“Have I ever told you about my first client?” Jazz asked after reading the report H had given her. It was a very good report, detailed with great descriptions.
“No, can’t say you have,” H answered and looked at Jazz expectantly.
“Yeah, well, that isn’t a story I’m proud of to be honest. The first client ever and I lost him, just like that. It wasn’t my fault, of course not, but still… it kinda bugs me, even today.” She made a face to show her annoyance with the whole matter.
“Now I’m intrigued,” H said with a laugh. Of course she was. Jazz smiled and leaned back in her chair.
“Okay, I’ll tell you. So back then when we had first started MJS, most of our clients came after getting recommended by friends or acquaintances…”
Jazz double checked the address again, trying her best not to mess this whole thing up. She was a bit nervous although it wasn’t the sex part that made her uneasy. No, it was the acting. Her client had made clear that he didn’t like chatty women, found them loud and annoying. During their few meetings Jazz had soon realized that he was looking for a quiet, simple woman. A ‘stay at home and make dinner’ kind of woman. Someone who would take care of him after a long day in the company that he led, who would listen to his problems without judging, who would wait for him even if he had to work odd hours.
Someone just the opposite of Jazz who was used to stand on her own two feet, who liked having someone special in her life, liked being in love but wasn’t willing to make that special someone the center of her universe. She wanted someone on par with her, who supported her just as much as she did with them. But of course she didn’t judge, it wasn’t her place to do so. If that was what the client wanted she would find a suitable match for him. But for now Jazz had to act all coy and quiet, a role she didn’t like at all. It was one thing not to flirt with a client; she could do that, although he was really handsome. But it was another thing to act as if she wasn’t strong and independent.
She sighed. All because Baba had to recommend this guy. Unfortunately this client was also not easy to approach, he was a bit cold and intimidating. When she had asked him why he was looking for a wife through a matchmaking agency he had told her that his family would set him up in an arranged marriage if he wouldn’t marry soon. Something about the family business. He hadn’t elaborated that part any further and she hadn’t asked. It was enough for her to know that he indeed wanted to have a say in his partner, so that was a good thing.
Jazz smoothed down her simple, navy blue dress. She had opted for an almost plain look, nothing fancy. Dress, flats, hair in a braid. The girl from next door look without looking cheap.
As soon as she entered his place she smelled food and smiled at him.
“Good evening, Mr. Oh. You are cooking?” she asked, genuinely surprised, and he nodded sheepishly.
“I try.”
She was still amazed how tight lipped he could be, but she didn’t mind. She had most of his profile already done, this now was more about her observing than actually communicating verbally. But a man who could cook? That was a plus.
She waited for him to invite her in fully or do anything, but he only stood there, obviously unsure how to start. Jazz frowned slightly.
“Wait, is that…? Something smells burnt…”
Mr. Oh paled and rushed towards the kitchen and Jazz followed him, just in time to see him dragging a pan off the stove. Black smoke was billowing out if it and Jazz immediately rushed over, threw a pot lid on the pan and took it out of his hand to throw the pan with its charcoaled content into the sink. The hot metal hissed when she turned on the water and soaked the whole pan.
“When you said you tried to cook you really meant it, huh?” Jazz had to hold in her laughter, she didn’t want him to think she was laughing at him, but the way he looked was just too much. As if he really had no idea how this could have happened. Jazz turned the stove off and asked him to open a window.
“So, Mr. Oh,” she said, cringing the unintentional rhyme, “what were you planning to cook?”
“Fish,” he said in a small voice. Well, it did smell like burnt fish, so Jazz trusted him in this.
“Have you ever tried to make fish before?” She was rummaging through his cabinets and was amazed at the emptiness of them. Obviously not a passionate cook, that Mr. Oh.
“No. But I thought a home cooked meal would be something nice for a first date.”
“You are right, it’s a good idea. Ah.” With a wide grin she pulled some soda powder out of a cabinet. “But I think we should rescue your pan first and then we decided what to do about dinner, okay?” She scraped the remaining, black and crispy fish out of the pan and poured some water into it, added some soda and placed the pan back on the stove.
“Okay, that should work.” She turned around and smiled at her client who watched her carefully. “I like what you did with your hair, by the way. Makes you look much easier to approach.” She motioned towards his bangs that now fell into his face instead of being slacked back like on their earlier meetings.
“Thank you,” he mumbled and looked to the side, faintly blushing. So far Jazz had seen him as cold, controlled, almost intimidating. But now there was something about him, something different that put her at ease a bit. This evening could work out just fine.
“So, now that we have taken care of your pan, let’s see if we can improvise some dinner. What do you have in your fridge?” She was still smiling but her smile dropped when she opened the fridge. Almost as empty as the rest of the kitchen.
“I have rice,” he said, almost apologetically. “It’s already in the cooker.” Jazz quickly checked the rice, it still had time. Obviously he was at least able to follow the instructions for a rice cooker.
“So, you have rice and some eggs… are they fresh?”
He stared at her blankly so she sighed and grabbed a bowl, filled it with water and put an egg into it. It sank.
“Okay, so they are fresh. Rice and eggs – omelets?”
“What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously.
“A home cooked meal. Nothing fancy, but I guess that’s all I can whip up with the things you’re having at home. Or do you want to go grocery shopping first, Mr. Oh?” She waited for his answer, the still dripping egg in her hand.
“Oh, uhm, no, that’s fine. Omelets. Okay.” He scratched the back of his neck and Jazz smiled at the unexpectedly cute gesture. “And it’s Soryu.”
“Okay, Soryu. Would you like to help me?”
He nodded shyly and Jazz handed him the bowl, now without the water.
“Can you crack the eggs open without getting the shell into the bowl?” she asked, not sure how to estimate his cooking skills just yet.
“I can try,” he answered and every alarm bell in her head started ringing.
“Well, maybe I should do that myself. How about you get another pan and some oil?” She started opening the eggs with practiced ease and scrambled them with a fork, not even bothering getting a whisk. Salt, pepper, a dash of milk.
“I’m not really used to Japanese cooking yet, so I hope you are okay when it turns out more European than anything else,” she casually said and looked up just to find him staring at her.
“Put the pan on the stove, but only mild heat. Then pour a dash of oil into the pan. It has to heat up first,” she instructed and he did as he was told. At least he wanted to learn, that was something Jazz could respect.
When the pan was hot enough Jazz poured the eggs into it and turned down the heat further.
“The secret is to just let it rest. Don’t stir, don’t shake the pan. Just wait until the edges curl up a bit, that’s the sign it’s done.” She inspected the rice cooker and turned it off, scooped some of the rice out and tried it.
“Do you have salad? Or veggies? Or did you plan a meal of rice and fish only?” She looked around in the kitchen and he shrugged.
“I had thought some salad would be okay.”
“Great, let’s prepare that next.”
Soryu handed her the lettuce and Jazz quickly washed it and shook it dry over the sink.
“Can you cut this?” she asked, not sure if she should trust him with the kitchen knife.
“I can,” he confidentially answered. She watched him and when she was sure that he wouldn’t cut off his fingertips she turned back towards the pan.
“See? It’s almost done. The surface isn’t liquid anymore, and it looks nice and fluffy. But we have to get it out before it gets too dry.”
Soryu handed her a spatula but Jazz only clicked her tongue.
“Not like this. Give me a plate, please.” She took the plate and set it down on the counter before she took the pan, shook it gently so the omelet slid towards the rim of the pan before she let it glide on the plate. She quickly prepared a second omelet, filled the first one with the rice and flipped one half of it over the rice.
“Do you want ketchup?” she asked before she added: “Do you HAVE ketchup?” He nodded and Jazz took the bottle he handed her before she decorated the omelet with a heart of tomato sauce.
“Here you are. You can already set the table and take the salad out, I quickly whip up some dressing and finish the other omelet.”
Jazz practically ushered him out of his own kitchen but was done five minutes later.
Once they were sitting at the table, a glass of wine in front of them, Soryu looked at her.
“I didn’t expect you to know how to cook.”
“A girl has to eat,” she said with a shrug. “Just because I’m a working woman doesn’t mean I can’t do domestic. I can, I just don’t see it as my purpose in life. People aren’t all black and white, after all. I can be everything I want and I’m definitely more than what meets the eye.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to offend you,” he quietly said but Jazz shook her head.
“You haven’t. I just wanted to say that people can surprise you every now and then. And sometimes it’s a pleasant surprise.” She smiled at him before she took a first bite of her omelet. It was okay. Nothing fancy, but okay.
Soryu seemed to think differently. He smiled at the first bite, and at the second one. Jazz was surprised, she had expected him to be used to fancy cuisine, not that something simple like omelets made him happy like this. But he also was a man full of surprises.
After their meal Jazz looked around his living room, drawn towards his book shelf.
“You like books?” He was standing behind her, their wine glasses refilled in his hands. Jazz turned around and took her glass, smiled gratefully and nodded.
“I love books. Half of my apartment is full with books. Fantasy, fiction, science. I love reading, it’s a nice way to relax after a hard day.”
“Yes, I feel the same.” They shared a smile and Jazz raised an eyebrow.
“So, you have a lot of detective’s novels. I have some friends that are cops, they say some of those stories are really good.” She took a sip of her wine.
“Oh, you are friends with cops? I’m also acquainted with a detective, but I guess he’s the anti thesis to the detectives in these books.”
Jazz chuckled, thinking about Kyobashi who wasn’t the image of a proper cop either. The conversation ran dry and she wasn’t sure how straight forward she should be with him. Was it okay for her to initiate the first kiss? Or would he want to do that? He wasn’t into aggressive women but as shy as he appeared sometimes it could take ages before he made a move.
“How about we take a seat?” she asked and motioned towards the couch. Soryu nodded and followed her.
“This evening isn’t going as I have expected,” he suddenly confessed and she raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“Is that so? What had you expected?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought it would be so – nice.” He shrugged.
“You thought I would waltz in here and push you down on your bed?” she teasingly asked.
“Something like that, yes.” The faint blush was back.
“And would you like me to do that?” She already knew the answer to that but asked anyway.
“Not really. But somehow I find it difficult to get from the dinner table or the couch to – well, to the bedroom.” He was blushing deeper and Jazz found herself liking him even more.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You know this is part of my evaluation process, my profiling. That doesn’t mean it has to be like some business transaction. We can start with easy things. Like kissing.”
Jazz turned a bit to face him, lips slightly parted and curled up a bit into a faint smile. He still hesitated so she took his hand and pressed his palm against her lips before she put it against her cheek. She was a bit surprised when she felt his thumb gently brushing her lips before he leaned in and kissed her softly, just testing at first.
Soon he cupped her face with both hands while she was sitting in his lap, exchanging kiss after kiss after kiss. Playful kisses, hot and dirty kisses, sweet and light kisses – the whole range. Jazz was grinding down on him, and although she enjoyed the kissing she was wondering if that would be all they would do. But then his hands slid down and cupped her ass, pressed her closer against him and Jazz smiled into the kiss.
“You… we don’t… have to…” he panted but Jazz cut him off with another kiss.
“I want to,” she whispered back and it was true. She was more than willing to sleep with him, not as part of her job – she didn’t even see it that way – but because he was surprisingly sweet and a great kisser. She had already slept with guys that had to offer less than this.
Still panting she rested her forehead against his, trying to catch her breath, staring into his eyes as good as possible in this position. “I wouldn’t do anything I don’t want to.”
He exhaled deeply, struggling with a decision. She wouldn’t make him, her own pride prevented her from pointing out the contract they had. She wanted him to want her. That simple. He didn’t have to fall in love with her – god forbid! – but she was confident about her looks and her body and wanted him to lust after her at least. Some ego boost.
“But… not here.” He gently pushed her off a bit and Jazz scrambled off his lap, waiting for him to take the lead. He took her hand instead. It was funny, kissing, making out, having sex – all that was totally fine for her. But when he took her hand… well, she tried not to let those sweet gestures affect her too much.
Once in the bedroom he kissed her again and started tugging at the hem of her dress until she raised her arms and let him pull it off her. She wore simple underwear, a matching bra and panties, but no lace, not satin, simple black cotton. But the way his eyes lit up told her that she had picked the right style.
“I’m glad you’re not wearing your suit,” she said and slid her hands under his dark sweater. No t-shirt underneath. And he felt all firm and toned under her fingertips. Soryu took the cue and the sweater off, letting it drop on the floor without a care.
“You said you wanted to get to know the private me,” he explained and pulled her closer again. She snuggled into his broad chest, sighing slightly at the warmth of his skin.
“I did. And I like what I see,” she cheekily said, making him blush slightly. “Working for a security company demands you to stay in shape, huh?” She could feel him tense under her touch and assumed he was being shy again.
When her hands lightly rested on the waistband of his pants, her eyes fixed on his face to gauge his reaction, he exhaled deeply.
“May I?” It was only a whisper, more for her to gather the courage than actually get permission, but he nodded and she opened his pants, slid her fingertips under the waistband and brushed against the sensitive skin of his lower stomach, making him gasp.
Slow. Jazz took it slow. There was no mad rush, no passion driven yanking the clothes off each other. It was slow and sweet, the lust and hunger steadily increasing. Once they were naked, standing bare in front of each other, touching and kissing wherever they could reach, his hesitation seemed to have vanished. He walked her backwards towards the bed until her legs hit the cool wood, pushed her down into a sitting position and motioned for her to scoot further onto the bed while he quickly opened a drawer and got a condom.
Jazz waited for him, lying on her side in the middle of the bed. His gaze roamed her body, from the toes up to her face, and he smiled.
“You are-“
She shook her head. “I know. Don’t say anything, please.” Jazz didn’t want him to create any more intimacy between them, it already felt a bit awkward. He nodded, getting what she meant. Instead he simply got on the bed and into her waiting arms.
They kissed some more, hands roaming each other’s bodies. When she cupped his balls he hissed and Jazz watched him intently while letting her fingers wander upwards to curl around his cock, slowly stroking him although he was already rock hard. She just wanted to feel him in her hand, hot and heavy, slightly twitching.
“Shouldn’t I… take care of you… first?” He had his eyes closed, lips parted and Jazz chuckled.
“The night is still young. Don’t worry, you will get your chance.”
Although Selina, Miho and Jazz had agreed that they would only make their report based on one sexual encounter, only one round, there was no rule against having more than one time sex with a client after all. As long as it happened all in one night. No repeat visits allowed. So Jazz was sure that she would get to enjoy this, no matter how.
“No,” he growled and rolled her on her back, making her squeak lightly. She laughed but stopped the moment he covered her body with his, his cock pressed against her thigh, mouth firmly on hers. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck and let him go on, after all she was there to find out how he was in bed. She knew that she was good after all.
His lips traveled down her body, from her mouth to her jaw line, down her neck, kissing and licking until he reached her breasts. He sucked a nipple into his mouth while brushing the other with his fingertips into stiffness, making her squirm under him. Once he had made his way between her thighs he hesitated and Jazz wondered just how much experience he had. He had said that he had sex before and he had filled in the form with the sex related questions, but still. The way he treated her didn’t speak of a very experienced lover. Although there was nothing wrong with that.
She relaxed and just waited, almost missed the first, feather light touch of his tongue on her sex. The next lick was already firmer and soon he was flicking her clit, licking her folds and nibbling at the insides of her thighs. When she came on his tongue, toes curled and fingers digging into the sheets, he gave her a moment to come down again and rolled the condom over his cock.
Back on top of her he kissed her slowly, sweetly, and Jazz sighed, completely contented. Until she felt his cock slowly pushing into her. She was still sensitive from her orgasm and instantly clenched around him, making him stop and groan lowly. A deep breath later he moved again, in and out, deeper with every new thrust. He kissed her, only pulled back when he needed air and Jazz leaned up a bit, her face close to his, sharing a breath, sharing a kiss.
Soryu had started slow and seemed determined to keep it that way. He wasn’t slamming into her, hard and fast as she liked it, but sweet and gentle, rocking their bodies with deep thrusts but stayed close as much as possible. Sweat pooled where their bodies touched, the heat and pressure inside of her kept building again.
Soryu changed his pattern, from long and deep thrusts he went to a deep and dirty grind, barely pulling out but continuously hitting against a sweet spot he had found earlier. Especially when he slid a hand under her ass so that she tilted her hips a bit. Jazz gasped and moaned, unable to form coherent words, just wanting to savor this feeling.
“Can you… come again…?” He was already so close, she could feel the tension in his body. Could she come again? Probably not.
“N-no… it’s… okay… just… come for… me…”
With his lips almost devouring hers he increased his pace, slammed into her harder now, faster, until he tensed, his thrusts faltered and he panted against her lips, his hand under her ass grabbing her hard.
Soryu slumped down on her a bit, still careful not to crush her, and kissed her softly. After he had pulled out and cleaned up a bit he lay down on his back and Jazz snuggled close to his side. Her hand lazily drew random patterns on his skin, just lying there and enjoying the slightly sore but thoroughly satisfied afterglow.
“Do you want to leave?” he asked and Jazz sighed. They had to talk about that sooner or later. Obviously it was sooner.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asked back. “I can go or I can stay a bit. Whatever you want. I’m fine either way.” It was a lie, she’d rather stay a bit but would do what he preferred. He was the client after all.
“I have hoped you would stay a bit,” he quietly said.
“Then I’m staying.” She smiled into the dark room. There was nothing wrong about staying, she wasn’t falling for him. Just enjoying this night so far.
“You don’t happen to have some ice cream or something?” The hope in her voice made him smile this time.
“Actually I do. Feel free to raid my freezer.”
Jazz chuckled and slowly got up.
“Do you have a robe I could borrow? Or something like that?” She was comfortable being naked but it was getting chilly.
“You can take my shirt if you want to,” he offered, turned on the bedside lamp and pointed towards a chair where his dress jacket and shirt hung. Jazz padded over to the chair and picked up his jacket to get to his shirt that was underneath. She froze. Blinked once. Slowly let his jacket sink back on the chair.
“I just remembered I need to get back… early appointment tomorrow,” she stammered and started picking up her clothes. She quickly put in her bra and threw over her dress, still looking for her panties. Whatever, forget the panties!
“Is everything alright?” he asked, a bit puzzled. “Did I do anything wrong?”
Jazz flashed him a tense smile. “N-no, nothing, just – I really have to go. No need to see me to the door.” She practically fled the room when he got up, grabbing her purse and her shoes on the way out.
Soryu hurried over to the chair to see what had changed her mind and behavior like that. Shit. There it was, his gun and holster. He had completely forgotten that it was still with his jacket! Shit!
“Jazz! Wait!” Stark naked he chased after her, only catching her at the door. It was locked of course, for safety reasons.
She stared at him with wide eyes, still trying to control her panic. She had to think. Focus!
“Jazz! I can explain-“ he started but she shook her head.
“Are you a cop?” she asked, voice slightly shaking.
He shook his head.
“Do you even have a license to carry that thing?”
Another shake of his head.
“Will – will you kill me now?” Her voice was tiny, her heart raced for a completely different reason than just half an hour ago.
“Of course not! I would never – listen, this is…”
“Do you need that thing for work? Security and stuff?” Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a logical reason.
“I – need it for my job, yes.” He seemed harder now, scarier. Sadder.
“You lied to me,” she stated, still shaking and hoping to get out of there as fast as possible.
“I did,” he admitted calmly.
“Under – under these circumstances I have to revoke our contract…”
He nodded once. “I understand.”
Slowly he reached out towards her and Jazz closed her eyes tightly until she heard the lock being opened.
“I – the confidentiality agreement is still valid,” she timidly said and he nodded again.
“Of course.”
As soon as the door was open she ran outside, bare footed, her shoes and purse tightly pressed against her chest.
The next day she had calmed down a bit. She wasn’t scared anymore. She was angry. So when she ran into Baba the next time she took her anger out on him – she couldn’t possibly do that with Soryu.
“Hey, pretty-“ he started but Jazz cut him off.
“Are you completely nuts?! How can you send me a client like that?!” She was furious, jabbed her index finger into his chest and drove him backwards against a wall.
“What do you mean?” Baba played the clueless guy. Perfect.
“I mean that gun-wielding criminal you sent to MJS! Do you really think I could match him up with some nice, normal woman?! I have some responsibility towards my female clients after all!”
“Hey, hey, calm down a bit. What did he tell you?” Baba was serious now but Jazz only snorted once.
“Nothing. I found his gun. Baba, this is not America. It’s not common to have a gun. And he has admitted that it’s not a legal one. So you better think of a way to make it up to me because I’m really pissed at you,” she hissed.
“So you won’t find him a nice wife?”
“Are you stupid? No!” She glared at him, ready to rip him a new one.
“That’s a shame. He’s a decent guy for a mobster,” Baba casually said. Jazz paled.
“M-mobster? I thought he was just some criminal…” she stammered. “You set me up with a fucking mobster?!”
“Oh. Oops.” He shrugged and Jazz just lost it. She yanked Baba down at his tie.
“You. Owe. Me. Big time.” She pressed the words out between gritted teeth and Baba suddenly realized that she wasn’t joking. At all.
She pushed him back against the wall and stepped back. Her head spun. Soryu had been so sweet after she had gotten a glimpse behind the cold façade. Fuck, she had really liked him! For a moment Jazz considered kicking Baba in the balls, just to feel better, but she didn’t. It was better if he owed her a favor. A huge one.
She turned around and stomped away, in the mood to shatter some cups and dishes.
“And that was the moment we decided to get a police report of every client.”
She grinned at H, having left out some of the more intimate and especially scary facts.
“Wow… the first client messed up like that and you still didn’t throw in the towel? Respect,” H said with a slow nod.
Jazz sighed. “Well, to his defense, he was really good…” She shook her head slightly.
“Anyway, here’s the profile of your next client. A cop. Tennoji. I know his coworker and he says it’s a decent guy. Call me if you have questions, okay?” She slid a folder over the desk and smiled at H.
In the end everything had worked out for her after all. Baba was test driving female clients without pay, Soryu had sent a check with a dizzying sum of money written on it – something Jazz knew was meant as apology as well as redemption, but she couldn’t help feeling betrayed and humiliated by it. Her next client had been perfectly nice and pleasant, not a criminal or mobster, and she had soon forgotten about Soryu. Although Miho and Selina still teased her for losing her first client ever.
But sometimes, when she was alone at home, reading a book, she remembered him. His gentle touch, the rare, kind smile. The sadness in his eyes when she told him she wanted to revoke the contract. He had been lonely deep inside and Jazz had seen it. It was a shame that no one would see him for who he was, not what his job was. But Jazz did. And she would remember him.
Miho & Jazz 