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I complete the look with tabi socks and zori sandals, enhancing the traditional feel.
I remember that they don’t wear shoes indoors, so I put the sandals back and just opt to wear the socks. I go to the bathroom and then brush my teeth and get ready for my first session. I could do with a shower, but it has taken me so long just to figure out how to put it all on that the last thing I’m going to do is take it all off again.
1 Fuck!
2 Yes. Sir.
3 Do you know what jet lag means?
4 Thank God!
5 What the fuck!
10
Diego
Iwant to consume her, but I’m keeping my cock at bay. It makes me want to do things to her so dirty that she won’t be able to speak Spanish, let alone Japanese by the end of the two weeks.
Once again, she’s testing my patience. It’s been over half an hour since I told her the teacher has arrived and left her on the bed wanting more than just a kiss.
I march back into the room and take her hand. Then, I lead her to the room where she’ll be having her first lesson so I can go in my bathroom and take a cold shower.
“Ouch, you’re hurting me, Diego. Why are you dragging me like this?”
I can’t tell her why; I can’t let her know she weakens me. No one does this to me. I’m always in control, but then I never seem to be when it comes to Leticia.
“Dejáme1, Diego!” she shouts, and I know I’m acting crazy, because I never show anger nor put so much attention on anyone, especially a woman. I do as she says and then head to my bathroom, leaving her in the room.
She can introduce herself to him.
Leticia will get lessons and be out of my sight for the next two weeks. I’ll get on with work and may hop on a flight to China to sort out another deal. One I don’t need to be there in person for, but Leticia won’t be there.
Earlier, I watched her sleep while she had her nap like the protective husband I’m not supposed to be. It’s as if Leticia has me feeling all types of emotions I’m not supposed to have.
Then, Hiroshi brushes past me and approaches Leticia.
“Buenos días, Leticia. Soy Hiroshi Tanaka2.” He slides next to her and takes her hand. She blushes as he kisses it.
I pause, and blood boils through my veins. Usually, Japanese greet with a bow, and I don’t like the way she’s twisting her hair around her finger as if she likes the attention. She shouldn’t. The only attention she should be interested in is mine.
“She’s my wife. And she speaks English,” I growl as I walk toward them. I’m not leaving them alone for a second.
Fuck going to China.
Hiroshi’s in a charcoal-gray tailored suit. The fabric seems to hug his frame perfectly, accentuating his well-defined shoulders. His crisp, white shirt is neatly tucked in, and a subtle yet stylish tie completes it.
“¿Hablas Español?3” Leticia asks.
Hiroshi draws closer to her. Any closer, and he’ll be on top of her. His dark, expressive eyes sparkle as he playfully teases, and there’s genuine warmth in his smile. Hiroshi's gestures are smooth and calculated, making him a captivating presence.
An animal arises in me, not only because they are ignoring me but from the way they’re smiling at each other.
“¡Sí!4”
“¡Hablas muy bien!5”
Really, Leticia? Saying yes isn’t considered fluency in my book. Either way, she’s supposed to be learning Japanese, not Spanish. She can speak that very well.
