I had taken a weekend off from my otherwise busy lifestyle, and traveled to Kyoto. I sat in the quiet and quaint theatre, like everyone else around me I was losing myself in the Kabuki presentation of The Tale of Genji. The play adapted from Japan’s first novel in 1007 CE.
Tears were streaming down my cheeks, both for the lone ante-hero, Prince Genji Monogatari, and me. Like Genji-sama, his antics, life and his world faithfully recreated by the wonderful cast were most impressive. In many ways, I could truly identify with the tale’s central character and his lover. Ironically, my life, when viewed through the lens of Murasaki Shikibu, bore some striking similarities to my own.
I was a princess, but of a Shachihoko dominion, a dark kingdom if ever there was one. But my humble existence, if I can use that term lightly here, came in the form of a life outside the nocturnal rigors of my profession, something I was determined to protect.
After returning home, and working that Monday night into the unearthly silence of Tuesday morning, once more I longed to be free of this life. My moonlight lover, like so many others like him, was a paid customer, nothing more. I wouldn't kid myself, as had one or two of my friends, deluding themselves they were ladies in waiting, no way. They were simply courtesans, treasured by their elite regular clientele so long as it suited these dark and dangerous men.
They would say, “But Rei. He does love me. Look!” and show me the engagement rings and other trifles, as if that counted for anything. Poor fools actually believed they'd be asked to marry these bastards.
I was a wretched soul. I cried long after the man in my bed had left through the balcony entrance before daybreak. I sighed, turned in my bed and slept another two hours before the clock would sound off. I would kid myself that each sultry night was simply a nightmare. Then reality would hit me as it always did.
I would glower at the bag of jewelry and beautiful basket of freshly cut flowers left behind on my bedside table. I would take these to the Sakura Jinja to be sold to support my little ones, my, ‘sakura blossoms,' as I called them, this, my daily cleansing ritual.
Shedding my nightwear and the traces of that other reality in the shower, I felt a little better. After my ablutions, I sat naked, towel in hand, tears streaming down my cheeks looking at the bounty of the night before.
Running my hands over smooth limbs and toned body, I slipped on my stockings and school uniform and reached for my brush. The stage was set for another monotonous breakfast filled with cultural platitudes.
I fought hard; I was determined to create a daylight existence that in no way matched my dancing and prowess in bed. I had succeeded I'd like to think.
After walking downstairs and into the kitchen, half-hearted I would bow to my father and then Kamis bless her, my mother who I loved as life itself. She, I had no reservations honoring with these daily observances before eating breakfast, and kissing her cheek. I grew to understand her better, why she stayed. It was for me. I cried for her, too.
I would hug and kiss mother, and to hell, with what that asshole of a father thought of my display of affection. I would then rush out the door and head for Juuban Junior High.
My best friend, Reika, was the only girl I could trust to hold my secret that I was not really fourteen years of age, but a sixteen year-old exotic dancer working in one of the most prestigious and infamous clubs in the old quarter of down town Tokyo.
She was always there for me. She, and her boyfriend, Furuhata Motoki, had helped me lead two lives and for that, I will be ever grateful to Reika-chan and Motoki-san.
In my heavy backpack and assortment of canvas bags, Reika and I would carry a load of spoils for special friends and homeless girls and boys to the Sakura Jinja. We would stop by the Crown Arcade to collect the accumulated gifts and the cash I would withdraw from my personal bank account and deposit in a series of trust accounts for my charges. I would see them right.
My grandfather, Asuka Ajari, would allow me to hand out my ‘spoils' of lust to the children of parents slaughtered for crossing the Shachihoko. Some would cry - laugh and others simply bow in loving gratitude. It brought tears of joy to my eyes and lifted my heart. I would sponsor their education, and I ensured they had a safe place to live. My Ojii-san would allow them to stay in the guesthouse and the girls and boys would help with the maintenance and upkeep of the grounds and the shrine itself; this, a most amicable arrangement for all concerned.
I became more of a heroine as opposed to a philanthropist to those under my wing. I was content, even if by night, I was a siren of passion and a dancing sex Goddess. It was all worth it when I looked at, with pride, what I had achieved with these lost children of the night.
By day, I would be the light in the lantern at the Sakura Jinja. Then the other side of me would emerge from the shroud of innocence, a Goddess of love and desire claiming the stage and wishes of all who laid eyes upon my scantily clad countenance.
My Ojii-san wanted me to be a priestess of the old secret order, but I didn't feel I could accept that noble mantle. For if, that path was for me, well, I didn't believe so at that stage. As a little girl, he would sit me down and train me. I thought nothing of the dancing flames in the palm of my hand. I would kiss them, my lips blister free, and then set these down on the floor. They would dance and sing to me. I could will them into the forms of fiery ballerinas, or pretty firebirds and other enchanting things. Sprites of fire and little animals or flowers of light, I did this for hours in the fire room at the temple. But as it was so much a part of the life and person I was back then; I never took that part of me beyond the torii after my so-called induction into the world of sex and dance.
I would help those I cared for by manipulating whom I had to: government officials and others if I could swing it, for sex and special services rendered. I was a whore, a classy whore, but still a whore. But I was also a typical schoolgirl, right down to the kawaii backpack, prim uniform and the innocent look.
I had once thought that despite the short skirts, silk stockings, pumps, towering high heels, and boots that on the inside I was still an innocent girl. I was an actress, the surreal lifestyle with its revealing tops, jewelry, and all the zany make-up I wore for my performances but a mask hiding my true self beneath. I was buoyed by the fact that this innocence could reassert itself once I stepped into the daylight.
I, Estella, as I am better known to the shady liquor laced world of which I was a part, had my private refuge untouched by the life I led.
In that schoolgirl realm, nobody gave me a second thought. I was considered attractive enough all right, but in a new and welcome way by the boys. And I was glad I wasn't counted amongst the hottest girls on campus.
I was the perfect picture of kawaii. I was in the minds of my peers, teachers and those who saw me walking to and from school, a typical cute and innocent girl wearing knee-length socks and a college dress.
At first, I hated him, the new good-looking guy, smiling all round as the students flocked around the tall blonde haired boy who had taken a terrified girl and broken her virginity all those years ago at our first meeting. But he had been gentle, soothing. He, like me, just as frightened; his hands shaking as he caressed and brought me to bloom. And as I cried, with that first thrust, he too sobbed and apologized. I only now realized in hindsight that he too had little choice in the matter. Perhaps his father may have disowned him or worse if he failed this phase of the initiation into the order or clan, whatever catch cry takes your fancy.
For a time, my residual anger unfairly rejected him, but that, would not last I knew once I got past that obstacle.
Jad and I had recognized one another the moment our eyes locked, and a little of my sassiness from my other life glinted off my lithe body, this not lost on one or two of the senior boys. After school, I pinned the hem of my skirt higher to expose more of my legs, I did this for the benefit of Jadeite who waited for me behind Crown Arcade. I had to admit, my vanity luxuriated in the delight it gave my young and good-looking audience, seems the whore couldn’t stay away as the boys eyed me off through the arcade’s windows.
We entered the arcade. There I was, batting my eyelashes, sitting with Jad and my male friends who wolf whistled at my sheer gall, these guys all-oblivious to my secret life. If they only knew, then what would they think of me? I giggled, winning an approving smile from Jad.
“Rei, you’re really something you know that,” he winked surreptitiously.
“Look gorgeous and ever-so bold young modest chick magnet, you’re not half-bad yourself,” I said, licking my lips and he offered a wide grin.
Unazuki stood before us, holding her pad, smiling, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. She loved helping her older brother run the Fruit Parlor and gaming center.
“Jad… um, the usual order, and Rei, you too?” she said, as we both nodded. “Coming right up guys!” and off she bounced, one or two boys giving her long adoring looks, she was pretty, and on the cusp of womanhood at sixteen and had an infectious sense of humor and everyone loved her.
But with my mischievous antics, coquettish mannerisms and body language, I must say I won a few more admirers that day. I wanted Jad and I would do anything to get him. As if, the uniform and the emblem on my blazer would hide the womanliness of my long legs, but that day, I showed them off, my hem riding half way up my thighs.
As the ice thawed between us over that first semester, he had watched me playing netball, and loved dancing with me at school during those wonderful dance nights where I had the night off, a respite from my dark world. I spun under his twirling hand, moved in a sensual refrain during the more contemporary rock and pop, dance tracks, his eyes burning with admiration and something else, love took me by surprise, and I felt it to.
At eighteen, he was a real man. He was tall, good-looking and a fabulous lover.
Jadeite had lured, seduced and captured his little fairy queen and I was his; my long black hair falling to the backs of my legs, the envy of the girls at school, my dancing and other exertions, giving me the body of an Aphrodite.
Jadeite, whom had deflowered me years before had me under his spell and I didn’t mind that in the least. In his jeans, denim jacket, pirate boots, shades and Gundam Wing T-shirt, he was wrapped around my little finger. He would take me horse riding, or for a ride on his motorcycle, swimming at the beach, and to the gallery on a Saturday morning, after which we'd make out in Azabu Park.
Later, we’d take in a movie and drop into the Crown Arcade where we could be as any other couple hanging out together and having fun, and fun we certainly had.
But the following year my life was beginning to change, but this was only the start of greater changes to come.
Oh what a fucking wonderful nineteenth birthday present! Shock-horror, mother finally left him. He actually bought her a new apartment, I wouldn't move out myself though as we lived in a house paid for by The Shachihoko. I found politics boring and so long as I could live the life I chose, I was happy and they weren't fazed. I even got free internet, clothing, travel allowance, and a place in the new university. I was made.
As the gigs came flooding in, the on-line footage of my performances on YouTube lifting my profile after starting a dance project on campus for the semester break, and after I was discovered on-line, well it just a whole lot more crazy, but good crazy if you know what I mean.
I was gaining a reputation as a mainstream performer. I was offered recording contracts and Asian Drama films, these weaning me off the prostitution. No complaints from that bitch, Nehelenia, the cash cow was getting fatter with the change in my ‘job description,' only elite men I slept with now: Prime Ministers, Presidents, nobles and Moguls, ha!
After arriving home, tired and washed out, I would go upstairs and turn on the computer, or sit outside reading until tea. My destiny set in stone, or so I thought.
My fortunes mixed, I closed my eyes upon another hot and steamy night, glad to be in my own bed… alone, but in one fell swoop, everything was about to change.
