The Man in The Bullet Train

In common with the rest of the carriage and no doubt the whole train, Wataru spent the remainder of the journey frantically trying to find a bed for the night. If he did manage to get though, which was rare, the tone of his voice alone told me there'd been no room at the inn. It didn't take a genius to work out that we were one of no doubt a dozen trains descending on an already fully booked city.

I gave him the number of my ryokan and insisted he try them too, which in desperation, he did eventually. But the result was the same.

The Shinkansen pulled in and started to disgorge its passengers. I hauled my suitcase down, grabbed his holdall and dumped it on top, making it abundantly clear I was helping him and that was that! I looked at him and, threatening him with a finger, said 'Don't argue or I'll poke you in the eye!'. His disarming smile came back in an instant and he raised his arms in mock defeat. 'Ok. Ok. And thank you.' I turned around and shuffled off down the carriage, grinning triumphantly. He followed on behind slowly as his suitcase recommenced its impression of an alcoholic making his way home, much to my obvious amusement.

Remarkably in my eyes, we managed to locate an empty locker on the opposite platform just big enough to allow him to stash the box and the drunken suitcase. He tucked the key away in his trouser pocket and turned to me 'Thank you. You made difficult day better for me. And more funny! Now, l take you to your hotel to repay you. And don't argue or I'll poke you in both eyes!'. He giggled and flashed me his killer smile knowing he'd turned my weapon back on me and won.

Kyoto station is huge, ultra-modern and from a tourist's point of view, eminently worthy of a snap or twenty. Once I worked out that acting the goat was pretty much guaranteed to produce one of his smiles, I got him taking a pic of me acting the fool going down the escalator, going up the escalator, admiring the spectacular ceiling in the main atrium and feigning utter confusion at the, to me, utterly incomprehensible signs. He seemed genuinely to find me amusing and l, in turn, relished his attention.

We piled into a taxi; the driver relieved at Wataru's presence and his clear, rapid directions as to where to find the gaijin's hotel. Not five minutes and a reasonable 1,000¥ later, we arrived at a rather dark and down at heel building and stepped back a hundred years ... to my mind anyway. To the right and left of the entrance were dark wooden cubbyholes filled with guests' shoes. Up the step and into the hotel proper, neatly arranged pairs of blue and pink sandals were ready for guests to switch to. I resisted the urge to challenge sexist stereotypes and opted for the blue ones but not before horrifying Wateru by pretending to go for the pink!! I actually received a playful slap on the arm for that effort which pleased me immensely. I expected a kimono-clad mama-san to appear, bowing and smiling the standard service-industry smile as had been the case in the hotel in Tokyo. Instead, in bounced who we later learned was called Kei-kun. About five foot two, slightly built and with a mop of thick black hair, he looked exactly like a Japanese elf would look if such a thing existed. To my mind, he seemed about 18 but in reality he was likely to be a good five years older. He looked to be dressed in the traditional garb of a rickshaw driver ... originally jet-black, now grey-black trousers which appeared to be strapped tightly onto him and went up as far as the bottom of his ribcage. Under that was an equally tight, long-sleeved undershirt which, once white, had also taken on a grey tinge. Clearly having been washed to exhaustion, it was clean but just old. Perhaps this was also the traditional outfit worn by an inn-keeper. At any rate, entirely in keeping with the ryokan.

Kei-kun bowed incessantly and enthusiastically, his face wreathed in a huge smile which appeared quite genuine. I did notice ruefully that the enthusiasm was a little more pronounced when the smile was directed at Wataru, however!

'I will go now and thank you again for your help today!'

Wataru's words cut into the ritualized exchange of bows and smiles. My face must've dropped for he then added a much softer 'Perhaps you would like to eat together first before I return to the station?'

'Of course! I would like that. Very much. But where will you sleep tonight?'

'In the station. It will stay open all night, l think.'

I looked at him. Then, dredging my Japanese up from abysmal to merely awful, l turned to a clearly puzzled Kei-kun.

'Heya ni, mou ichi-mae futon wa ii desu ka? (In the room, one more futon, is okay?)

'Hai, hai! Wakarimashita. Ii desu. Chotto matte, ne?' ('Yes. Yes. I understand. It's fine. Just a moment, ok?')

Wataru's protests petered out rapidly because I just smiled back at him smugly and Kei-Kun had leapt into the office to grab a key before bounding up the first flight of stairs from where he called 'Prease forrow me!'. I grabbed my suitcase and did so, leaving Wataru shaking his head as he bent down to pick up his hold all before he too joined the procession following Kei-kun's pert little bum up to the first floor.

Kei-kun arrived at the door and slid it open. He bowed to us and entered, leaving his slippers in the entrance hall and opening a second door in one fluid motion. He gestured to me to do likewise, which I did eagerly. The room was simple yet perfect. Sparsely furnished with a low table with one cushion for sitting cross-legged on and one futon already laid out for me. Tatami reed mats covered the entire floor with the exception of the wood passageway to what i anticipated was the bathroom. The tatami gave their distinctive, restful odour to the room. The paper windows diffusing the evening light still further.

Kei sprang into action moving the table and setting it lengthways against the far wall. A second floor cushion was brought out and found itself placed opposite its partner at the end of the table. He quickly slid the already made up futon to one side, the head end just close enough to the table to allow it to serve as a bedside table. A cupboard door was slid open and a second futon brought out and placed parallel to the first but leaving the maximum distance between the two beds.

Wataru suddenly muttered something to Kei-kun who replied in an urgent tone and recommenced another bout of bowing. I understood nothing. Wataru turned on his heels and disappeared into where I had assumed the bathroom was located. As soon as he was gone, Kei-kun gave me a knowing glance, which initially perplexed me until he slid both futon close together so they were almost touching. He stood up and grinned at me before grabbing two yukata dressing gowns from the cupboard, passing me one and retaining the second. Open-mouthed, my first reaction was 'you cheeky little ...' but then doubts came charging into my head ... was it because of Wataru had said just minutes before? Or was it because my attraction was so palpably obvious?

Then it was Kei-kun's turn to pick his jaw up off the floor now. Wataru sauntered in from the bathroom. He'd removed both shirt and trousers and was clad in nothing but a patriotic combination of red briefs and white socks. I swallowed, involuntarily, but Kei-kun's eyes came out of their sockets a good six inches and went back in three sizes larger! When the poor lad finally remembered to close his mouth, he was chewing his bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood. Unconsciously, his hand went to his groin and he adjusted himself to allow his dick to stiffen upwards rather than outwards as the tent in his pants showed it was attempting to do. Kei-kun didn't know what part of Wataru's gorgeous, honey-coloured body to let his eyes feast upon first ... the dark, chocolate nipples ... Wataru's nicely developed pecs ... the washboard abdomen ... the nicely-sized bulge between Wataru's legs, themselves largely hairless above the knee. All was perfect. I'd detected the fleetingest of smug grins pass over Wataru's features as he saw our reactions were no doubt exactly what he'd hoped they'd be. It turned to one of irritation when Kei-kun failed to respond to an outstretched hand asking to be given the yukata.  Wataru fair barked out a terse 'Suimasen, ne?' ('Er, excuse me?') and looked none too impressed by the casual 'Gomen', ne!' ('Sorry, mate!') that was far too familiar a tone to use to a guest but which nevertheless clearly betrayed Kei-kun's shock and awe. I too was in shock. But less at Wataru's obvious physical charms and more at his sheer boldness. I felt totally wrong-footed by this beautiful man, twenty or so years my junior, making all the running and having been able to evoke such new feelings of lust in me.

Kei-kun came to his senses and backed out of the room, bowing deeply and rattling out strings of words in Japanese which I had no chance to catch.

'Please change into your yukata now. The hotel bathroom here closes shortly.' Wataru explained indicating that I should use the toilet to change in.