Finding Aimi

Of course he wasn't there. She knew his type.

A shy boy like him wouldn't have followed the crowd... he would be somewhere away from the main celebrations.

Aimi made to stride back the way she had come, but barely made it six feet before a swarm of people broke off from the procession to talk, ask for pictures and bask in her presence. She stopped, bemused, before graciously accepting with a gorgeous smile as people began forming a daunting queue. She eyed the clock on a church nearby as it ticked on.

Half four.

"Aimi! Aimi over here!"

"Marry me Aimi!!!"

"WE LOVE YOU!!"

Her smile became ever-so-slightly tighter as the sun crawled towards the horizon.

Five.

"Hai, cheezu!"

Her lips were beginning to tire.

"Hai, cheezu!"

They all expected her to say that stuff, even though she wasn't even fully Japanese, being half-American by descent, but stick a Kimono on anything and they'll think you're a samurai warrior.

By the time the queue had dissipated and people in the main float had got their fill, one and a half hours had passed.

Aimi was nervous at that point. Had she taken too long?

Balking at the thought of missing out on her prize, but still not wanting to waste more time walking back through the procession, she turned down a side street, striding past a few eager women who were making out with each other, her way belied by the loud wooden clacks from her traditional (although much larger-than-average) Japanese thong sandals.

"Hey, come join us!" one of them called, grinning.

"No thank you ladies, carry on," she responded softly, making it to the quieter street parallel with the main downtown road and striding down it.

Her curves still brought a lot of attention, and she ignored anyone who didn't come up for pictures or to enthuse about her pride float, at which point she would put on her gracious smile, pose, and after a gentle word stride on.

'Where are you Yariman?'

She checked most of the bars, poking her head in and spinning it left and right.

"Hey gorgeous, wanna drink?"

'No'

She slammed the door and cast her gaze forwards for the next place.

'You can't hide from me forever, my little monkey...'

***

David wasn't sure how long he'd been in the foetal position. When he wasn't daydreaming about the woman, he was thinking about how much of a sad idiot he was for daydreaming about her.

Perhaps it was just boredom, but after another half hour staring at the wall he worked out that he didn't exactly have a packed schedule, and maybe he should look for a bar to try drinking his sorrows away. That way at least he could wallow in his own self-pity without being completely alone, and hell, it was a novel way to be sad. The closest he'd got to a bar was seeing them in tv shows, and one awful work outing which had been permanently stamped from his memory.

He managed to puppeteer his muscles, pulling them up from the bed.

Traipsing through the reception he looked right and left, dragging himself out onto the street and straight into the first venue he found, an evening bar with the neon words 'Gear-Lounge' suspended above it, hurting his retinas in the purple glare. When he shuffled inside the place looked relatively busy, but not packed. Most places in the city were probably wall to wall. Squeezing through a gorgeous couple, he managed to find his way to a shining black counter with glasses lining it, multi-coloured spirits on the wall behind.

A calm-looking bartender came up to him.

"What'll it be?"

"Urm..."

He hadn't ordered drinks before.

"Uh... something normal? A Budweiser?" He'd seen enough adverts to be curious if they really were the 'king of beers.'

"Sure."

The drink was handed over a few seconds later, he sidled past a few people, taking a seat in the corner of the bar and hoping that no one noticed him. As he was taking his first sip of what tasted like fizzy urine, his stomach nearly fell out of his shoes as a figure walked through the bar on cute, but quite oversized sandals, wearing a kimono.

***

Aimi grumbled as she walked back to the bar that she had originally planned to stay in after the parade was over.

She should have been ecstatic. The crowd had loved her; the pride march had been an unprecedented success. The problem was, she couldn't get that young buck out of her head. Somehow he had slipped through her fingers...

Purple neon shone on her forehead as she straightened the kimono so that it showed up the very best of her pronounced bust, placing a weary hand on the door to 'Gear-lounge.' At least this way she might get cheered up by a few friends.

When Aimi entered her weariness died where it stood, dissected by the gormless stare of the lost muse.

Her mouth fell open as the lightning bolt struck, and then her gaze was torn from him as she was surrounded by a bevy of laughing faces that ordinarily she would have loved to see, but at this point in time cared remarkedly less for than the salivating dish that was now less than ten metres away.

"You were amazing!!!"

"GORGEOUS!"

"BAAAAAABE, you slayed them!"

She accepted the congratulations with the tightest-lipped smile she had given all day, trying to calm herself as she spied him frozen in the corner, trying and failing not to stare.

Her brain began to whirr.

'Good... he sees me, so he's not leaving.'

The calculations shifted, coalescing towards a strategy to make this boy her bitch.

'He is alone, strong enough to make his own decisions, but his lack of themed attire suggests unfamiliarity with pride events.... Almost certainly straight... No friends made at pride? That takes effort... Most likely a loner that self-sabotages his own chances of social acceptance....'

Sometimes private school can be a curse, but she he hadn't stumbled upon a PHD in psychology by accident, and she would be using every last tool available to her tonight, not just the one in her pants.

'Possibly him coming to the march was some sort of desperate attempt for attention... but he doesn't look at the other women in the bar. He will bow to my whims if I play this right...'

Aimi was meticulous. Having observed him here in this more intimate setting, she was no longer prepared to accept simply putting this man in her bed - In fact, she was aiming for nothing less than him standing on the altar with her on their wedding day, subsumed by her for the rest of his life.

This would only be ending one way. His only choice was how he accepted it.

"You're gonna blow up baby!"

'First.... Give him no attention. Make him feel small.'

Some might call it hubris, but she believed that only fools left their lives up to chance, and she continued carefully analysing the situation whilst looking her friends dead in the eye and accepting their praise.

"Thanks Michelle, but it's all Daryll, he's the one who designed the dress!"

'I need to ensure no interruptions. The sexy little boy isn't going anywhere yet, he definitely sees me... in fact he probably thinks this is the closest he'll ever get to me....'

She smiled into the woman's gleaming face whilst barely sparing her a thought as matrix code raced behind her eyes.

'Make sure everyone in the bar has had their chance to show face - make their contributions, and only then will I talk to him. His anxiety will build as he is forced to watch my social dominance of the room, reinforcing control over him when I finally grace him with my presence.'

"Oh well the dress is nice, but you are daaaaangerous girl!"

'He'll be begging for my cock before midnight, and kneeling to put a ring on my finger by August.'

His presence fuelled her with new life, and the gorgeous grin splayed across her lips was no longer fake as she gladly gave her time to each person who asked (which turned out to be almost the entire bar), making sure to keep her peripheral vision trained on him. She wanted no interruptions when she made her move.

"Thank you! You look stunning too...!"

His leg flitted briefly to the floor and Aimi snapped her shoulders to the side in case she needed to move quickly and collar him, gaze momentarily ferocious.

"Woah, that's a stern look Aimi, I love it!" someone unimportant crowed beside her.

'I'll put him on the floor if he tries to escape me again....'

Luckily, he was simply adjusting himself on his seat, leaning uneasily back in the chair again, not noticing his brush with death.

'Good monkey' she growled in her head as her expression softened, apologising to the well-wisher nearby for a sudden bout of headache.

The minutes whizzed by, and Aimi gladhanded every proffered conversation, every eager face, even the boys she would usually keep at arm's length.

'They must know the conversation is over before it begins. I will not be interrupted.'

Eventually, finally, the last friend, passer-by and eager face had been dealt with. Pretending she had not even acknowledged his existence whilst her heart thumped in her chest, she turned to look at the bar, drinking in the forlorn look in his eyes from the corner of her gaze.

'You should enjoy it my darling. This is the last evening you'll still have possession of your anal virginity.'

She turned herself to look like she was walking casually to the bar, before at the last second changing paths to intersect with her target, diving in for the kill.

***

David found it odd that somehow the beer tasted worse the more he drank it, although maybe that was because he was sinking into depression as he watched the gorgeous figure dazzle everybody in the room except him, now talking with a few young, buff, animated men who were pumping their arms up whilst lingering around her.

Ironic that it only made them look smaller under her humungous presence.

She finished with a soft laugh, and then began to make her way to the bar, just past where he was sitting.

'She talked to every person in the bar but you... you didn't even have the bravery to try.... Pathetic.'

"Ā, soreha kosarudesu!"

The voice was gentle and smooth, but loud enough to send a thrill through his body as he turned disbelievingly from his bottle, looking up into sweet, almond-shaped orbs with irises of dark brown that made the pupils seem unusually large.

"Uh... p-pardon me ma'am?" he managed to utter to the woman of his dreams.

She was radiant. Up close her skin seemed almost too luscious and rich, like imperfections were merely part of the tapestry crying out to be caressed.

Aimi furnished him with a smile.

"Here's the little monkey," she uttered, patting him on the head.

His legs went weak as she took a seat on the bar-stool opposite him, the chair creaking ominously under her weight.

'Say something! SAY. SOMETHING.'

"Ah..Erm.... Nice.....hair."

His insides were liquid, but they reformed into solid gold when Aimi's expression became tender, like a housewife who had just found a new kitten and adopted it.

"Oh, thanks... I like yours too."

An awkward laugh left his lips.

"OH ha.. ha... yeah..."

He lapsed into silence as his legs chose this exact moment to declare independence of his body, juddering by themselves, and his arms were caught between hanging loosely and clasping the Budweiser like it was his only child.

Aimi made it a hundred times worse by waiting for him to speak, blinking innocently.

"Uh..."

Nothing came, and he felt the urge to vomit up the dirty bathwater he'd been forcing down his throat for the last twenty minutes.

"What's your name?" she said eventually.

"Oh... i-it's David."

"Aimi... a pleasure."

She proffered a large, effeminate hand with acrylic nails that had small patterns on them, also flowers, softer than the multicoloured ones on her kimono, on a pastel mint green background.

When he touched her skin it was like running his hand over silk, and her shake was just as delicate, although she didn't let him go immediately, lingering, as if measuring his palm.

"So... tell me about you, where does a little monkey like you come from?"

He scratched his head.

"Monkey? I... oh."

He remembered again that he had been hanging from a lamppost earlier that day and groused. Her finger stroked the inside of his palm, distracting him.

"You noticed me? I-I thought you hadn't seen..."

"I did," she said softly, "in fact you nearly ruined my show I was so distracted."

He looked around the room, at the young men Aimi had been chatting to previously, who were eyeing them, their jealousy poorly hidden.

"But... you didn't talk..."

"The woman who talks to a man early in the evening is merely passing the time. The woman who talks to a man at the end of the evening is making a choice."

David struggled a little with the implications of this.

Did that mean he had to keep her talking, or she'd find another man? Or had she made her choice, and her choice was him?

Either way his brain had begun rolling down a steadily increasing incline, either that or the room was spinning, as Aimi motioned at one of the bartenders for something from across the room.

"Care for another?" she asked, gesturing to the 'drink' sitting in David's sweaty palm.

His taste buds pleaded for mercy.

"Uh.. no... maybe alcohol isn't for me..."

"It's not the alcohol," she said, eyeing the bottle in his hand condescendingly. She gestured a 'two' to the barman.

"Uh..."

He didn't know if he should offer to pay for it or not, but the drinks here had seemed pretty expensive.

Aimi seemed unconcerned and focused her attention squarely back on him, eyes darting to every part of his face, slipping down to his chest and thighs. She overtly bent around to get a better look at his ass, which made him feel incredibly self-conscious, his own eyes darting round the room to see if people were noticing their interaction.

"So, about you. Tell me your story."

"Oh uh.... I'm...."

Sleep. Work. Curl up in a ball. Repeat.

"I.... I work in a... with engineering."

"Oh, a mechanic?"

"Kind of," he muttered, already shifting.

Aimi's eyes peeled, and it felt like a laser was burning through his forehead.

"Kind of?"

"Well..."

"Single?"

"I'm... I'm sorry?"

Aimi's tongue slipped a tiny way out of her mouth to touch the bottom of her lip.

"Are. You. Single."

At this point the bartender placed down two traffic-light yellow and red drinks with ice bobbing in them, and Aimi thanked him with an award-winning smile.

"Try this," she ordered, as the barman left them.

"Oh uh.... Okay..."

He put it to his lips.

Intense fruity tangs and sweetness enveloped his tongue, along with a harsh bite of cold, and the Budweiser was gladly forgotten as he rolled the nectar around in his mouth.

"OH, that is good..."

Alcohol had just risen significantly in his books.

"Sex on the beach."

He nearly dropped the glass, juggling it and sloshing some of the liquid onto his lap.

"Huh?!"

She giggled.

"The drink. It's called a Sex on the beach."

"Oh... oh..."

It was pathetic, but hearing a woman say the word 'sex' in a conversation with him was making heat rise in his chest.

"So..."

She took a long sip from her straw, and David thought it looked hotter than any drinks commercial that he'd ever seen.

"...You never said... single? Or taken..."

David for once saw a little desperation breaking through her serene exterior, fingers tapping her glass impatiently.

"I'm single... yeah, single."

She seemed to puff outwards, like a peacock spreading its feathers wide.

"GOOD.... Good..... And... what are your hobbies?"

"Oh..."

Curl up in a ball. Or computer games. If he wasn't too busy curling up in a ball.

Something else... Anything else.

"F.... Football."

"Oh really? What team do you support?"

"I uh...."

It felt like she was dissecting him, and he was throwing himself onto the knife.

"The.. cubs."

"The cubs," she said levelly.

"y-yeah."

"The cubs... don't they play baseball?"

He squeaked.

"Yeah... just joking," he gave a pathetic laugh, and lapsed into silence.

Aimi was still.

In fact she seemed too still, like a predator in the woods that refuses to make the first move. If moving had led to death, David would have been devoured several times over in the last few seconds, knee jerking, fingers fidgeting, all of which was compounding the fear oozing through his pores.

Aimi seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, nostrils widening as she cocked her head after a short amount of time (although to David it felt longer than the gap between the cretaceous period and the iPhone.)

"Are you comfortable around me?"

"UH YES Ma'am..."

"I would hate for you to be nervous..." she uttered, a large hand reaching out to rest on his leg.

Stomachs are difficult things to keep hold of, as his slipped out of his chest cavity for a quick dip in the arctic ocean.

David's intake of breath was audible, and once again Aimi didn't give him the luxury of simply continuing the conversation, allowing the silence to stretch with a smile that had his insides itching as she kept her hand on his knee, squeezing tight.

The feeling of a gorgeous woman's touch was far more than David had prepared for in the past few days (or years), and his insides screamed at himself not to screw this up, to show he could communicate in some form with a member of the opposite sex.

His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

'Please, just say something.... she's right here... don't blow this...!'

His left knee however seemed to be working in tandem with the rest of his brain to try and sabotage this one glimmering chance of happiness, jerking from her touch which made her pull back, and self-loathing poured into his mind as it went into overdrive.

David's head became engaged in a military operation to scramble together some small talk to alleviate the silence.

"Uh... uhh so......"

Her eyes bored into his.

"You uh...."

"How much do you earn."

"Huh?"

"Roughly."

This threw him for a loop. (Although this entire conversation had felt like getting thrown for loops at this point.)

Maybe he could lie; did she like rich guys? Her gown looked expensive... maybe he could get a loan?

"I guess about forty thousand dollars."

He knew the actual number was $37,000, but with extra shifts....

She gave him a beaming smile.

"Oh, well, forty thousand a month isn't so bad, it's a start!"

His stomach must have reached the south pole if the feeling in his torso was anything to go by.

"P... per year."

Her face fell into one of fake pity.

"Oh... that's quite pathetic isn't it?"

His eyes glassed over, lip quivering.

"N... it's... I can get better...."

"No, you can't," she said sweetly.

"What?"

He felt like someone was tipping him onto his face repeatedly, and any metaphorical arms he might use to steady himself were tied to his waist.

"I said you can't. It seems obvious that you've lied to me about most of the things we've discussed tonight."

A strangled cry issued from his throat as he crumpled like someone had struck him in the heart. The cool air in the bar seemed to have disappeared, his brow dappling with sweat.

Her tone was like a strict teacher, which seemed at odds with such sweet, innocent features.

"I will make this simple David. You will never lie to me again. Do you understand?"

He nodded vociferously like a puppy.

"You will be honest with me, and I will be honest with you. Okay?"

"Yes!" he blurted.

"Good."

Her coy smile suggested he had pleased her, and it drew adrenaline into his body, invigorating him as the softness in her tone returned.