Last Night’s Prepubescent Japanese Angel
by YBLalat

This morning, I woke up extremely horny.

It wasn't that much of a cold winter morning, if it were, then I would understand the morning glory. In fact, the sun was already high up in the middle of the clouds’ face when I woke up, its ray as strong as ever. The rays of the midmorning sky penetrating the room’s blind were strong enough to heat the whole living room, but still…

Last night was a blast. My presentation for my Japanese Films class raised the roof unexpectedly. The clapping sound went through the ceiling and I was bombarded with more smiles and praises than I had when I won the National Science Quiz three years ago. The instructor was pleased – it was indeed a hard topic to present on but I did it.

“I told you that you could do it, didn’t I?”

When the class ended at a quarter past five, I was tapped on the shoulder from behind. At first I thought it was Andre, an Indian-American senior who majors in Mathematics and Japanese and works part-time translating rare Japanese comics into English for a California-based Internet company. But it wasn’t Andre and it wasn’t even a guy – it was a girl.

“Hi. Your name is Mohammed, right?”
“Yes, but I didn’t get your name. Sorry.”
“Michiko, but just call me Mickey.”

Michiko is an American-born Japanese girl who studies Business Management and Japanese. She is learning Japanese simply because her parents doesn’t speak Japanese anymore at home – they are the third generation of a family of Japanese immigrants who migrated to the States during the ‘bubble’ economy period in the late 1970s. She hopes that one day she would be able to go back to her hometown near the city of Naha, on the Ryukyu Islands, and work at her great, great grandfather’s sake brewing mills.

“You presented well. How did you know so much about the yakuza?”
“Well, the instructor helped me a lot and what with the Internet today…”
“Oh, I see. So, have you had your dinner yet?”
“Excuse me?”

Unlike most of the students in the Japanese Films class, Michiko is still a freshman – although she has spent nearly a year studying at the U. She said she had trouble deciding what to major in until she met her great uncle who came from Japan on a business trip and visited her family. Her parents was so ashamed of themselves, and she was no exception too, since none of them knew how to speak Japanese anymore and their uncle only knew basic English words like ‘airport’, ‘beer’ and ‘happy’.

“I am thinking of having my dinner at Dinkytown. Do you know any good place?”
“Try the Vietnamese restaurant next to the US Bank – I think it’s called the Camdy.”
“Have you eaten there?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know it’s good?”
“It’s always full every time I pass by.”

Michiko is seventeen years old and going eighteen this May. According to US law, she is still a minor and if she were to be prosecuted in court, the judge would still have to address her as a child. But make no mistake, my dear friends, she is no small girl – with a figure like that of a well-known swimsuit model, she sure knows how to dress like a mature young woman. Being so young and beautiful in a college is possibly not so easy for her, although she is a very intelligent person, having passed her SAT and high school diploma tests with flying colors and at a very green age. But still, with all her intellectual charm and stunning allure, her sense of girlhood innocence never cease to prevails.

“So, are you free tonight? Will you come with me for dinner?”
“Have dinner with you tonight?”
“Yes.”
“No, sorry, I can’t.”
“Oh come on!”
“No, really, I can’t.”
“No, you come with me!”

With a swift swing of her arm, she hooked my right elbow with her left and literally dragged me to the restaurant which was about one block away and across the main street. All along that, I felt very awkward and in great shock when she did that, but I didn’t struggle to let myself free from her grip. In fact, oh God please forgive me for I have sinned, I actually enjoyed the enforced aggressiveness by Michiko and that bit of helplessness plaguing my conscious. The guilty adrenaline and the sudden rush of mixed emotions and the embarrassment of being suggestively dominated by a younger girl – it was all new to me! I was a virgin of sexual advancement!

“Mickey, I don’t think…”
“Oh, come on, Mohammed! It’s my treat!”

The moment we arrived at the glass window door of the restaurant, the waiter was changing the displayed special menu for tonight. Michiko peered into the glass window, with one hand pushed against the glass and the other still holding tightly the joints of my elbow. It read ‘Meat Noodle in Spicy Soup’ and ‘Rice Porridge with Grilled Pork Chops’ and the price of each printed in chalk white next to them. “Thank God, I can’t eat any of them”, I whispered to myself. Michiko, however, was looking into the restaurant, searching for an empty seat for two, but there was none. They were only vacant single ones – others were in used.

“I am sorry, Mickey, but…”
“Oh, why can’t you?”
“Tonight it’s my turn to cook dinner for my roommates.”
“Oh come on, let me treat you for that great presentation.”
“No can do. I’m cooking for a roommate’s birthday tonight.”
“Oh, it’s his birthday, eh? You aren’t lying to escape me, are you?”
“No, of course not.”

I looked at her in her small brown eyes and saw her trying to fight back with her own set of deep, persuasive stare. Eventually, she won – I was distracted by her childlike smile. But Michiko gradually let loose of her left arm that was wrapped around me once she knew that I was not lying. That night was in fact my roommate’s birthday and I did not intend on leaving him starving on the night that he turns 23. I felt very guilty leaving her in front of the restaurant like that, but I knew she would understand.

“Okay then, but you’ll treat me when it’s my turn for presentation, alright?”
“Okay.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“You will regret this.”
“I know.”

And I do regret it – a lot.

Once arrived safely in my apartment, there was no one there – the others were at school doing their class projects and the birthday boy was out on his own date. I came back home to nothing, literally. But still, I cooked that night’s dinner and I cooked pasta in thick chicken tomato sauce and I ate it all to myself. A few more minutes on the internet and after that, I hit the sack for a good night’s sleep and woke up to a healthier, more refreshed state of physiological pleasure.