Bathtime at La Chapel Blanche
Published by Richard James
Copyright 2014 Richard James
License Notes
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Also by this author:
Peace Boat (a short story collection)
Asami
Serialised work on Jukepop.com
Into this World She Woke
Bath Time at La Chapel Blanche
(seven tales of a Tokyo love hotel)
Takahiro sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. He was thinking about the name ‘La Chapel Blanche’. Why did everything in Japan have to be named in English? Or some foreign language anyway. He had asked an American friend what ‘La Chapel Blanche’ meant and been told it wasn’t actually English at all. Probably French his friend had informed him but he had been unable to translate. Eventually someone had told him they thought it meant ‘the white church’ but that it was a female church or something. Takahiro had found the idea odd but everything in French had a sex apparently.
‘La Chapel Blanche’.
Or as it was written in foot high katakana script above the faux Parisian, ivy coated entrance way: ‘ra cha-pe-ru bu-ro-n-chu’. ‘The White Church’. Was it a good name for a love hotel? A fitting name? Probably. It seemed the less appropriate a love hotel’s name was the more it actually did fit.
Socks on he fumbled about in the dark for his shoes. He could put the light on but then that would spoil the effect of the scene he was watching in the next room. He had only discovered that the huge wooden painting on the wall slid open when the girl turned the light on in the shower room and a thin crack of light had become visible down its centre. He had pulled the two halves apart and found himself staring through a sheet of glass in to the large tiled bathroom where the girl was standing under the shower while the deep wooden bath beside her filled with steaming water. He wondered if she knew about this little feature, if she suspected that she was being watched, but the unselfconscious nature of her movements suggested she was unaware. Strange, he thought, but having spent an entire evening out with her and a long night in here, during all of which she had been evidently doing her best to please him, he had never found her as appealing as he did now that she wasn’t trying.
She turned the shower off and pulled her long, long, straight, black hair tight behind her, squeezing out some of the water, then turned to face the glass. She stared rather intently and Takahiro wondered for a moment if she could see him, but then realised she was only looking at her own reflection. She put one hand on her hip and struck a little pose which brought a grin to Takahiro’s face. She switched hands and pouted, cocking her head first one way then the other. Next she turned side on and rubbed her flat stomach before walking away with her head looking over her shoulder. Don’t worry my dear, thought Takahiro, absolutely charmed by her performance, don’t worry - you’ve never looked better! Eventually she climbed with a languid grace into the steaming bath and slid down into its depths, closing her eyes before giving one short clap with her hands which caused the light to click off.
Well, it had been very pleasant while it lasted concluded Takahiro as the scene plunged into darkness and he stood up in search of his jacket. The only light now came from the lights of the city outside, which faintly illuminated the room with a pale blue glow. It was light enough, though, that the tattoos on Takahiro’s forearms were visible as he reached down to pick up his jacket from the heap on the floor. The girl had seemed to like the tattoos but had obviously had no idea what they signified in this part of the world. He had tried to explain but when even the word ‘yakuza’ didn’t bring a hint of recognition to her face he had stopped trying. Given her almost total lack of Japanese he had concluded she must be pretty new. He had tried a couple of questions in his broken English but she didn’t seem to understand that any better and so he had given up, content to communicate in that simpler, more familiar language of strokes and giggles. He wondered where she was from; not having cared enough to go to the effort of finding out earlier. She was definitely Asian but her skin was too dark for her to be Chinese. Maybe Vietnam or Indonesia or…or God damn it! did it matter!? Why should he care where Ken found his girls? Maybe he’d try and ask her when she came out. Maybe he’d try and teach her a few words and phrases. Maybe he’d even…
The door burst open and light flooded into the hallway. Takahiro startled at the sudden noise and spun round to see four, five, six men pouring down the hall and into the bedroom. They took hold of his arms and held him back against the wall. He resisted weakly but he knew better than to shout for help or struggle with too much force. The main light of the room was turned on and he glanced towards the shower room, but the glass now reflected the gaudy reds and pinks of the bedroom as if it were a mirror. At the end of the hall a dark figure made his appearance in the door frame. Takahiro could see someone scurrying along behind the figure as he removed his dark glasses and took off his hat and he hoped against hope the man might realise what was happening and go for help.
“Hello Taka. Long time no see.”
Youhei Hamada smiled viciously as he kicked the door shut behind him with his heel.
Really this was just not the type of situation a man like him should find himself in. What had he done wrong to end up in such a wretched position? Hadn’t he always tried his best? Wasn’t he a man of honour and integrity? Sure he had his faults, but so did everyone. He had only needed to spend five minutes at this job to find out that his new boss certainly had a few! And yet there was the crux of the whole matter. His new boss, who was a crooked, corrupt, manipulative, abusive, whoring scoundrel, was…well he was his boss. Where was the justice?
As Nori hurried down the corridor he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to consider there being anything suspicious about several black suited men entering a room in a love hotel. Each to their own he had reasoned as he had walked past with his eyes down. One of the men had remained waiting by the door and given Nori a sly bow as he passed, which Nori had returned without stopping. He had no particular concern for what others got up to in their own time so long as they did it in the appropriate place and so long as they didn’t choose to involve him.
But ah! that was exactly the problem with this new job! It did involve him. God, it had looked so simple when he’d seen the ad in the paper. It had seemed so attractive when he had been informed of the annual salary. It had all appeared too good to be true when on his first day he had turned up to the magnificent office, which glinted so bright in the sun he had had to shield his eyes, and been handed his pressed uniform then shown to the car which was to be his new workplace by a beautiful young secretary.
Chauffeur.
What a great word he thought. Or had thought. As he had waited next to the gleaming black car for his new boss he had had an image of himself as being so much more than that. Oh yes, he had thought, so much more. I’ll be his right hand man. In public, of course, he would merely be the solid, dependable driver and yet at the same time, in private, when he and his boss were alone and his new employer ran his thoughts and troubles by his trusted employee he would assume the role of the sharp and astute adviser. The power behind the thro
ne.
All that had changed though when he met Yoshihiro Kawamori, the CEO of Kawamori heavy industry. A crowd of people had descended the steps from the office entrance to the car and Nori had instantly picked out Mr Kawamori in the centre of the crowd. He exhumed power. The others fawned and fussed around him as they approached the car. Ha, let them try, Nori had thought, such blatant arse kissing would only earn you the eventual scorn of a real man. The trick was to be reverent in posture but at the same time to be bold enough to make yourself noticed. He had felt sure he was bound to win over Mr Kawamori with his subtle manner and bowed deeply as his new boss paused by the door of the car.
“Good morning Mr Kawamori,” he had begun. “May I just say what a pleasure it is to have been accepted in this position and also what an honour it is for me personally to be able to meet a…”
“Did nobody bother to explain to this blockhead what his job is before he started work?”
Mr Kawamori’s voice was a low, spiteful rumble and Nori kept his head fully bowed.
“Or did you all just think I should do that myself, huh?”
There was an empty silence and as Nori slowly raised his head he had found to his eternal chagrin that it was he himself who was the centre of attention.
“O-pe-n the d-oo-r you dumb bastard.”
Nori had hurriedly done as he was told, closed it gently and then run round to the driver’s side all the time experiencing a most heated sense of shame and agitation. He climbed behind the wheel.
“May I most humbly enquire as to where we might be…”
“Just drive. I’ll tell you where when I decide.”
The decision had eventually been made. He had driven down to a warehouse district near the port; all the time his boss talking on the phone with the soundproof glass closed and only occasionally barking directions through the intercom. Nori had waited in the car with strict instructions not to touch anything while his boss went inside for a ‘very important meeting’.
When he had emerged he had given Nori an address in the middle of the city and told him to ask a passer-by if he got lost. On this second leg his boss had seemed much more jovial but kept scratching his nose and sniffing and shaking his head. Nori didn’t want to think why. At the address, which had turned out to be an attractive apartment building by the river, Nori had been ordered to pull-over and wait. His boss too remained seated.
After a couple of minutes a small Japanese gentleman had descended the steps with two foreign girls, one on each arm. One was slim and blonde the other more…ample and dark. The girls had got in the back seat but the gentleman stayed on the pavement. Nori had sneaked a look in the rear view mirror but his boss caught his eye and then slammed across the plastic barrier. Well it’s his business thought Nori. Nothing to do with me. I can’t see him, I can’t stop him. I don’t even know what’s going on. I’m just the driver. Just the driver. Just a driver.
taptaptaptaptap
Nori had turned round in a slight fluster to see the older gentleman indicating for him to lower the window. He fumbled for the switch.
“This address. Tell him - nothing like last time, okay?” The small man had leant in to give Nori a business card.
‘La Chapel Blanche’.
And here he was. Waiting. Helping. Helping by waiting. And oh he had helped in another way too. He might not know the specifics of what was going on in room 1223 but he was pretty sure it wasn’t something befitting an honourable and respectable CEO - or maybe it was - he wouldn‘t know, he was just the driver. Yet here he was. Waiting. Helping. Watching the corridor for anyone snooping around. Standing guard for his boss’s sordid little…he didn’t want to know! Didn’t want to even speculate! It was nothing to do with him but ah! ah, yes it was! He was standing guard and earlier he had been an accessory in an even more culpabale manner.
Outside the entrance he had been ordered to let the three in the back get out then to park the car and return on foot to meet them.
“I want to stay as discreet as possible, okay?” his boss had told him when he had reappeared. “So what I need you to do is take…Melissa?…Marissa?…Marissa here and go and book us in to a room for couples.”
“Sir?”
“Come on! It’s not difficult to understand! Take the girl…no no no…put your arm round her…come on!…no…not like she’s your fucking grandmother, hold her close, show a bit of affection - you don’t mind do you Melissa? - and go and book the room and don’t look at me while you do it and don’t attract attention.”
Nori had had little choice and had walked up to the reception and asked politely for a room for couples. He was so obviously nervous and he held the girl so awkwardly, almost as if he was keeping her at bay as she draped herself over him, that he had been sure there would be questions but the old woman had barely looked up as she gave him the keys and then the girl was pushing him on towards the elevator where Mr Kawamori was waiting with his head down holding the other girl.
As the doors to the elevator closed Nori felt relief at the ordeal being over but his girl didn’t seem to want to release him. Instead she continued to lean into him and he turned round to see her dilated eyes staring eagerly towards him.
“Hey, that’s enough for you!” Mr Kawamori had shouted and gruffly pulled the girl away. “Enjoy that did you? Well, it wasn’t a bad job you did there. Maybe we can find a use for you.”
He threw out a cruelly forceful guffaw and Nori had found himself smiling limply too.
“Ha! Not in the way you’re thinking though - you filthy little pervert.”
Mr Kawamori had continued laughing as he reached out and punched Nori playfully on the shoulder.
Ah! he should have recoiled at that touch. Should have been sickened by his own behaviour but instead…instead he had felt the swelling of pride. Pleasure at having done a good job, at having pleased his superior and now, suddenly, he felt guilty. Not at his previous behaviour but at his actions at this very moment. He had deserted his post to go cavorting around the corridor thinking only of himself. That wasn’t right. Wasn’t right at all. He spun round in a fluster and saw a man peeking out from behind the door of room 1212. The door quickly slammed shut and the face was gone. Kind of looked like Masataka Takawa the baseball player. But what would he be doing in a place like…ah! what did it matter he asked himself angrily as he dashed back to his position.
Did he see you?
I don’t think so.
You can’t be sure though.
Can’t be sure but…no, maybe he saw us, definitely he saw us but I don’t think he recognised us. No - didn’t have time. Didn’t recognise us at all.
You’d better hope not
I’d better hope not? I’d better hope not!? It was you who got us in to this situation. You whose fault it is. It’s you who’d better hope not!
Well I do hope not. I hope not for both of us. And anyway, it’s no use blaming each other now. It’s done now. We need to concentrate on getting out of here - curse that bitch! Come on, have another look - what do you see?
There’s no one there now. Should we make a move?
Yes yes. Move. Go for it.
Masataka Takawa, the famous batsman - who’d successfully made the big move to the major league three years ago and was in Japan to play in a charity fundraising match against a team of TV celebrities - pulled his cap down over his face and dashed out from room 1212.
Which way? Which way?
I don’t know. Look for a sign.
A sign for what?
The elevators. No wait - the stairs. No wait - what floor is this?
Twelve.
The elevators. Where are they?
Eh…it says this way.
Right. Well go for it then. Okay, okay. Push the button for the second floor.
Not the first?
No not the first. The second.
Why not the first?
Ah! It doesn’t matter! Just push it. Oh bloody hell, I’ll do it.
The doors closed and the elevator began its descent.
Why the second? Now we’ll have to get out and take the stairs. You always just do things without explaining. That’s why we’re in this mess. If you listened to me a bit more we wouldn’t be having this problem in the first place.
Listened to you? Oh we’d have a lot of fun then, wouldn’t we? Staying in with that boring little wife. ‘Shall we listen to some music Masa?’ - ‘Oh that would be great Hinata. Let’s listen to some music and watch some TV and sit about and eat a delicate little cake you made earlier and talk. Oh yes, let’s talk and talk and…
Shut up! I love Hinata. Don’t talk about her like that. I’m pissed off enough as it is.
Oh come on. You had some fun. I know you did.
Fun? Fun!? With that…that…
…that what? Come on you can say it. That cheap little whore? That thieving little bitch? That conniving, lying, gutter crawling…
That’s enough. That’s not what I meant.
Oh really? You like her now do you? Well maybe we could find her again.
I meant it’s not her who’s at fault - it’s you.
Oh still trying to blame someone are you? Trying to blame me in fact. You’re right, though. I guess it’s not really her fault, is it? It’s not her fault she got up while we were asleep. It’s not her fault she stole our wallet and car keys. It’s not her fault she did a runner and is probably living it up at this very moment at our expense. Oh, it’s not her fault at all.
Well it’s certainly not my fault. You know I would never do a thing like this.
No, I know you wouldn’t. That’s why it’s always left to me. And you know what? I’m glad I did it! I had a great time actually. That girl - curse her wretched eyes - was a real terror! A real wild one. A real firecracker. Did you see the way she…
ShutupshutupshutupshutupshutupSHUTUUUP!
You know maybe if you opened your eyes you’d have had a bit more fun too. Maybe if you hadn’t hidden away and refused to enjoy yourself. Maybe if you’d…