Tokyo: Two years later

Tokyo smells like moss in the springtime. Like the scent of sex, it hangs heavy in the back of your throat, making the words coming out of your mouth thick and heavy. Outside the window of the Intercontinental Hotel the rain fell gently against the pane. The once crisp sheets now wrinkled and matted. Cumfort laid on his back, sweating- cooling his skin from the heat in the room. She sat up smoking a cigarette, naked and still moist from their session of fucking. The room wreaked of the smell of cum, her juices, Mild Seven cigarettes and moss. The ever present smell of the city. She laid back and looked at the ceiling. She took a drag and blew a thin wisp of smoke into the air.

They didn't say a word. Two years of this madness. Two years of chasing each other over the globe. The nervous girl he lusted at the New York bookstore is gone, long gone. In reality she never existed- Replaced with the percieved innocence was a dangerously sick person- with desires and lusts deeper than he ever could have imagined. He looked at his dairy from that day before he flew to Tokyo. How naive he was. How he thought he was so in control, stalking her. She turned the tables on him long ago. He thought he was a player.

In reality, he was nothing when he was with her.

In reality he was her puppet-her flesh and blood dildo. Her cock. He felt trapped, smothered and sick. Bits and pieces of the last two years came to him- haunted him. But he always came back for more.

In reality, he always would.