XXX Groovy [Soubi&BAB]

“Um are you sure about this. I mean your really good at making soft serve dollops—but umm. . .”Chiba hunted awkwardly for the words to tell his friend he failed at responsibility and simple good work ethic. Yuki rolled her eyes as her cousin's face colored lightly with the effort.

“Whatever!” Yuki interrupted and hopped to her feet. “He won't be on the floor—my supervisor Nagito would never allow that anyway. He'll be fine! In the back with the bar backs, I'll even make sure he's paired with me so he gets good tips.

Oh he'd get “tips” alright . . .

“Don't worry so much cuzzo! I promise to take really good care of your little friend. Bring him back in one piece and all that good stuff—never fear. I bet you'll even thank me once his language skills improve.” Yuki grinned and winked before patting Chiba on the head like a too cute puppy, until he yanked his head away with a mumbled curse.

Yes cuz. . . a whole lot is about to improve about our little mutual boy toy.


* * *

Is this, where you work? You said that you work with guys who do porn, are they here?

Yuki gasped a little in shock at how very loud Basa was, then before anyone else could come over she shoved the big moron in an empty storage closet with her. The closet served as her own personal make-shift dressing room. It was time to lay down some ground rules before he wrecked her carefully tended business.

“OK I'm gonna break this down for your pretty little head really slow. NEVER. . . EVER, mention porn in Tokyo Kids. You got that? That is rule one and if you break it we'll both be out of a job,” Yuki glared daggers of her seriousness into Basa's eyes.

“We are one of the few co-ed host clubs in all of Japan. We market to “couples”, but that is not what you will see come in here. The customers more or less know there are “extras” on the menu but we must be discreet. This isn't America anymore Tsubasa—the cops don't don't tap you on the wrist for being a whore here—you go to jail—for a long time! Most of the staff here, even the management serves up “extras.” So until someone tell you something about themselves you are to pretend you don't know about the extras! You're just my cousin here from the US to immerse himself in Japanese culture! Nothing about porn, even if you recognize someone here. Don't say it. That's it!” Yuki yanked her clothes off as though Basa wasn't even standing there staring at her open mouthed. Time to switch tactics, so the instructions would stick in her new gigolo's head. . . both of them.

“You do want us to have money and be able to have fun don't you?” Yuki put on her best little girl voice and pulled Basa's free over to lay on her bare breast. She massaged it while giving him her most winsome and innocent look, then swayed gently against him. “If you wanna have fun you gotta behave for me. That means do what I say when I say. M'kay?”

“I never had a boyfriend before you know. My parents—well you've seen them. . .so strict. Worse than Chiba-kuns. I think you and I could have so much fun. I'll teach you things you never dreamed. . .” Yuki's nimble body stroked against Basa conjolingly—her pert nipple hardening against the hand slightly trembling on it. Yuki grinned at those slight tremors—maybe Basa need a little extra good boy behavior incentive. She slid graceful to the floor right in front of him.

“But you have to be able to keep secrets Basa—I have to know I can trust you impeccably. Think you can? Think you wanna be my first boyfriend?” The sound of Basa's zipper going down was almost coying in it's loudness.


* * *

Nagito shoved a wet hand through his hair, before fluffing it lightly. He had still had to get through this shift looking like himself, even though he felt like he had been sucker punched in the gut. Certain his outer appearance said nothing of his inner turmoil, he return to the club floor.

Just in time to spot Yuki, and some young punk coming out her “special” dressing closet.

Nagi could feel several of his blood vessels pop right behind his eyes. Damn her hide, Yuki was his problem, well no—what Yuki would do to Yumi should she ever find out his sister was back in town was the problem. Nagi kept his features bland, only the nerve that ticked lightly under his eye gave any indication that something was amiss. He had to keep Yumi and Yuki apart, even though he had promised his sister he would let her “say good-bye” to Yuki without interfering, he had no intention of doing any such thing.

He would have sent Yumi back last night immediately when he found her huddled up on his doorway after helping finish off some edits for the new Cherry Blossom flick. However, Yumi had come prepare—and made it clear she would tell their parents “everything” if he sent her back before she saw Yuki again. It was bad enough the little minx had told his folks he was gay after he had shown his parents all of the love letters from Yuki and those disgusting pictures on Yumi's laptop and in her phone. Yumi didn't even know he had edited and deleted a lot of the more shocking things she had on that hard drive. And her phone. . .Nagi was even sure how either of them had gotten any studying done, as often as they had been together.

He hadn't wanted to do it, Yumichan surely didn't deserve it. But he had been desperate, Yuki had this hold over his sister he could not understand. Yumi had been s different person with Yuki, wild unpredictable—and all the while she had claimed they were “in love”.

Two years ago, Yumi had been a regular high schooler. Sweet, kind, and good student. She was an even better sister, never revealing his sexual preference to their parents when he had come out to her. Even when he had moved out, and been young and foolish—and doing all the stupid things that he wanted to protect her from now, Yumi had still always taken his side.

Then he had started the porn.

The money was the problem, it all looked so simple so easy when you were young. But then all the other things had started too, and it had always been his dear sweet little Yumichan who would hold his hand while he threw up in the toilet, or as he shook and sweated coming down from some party drug he'd consumed. He shuddered now to think what sorta example he had been setting for Yumichan. Poor Yumi had probably used his and Sho's messed up disaster of sex, abuse, obsession and infatuation as a guide book on how to love. His own reckless behavior in those early years had made her easy prey for the Yuki's of the world.

Manipulative bitch Yuki.

She had turned his own sister against him. She had just shown up one day at his apartment, even now she claimed it had just been about his work schedule. He still to this day thought the little cum whore had been on her way to try and seduce him. Gay to Yumi back then had meant “maybe”, but he had been toasted and broken hearted over Sho, so it had been Yumi—his innocent Yumichan that little tramp had sunk her claws into. The roller coaster had went full speed ahead, and Nagi hadn't been able to stop it. Yumi had started sneaking out, lying, stealing, showing up on his door step smelling sometimes of alcohol and Yuki's sticky sweet perfume. He tried at first to let them be—thinking maybe Yumi had just needed a friend her own age to giggle with and be young and careless with.

Then the hickies appeared. Still Nagi hoped that it was a phase.

Then he found Yumichan's phone, with it's SM card full of pictures of Yuki doing things that would have made Hugh Hefner blush. Nagi had confronted a tearful Yumi who swore it wasn't what he thought. But Nagi hadn't trusted her and after following her one night to a seedy part of Tokyo, discovered her little trysts with Yuki at a love hotel were exactly what he thought they were. Even then he'd held off, wanting to give Yumi a chance to break it off on her own. But it was like she was possessed—if Yuki called Yumi jumped, baring hickies glaring out from under her uniform like a red flag mocking him.

Then the bruises started, and the obsessive behavior.

A day of no calls from Yuki, would send his sister into an evil depression that had Yumi lashing out at Nagi, their parents, anyone. Nagi never saw any of Yumi's old friends anymore. Only Yuki. A perfect A+ student once, Yumi slipped all the way to C's and D's (and that was only for the classes she actually attended). But he finally snapped when he had walked in on Yumi and Yuki naked on his sofa (his place had apparently become the new love hotel after it was clear he already knew what was going on), Yumi hadn't seen him—but he had never forgotten the satisfied look on Yuki's face while she watched him over his sisters bare shoulder, his mouth dropped in horror.

Nor the way, she had licked her lips at him and winked—while his sister had been loudly screaming her orgasm unaware of the battle of wills they they'd had in that moment.

Yuki was evil in flesh, he had been sure of it that day—just as he was still sure of it now. Nagi had called his parents that night, going to their house while Yumi was still curled up contentedly sleeping in the bitch's claws at his apartment. He had shown his folks the evidence (the stuff they could handle that is—even now they thought Yumi had only been experimentally been playing kissy face with Yuki, the bad influence, nothing more). Yumi had been furious, and his folks had shipped her America (right after they had forbidden him to come back to their house for exposing Yumi to people like Yuki with his “lifestyle of sin.”) yes, Yumi had told them about him before she left, even that she had meet Yuki while visiting with him. She hadn't told about the porn (to which Nagi was grateful beyond all utter reason), but she told nearly everything else—enough to leave them both in disgrace in his parents eyes. Which was why he had to handle this himself. Keep Yumi and Yuki apart and find a way to send his sister back to safety in America. It was too late for him, but he would save Yumi.

“Yuki!” Nagi shoved his hands in his pants and prepared to toss the punk Yuki had snuck in—wondering for the life of him why Yumi never seemed to see this part of Yuki. The low-budget gold digging selfish remorseless tramp part. “You know the rules no—fr. . . .”

The rest of what Nagi was going to say faded in facing the face he remembered from last night. It was that guy. Well no, not the one that had wrote—but his friend, Tsu. . . Tsu. . . something. But he remembered that chiseled idol boy face. But the Chiba kid had said they were from America. . .what the hell was this guy doing with Yuki of all people? Better yet, where was his sweet faced friend who had seemed so earnest?

Yuki didn't make her money by being stupid, or not knowing how to read people well. . . She saw the recognition in Nagi's eyes. He knew Basa? But how? It wasn't possible—unless he had a different kind of interest in her new toy. In which case this whole game had become her new favorite hobby. She had only meant to use Basa to get to Mr. Yen—but if Nagi wanted him too. . . well so much the better. She could ruin Nagi twice as hard. Yuki put a possessive hand on Basa chest.

“Oh? No Nagi. . . this isn't a customer. Meet Tsubasa—my cousin Basa. He's working here now!” Yuki smiled her best cream won't melt in my mouth grin. She could already see the wheels in Nagi's mind turning. She was sure he probably didn't believe that Basa was related to her but it didn't matter, once more she had something Nagi wanted (or wanted back), and this time she intended to keep it.


* * *

Chiba was having the shit day to end all shit days. While his spoken Japanese was coming back like riding a bike—his written Japanese was still slightly problematic. He had after all left Japan with what was basically a primary schoolers very basic reading ability. Things had changed much in 13 years, and after a while Chiba had a headache from all the characters blending together on him at blurring rates.

It had started with him going to get Basa's bike. After Yuki and Basa had left he had thought that the solo retrieval of Basa's bike would be a nice, sorta secret “I'm sorry” for the way he had taken advantage of his friend to win their bet. Only getting the bike had been like Mission Impossible with Chiba treated like American CIA trying get a drug shipment back. Once he had it, then riding on the packed beyond all reasonable capacity metros became a problem, leaving a not in the best of shape Chiba to have to part bike, part walk, part metro to pick up the keys to their new apartment.

“What do you mean. . . one room.” Chiba stared the landlady as though she was suddenly pissing ramen.

“It's what I say. One room. I write you twice, twice I tell you. You never say nothing about more than one room. You ask 'bout metros, stores. If there is indoor plumbing. So is one room! This good place too you no complaining now!” The landlady raged out in a mixture of “Engrish” and Japanese.

The apartment was exactly that. . . one room. There wasn't even a bedroom—it was like the efficiency apartment from hell. Wood flooring attached to a small balcony that faced a wall—so not only would they be living in a room, it was gonna be a very dark room pretty much all the time thanks to the wall. The only reason Chiba was able to figure out where the kitchen was because of the huge sink (that was taking up valuable living space that the place did not[/] have to spare), and the wood changed to tile.

“And the bathroom. . . “ Chiba's voice was a squeak even he didn't recognize, and not just because he had to use Japanese.

The old witch point to a closet size space with what looked like a sink in the floor. Chiba nearly cried when he saw the old-fashioned squat basin toilet that mimicked the ones still found in most public areas of Japan, if they had not been renovated. Other than the basin bowl there was no other plumbing in the bathroom.

“How the heck are we suppose to shower?!” Chiba yelped seizing at the chance to possibly get his deposit back from the harridan that had lied in her advert and basically stolen all his and Basa's money.

The landlady sighed as if Chiba was dumber than dirt, then she went to the sink and plucked down an apparatus that Chiba had only ever seen his mother rinse dishes with before putting them in the dishwasher back home in the US. The faucet was turned and the landlady stood there with sink spray pelting the tile and rolling down a drain in the middle of the “kitchen” floor.

Chiba had never been so glad to hear his cell phone go off in his life. He didn't even care if the roaming charge was through the roof anything so he didn't have to start to vocalize the internal screaming he going on at that moment. He quickly turned away from his mad hatter of a landlady and groped for the cell.

“Hello? Yes? I mean. . . mushi mushi?!”

“Well which is it kid?” Takashi laughed good naturedly, hell he even sounded cute on the phone. The fans were gonna love him. “Hey so we got your info here at Cherry. . . and was wondering if you and you. . .ah. . . friend might what to come in so we can get a look at you guys?”

Click to expand...