Okay, this has OFFICIALLY gotten-out of hand!

I'll admit it: I am a spectacularly dense ass.

Two days after I had that date with Haruna, the fit has hit the shan with Fumiyo. I was banking on gradually spacing-out the meetings with her in an attempt to gradually phase her out of my life. Not because I didn't enjoy being around her mind you, but because she's a married woman and I don't want to rock the boat. Well, that was the plan... but it didn't exactly go as planned. Yet there's also some irony in this, too.

I said before that there are a lot of Japanese who don't like living in a society that expects them to suppress their feelings and their individuality. Fumiyo is one of them.

I always thought that a Japanese woman was capable of cheating on her husband if she was in an unhappy marriage. I always thought that they, like any other type of woman on the planet, could do that. In fact, I've been told by a number of different people that adultery is somewhat common here (but that doesn't make it right in my book). Only thing is, in my wildest dreams I never imagined that a woman (any woman) would ever want to have an illicit affair with me.

Er, well- that's not 100% true. I recall that a married female friend named Sally had at one time asked me to have sex with her, but Sally was more easily turned-down. She wasn't nearly as seductive as Fumiyo is.

The Following is as true as I can possibly make it.

This meeting was going to be the start of a gradual backing-out process. That I'd take it casual with her, and I'd tell her that my schedule was packed for the next 3 or 4 weeks and gradually see her less and less over time.

I had thought that Fumiyo just liked being around me in a 'getting excitement I don't get from my husband' kind of way. Maybe I should've given her the 'let's just be friends' line a month ago? I guess, this experience already started me questioning Fumiyo's integrity a while ago... does she suck? I mean, if she was my wife, I certainly wouldn't want her running-around secretly having romantic encounters with another man behind my back. I'd hate the bastard who'd do that with my wife. And even if this whole thing was totally okay with her husband, I'd still feel at least a bit conflicted. On top of that, am I a total ass-wipe for not calling a stop to this earlier? I'm distinctly starting to think that I am a total ass-wipe. Regardless, this has to end soon.

I admit: I'm very conflicted. On one level, I like the experiences with her. I really enjoy myself on these outings with her. The food is invariably great and... I like being taken-out for nice nights! I don't get taken-out by women back home, and I like it! Don't I deserve good treatment once in a while? Sigh. I've turned-in to some kind of forbidden thrill-seeking man-whore, haven't I?

Anyway, here's how it went... Fumiyo met me at a subway station in the entertainment district of Michinoshi. There was a 'very special' restaurant she wanted to take me to. I was dressed business-casual as was she.

After greeting me, she said: "I made reservations at this restaurant. I love it, and I hope you'll like it too."

"Great. It sounds wonderful."

The restaurant was on the 5th floor of a typical-looking, fairly nondescript multistory building. There are about ten dozen of these types of buildings scattered around the entertainment district, and it's fairly difficult for me to tell them apart. I doubt I could find it again on my own. We stepped-in to the elevator together and she turned to me. "I love this place."

We went-up, the door opened, and I was treated to a very tastefully-decorated Italian eatery: Bartolomeo's. It had wooden beams interlaced with brick, soft music and flickering candles. Indeed, the decoration and atmosphere was quite pleasing to the eyes and ears. It was like a little piece of Tuscany. Quite romantic... a little too romantic in fact.

Dinner

We ordered a bottle of red Italian wine, it was accompanied by fresh figs, cheeses and stuffed olives. We also enjoyed a savory calamari in marinara sauce and the house salad with capers. The main-course was a mind-blowingly delicious linguini alfredo with bits of baked garlic and specks of crunchy bacon here and there. This had to have been the best meal I've had since... since... well, since the last time Fumiyo took me out. Good Lord, why does she always have to pick such damn good restaurants all the time? Doesn't she know that makes her harder to dump?

Midway through the meal, we ran-out of wine. We ordered another bottle of the same. (At this point, I noticed on the wine-list that the cost was the yen equivalent of $90 per bottle. Yikes.)

At one point, the wick on the candle next to us slowly curled-in on itself and started to burn-out. I noticed the change in brightness and remarked: "Uh oh... I give it ten seconds before it goes." We watched the flame intensely. Slowly, it began to die. It got smaller and smaller.

"Here we go... 3, 2, 1... poof." I smiled as it snuffed itself out. When the waiter comes-by, I guess we'll ask him to replace it.

But we didn't have to. Within 20 seconds, the waiter came by and replaced the candle. In fact, he came-by strictly to replace the candle. As if he was keeping one eye specifically on our table.

"Wow, that was good service." I smiled.

Fumiyo smiled back. "When I made the reservations, I asked the staff to pay extra attention to us..."

"Oh."

How thoughtful of her(?)

Desserts

As we got-down to our last two glasses of wine, we ordered dessert. It was a little fruit medley in a large martini-style glass, with a bed of crushed ice in the conical bottom to keep it chilled. This wasn't the kind of fruit cocktail where 80% of the volume is balled watermelon. I'm talking bits of lichee, persimmon and kumquat with a light vanilla cream sauce over the top. Naturally, it was to die for... when we got down to the last few bits in the bottom of the glass, she indicated the floor next to her by making a patting motion with her palm.

"Please bring your seat over here?" I obligingly stood-up, moved my chair-over and sat beside her.

"Sure thing."

As I sat-down next to her, she drained her wineglass. And turned to me. Her voice lowered to conspiratorial level.

"I brought you here tonight because I wanted to express my feelings to you." Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed she was absent-mindedly slipping her wedding ring up and down her finger.

"Oh?" I asked. Crap. I hope this isn't going where I think it is...

"Yes." She looked me dead in the eyes. "I can express myself freely around you. I... I can express my honne." ('Honne' meaning 'inner-nature', as opposed to 'tatemae', meaning 'façade'. I've mentioned these two words about a bzillion times before.)

"Well..." I reached-over to my side of the table, and grabbed my wineglass. "I'm glad you feel you can confide in me." I replied. How do I exit gracefully from this? This whole thing is rushing-along like a driverless troika-sleigh...

"My husband, I often feel he is with me because of how I look." She brushed-back a strand of hair with one hand. "He pressures me to keep-up tatemae. My job pressures me to tatemae."

"I see..." Hmm, I'm starting to feel really uncomfortable now. Is it getting hot in here? I finish my wine.

"When foreign clients come for instance... it's important for me to keep-up my looks." She paused to nibble at a small bit of persimmon on her fork. "Appearances are important for business, they are important for my husband. They are important even among my closest Japanese friends..." Her mouth frowned slightly. "Tatemae ga suki janai, wakarimasuka?" (I don't like façades, understand?) I nodded. "I hate tatemae. I will get old one day. I won't always look good, I can't keep-up my looks forever." She took my fork, speared the last remaining slice of peach in the martini glass and held it up for me. "Open?"

I opened my mouth, she fed it to me.

"Thank you..." I swallowed and looked at her. I don't think I can help her with this sort of issue. "Um, Fumiyo... I'm not really sure what to say now. You aren't alone in these kinds of feelings. Having to- guh!" All of a sudden, I felt her fingernails tracing my knee. I jerked-up rigidly.

"But... I can express myself to you." She cooed. The corners of her mouth crept-upwards into a small smile as my eyes grew as wide as saucers. "NiceGuy, I... want you." Her palm slowly began to glide-up my thigh. I dunno what it was, but her voice managed to shift into this rather sultry-sounding mode that began to send a very powerful influence over how many hormones were being injected into my bloodstream. Her eyes began to twinkle in the candlelight, they suddenly turned-in to these alien ray-emitters which caused my testosterone level to spike.

"You... want me?" I croaked. She nodded. Eek! Both Haruna and Fumiyo start nuzzling-up to me in the same week? Did I fall into the freaking Twilight Zone or something?!

"Yes. Very much. You... you are always so kind and I can express my honne. You are so nice..."

My God, write-down the date! This is the first time in human history such a thing has been uttered by a woman to a man!

"You... like me because I'm... NICE?!" I stammered incredulously. She nodded. At this point, her hand had traveled-up to my upper, innermost thigh and found a rapidly stiffening appendage. As soon as her fingers closed around it, her eyes widened and her mouth spread-out into a saucy smile. I stifled a yelp. It was a good thing my wineglass was empty, because it probably would've spilled.

"Yes, you're a very sexy man..." I shuddered under her touch. At that instant, I felt like standing-up and shouting: 'Okay, am I on Candid Camera?! Is Alan Funt going to step-out from behind the curtains now??'

No I wasn't imagining things, this was actually happening to me. And Alan Funt's dead, isn't he? Shit. "Um, Fumiyo..." My heart went from sixty-eight beats a minute to at least eighty-five, accompanied by hot throbbing in the blood vessels snaking through my brain. Her hand began fondling me. I burrowed myself farther-back into my seat. "I..." There is something just wrong about this! My head is going to explode in a pinkish-grey mist!

"NiceGuy, I want you." She whispered. "I feel so at ease with you, you are only man who has me feel this way." I gently pulled her hand back onto my knee. I began to tremble as my blood started to boil. I know this is wrong, but having her hand there felt so... so... good!

"I can't give you what you want." I said, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck starting to stick-up.

"I don't want material things from you..." She continued.

"Material things?" I asked, puzzled. She shook her head.

"I make more money than I can spend, I don't want material things. You give me..." She paused. "You give me the feelings I want." She looked me dead in the eyes. As my hand gently tried to her pull her hand off my knee, she clenched it harder. More resolutely.

"Fumiyo, I think this is not right." I said, my mouth going dry.

"I like taking you to nice places. Come away with me next weekend." Her voice dripped with the promises of something quite titillating. My God, this is starting to sound like a cliché soap-opera. "I know this small hotel in the mountains. We can go there together, it is so beautiful... just the two of us." She reached-out towards my face with her other hand, her fingertips stroked my cheek.

Can someone please pull the fire-alarm this instant? Well, at least I managed to get her hand off my crotch...

"Fumiyo, I really don't think this is a good idea. I mean... " Physically, I enjoyed her touch but my brain was screaming 'NOOOOOOO!!' "Maybe we should go. It's getting late and we're both a little tipsy."

"Yes..." She nodded. "We're both tipsy. Let's go." And with that, we left. Outside the front of the building, we hailed a cab and climbed-in. She said that she'd drop me off at home.

The Ride Home

After settling-in to the back of the taxi, she immediately looped her arm through mine and rested her palm on my chest. Most of the way, we rode in silence. Nervous silence, in my case. Within fifteen minutes, we approached my apartment building.

"I want us to enjoy the summer together." She whispered as she rested her head on my shoulder. At that point, I finally decided to lay it all-out in front of her.

"Fumiyo... it does concern me that you're married. It concerns me a lot, in fact. I couldn't do this sort of thing with a woman who is... in your situation. I'd feel very guilty. It would eat-away at me."

"I know that you're a gentleman. You always think of others. But please consider my offer." She took her head-off my shoulder and looked at me, her eyes penetrating down into my soul. "I... just wanted you to know how I feel about you. I can't hide my feelings any longer. You're special to me..." She put her index finger on my throat and gently dragged it down my chest. "Very special. Understand?"

"Fumiyo, you're very wonderful and very generous. I... I couldn't ask to meet anyone more sweet and kind than you. But... I'm just too nervous about this situation. Please, understand it's not because you're not attractive..." The car pulled in front of my apartment building and stopped.

"I can tell you're nervous, but please don't let my marriage concern you." She said, shaking her head slightly. "Call me?"

I nodded. "I'll call you. Thank you for the evening. Good night."

I got-out of the car, closed the door and waved good-bye. She waved back. I numbly walked upstairs. Yeah, I wanted more girls in my life, but this situation isn't exactly what I had in mind. I stumbled into my apartment and sighed. This is bad. VERY bad.

Where is this going next? I don't know. I just don't know.

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"Pretty girls make graves." -- Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums.

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