Front cover of book

Sting of the Geisha


Chapter 1

Lenny Carrige looked into Joan Sakai’s brown eyes. She wore just a slight touch of color on the lids. She had a slight smile on her face. Her perfume was faint, barely discernible, but very pleasing, just as he preferred. She wore no other makeup and her black hair was pulled back into an elaborate bun. Standing before him, she reached up to remove the clip and an ornate silver comb that held her hair, released it, and shook her head to loosen her hair. Long and thick, it spilled around her shoulders and down her back. As she removed the comb, her soft fingertips caressed the exquisite silver scrollwork, a gift from a teacher in Japan. She set the comb on the bedroom end table and shook her head again, causing the hair to fall loose, hanging low down her back and in front of her, framing the Asian features of her face.

Carrige ran his hands through it, letting the eroticism of the long, jet-black hair affect him. "You’re beautiful, Joan," he said. "So lovely."

She smiled as her hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt then pulled the shirttails out of his pants. Slowly, she ran her hands over his groin and gently squeezed. He moaned with pleasure. Teasingly, her lips touched and kissed his nipples, her tongue licked them as he moaned again, enjoying the sensual, erotic feelings as they coursed through him. Her tongue traveled down his chest to his stomach as she knelt in front of him, his soft stomach hair gently tickling her nose and lips. She delicately caressed the front of his pants again with her fingertips, sending shivers into his groin, deep into his lower abdomen. She slowly unbuckled his belt and very slowly unzipped him, looking up into his eyes. His pants fell to the floor. When he attempted to remove them from his legs, she shook her head not to.

"Leave them as they are, Lenny," she whispered. "Don’t move."

He stood expectantly, his heart pounding, his breath shallow, waiting for the exquisite pleasure that was to come.

Her hands roamed gently over his shorts, caressing him, feeling his hardness, brushing her mouth against him as her eyes gazed upward watching his enjoyment. Then she stood, took his hands and placed them on her breasts, pressing them hard against her. She placed her lips gently against his, flicked his lips with her tongue, teasing him, then turned her back to him. Leaning against him, her hands behind her, she again caressed his hardness.

"Unbutton me," she whispered over her shoulder.

He did so, and his hands moved hurriedly, continuously caressing, squeezing her perfectly proportioned five-foot, two-inch body. He quickly unbuttoned the top of her dress and pushed it off her shoulders, helping it fall to the floor. He moved her thick, long hair and kissed her warm neck, cupped her breasts, then unhooked her bra, pushing it away from her to the floor. He bent down, kneeling behind her and let his hands travel over her hips and buttocks, feeling the soft roundness, kissing her through her black bikini panties. His hands on her hips, he turned her, pushing his face into her groin, kissing, enjoying her scent as his hands felt and squeezed her buttocks. He quickly pulled her panties down, and she stepped out of them. Her hands pulled his face into her clean-shaven skin. He was surprised to see it so bare, but it was soft and smooth. The warm cleft eagerly took his tongue.

She let him lick her for several seconds, then with her hands on his face, she pulled him to her breasts. "Suck them," she ordered, and he eagerly did so. Her breasts were small, perfectly round, with dark aureoles and nipples and he gladly sucked each in turn. Then she gently pushed him back. Her hands went to his shorts and pulled them down to his ankles and she followed them down onto her knees. She took him into her mouth as he moaned, watching him through slitted eyes as her head moved back and forth.

Then she stopped and gently pulled him down to the floor onto his back. She stood above him for a second, her legs spread over him, then slowly lowered herself and mounted him, sinking fully onto the shaft, burying it completely in her. After a few deft movements of her vaginal muscles, he gasped and met her rhythmic pumping for several strokes. He arched his back forcing himself even deeper into her.

"I’m coming," he whispered. "Oh…Uh…Ahhhh."

He fell back, relaxing as she leaned over him, her small breasts cupped in his hands, her beautiful face smiling over him, her hair falling around his face, framing it.

"God, Joan, that was wonderful," he said, and smiled up at her.

A slight grayness fogged her vision as indistinct sounds made themselves known in her head.

"Now you do something for me, daddy," she said.

"Anything, Joan, anything you want." He was amused that she called him "daddy."

A darkened cloud entered her vision, momentarily blocking her eyesight; a demanding voice encompassed her thoughts, dominating them until her mind fled deeper into itself. She nodded, having experienced this all-encompassing rage many times, unable to stop it from overcoming her. She raised herself off him, moved forward to straddle his face, her knees on either side of his head, her wetness pressing on his mouth. He smiled eagerly as she bent over him, her head so far forward it almost touched the floor, her thighs surrounding his face.

"Now you lick me, daddy," she sighed, waiting.

He hesitated, initially resisting the uncertainties of the wetness.

"Put your tongue deep into me." It was more an order than a loving request. Throwing caution to the wind, he did as she wanted.

"Yes, yes. That’s it, daddy. Harder, harder, daddy." He pressed hard into her, overcoming his initial dislike of what he was doing.

The cloud in her mind became darker, then darkened more, turning black, as a voice spoke in her head, almost indiscernible, a jumble of angry thoughts, unclear, but insistent, commanding, pulsating, drowning out everything, finally compelling her, leaving her no choice but to comply. Her blood pressure rose, sweat drenched her face, her breath became shallow and fast, uncontrolled. She saw nothing, felt nothing but a pounding in her ears and a roar of noise. Her eyes were tightly closed. Had they been opened she would not have seen anything but darkness.

She pressed herself down fully onto him, almost smothering him. He gasped for air, lifted her slightly to aid his breathing, then once again went to work with his tongue as she squatted over him, enclosing his face, the voice insistent and demanding, commanding her to bear her full weight down hard on him.

Suddenly, he felt his testicles being clenched, almost too hard, causing the strong beginning of pain. Then he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. No! His heart. What’s happening? he thought. The pain… Oh, it hurts…. He tried to move her, push her off, but couldn’t, his arms were suddenly weak, unable to move. Then she moved off him, and he saw her standing over him, slowly fading in and out of focus, becoming a soft shadow. Another shadow moved next to her. Was it the same shadow? Someone else? He felt helpless, not understanding what was happening. The soft shadow became fuzzy, slowly darkening as it clouded over. The pain lessened and slowly disappeared as a whiteness encompassed his confused thoughts then quickly grew dark. His memory faded as his eyes glassed over and a last sigh escaped his lungs. He didn’t feel his arms being moved, nor see the long needle that killed him, nor feel it being withdrawn.

Joan’s eyes began to focus again as she turned to the other person with a brief smile. Hello, Richard, she thought. Quickly Richard dropped his pants and removed his shirt. Joan pulled his shorts down and took him into her mouth. He grunted as the warm and wet sensation encircled him, her mouth sucking, licking him, trying to get him hard. His eyes were slits, his mouth a grimace, his teeth clenched tight. He too, heard a voice, a heavy voice, rushing through his mind, commanding him, urging him faster, blinding him, enveloping him in a heavy, dark gray fog. Blood rushed through his head, pounding, each pulse louder than the one before it. The constant pressure and intensity of the woman’s effort caused his muscles to tighten, to harden.

Finally, after much effort, he was ready. She was exhausted, but she lay on her back with her legs spread. He mounted her and pushed himself deep into her. She gasped as he drove hard with a frenzied, frantic pumping. Her legs and arms encircled him, squeezing him as she held him tight against her body. Her nails dug into his back, leaving red marks and scratches. She began to gasp, a keening, humming sound coming from deep within her. Then he too began to gasp as he continued his pumping at a frantic pace. Suddenly he arched his back as a gasp escaped him. His frantic pumping slowed and then stopped. Immediately, he rolled off her, limp, but breathing heavy. The fog slowly disappeared and the voice began to quiet, yet was still possessive, still dominating, still controlling and demanding even as it faded, until it was finally gone, gone for a few minutes, perhaps a few hours, until it returned to demand more.

Joan closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. Her face wore a slight frown as the now gray cloud dissipated from the outer fringes of her mind and slowly hid itself. In her mind she ran into the other room and cried as she always did as a child, but now a new physical urgency overtook her. She began to masturbate, rubbing herself hard, trying desperately to bring the sensation she just experienced to fruition. Several minutes passed when finally her breathing became short. She moaned and had her orgasm. It wasn’t a full orgasm, just a minor, bare sense of one—all she ever knew they could be. Over in seconds, she heard remnants of the voice laughing as it withdrew, slowly slipping into the dark recesses of her mind, awaiting the opportunity to return and control her once again. Pressing her hand over her ears, she waited until the voice finally disappeared. Her body visibly relaxed, and she lay limply, as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

Minutes later, they both quickly dressed, taking pains to be sure they looked presentable. Her hair was carefully twisted and arranged into a ponytail and pulled tight, creating a different look than when she first entered the building forty minutes earlier. While Joan finished dressing, Richard took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the door, desk, and chair. Joan tore open a small packet and removed a moist towelette, which she used to wipe the dead man’s groin and face to remove any traces of DNA. She placed the used towelette into the packet and put it in her purse. The last thing wiped was the doorknob as they left the suite, locking the door behind them, making sure the yellow DO NOT CLEAN card was on the outside knob. Richard wiped the yellow card also. She took the elevator, he the stairs. She joined several other people exiting the building and waited several minutes at the corner for him to drive up and give her a ride. Not a word passed between them.

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