***************************************************************************************

Every now and then I get reviews sent to my email or favourite adds. So I thought I'd go back and have a day with this. I don't think my writing is as good as it used to be if I'm honest. But I did have a story in mind. Thanks for all the support.

***************************************************************************************

***

Walking back to the massive ballroom I barely registered that I was moving at all. My eyes were open but they weren't looking at a thing as my mind was currently replaying the recent events over in my head. Yes, that had in fact been Shuichi. The same Shuichi who haunted my last night with scandalous scenes feeding my every thought. I had completely forgotten about my writing and spent that night shaking hands with the governor of love… But now the same kid haunts me now in my conscious hours! For a long time I think I had just imagined him there- a writers imagination is very vivid. Then I notice the still almost spent cigarette barely clutching onto a dry spot on my bottom lip. The picture of Shuichi's delicate fingers holding my stolen lighter sweeps through my thoughts and I feel a delicious invisible squeeze in my groin. I stop walking and lean my back against the corridor wall. I raise my head and close my eyes as I whisper in my mind 'It was real.' I'm tempted to turn back to the toilets and relieve myself of this pressure; god knows I should how rare its been lately for me to be turned on. But then I stop myself, and open my eyes in a half-glare at the ceiling. Why should I have to do such a thing by myself when the star himself was in the same building posing as the star 'Sakuma Ryuichi''.

I reach the main hall where everyone was gathered, sipping expensive wines, wearing expensive furs, and smoking expensive cigars. I hated attending these sorts of gatherings with a passion but recently it is unavoidable. The people here only enjoy talking about their selves and how accomplished and rich they are each with at least one hired woman on their arm. The only time they take the effort to talk about someone other than their selves is to gossip about those who've been recently demoted or shunned in their works. For some reason these people flock at my side when I enter, claiming to know me through some made up acquaintance. I admit, I myself, am a successful man and I take quiet pride in my work only being released when I'm sure it's perfect. Recently I have been in some sort of slump and have been advised to attend these god awful engagements in order to 'trigger' some sort of inspiration. I honestly don't know how anyone could think that such tedious act of involvement could actually motivate a person.

A few of the grips of the women escorts on their customers' arms loosen as they shamelessly stare at me, long painted nails coming up to their bright lips as their eyes gloss over. A silver service waitress seems to magically appear in front of my face holding the tray of drinks deliberately close to her breasts.

"Champagne, Sir?"

I grab a glass as I begin a scan of the room. I pace with my other hand in my trouser pocket, weaving between the social circles, trying to escape the desperate eyeballing from the women. This room is full to the brim of men of high social standing, reflected, it seems, physically as well. And mixed with these tall men are women in heels so high I am surprised they don't all have nosebleeds. How the fuck am I going to find a miniature Japanese man-boy with big eyes, a pretty mouth and an ass that tops any bitch in the room? The air is thick with the expensive heady scents of each human, a mix of musks that change and clash every few seconds. I slow down almost a little too suddenly as I my pride immediately tells me that I don't have to be in such a hurry. I'm a popular man myself and I'd sooner stick my dick in a vice than have anyone see how much I want to see that brat again.

A burst of laughter ruffles beside me and as a woman backs onto me, almost falling out of the little crowd to my right in giggles. I have to crane my arm above my head to avoid spilling my drink like an idiot as she collides with my chest. She turns to face me and jumbled with more laughter manages a word of apology.

"Kathy! Oh god, I'm so sorry! She's a bit....merry..."

A well built back man in a very dark but slightly shimmering blue suit jumps out from the back of the crowd to catch the girl and bring her back into the world again.

He stops to take a long but inquisitive look at me, cocking his head to the side.

"Eiri?"

An old school acquaintance of mine. He's changed quite a bit from what I recall. The tight braids have been replaced with a very short trim that allows his incredible features to stand out; big brown eyes, high cheek bones, and a perfectly square jaw. He was a pretty popular kid back then but that alone couldn't have propelled him into this world of bigwigs. I slowly let my arm fall back into place, making a point of the annoyance.

"Jaaaames, why didn't you tell me you had such a handsome friend", said the broad, boldly stroking down my torso with the comment, her long nails scratching my skin beneath. She swayed forward and he had to stoop to catch her again. His eyes briefly met mine before focusing on his babysitting, an awkward smile flashes in embarrassment. Though drunk, the woman was actually quite modelesque. Years before I would have said she was my type; pale skin, heaving breasts, sharp features that only seem to come on a foreign girl's face. Everything that he was not.

"Oh gawd Kathy, get a hold of yourself!" A bulky Englishman cuts through the crowd in a boisterous voice, dramatically flailing his small chubby hands in the air, his eyes tiny and dark beads with thick eyebrows wet with perspiration raised high above playfully. "The Japanese are a graceful race of people!" He boldly states and then bows theatrically towards me, the light dancing off his egg shaped bald head.

"Everybody! Allow me to introduce Claude Winchester, the son of Ian Winchester, the owner of Winchester Enterprise and Winchester CTC," Sooo many Winchesters, it's so hard to choose which one to care least about. The woman called Kathy leans into me, partly to avoid this insufferable fool's thrashing hand gestures. I look down and she's pressed so close back into me now that I can see her front. She has a small lake of red just above her breasts, it must be a drink rash. Otherwise her skin in flawless and not a freckle in sight despite how much skin she's bearing. Her breathing is normal but her breasts rise and fall such an incredible distance. From where I stand I can see every curve, almost every pore, even the outline of her nipples when I look hard enough. But no one is looking at me looking at her.

"And his absolutely chaaarming son, the pop prince - Ryuichi Sakama!"

My eyes jump to the scene and I almost hurtle the hussy away, but she sticks solid against me as a familiar face weaves through the people around him. Shuichi's eyelashes flutter as he looks down for footing and then up at the characters looming way above him. He smiles at each person, the reflections of chandeliers light up his dark eyes like a pair of galaxies. His eyes meet mine and then they skim to the women practically straddling me, and then quickly move on to the next person in line, then the next... Huh. That was an unexpected reaction.

"Go on, Ryuichi! Give us a song!" Some guy bellows from the now increasing crowd of people. Shuichi instantly reaches out his small palm to the man. The things those digits can do turns something in my belly.

"500 dollars." He stares the man square in the eyes, and the corner of his lips flick up in a cheeky smile. The crowd roars and the chubby ringleader smacks him on the back a few times earning a wide eyed look from the boy. The crowd begins to move and several people surround him, like animals closing in on their food. I manage to catch his eyes briefly but he doesn't give me anything with them, and then all I see are jacket tails and the fabric of cocktail dresses. I stay still for a moment trying to decipher what he was trying to do. The crowd seems to shrink away but the walls and ceiling move closer. I down my champagne, wishing it was a beer.

"Eric, was it?"

I blink hard and look down. I've got a parasite attached to me. She swivels to press against me, both hands rest on my chest, her breasts now pushed high almost to her chin. She tries to look into my face but her eyes can't seem to focus. If she wasn't holding onto me she'd be on the floor. I take a step back and she drags herself along with me, the uneven clatter of heels follow. One of the thin straps on her dress falls down her shoulder and the front of her dress peels away slightly. She has an amazing figure and I want to fuck her, but at the same time she has no air to her - she makes my skin cold. I feel a little like my old self and, for a moment, it feels good. But not good enough. No matter how much I want to fuck her the need to push her away is stronger. But instead I do nothing. I look past her at the crowd. It seems to have scattered to some degree and James falls out of a section and lunges towards us. He goes to pull her back with some force behind it. She's all over the place and a bit of a whore but I guess he likes her. I mean, why else would he-

***

Widened eyes stare gobsmacked at me. At least half of them are jealous, I've seen the look a billion times, I swear. But these people are only in my peripheral vision. I'm looking at that foreign muck. If I could wish a person dead she'd be in pieces! Who the hell are you? I mean - Who the HELL. ARE. YOU?? I'm so angry I'm near crushing the man's chest. He finally pushes up onto his elbows from the floor but I don't move an inch. I hear a metal tray hit the ground but the low hollow sound seems to go on and on, warping slowly in my hears. On and on it goes. An amazingly low hum, like a sub-woofer, shakes in my ear, then all too quickly everything returns, and it hurts my head.

"-t are you doing?"

I unclench my jaw, the bone aching like I've just given a blow-job to a huge cock. I loosen my grip and run my hand through my hair, casually looking about me but at no one in particular, like this is normal.

"Ryuichi! I'm sorry Mr. Yuki, my son is... a big fan of yours!"

It's not normal.

***

I guess it was all a bit too much for Shuichi. 'What an eccentric,' I think, then laugh inwardly at the irony. He's definitely a charmer, be it pheromones or anything else. He made a good Ryuichi, and when I think about what he did in end to Eiri Yuki, I have to admit there are similarities in their characters, not just their looks alone. Perhaps the world as we know it would fall apart if those two ever met.

I cover his shoulders with the large jacket I was holding and he looks up at me and smiles. The wind is fiercely hard and whips my hair in my face. I can't tell if anybody noticed but I'll have some guys do some follow ups on the guests.

"I'm just gonna have a smoke out here," maybe the cold air will clear my head a bit.

"Wanna light?" he asks, holding up a lighter with flowers on it. He grins widely, the apples of his cheeks pushing his eyes part closed. I try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out as a rather large snort.

"That thing is so uncool!" I shake my head. I take out a pistol and fire out a light for my cigarette, cupping my hand around it to catch the flame.

"Yea, you're right," he says, but still puts it in his inside pocket. He looks ahead, his smile now gone, his eyes now relaxed despite the wind blowing at us. The gale smokes my cigarette faster than I can so I chuck it into the street. I ruffle the boy's hair and push him down into the car. He's got to have one hell of a history, but I can't ask him about all that stuff. I have my own truths I don't want people to know of so I shouldn't pry.

But still, that was a nasty looking scar.

I see him leaving but I can't let him see me. What am I supposed to say? I don't even know what the hell happened.

"Eiri!"

That scared the shit out of me. I peer behind me. Thank fuck. It's James.

"Man, I am SO sorry about Kathy..." He was alone but quite tense.

"You two got a thing going on?" I ask, not really caring for an answer. I watch as the car pulls away slowly from the kerb.

"What?" He sounds shocked but quickly replies, "No! No. Well...I'm sorry. All I know is that I kinda like her. I mean, when I saw her flirting with you I just got so MAD! Not at you! But-"

"It's ok. I get it." Jealousy. I got it.

Once the car has left completely I see a figure close to where the car had been, talking on a mobile. Damn chauffeurs, everybody is leaving so get off the ruddy phone! Japan has turned us into a mobile phone nation. Perhaps one day we'll all give up on regular communication. I step out to tell him my car and to catch him out.

"Yea, he just left....Yeah...Yeah I got pictures." The guy crosses the dark empty road and it's too late before I realise how suspicious he was. Oh well. Guess there's going to be a scandal. Tough luck for the real Sakuma.

Hmmm....jealousy.

To be continued...