The short night:
all around the ship
waves rustling.
Back to Tokyo. I went with the train to Yokohama, where I showed up for the boarding. The ship we had to travel on, was a huge steam ship of black iron, flying an English flag. Once embarked, after setting my belongings in the cabin assigned to me, I was introduced to Misters Iwakura, Kido and Okubo, who guided the mission to Germany. With them, besides other Government Officials, there were secretaries, interpreters and the small group of us students - in all we were around fifty people. All rigorously dressed in western attire.
The ship staff spoke quite exclusively English, but amongst us some knew, more or less, this idiom, so there was no problem, a part for me and a few others that didn't choose English as a second foreign language. But after all, we didn't have a particular need to have contacts with the crew and in any case, if needed, someone of our group could act as interpreter.
We students, once in Germany, had to study, beside the culture, the economical and military progress of that powerful nation. For that, during our journey, a Government Official properly instructed us. We were not presumed to do a real espionage, we had just to keep our eyes wide open to learn as much as possible before going back to our country.
To me, there was really all to learn, beginning with the way that big ship, that didn't use sails or oars energy, but steam, did function! In the great free time we had on board, I started to tour the ship far and wide, full of curiosity. It was so that, a few days after our departure, one of the sailors addressed to me in German.
"Really you speak German, sir?" he asked.
"What? Yes. But here on board, are you not all English? How comes that you speak German?" I asked, stupefied.
"My father is English, but my mother id German, so I speak both the languages. Even if here on board it doesn't happen I can use often German. Does it bother you if I speak a little with you, sir, in my leaves?" he asked me with a captivating smile.
He was a handsome young man, with a sound body and an open and frank expression. He was looking at me with a smile filled with hope.
"Certainly, I would be pleased. What is your name, sailor?"
"Thank you very much, sir. My name is Harris, Larry Harris, sir. Can I ask you your name?"
"I am Shigehide Fujita."
"Herr Fujita - if I call you that way, is it correct?"
"Yes, certainly. And how do I have to call you?"
"Larry. Larry is okay."
Little by little Larry entered in my thoughts. We started to meet rather often and we talked at length. He made me visit all the ship, explaining with knowledge and patience its functioning and its organization. But also, he told me about his journeys, about his sailor's life. He was on sea for ten years that is from when he was fourteen. Now he was four years older than me - even if he seemed older than his age, we were in fact almost of the same age. I listened to him more and more fascinated, I looked at him more and more fascinated. His body, for certain aspects, recalled me that of Saburo, even if Larry was taller about one palm and had soft light brown hair and eyes of a green-grey with a scattering of golden nuggets, that made him look particularly beautiful and luminous. From his gait and from his gesture emanated vigour and a subtle sensuality that, little by little, conquered me. I hoped more and more to meet him, to spend my time near him, and started to fancy I could spend with him moments of sweet intimacy. But, even if I dared, I didn't absolutely know how I could ask him, or just how could I make him understand my desire. These are things that at school they don't teach and I asked myself how did they manage in the western countries to understand if by chance the other had desires of a certain nature.
It was at least two years since I had a man with whom I could lie down, and really I missed that. And the sailor Larry did attract me more and more. I contented myself with dreaming to feel his hands on my body, or even just to brush my hands on his body. Especially during the nights, alone in my small cabin, lying on my berth, in the dark.
When he was on duty, if it happened to meet, I gave him a greeting gesture and he answered from far with a smile. I liked very much his smile. Or rather it literally excited me.
More and more.
But, in both my passed experiences with a man, it has always been the other to take the initiative, and for that, besides the problem of the cultural gap, I really did not know how to do it, even if my desire was becoming more and more intense. I told myself it was better to resign myself, and that it was better to stop daydreaming about him, because anyway there was nothing I could do. It was better to simply enjoy his pleasurable company without fancying who knows what. I had to stop thinking that between us could in some way start some intimacy.
"Herr Fujita?"
It was Larry calling me. I turned and looked at him. He was lit up by the sun and his hair shone making like a golden halo around his head: he was beautiful. He smiled to me.
"Do you like beer, Herr Fujita?" he asked.
"Beer? I never drank it."
"Do you like alcohol?"
"The sake, very much."
"Is it a strong liqueur?"
"Did you never drink it?"
"No; never."
"I have some in my cabin. If you want, you can try it."
"Really? Thank you. Then, this evening if you want, we can meet and I bring my beer and you your sake. So we taste them. What do you think?" he asked me with his usual captivating smile, waiting for my answer.
"Certainly, it is all right. Were can we meet?"
"I will be free rather late, this evening. I can come and knock at your cabin door, if this doesn't disturb you."
"Very good. I will be waiting for you, and for the beer."
"You can count on it, Herr Fujita. And prepare your sake." he said parting fast, with his usual balanced and sound sailor's gait.
He never went before to knock at my door, even if he knew where it was. Normally we were meeting on the deck. But possibly he didn't want make me wait too long, or even didn't want his mates see him drinking with me. After all he was just a sailor, and I was a passenger, even if not one of the most important. It was possibly wiser for him to come in my cabin, after all.
So, he was coming to my cabin. We will have been alone, he and I. For the first time, after all those days we were knowing each other. I couldn't avoid to fancy... No, it was not good to put such ideas in my head. He was just coming to drink with me, a friendly gesture, certainly, but nothing more. I had not to mistake my desire with the reality of things. He was just coming to drink with me, I repeated to myself, just to drink.
After the meal with the others of my group, I went back to my cabin. To await Larry. I was waiting with some impatience and, notwithstanding all the afternoon I repeated to myself he was coming just to have a drink, with a certain trepidation. I prepared the sake. I asked myself if to change from the western attire to the kimono, but I didn't. The flame of the lamp, barely swinging with the ship's rolling, lit up the small cabin with its warm light, at times just slightly tremulous. The hollow and muffled sound of the ship's engines was the only sound that could be heard. I was all ears to catch the sound of steps in the corridor announcing the sailor's arrival.
Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly. At that time I didn't yet have a watch, therefore I couldn't check what time it was. I was sitting at my writing shelf, not a real desk, in the only chair of my cabin. I stood up and sat on the edge of my berth. It was better I reserved the chair to my guest, I thought. Making him sit on my berth could have seemed too intimate. I stood up again, nervous. I didn't know what to do or how to while away the time. I took a book and started to read it. I don't remember at all what book it was, and I was not even able to concentrate in what I was reading. I felt incredibly tense.
Finally he came. I heard his footsteps stopping in front of my door, then the light but firm knocking. I opened the door, excited, and he was in front of me. I never realized how big he was - he took all the space of the doorway. In reality, it was possibly the door to be small, like my cabin. He was smiling. He had in his hands three big, dark beer bottles. I withdrew to allow him to enter, returning his smile. He slipped inside, closing the door at his back.
"Here I am, Herr Fujita." he simply said.
I pointed him the chair, while I sat on the berth's edge. "Sit down."
He sat. He looked at my writing shelf where I prepared two glasses and the sake set. He put there his three bottles. Then he looked at me. He was wearing as usual his uniform, but I had the impression that he did change it - it smelt of the laundry.
"Can we start with your liqueur, Herr Fujita?"
We started to drink, and to talk. His voice seemed to me warmer and more sensual than ever, that evening. Possibly because he was talking with a more low voice than usual, perhaps because we were alone, probably because his nearness was arousing me more than in other occasions.
We passed to the beer. It was strong, a little bitter, but agreeable. And soon the alcohol started to have effect and I begun to be more relaxed, less tense. He too seemed to be at ease.
"When I landed in Yokohama, almost all the Japanese people were wearing kimonos. You all, here on board, on the contrary, are always clothed like us, in the western fashion, I mean. Don't you have a kimono, Herr Fujita?"
"Yes, of course I have."
"Why you never wear it, then?"
"I would like very much to wear it, it is comfortable. But my superiors don't allow us."
"I would like to see how you are in a kimono. Why don't you wear it now? For me. Anyway, your superiors cannot see you, right?"
"I would have to undress in front of you..."
"Why? We are al men, right? Where is the problem?"
"I'm ashamed to undress in front of another person."
"What? I can't believe it. You Japanese, in the public baths, are always all naked without the slightest problem. How can you be ashamed, now?"
"In the bath, it is different. Wouldn't you be ashamed?"
"To undress in front of you?"
"Right."
"No, not at all. If now you told me to undress, I would do it without any problem. I'd do it, if you asked me."
"If I asked you?"
"If you asked me."
"Really?"
"Yes, if you asked me."
"Then... undress." I said, half joking, half in challenge.
Probably we both were a little drank. But he stood up. With extreme naturalness he first pulled off his shoes, without bending down, pushing one with the other. Then he started to unbutton his clothes, letting them slide down from his body one piece after the other. With no hurry, but with no hesitation, neither when he arrived to his underwear.
I stared at him in silence, fascinated, excited. He was looking at me smiling quietly, even when at last he was completely naked.
He had a sound and strong body, even if slender. And he was hairy. Later I had the occasion to see other westerners lot more hairy than him, but anyway he was more hairy than the average of us Japanese. Especially on his legs and on his forearms, and at the centre of his chest, a thin, light down becoming thick just on his pubes. Almost mechanically, without thinking, I rose my arm and with the tip of my fingers I lightly brushed his chest's down - it was soft, silky, agreeable to touch. He let me do it then, his voice almost hoarse, he said:
"You can touch me also down there, if you like."
I then lowered to brush him between his legs and felt flaring up with pleasure to that unhoped-for contact. Oddly I didn't feel at all embarrassed.
He said: "I did undress. Now it is to you, Herr Fujita."
"That's fair," I said and undressed, now without the slightest hesitation. I was only conscious of his increasing erection that was becoming more and more conspicuous. And when it was he to brush my body in a light caress, I quivered with pleasure and let him without any problem.
"You seem younger than what you are, but you are well shaped. I like you, Herr Fujita. I never made love with a Japanese. I did it with blacks, Arabs, Indians..."
"Men?" I asked in a whisper.
"Mainly. And you, Herr Fujita?" he asked with a smile.
"Only."
"Never with a girl?"
"No; never."
"You didn't miss a great thing. Would you like to make love with me?" he asked with extreme simplicity, with a light of hope flashing in his clear eyes that mirrored the tremulous flame of the lamp, sending out golden glares.
"And you?" I asked with a nod.
"I? From the first time I saw you on board, I desire just that, believe me. You attract me very much."
"I didn't have any hint of that. I too desire you very much."
"Then, come..." he said pulling me to him and gently driving me on my berth.
It was not a dream: it was real, true, hot. And at last naked and tight against me. Instinctively I let me go to him, to his passion. I was feeling light and happy. No, it was not just the effect of the alcohol. It was the fulfilment of a desire too long held back. The pleasure to feel being desired by the man I had desired for so many days.
"Herr Fujita..."
"Call me Shige, Larry, please."
"Shige, I like you very much."
"I too like you Larry, you are a very handsome man."
"I want tonight to be unforgettable."
"Just tonight?" I jokingly asked.
"Let's start with tonight. What do you like to do?"
"Love."
"Yes, sure, but what?"
"I cannot say it in German. Our German teacher didn't teach us these words at school."
"Well, I will teach you, then. This is a cock." I blushed. He looked at me astounded: "Why are you blushing?"
"That word..."
"Well, it is one part of our body, right? Like the nose or the hand. Do you blush talking about a nose or a hand? This is your hand, this is my nose, this is your nice cock, and these are my balls. Repeat."
I obeyed. I always have been a good student. But of course we didn't limit ourselves to just the words. Larry was really a very good teacher, but above all a wonderful lover. Possibly because he had had so many experiences in so many lands and with so different people in all his years of sailing.
He took me, and made me take him, in so many positions and ways that I didn't even fancy it was possible. To make love it was really an art to him, and each time he came to my cabin, he made me reach incredible orgasms. I was putty in his hands, eagerly learning to give and receive the most intense pleasure. I loved each moment spent in my berth with him.
He told me that he had sex, the first time, when he was thirteen, that is one year before me, with a young sailor of his village. He liked it so much that, when the sailor told him that on a ship it was easy to have sex, he decided to become a sailor himself.
After this first night, he told me several of his erotic adventures. I asked him how do westerners understand with whom they could try to have sex. And he explained me.
"Normally you can understand that noticing how a man looks at other men."
"Really? And how?"
"As you too do. With a special interest, as if you could see trough the clothes."
"Was I looking at you in that way?"
"Yes, almost each time we met."
"So, why did you wait so long time to try with me, then?"
"It was up to you to do the first step."
"To me? Why? I'm younger than you."
"But you are more important than me, I am just a sailor."
"You told me that almost all the sailors do it..."
"Yes, sure. And also the soldiers, especially the younger ones. Often they do it for money. But I feel it is a kind of pretext, in front to themselves. Almost as to say that they don't really like men, that they do it out of need. But really, I believe, who does it, does it because he likes it, on the contrary he wouldn't do it for any sum. Also because often they do it for a very little money. A normal man, in my opinion, doesn't have any problem to have sex with a man or a woman. Even if I really prefer to have sex with a man."
"Do you like me?"
"Yes, sure."
"And why?"
"You are handsome. And also you know how to make love."
"Oh, not at all as you know. You had so many experiences. For me, on the contrary, you are just my third man. How many men did you have in ten years?"
"Who can count them? At least one in every port. And more."
"After this journey, will you forget me? Will I be one of the many with whom you did it?" I asked him, I don't know why. He smiled but didn't answer.
Who knows, possibly not, possibly he didn't forget me, as I never forgot him.