle of that old Blondie song about the tide being high. Obviously an old song, I had not heard that one in years. She came back a moment later with two bottles of Orion, a local brand of beer. But the music was relaxing, and it also helped set the mood. We both drank one of the beers, as we talked. She told me her name was Annie, and her husband had owned this bar but it was closed years ago. We talked softly, mostly me telling her my background.

We were sitting next to each other, our hips touching. This was rather nice, and when I placed my arm around her, she rested against me. She then moved her hand on my knee, but made no attempts to grope me. This was actually nice, more like a date than a session with a hooker. She asked me where I was stationed, and when I told her near Henoko she nodded, saying that was far away. And as we talked, I noticed that her English improved. I asked her if her husband was upstairs, and she shook her head. “No, husband gone, he not return.” Hmm, back to fractured English again. I looked around the bar cautiously, but saw nobody hiding anywhere.

After finishing our beers, she smiled shyly, then turned me towards her, and kissed me. Now I normally did not kiss whores for obvious reasons, but did not resist her. I did not even want to resist her, there was something unusual and different about Annie. We kissed for about twenty minutes, holding each other tightly as we did so. I even caressed her back and sides, but did not even try to grope her. I moved down and kissed her neck, and she gasped softly. She moaned something in Japanese, and it sounded like a name. She then pushed me away, and started crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, take your money. I let you go now. Keep money.” I was shaken, and found that I did not want to leave her. I gently took her in my arms, and held her as she cried. After a while, she relaxed, and she told me what was wrong.

Well, finally she told me what was really going on. It seemed that the bar had belonged to her and her husband, but they had closed it over a decade earlier. It had belonged to his father, and was mostly for the locals to use. But by the time her husband took it over, most of the locals were going elsewhere. So at about the time they got married, he changed it to a strip club. He then got a job as a carpenter, and he did rent it out sometimes. But it was away from the rest of the bar district, and years ago others stopped renting it. They lived in the apartment on the second floor.

Annie said she was 34, and had been married for almost 15 years. Her husband got a job as a carpenter after they closed the club, and they had been living comfortably since then. They had no children, but were happy. Then six months ago, he died of a heart attack. He did not believe in insurance, and now she was almost broke. She had lost her own job at the same time, she worked on a base as a translator but some law had been passed giving American citizens first preference. And when one who could do the job arrived she was let go. Desperate and almost broke, she cleaned up part of the bar, and decided to try selling herself. I was to have been her first customer. Annie said she was hoping to raise enough money to maybe open the bar, and find a few other girls to work in it so she could make a living again. She had never done anything like that before, and was now ashamed at what she had been about to do.

The problem apparently is that when I had kissed her neck, it was almost the same way that her husband had done that when they were getting ready to make love. It was his name she had called out. Her story got to me, and there was no way I could take the money away from her. When I told her this, she cried all over again. “No, you take your money back. I’ve done nothing to deserve it. You’re a nice man, but you deserve a young girl for your money. One that make you feel good.”

I smiled, as this was more like she should sound. Educated, well spoken, with just enough to indicate English was not her first language. But that she was proficient and fluent in it. I assured her that I would be happy to simply sleep on the mattress on the stage, and maybe breakfast in the morning in exchange for the money. After our beers, there was no way I could have safely driven back to base now.

“Besides, if I left here now I would just walk a few blocks and get a room for the night, I am to drunk to drive. That would cost me $50 easy. For a few dollars more, I can sleep here and you said you will make me breakfast.” She smiled, and agreed. She then stood up and got us each another beer.

We chatted again as we drank, now feeling more comfortable with each other. The money I gave her she said would be enough to pay for her electricity bill. She was almost making her payments with a small pension the military was still paying her, and her husband’s pension. She was still looking for more work, but it was rough because of her age and experience. She could type and translate, but most companies wanted girls that were younger and prettier. And when I asked her if Annie was her real name, she actually giggled and blushed, and shook her head. “No, that is a name I pick that one of the girls here before used. My name is Itsuko.”

Soon, I had her laughing again, my jokes making her feel at ease. I yawned, and told her that I was getting tired. She left once again, and even though she was doing nothing to accent how she walked, I admired her fine figure. She was slender, and just a little more busty than most ladies were in Japan, but not excessively so. She came back with a blanket for me to sleep with, and after giving me a warm hug of gratitude, she went back upstairs.

I got undressed to my boxers, and climbed onto the mattress to sleep. She had turned off the stereo, and all but the Christmas lights over the bar. I fell asleep feeling good, knowing that I had helped Itsuko. I had prevented her from prostituting herself, and had done my best to comfort her. Not quite the way I expected the night to end, but I felt better about myself for not taking advantage of her need.

I woke up with a jump, realizing that somebody was slipping onto the mattress next to me. I rolled over, and Annie was next to me on the bed. She was wearing a white silk nightgown, which looked good on her. “What are you doing here?” I asked.