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Scots student seeks sex, loses Bawbees.

But all were the same in the end-all were paying for sex, and I was providing it for some form of payment.

It was the latter who reminded me how much I missed the piano. I had begged Clare to buy a piano for me, but thus far she had ignored my pleas. I knew, if she didn't, that this ultimately would be what built the barrier between us.

It was during one of the afternoon cocktail parties for the more important patrons in the second-floor salon that I saw him for the first time. He was standing across the room, talking to several other patrons, but he had his eyes on me. Tall for a Japanese and ramrod straight. A military man without a doubt. Movie-star handsome, well built, graying at the temples. Perhaps a banker instead. No, I decided, a military man. I somehow knew my first instinct had been correct. And a man who commanded troops, who dominated masterfully. A chill of anticipation-and even of pleasure-went down my spine as I saw Clare join his group and both look over at me.

Sure enough, only moments later, Clare brushed by me and said, "I have someone I want you to meet."

"Now?" I asked. I already was talking with a real Japanese banker who was half-interested in one of the Hoshi tree prints but who was nearing full interest in seeing the third floor with me.

"Yes. The general said he's pressed for time, but he is interested in two of Saito's 'Winter in Aizu' prints." I drew in a breath. This would be a purchase that would go into the high five figures.

"The general," she had said. I had known it.

Clare introduced us and then discretely moved away.

"You were looking at me from across the room," I said. "I couldn't help but notice." If the general couldn't stay long, there wasn't much time to seal the deal.

"Yes, pardon me. It was forward of me. But your hands."

"My hands?" I said, nonplused. I'd never received a come-on line like this.

"Yes. Long, strong figures. And the way you move them . . . Tell me, are you a musician?"

"Yes, I play the piano," I answered, suddenly pleased that he had so deftly reached into my heart. Melting to him. Wanting it already. A whole different plane from where I had been set.

"Classical or popular?" He asked, not hurrying, drawing me into him.

"Both," I answered. "But mainly popular as that's what people mostly want. But I'm afraid I haven't played in months."

"Such a pity. I am a player of instruments too-and somewhat of a master and connoisseur, or so I've been told-but not of musical instruments, alas." He paused and his hand traveled down his side, taking my attention with it-purposely so, I'm sure-and brushed down along his thigh. My eyes, though, lost contact with the movement of the hand and were drawn to the bulge in his trousers. He was hard, and quite obviously was well endowed. "But you'd like to play . . . and be played, would you?" he whispered. There it was. Both subtle and direct. I felt my cock hardening. He had me. He could have taken me right there in the middle of the cocktail party crowd, fucking me wildly on the carpet in the center of the room, if he had wanted to.

"Yes," I whispered, turning my eyes up to his. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

"Another pity, alas," the general said in smooth, baritone tones. "When I play, I prefer a concerto over a short tune." I shuddered deliciously at the implication of that. "But I must be at the palace in an hour. I trust you will be in Tokyo again soon?"

"I can make a point of it," I answered, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"Now, perhaps we can find Clare and have those Saitos wrapped?"

"You are buying the Saitos?" I asked, almost incredulous that he was settling the deal without making prior use of the fringe benefit.

"Yes. I enjoy my art . . . and my other pleasures . . . separately, and totally, and hours at a time. Each is given its full measure; one does not depend on the other," he said. And then he left me there, knees weak and cock throbbing, as he glided over to Clare.

The Japanese banker was getting the fuck of his life by

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