THE HOT-CHICK FROM HAKODATE

By Kris

And so, finally, it happened to be that I came back to Japan after quite an absence in the frosts of November 2004, just as the leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, and the tears from my eyes, as I watched the chicks cover up their fine arses and wear figure-disguising long skirts and jeans.

Again, I came in to the country following a J-babe I had pulled in England, and again, I had failed miserably to sustain the relationship and keep her hooked on me. Oh well, they say, failure is an opportunity presented. She certainly did a number on me, so for a few months I was in a state of flux; stagnating in my mind, and in the shit-hole commune I had found myself living at in Kushiro, Hokkaido.

It wasn’t the worst deal in the world; I got to eat for free as long as I taught English for an hour or two a day down the local cram-schools and at a few select joints. The owner of the commune was a shaky old geezer who would eat garlic raw and was frequently as pissed as a fart by lunchtime if it was one of his slow days. That being said, he did have a heart of gold; and steered me through some of my darker times as I gradually got over the old flame that had broken me up pretty bad. I bided my time, and let the feelings go.

The commune had some minor redemptions. One in particular was a Toyota Sprinter that was in pretty good nick. And since me and the others at the commune had nothing to do at weekends but mostly sit around picking our noses, we took the old girl around Hokkaido quite a bit. Usually we stuck to the local hotspots, but on one odd weekend we decided to have a crack at driving to Sapporo, a mere 8 hours drive away, or 6, if you ragged it like a bastard..

Well, I felt like the Fresh Prince coming back to collect his throne (a can of Asahi) going back to Sapporo, the place that inspired this website. I found myself nodding and smiling at refreshed memories, the familiar coffee shops that I used to frequent; the old streets I use to roam; and the garbage dumps I used to wake up in as a fresh-off-the-plane Japan newbie. And the babes were even cuter than I remembered. Not that eastern Hokkaido was full of mingers- it wasn’t; but those were simple countryside girls, and these, these were hot big-city chicks with an upright walk, manicures, knee-length boots, Gucci bags- and best of all- eyes for a bit of white-boy loving.

We parked the car and stretched our legs out on the snow-encrusted pavement. The folks I came with wanted to see all the usual Lonely Planet touristy trap shite, and so we split up and arranged to meet later. I wandered around Sapporo visiting all the old haunts, the school I used to work at, some bars, a couple of video-arcades. I was just stalling time for the evening when we were to go out on the old poon hunt, and it sure was nice to be back. When the evening ticked over, I met up with the crew again and we had some miso ramen and a few warm-up beers. Then a bit of karaoke and some more beers. Then some beers. Oh and a couple more. And oh yeah, I just remembered- after that we had some beers. To cut a long story short, by the time we finished I was so tanked up I think my lifetime rolled back 5 generations and I started speaking in Olde English about Robin Hood. As a forum member once graciously said, if I was a Resident Evil zombie, I’d be an end-of-level enemy who you could only exterminate by shooting the beer can out of my hand and then capping me in the head during the five second shock-retrieval.

Club Booty hadn’t been there 4 years ago, but it seemed to be the most in-trend dance-club in town according to most of the dudes we talked to looking for a place to go. When we walked in they were playing some half-decent Euro-pop through the speakers, and the dance floor was already heaving with bodies. I saw this sexy thing with a heart-shaped face, spectacles and a body that had me salivating. And so, I clicked my fingers, and the hip-hop jungle beat came in. Some old dude in the background started chanting something that went along the lines of “She take my money, when I’m in need… “ and all the guys in the room ran behind me. I’m in her face, thrashing my hands “… get down girl, go ‘head get down…” She found herself hopelessly drawn to my magnetic sex-appeal and commanded me to take her to the love-hotel that instant, or else lose her forever.

For those of you who were fooled, that didn’t actually happen. No, in fact, the way I did meet her was kind of through one the guys who had come along from Kushiro. He’d been chatting to her for a bit but the chemistry wasn’t quite there and so I had to do my dirty bit and cock-block. Waste not want not, and all that, and since we were only fair-weather friends anyway, in the city for a single night, it was every man for himself.

She was barely out of her teens, and oh so dangerously cute. Having studied in Canada for a couple of years, she spoke English with a touch of an Avril Lavigne twang to her accent. It would have sounded awful coming from a more mature face, but for her it seemed well suited. Supermodel she wasn’t, but she had a combination of things that worked for her in better ways. She had a sweet and friendly disposition, and a ring of innocence together with a manner of open sexuality and warmth. It’s what you might call a kind of girl-next-door appeal though a touch up from that. I was hooked from the word go. And I think that she was too. Let’s call her Strawberry.

That night we didn’t really do much more than swap e-mail addresses, as it was getting late and we had the white-chick clowns we had come down with grizzling in our ears about driving back to Kushiro before it was too late. But Strawberry stayed on my mind for a while, and I was pleasantly surprised that only a couple of days later when I got a message from her in the post. It was your usual chit-chat, but there was an undercurrent of something in her words. I got her on the phone and we would talk for a little while every night, almost as if we were a couple. She was actually planning on returning to Canada just a month later, meaning we probably wouldn’t have much of an opportunity to meet once again, which was shit, but what can you do?

A couple of weeks passed and crazy as it seemed, my feelings for her after just that one night were growing pretty heavy. She was maddeningly hot. She wrote things in the mails to the effect of “I was talking to my friend about what can I do, because I can’t stop thinking about you, even though it’s impossible for us ever to work out.”, and giving me some big-time come on vibes that I could not ignore.

I couldn’t take it much longer. That sexy cute voice on the phone every night was driving me wild. I was Hungry-- Like The Wolf. Being that Hakodate was her home town, I knew that she had a bit of holiday coming up between the end of her studies and her return, and then it was off to Canada. So on a whacky impulse, I asked her one night how she would feel about coming up to Kushiro for a week and living in the dump with me. Well, call me Josie, tap my poo-box and post the video on Ebaums if she didn’t impulsively agree.

Honestly, the things a man will do for poon…. The whole deal meant an ass-raping total of a 16 hour drive to pick her up and take her back from Sapporo, which- if you’re sharing the car- isn’t so bad. But doing it alone is a killer. Yet, hornier than an ugly midget, it came to me begging my comrades for the wheels that weekend, and I was fortunate to get them for as little as a weeks worth of washing the dishes. And with that promise made, I was set.

Back down in Sapporo, I caught the first glimpse of her in Odori Koen, and confirmed without my beer goggles that she was a fox, just as I had hoped. We walked around the park, finding ourselves holding hands as we admired the cool snow statues that I had not seen the last time I was in Japan, built for the Yuki Matsuri. Where’s my goliath statue for bringing Sapporo to the attention of the gaijin community, I ask you? I guess they had postponed it that year. Some of them were pretty amazing to look at actually, but to be honest I was much more looking forward to having a few drinks and getting a little bit cuddlier with Strawberry.

There was one place that I remembered from all those years back called the Hendrix Bar, that was a chilled-out, trendy pad with a cheap nomihodai, and I was curious as to whether or not it was still around, so we left the park and headed for it. When we got there, we were told that we had to wait for a bit for a table, and so we were kind of left outside on the seat in the quiet, just the two of us. I found myself smiling and making pointless diversionary chit-chat;

“Well, I just want you to know that….oh you know, I was thinking about you a lot up in Kushiro…and…”

I don’t know. I couldn’t think of much to say so I just let the animal instinct in me out and leaned over and planted a quick but solid kiss on her lips. She seemed taken aback, but not in a bad way. Man, there’s nothing like that little surge of excitement and tension when you’re kissing a chick for the first time. Especially so, if it’s been built up for a while. That anticipation is a killer, but it brings a share of rewards.

Anyway, we got a little sick of waiting for the table, and so went to go to karaoke instead. In the lift, she suddenly pounces on me, and we were all tongues for the next ten seconds as we were going up. When the door opened a couple of people saw us at it and she got all embarrassed and giggly, although I never gave much of a shit.

At karaoke she earned bonus points for having an amazing voice, exactly like the chick from Love Psychedelico. It’s nice when a babe has something you can compliment her on aside from her fine ass. Again we get down to some heavy petting, taking it up a hitch from the first event. Later on in the car before heading back we had a funny experience trying to actually do it with barely a thing to cover us from the public eye. I was as horny as hell and so was she, but on seeing a filthy old man standing by the car window with a perverted sneer on his face, we conceded that we were drawing far too much attention to ourselves, and reluctantly decided to drive back to the cat-piss commune.

Being with her on the road was lovely, and cliché that it is, I have to say it felt as if we had known each-other for years. That’s the way it should be, I think, for those who’re looking to for Miss.Right. Feelings the equivalent of slipping into a warm bath.

We pulled in to the house early in the morning, and though we were a little tired, we both had the same thing on our minds. Sex. I remember practically throwing her onto the bed when we got upstairs, before we got down to it movie style, tearing each-others clothes off and getting jiggy with it in the most ravishing and violent way. Full tank love? Regular…or Irregular? Har har.

Though I can’t say I think there was much method to it that particular time, there was a couple of money-shots, and when we were done we slept both damn exhausted, and at the same time thoroughly satisfied.

The rest of the week was great, well, better than great. She was a diamond among jewels. Of course, there was the sex thing. I had months of built-up frustration and anger, and the end result was that my balls were like husks by the next Sunday. Yet there was always the times when I thought about how it was all going to end, and that saddened me on occasion. A lot of empty spaces were filled, though the residence was very short-lived. It is hard not to feel down when you discover someone that fits the profile for a long-term lover, or maybe more. She completely matched my ideal and would have been a great girlfriend in every department, and even now-though I have been luck enough to find someone else equally as special - I do sometimes find myself paddling in that pool of thought..

But the days passed, and it came to the time when we were at the station, waiting for her return train.

“It was a nice week wasn’t it..?”

“Yeah..we’ll do it again sometime.”

“Of course..I suppose”

The words were almost like a promise, yet it seemed unlikely even then that we would meet again. Without prolonging, I sat quietly and let her leave, watching her depart from my life with a wave and an unforgettable smile on her face.

Yes, I will see you again, I lied to myself.

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Oh well, there you have it, another essay. Hollywood, if you ever turn it into a movie I’d like to suggest the title of Reward of The Poon. Brad Pitt/Tom Cruise/Di Caprio will do for me but be sure to get them down the gym to get their bodies into shape for the sex scenes. Cheers