So Exclusive


WARNING: This fan fic is rated PG-13 due to mild sexual language and situations. Reader discretion is advised.


CHAPTER 1


January 15

It was supposed to be another banal school day. Seventeen-year-old Sengoku Kiyosumi expected it to be. He went to school whistling happily, hand in his pocket, traversing the streets in dapper steps. On the way, he winked at a couple of cute high school girls, getting their email addresses and mentally counting what’s left of what he likes to call Kiyosumi-chan’s raincoats. He counted four – enough for a couple of times with each girl. Of course he could always buy more but he didn’t have enough time anyways, what with upcoming games and such. In fact, he expected that afternoon’s romantic interludes to be nothing more than bathroom quickies; training has become more stringent than before now that the Winter IH semis are lurking around the corner. He didn’t quit the team like the other seniors after the summer tournament; he had no need to study for college entrance exams, he was already drafted by a respectable school with a decent athletic outfit. Even if he wasn’t, everyone knew he was smart enough to get into one anyways. Nevertheless, you’ll find it hard-pressed finding time for your personal leisure when you’re being ram-rodded every day during practice.

But it didn’t turn out to be another banal school day. Earlier, while he was staring out the window during a math lesson (he didn’t need to listen, he knew it by instinct), the teacher was interrupted by a rap on the door by, apparently, the principal. The old man probably said something about a transfer student, Sengoku didn’t really understand - he wasn’t interested. But while he was yawning offhandedly, the flare of a skirt caught his eye and the sight of female legs snapped him to absolute attention. And what legs they were! Incredibly long, slender and gleaming opalescent. He’s never seen such a pair on any 17-year-old Japanese girl before. Or so he thought at first…but there was something very familiar about the way those dainty feet shuffled or the way the unknown girl stood with one knee bent. Before he could form a conjecture though, the class fell silent and he felt all eyes on him.

“Wha…What was that again?” The principal tensely wiped sweat from his brow.
“I said,” the girl repeated patiently, smile as wide as her mouth could permit, “I transferred here to be with my boyfriend, Sengoku Kiyosumi.”
“WHAT?!” Sengoku abruptly stood in shock.

He wanted to ask ‘Who are you?’, very much wanted to run around to every girl in class he was planning on hitting on later to deny everything that was said, very much wanted to stress she’d never met Ms. Gorgeous Legs before. And then he saw her face – her big long-lashed hazel eyes, her small button nose, her thin and wide vermillion mouth – and realized who she was.

It all started one weekend vacation with his parents in a hot spring resort in Hokkaido. They arrived very late into the night because there was a conflict of schedule with his folks. He was very disappointed when he looked around and saw the lack of the feminine persuasion late into the day and that only the wizened old men stayed up to enjoy the inn’s many novel amenities. Nevertheless, he was exhausted with his parents’ squabbling for the whole duration of their commute to Hokkaido, so he quickly doffed his clothes and with only a small towel to cover his privates, went straight to soak in the hot springs. On his way back to their suite though, he realized he forgot their room number and ended up playing a game of guess and point between two doors – he was sure theirs was one of the two. He decided on one and turned it open without preamble, freezing on his tracks with what he’d immediately encountered upon entrance. He came face to face with a girl, even more naked than he was (at least he had a towel draped around his hips), in the midst of putting on her bathrobe.

His jaws slackened and dropped, eyes widening; the girl’s face mirrored his own, eyes threatening to consume her face – except that her countenance suggested horror while his, a veritable triumph.

He had no idea how long they stood frozen staring at each other when his loosely-tied towel came off and he’d had to make a grab for it, say “sorry” quickly and make for a hasty retreat. But that’s not before he was able to take in an eyeful of her in all her naked glory. The girl had resplendent alabaster skin; shapely legs beginning from her earlobes; breasts quite big for an average Japanese teenager; and nipples, small and pink and perky, just the way he liked them best.

Put all those together and what do you get?

‘Instant hard-on. No cooking required. Just pour in hot water, cover and wait for five minutes…’ he grinned. Lucky Sengoku scores big time.

He’d never been more aroused and that’s saying something. He couldn’t put a finger to it. He’s been with women more buxom than her before with bigger breasts, longer legs, smaller waists and more contoured hips. Maybe it was the whole situation he was in and that made it all sexier. Or maybe there’s something special about her. Who knows? All he knew was that his Kiyosumi-chan has gone unruly and would very much appreciate being attended to. So dragging his feet, he went and hit the showers.

Waking up late the next day owing to his late night escapades, he went down to the dining area which was sparsely occupied by a few. He grabbed a cold bowl of rice and an even colder bowl of miso soup, looked for anything female and upon finding one, plopped down beside her.

The girl who had long silken black hair had her head down, typing an email message on her cell phone with one hand and holding a piece of bread with peanut butter with the other.

He placed his tray down the table and greeted her with a zestful good morning. The girl gave him a quick greeting of her own with a big smile plastered on her face before doing a double take.

Sengoku stared back – but for the life of him, he could never forget the shape of those breasts, even when they’re primly clothed. He couldn’t believe his luck.
“You…” she whispered, eyes narrowing dangerously.
“Last night,” he quickly interjected, “I’m really sorry about that. I went into the wrong room. Didn’t think about knocking. So stupid of me,” he grinned at her guiltily.

Perhaps she saw real compunction in Sengoku’s grin for her face softened considerably and embarrassment replaced anger, tinting her otherwise pallid hillocks.

“No,” she turned her eyes away, “it was my fault for not locking the door. I came here alone so I didn’t expect anyone to barge in.”
“Oh, no, no,” he protested, “it was my fault for not knocking.”
“I said,” she began, voice starting to rise, “it’s MY fault for not locking the…”
Realizing how stupid the conversation was starting to become, she sighed and absent-mindedly scratched her chin with her peanut-buttered toast. “Let’s just forget all about last night, okay? I mean…you saw me but I also saw your…” She paused and bit her lips. “So, you know…we’re kinda even with that, right?”

“…Right,” he replied, amused at how she was taking the fact that a complete stranger saw her buck naked and developing a raging erection because of it in front of her very eyes.
“Well,” she buckled, “um…friends?” She held up a hand to shake his.
“Sure,” he replied, shaking her hand genially. “My name’s Sengoku Kiyosumi. Yours?”
“It’s . I’ve been here for a couple of days now, never seen you before. Did you just come in last night?”
“Yeah. Arrived really late. Say, what’s up with this resort? Not counting you and me, I’ve seen only a couple of other kids our age around. What is this, a retirement home?”
He held his breath as she laughed; a pellucid mellifluous tinkling of the bells which compelled him to grin idiotically.
“This resort caters to the older crowd, didn’t you know?”
“Well I’ll be damned. I think I got hoaxed,” he puffed indignantly. There go his plans for girl hunting. At least ’s around – he’s got a feeling she’ll be all he’d ever need for that weekend.
“Parents?”
He nodded. “How about you? You said you were alone. Why come to this place?”
“Ah well…harder to find me in here, isn’t it?” She replied quietly, avoiding his eyes.

He didn’t understand what she meant by that and he had a feeling she didn’t want to elucidate, so he fished around for another subject.

“What are you eating?”
“Peanut butter and chocolate syrup on toast.”
“Never had that before.”
“Really? Are you a Japanese-breakfast kinda guy?”
“Yeah, if you put it that way. Is that good?”
“Yeah. Want a bite?”

She proffered him the bread on her hand and he obliged, taking a small bite out of it. “It’s sweet,” he smiled.

Looking directly at her face for the first time (he was too busy looking at her body last night); he was finally able to see her features. She wasn’t handsome and will never be so. She will never become a great exotic beauty of some sort nor a vixen temptress anytime in the future. It’s true her body filled up good in all the right places over the years but she was still tad bit too thin and most likely, will always be.

Yet the animation of her big eyes, small nose and thin bow-shaped mouth made up for all her physical shortcomings. And he found himself being drawn to her even more than he was before.

He didn’t know what made him do it or more correctly, what possessed him to do it, but when he saw a smudge of peanut butter on her chin where she scratched her toast on before, he just couldn’t help it. He turned her face towards his and licked her chin clean.

“You know,” he heard a small voice croak while he was licking her heretofore peanut-butter stained chin, “it really does taste better on toast than on my face, take my word for it.”

Like a man hypnotized, he found himself snapped back to reality. He grasped her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, looking so stricken that she felt as if she’d been the one who’d done the licking.

The air felt heavy with awkward silence for a while, punctuated by ’s chewing on what’s left of her breakfast. Sengoku can’t understand himself – he was supposed to be a dyed-in-the-wool ladies’ man. What happened earlier shouldn’t have flustered him, in fact, ordinarily, he would have taken advantage of the situation – he wasn’t one to take things slowly. Yet something stopped him from doing so. He didn’t see it in her eyes, like the romantics are wont to say, but it pervaded his whole body down to the very marrow of his bones – the red light signaling stop.

“Damn!” suddenly interjected. “I wanted to go ice-skating earlier, but it was so cold, if I had balls they’d have turned into marbles.”
Sengoku’s eyes widened in candid amusement. “Miss, if you had balls, I’d still be in bed right now being violently sick for running into you naked,” he snorted, laughter ringing throughout the silent room. Beside him, dissolved into a similar fit.
“So, you in for it?”
“In for what?”
“Ice-skating, of course. Unless you’re worrying about the welfare of your balls.”
“My balls are doing just fine, thank you very much. And I don’t mind ‘em turning blue every once in a while.”
“Mmm…blue balls,” gushed, parodying the raptures of a love struck girl.
Sengoku bellowed in laughter again as they stood up and made for the exit.

After spending the whole day together, Sengoku went back to the inn severely disturbed; there was something about that perplexed him. It wasn’t that she was singular – she’d been funny and witty and downright charming and intelligent. But something didn’t feel right to him. It might be what the ladies’ call ‘female intuition’ except that he wasn’t female. What’s stranger is that, no matter how much fate seems to give him a chance to do so, no matter how much he saw of her nude skin that first night, no matter how hard she made his bristling manhood before he even knew her name – he couldn’t seem to be able to bring himself to touch her.

The next day, because of his alien emotions, he decided to avoid her so he didn’t go straight to breakfast but took to visiting the sunroom where the oldies hang out. He heard a clear voice shouting his name the moment he peeked thru the curtains – it was her, playing “go” with an elderly gentleman.

It was clear then that he couldn’t rid himself of her and truth be told, the part of him that’s relieved far exceeded the part that’s irate. When she asked if he wanted to go shopping in town and go to the movies with her, she saw his face crumble in dilemma. For Sengoku, it was the nearest to a catch-22 situation he’d ever gotten – damned if he does go, damned if he doesn’t.

So he went.

Later that night, while watching the wintry night skies in the balcony, leaned and kissed him softly on the lips. A kiss so dulcet it felt like a gigantic rubber band expanded painfully against his ribs. For a while, Sengoku thought he’d gotten crazy because he kept thinking that was his first kiss. Indeed, he never knew a single chaste touching of lips against lips could be so affecting that the entire experience felt so peregrine.

And it scared him. Scared him to the point that he detested her. Scared him completely out of his wits that when dawn cracked the day after, he left the inn with his parents without even saying goodbye to her.

After a few days living his norm of moral turpitude and ribaldry, he convinced himself that he’d forgotten her entirely. After all, he never even knew her surname. He was so sure they’d never cross paths again.

Then, of course, this had to happen.

Standing right in front of his very eyes – the woman he both desires and repugns.

“KIYO-CHAWAN!” The girl gushed, running to the tousle-haired boy and throwing her arms around him.
“You…” he whispered softly, trying to pry his person away from her iron grip.
“Kiyo-chawan,” she faced him, tears leaking from her eyes, “I missed you so much.”

Kiyo-chawan? Where’d that come from? Besides, there was something different about THIS cleaving to him than the he met in Hokkaido. He could barely picture the latter snaked around his neck calling him by an execrable pet name in a voice resembling a falsetto caterwauling.

“How the hell did you find me?” Sengoku stammered.
“That’s mean,” she pouted. “How could you ask that when we know EVERYTHING about each other? After all, I’m your girlfriend.”

Sengoku was about to protest that he didn’t have a girlfriend, when this weird imitation of tilted his head forcibly and started sucking on his neck.

“See,” she said, smiling happily amidst the class’ collective gasp, “I’ve marked you.”

Still smiling, she turned to the rest of the room, pointed at the mark on his neck and proclaimed, “This hickey proves he belongs to me. Please don’t touch what’s mine, okay?”

The math teacher and the principal who were still standing in front looked faint. But that doesn’t even come close to what Sengoku was feeling. Whoever said being a player’s a cinch better think again.


END OF CHAPTER 1


//© 02/14/07 by MitsuiSelphie