Chapter Two

Chapter Two

In his study, Naokichi Kumagaki scanned his thick volume of A History of Crime in Western Europe. Hearing his wife announce the arrival of a guest, his face clouded over. Even though his home in Yochou was in an established “safety zone,” a guest calling after nine o’clock was always cause for alarm.

He’d heard about the attack on the mayor’s office that afternoon, and had received a personal communiqué from the mayor himself. Elite bodyguards were posted at the residences of all the movers and shakers in Shinjuku.

Naokichi Kumagaki was the Shinjuku Chief of Police.

When he asked, his wife said it was Hiromi Oribe, the mayor’s private secretary. The Chief briefly wondered why the mayor’s missing secretary would show up here, but decided to see her and find out.

Following the mayor’s orders, four tough-looking guards had been posted at his home as well. All came from a private security company. Kumagaki didn’t trust his own subordinates.

His cell phone doubled as an intercom, and he again considered calling the mayor, but didn’t. Four or five days before, they’d practically come to blows over increasing the patrols. He had nothing against the man personally, but on that subject, it was like talking to a brick wall.

And he was still in the dark about the vampire connection to the aforementioned incident.

Hiromi Oribe walked into the living room and quietly sat down on the sofa next to the window. Other than looking a bit pale, nothing about her seemed out of the ordinary.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I heard you were kidnapped. It’s a relief to see you’ve made it here in one piece.”

He spoke with an authoritative masculinity. Hiromi smiled her always charming, feminine smile. She explained that she’d found herself wrapped in an impenetrable darkness and lost track of space and time. When she came to, she was in an alley just up the street.

Fortunately, she remembered the Kumagaki residence from the last time she’d been there with the mayor. So after contacting the mayor’s office, she’d headed straight here, the closest safe place she could think of.

She had no idea what had gone on during those missing hours, and her concern for the mayor’s welfare after she’d disappeared led Kumagaki to believe he could trust her.

“In any case, you need to rest. I’ll get you a sedative. Later we’ll go to see the mayor. Tomorrow I’d like you to come down to police headquarters.”

“That’d be fine.”

“If you’d just hold on for a while. I’ll have somebody come from headquarters.”

Kumagaki got up and went over to the videophone on one side of the living room. He had picked up the receiver and was dialing the number when a cold breath tickled the back of his neck.

“What—?”

As he turned his head, he felt a strong pressure against his thigh. The secretary’s voluptuous, provocative face filled his field of vision. She brazenly slipped her hand inside his robe and down the front of his pajama bottoms, and grabbed hold of his manhood.

That was enough for the Chief to lose a grip on his higher reasoning abilities. The waves of red-hot desire broadcasted themselves at her through his cock. Her hands—as pliant as streams of water—invaded his pajama bottoms and drew him out and stroked him.

“How’s that, Chief?”

The purr in her voice and the lust on her face—so unlike the normally crisp and cool public servant—made her seem like a completely different person. He moaned.

Four guards were camped out in the room adjacent to the bright living room, not to mention the other members of his family.

“I see you watching me all the time, asking yourself, What’s beneath that haughty exterior? What are those breasts like? That ass, those thighs. Go ahead. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I-It’s the truth.”

“Right now you’re picturing the shape of my bra, the cut and color of my panties. How tight they’re cupping my breasts and squeezing my butt. Whether the fabric is sheer enough to see my nipples and my crotch? That’s right, isn’t it?”

She repeated the carnal questions, her insistent fingers stroking the middle-aged man’s invigorated erection. “It’s all right by me. I’ll show you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Get on the intercom and tell them not to disturb you for a while.”

This heroic public servant, this man entrusted with the safety of the most dangerous and tumultuous city in the world, surrendered to a hand job. He did as he was told and hung up the phone.

“Stop dawdling,” he growled, an animal shaking in anticipation of further sexual treats.

In the living room—where anybody could walk in on them at any time—the mayor’s secretary took off her silk blouse. And then her skirt. All that tempting white skin robbed the Chief of his voice.

Though maintaining at all times the facade of a frostily intellectual college coed, reduced to only a white bra and panties, she had a fuck me look about her that stood more than a man’s hair on end.

“You’ll have to do the rest by yourself.”

“Ahh—” His eyes bugged out. Saliva foamed at the corners of his mouth. His rough hands seized her around the waist. The bra fell away. It really was a size too small. Her large breasts had been straining to be set free. The indentations from the underwires showed on her skin.

The Chief bent her back and applied his lips to her left breast and nipple. He didn’t mind the coolness of the flesh filling his mouth. While he suckled, he slipped his hand inside her panties and massaged the soft mound between her legs. How he’d wanted to fondle that softness. How he’d wanted to eat her up.

Her left breast shining and wet, he set to ravaging her right. Then he fell to his knees and slowly pulled down her panties. The abundant curve of her ass, the bold line of her thighs—all drew to a focus in her black, luxuriant bush.

The panties fell to her ankles. She stepped out of them.

The Chief kissed the inside of her right thigh, applied the surface of his damp tongue to her skin, like a cat grooming itself. When he reached her rich thicket, Hiromi Oribe uttered a low moan.

Her strong fragrance stained his hands as he searched out her hidden entranceway and plunged in with his tongue. A rumbling purr spilled from her mouth, like that of a large, menacing cat.

After listening to him lap at her for what seemed like hours, she stepped back. “Stand up,” she ordered him. He complied. She pulled back the collar of his dressing gown and hung her arms around his neck. “And now for the one true pleasure—”

Her red lips attached themselves to his stout neck, and sucked his blood like a leech.

Ten minutes later, Kumagaki’s wife watched nervously as her husband and the mayor’s secretary got into his car and raced off on “urgent business.” She’d only asked that the secretary be entrusted to the four bodyguards instead. She wasn’t comfortable with the way he instructed her not to speak of the mayor’s secretary to anybody else.

But she knew from personal experience that the Chief was a man not above resorting to bouts of rage and even physical violence when he didn’t get his way. And so she did as she was told.