The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica. Volume 3

English Lessons by Lee Elliott

Time, time, time, she screamed silently at the indicator light above the door to her prison. Her two students droned on, and Kristi imagined the walls of their tiny booth drawing together until the timid Japanese wool-clad knees touched her skirt. The one that had been talking paused and Kristi smiled and nodded encouragement, oblivious to the conversation. She had learned weeks ago to tune out the hopeless students, like these two women, who just came for the excitement of speaking to a foreigner.

Finally the red light went on, signalling an end to their thirty minutes. Kristi stifled a sigh as she stood up in the carpeted booth, careful to avoid contact with her clients. They smiled, bowed and disappeared, looking as relieved as she felt that their time was up.

Kristi stepped out of the beige booth into a hallway dotted with seven other identical torture chambers, all dubbed John’s Language School. Students and instructors all sped for the exit, some rushing for trains, others to catch a smoke or a breath before their next session.

A low, welcoming rumble reached her ears as Tom sidled up and said, “Tobacco time – going out?” She nodded up at his dizzying six-foot-three height, so unusual in the sea of shorter heads. “How were the Bobbsey twins today?” he asked as they swept into the hall with the tide of staff and students.

“I’ve finally learned how to comment without actually listening,” Kristi replied, and released her long pent-up sigh.

“Excellent, my child,” Tom intoned. “Your next lesson will be sustained visualization. Think of something pleasing and the minutes fly by,” he counselled.

Tom had already logged two months at the Kobe language school when Kristi began working part-time there. He became her tutor in the Zen approach to English conversational training and survival. The first lesson was in thinking of the money she was earning, or “yen training”. Training then progressed to not thinking at all, and ultimately she hoped to hone her skills in teleportation.

“I’d like to be sitting on a beach with a large bottle of Sapporo,” Kristi said as she pulled a wilted cigarette from her tiny pouch. “Got a light?”

“Who’s your next subject?” Tom asked, taking her cigarette and lighting it from the tip of his already smoking clove. They had nicknames for all of their students, and discussing their dismal attempts at English conversation helped to pass the excruciating hours.

Kristi brightened. “My favourite student. Shy Adonis is up next,” she said. “I like to watch his eyes on my breasts as he tries out new vocabulary.”

Kristi enjoyed teaching the younger salarymen who weren’t yet completely indoctrinated in Japanese business life. They still clung to lives of their own, and most hoped to learn colloquial English for sightseeing travel to the United States instead of staid business English.

“Have you taught him any pick-up lines yet?” Tom asked, raising one bushy eyebrow.

“He still wants to stick to the manual. Maybe I’ll try today.”

Teachers at John’s Language School were encouraged to teach from an antiquated English guide, but since most of them found out quickly that the sessions were not monitored, they would veer off into more modern usage with promising students.

“Who do you have?” Kristi asked Tom. He pursed his lips and answered, “Housewife hour coming up. I’ve got two little maids from Motomachi.”

“Gigglefest,” Kristi commented, and Tom nodded gravely. Idle housewives seemed to take classes only to relieve the day’s boredom, since none of them studied or improved on their original mangled pronunciation. The younger ones spent the hour tittering at each other and at the instructor’s attempts to get through a lesson.

Lights flickered in the hallway. “Curtain time,” Tom and Kristi chimed together. They stubbed out their butts and returned through the rear entrance to meet their students in the lobby.

Kristi’s Adonis already sat waiting for her, and sprang to his feet as she approached. His black hair was shaven in back but grew forward thickly from his crown, just brushing the long sculptured sweep of his eyebrows. The haircut accentuated his high cheekbones and surprisingly full lips. Where most salarymen were concave or barrel-chested, he had the full, muscled frame of a swimmer, which even his usual white dress shirt couldn’t hide. Although he wasn’t tall by Western standards, Takashi stood an inch taller than Kristi’s five foot six.

She smiled with genuine pleasure and ushered him into their booth, where he sat opposite her on the built-in carpeted bench.

“How have you been?” Kristi began. She watched his startled gaze travel from her reddened curls and over the black silk tank, down her patterned skirt to the slice of ankle that showed above her black pumps. Kristi was suddenly glad that she had dressed up for the day.

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied cautiously. She saw him grip the primer for safety as he spoke.

“Let’s just talk today, OK, Takashi?” she suggested. “Tell me about your plans for your trip to Hawaii.”

Panic darkened his luminous brown eyes, but Takashi gave her a tentative smile and plunged in. “I will fly to Oahu on the March ten,” he said carefully.

Technically, Kristi should have corrected his error, but she ignored it for the moment. “What do you want to do there?” she asked.

Takashi stammered and looked longingly down at his book. “I want to see the beach and talk to American woman,” he confessed.

“Good!” Kristi urged. “What will you say when you meet an American woman?”

“Will you drink cohee with me?” Takashi ventured.

“It’s cof-fee,” she corrected him gently, but we dont really have coffee houses like you do here. What about saying, Will you have a drink with me? instead?”

“But that is what I said,” Takashi answered with a baffled look.

“Don’t say ‘coffee’,” Kristi clarified. “Going out for coffee is not asking for a date. Do you want to go on a date?”

Takashi nodded eagerly for a moment, but then his face darkened again. “I don’t know what American women do,” he confessed.

Kristi recalled the blunt proposals she received daily from drunken Japanese men who seemed to think that American women did everything at the drop of a fly. At least she could teach one guy how to get a Western woman into bed the right way.

“You could take her out to dinner, go to a movie, or just walk on the beach and talk,” she suggested.

“But my English is not so good,” Takashi lamented.

Kristi smiled and leaned towards him in encouragement. “That’s why you are here.” Her movement caused her breasts and hair to swing forward, and Takashi’s gaze lingered on her cleavage for a long moment. Suddenly he doesn’t seem so shy anymore, Kristi thought. Maybe it’s the subject matter. Ask me out, she proposed, and quickly added, for practice.

Takashi flashed an open-mouthed smile, clearly pleased with this idea. Then he frowned just as quickly, as if he was struggling with some inner conflict. Even though Kristi knew he was 25, only a year younger than she was, he seemed to speed through emotions like a child.

Finally, Takashi spoke. “You will tell me if I say something wrong?” he pleaded.

Kristi nodded. Was that all? “Of course,” she said. “I will correct your English.”

He shook his shock of bangs. “No, not my English,” he insisted. “If it is bad to say.”

“Oh!” Kristi smiled. “You mean inappropriate?” This sparked an intense shuffle through his English to Japanese dictionary. Takashi brightened again as he read the translation.

“Yes! Eenappropree-ate,” he read.

“I will tell you,” Kristi assured him. She sat back against the bench.

Takashi scowled, then composed his face and asked, “Will you date with me?”

“Will you go out with me,” she coached. He wrote this treasure in his notebook, read it silently, and continued.

“You are very beautiful,” Takashi proclaimed.

“Thank you,” Kristi answered, and wondered if this was part of the lesson or an actual compliment.

“Do you like Japanese men?” he asked.

Kristi nodded. “Yes,” she answered.

“Have you kissed Japanese man before?” he probed, meeting her eyes.

Kristi considered, and decided the question was allowable. “No,” she answered.

“I would like to kiss you now,” he declared.

So would I, she thought, dwelling on the fine definition of his full lips. Impulsively she said, “Maybe you should, just for practice.”

He nodded gravely, and then leaned forward and placed a cool hand on the back of her neck to draw her closer. She thought he would kiss her gently, but as her lips parted he pressed firmly, opening his own mouth and caressing her lips with his tongue. Kristi nearly fell into him as he released her.

“Was that right?” Takashi asked innocently, but she caught a hint of arrogance in his eyes.

“Right,” she repeated, stymied now. “That was good.”

“Maybe I need practice to make love,” he considered aloud and drew his hand softly over the curve of one breast. His hand fluttered, then pinched her nipple. Kristi looked down at the hand that triggered a sudden pulse in her groin. He released her breast, stroked her cheek instead, and lowered his mouth to her erect nipple.

Kristi moaned as he bit through the silk. Her own hands reached for him as he knelt before her and cupped both breasts. She unbuttoned the starched shirt down to his navel, and slid her hands over his solid, hairless chest. Takashi coaxed her to the floor until they both knelt facing each other.

“I want to feel your ass,” he whispered into the tendrils of hair tickling her ear. Takashi caught an earlobe between his eager teeth and moved his hands behind her until he cradled her ass cheeks. Kristi couldn’t speak, couldn’t think of anything but grasping the bulge beating behind his blue wool trousers. She traced the line of his fly, felt the rock hard erection, and descended until she could rake her fingers along the underside of his balls.

“Iro-poi,” Takashi murmured into her neck. “Sekushi,” he translated, pulling her skirt up from behind. “So sekushi,” he added, rubbing both index fingers along the edge of her panties. Suddenly his lips pushed into hers again, and his tongue darted in to lick her own. Kristi felt the answering warmth under his fingers and the throb of his cock under her own hand.

“I want to feel you,” Takashi groaned, lifting her again to the bench as he grasped the hem of her skirt with his perfect teeth. She watched the top of his spiky head descend to the place where her black silk panties met the inward curve of her stomach. Takashi pulled them down with supple fingers and his tongue touched the tangle of her pubic hair.

“Eat me,” Kristi gasped, arching her back against the wall. A cold rush of air met her pulsing pussy as he backed away to look up into her eyes.

“Eat?” he asked, puzzled.

“Please,” she urged, unable to explain in words. Instead, she pushed his face into her wetness.

Takashi paused to absorb this information. Then he smiled and parted his lips.

“I eat you,” he said, and fastened his lips to her pink clit, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue gathered the liquid pouring from her as two fingers explored her opening. Kristi lifted her right leg to his shoulder and kicked off her shoe. Without a pause, he caught her ankle with his left hand and drove his tongue deeper to meet his fingers. Then he pulled back just enough to lick the root of her clitoris until it swelled with blood. Kristi bucked under his mouth, and he deftly sucked again and then drew away and released the seal of pressure around her clit. She exploded in orgasm and an urgent moan broke from her throat.

Takashi put his pungent mouth to hers, kissing away her sounds of pleasure. “Please be quiet,” he begged. “I need inside you.”

She fumbled for his fly and unbuttoned the top of his trousers as he unzipped them, but missed the inner clasp and could only tug desperately at his waistband. Takashi groaned and pulled the clasp open, revealing white briefs and tip of his uncut cock straining to greet her.

“Oh,” Kristi crooned. “Let me suck on you.” She grasped him as he was standing up, and the skin of his cock slid down to reveal a glistening knob.

“No!” Takashi hissed just as her tongue touched the opening of his cock. “I come too soon,” he confessed and snaked his arms around her to lift her away. Kristi reached up to lace her fingers around his neck as they stood. She felt his warmth graze her pussy lips and then sink into her, and he took her ass in both hands and plunged so deep that her feet left the floor. She felt her panties slip down one leg as he rocked in and out.

His cock felt long and slim inside her, so rigid that it bumped the hood of her labia and rolled over her clit as he withdrew slightly, then penetrated again. She hooked her ankles around his waist so that her thighs strained against the taut muscles of his back with each thrust.

Takashi lifted desperate eyes to hers as they kissed again. His jaw hardened and she knew he was trying not to come too soon. She licked his upper lip and whispered, “It’s all right.”

“Thank you,” Takashi sighed as if released from a promise. He clutched her ass checks and shuddered through one last push, then withdrew deftly and whispered, “I come now.” Kristi crouched over the head of his penis and covered it with her mouth as it exploded. She drank deep for a long moment before she closed her lips over his rod and pulled him into her throat for the last few drops. Takashi took a handful of hair in one hand and urged her gently to her feet. She kissed his lips once and then moved her head to kiss his cheek. Beyond the curve of his damp temple she saw the red light go on.

“The light is on,” Kristi said, and Takashi silently sat her down on the bench and pulled up his briefs and trousers in one motion.

He buttoned his shirt before gathering up his manual and notebook. Then he straightened and bowed to Kristi.

“Thank you for the nice lesson,” he said formally.

“Your fly,” Kristi motioned with a wave of her hand. He looked up in distress. “I mean, your zipper,” she clarified, and he blushed and ducked his head. Is that all? she thought. Thank you for the nice lesson?

“May we continue this lesson next week?” Takashi asked as Kristi stooped to untangle her panties and step into them. She discreetly turned away to rearrange her skirt and felt a tentative hand on her elbow.

“Please continue next week?” he pleaded. Kristi nodded and found her voice.

“Yes, next week. See you next week,” she repeated, and he pushed open the door and slipped through. She saw the stray tail of his shirt poking above his waistband and hissed, “Takashi-san!”

He stopped and took a step back inside the door, turning so that she could glimpse his perfect profile again.

“You’re doing very well with your lessons,” she said briskly, as she tucked the errant tail back into his trousers and hoped he would understand her meaning.

Takashi stood frozen until she withdrew her hand, and Kristi feared she had committed some unforgivable gaffe. Horrified, she moved back and dropped her gaze to allow him a graceful exit.

Instead, Takashi executed a sustained bow, after which he straightened and spoke in clear, well enunciated tones. “Thank you, Kristi-san. You are a very good teacher.”

Kristi smiled with relief and nodded her thanks. She managed to follow him into the throng of people in the narrow hallway, and watched his retreating figure until another exodus of students engulfed him. Tom waited for her by the back door.

“How was your Adonis today?” he teased. Kristi sagged against the wall in sudden exhaustion and tilted her head up to find her friend’s eyes.

“Oh, my God,” she wailed. “I can’t go back in there.”

“That bad?” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Kristi shivered. “No – that good!”

Tom raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice. “Oh – your God. I guess he’s not shy any more. Shall I call you Venus now?” he joked.

“Tom! How am I going to get through the rest of this day?” she moaned. Tom grasped her other shoulder and leaned in so that their foreheads touched. “I have two words for you, my child.”

She wrinkled her eyebrows at him in confusion. “I think I’m beyond yen training, Tom,” she complained.

“You certainly are,” he murmured. “Two words: private lessons.”