Battle Report: The Dame Oyaji
August 15 2001 at 3:13 AM
Evil 

The Dame Oyaji


This is a story I can’t believe I haven’t told you guys yet. It’s about a time when I got a glimpse of some of the best night-life Japan has to offer, and an opportunity to have experiences that even expatriates that have been living in Japan for years probably haven’t had. And in the middle of the story is one of the most lewd but enjoyable characters I have yet to meet in the Land of the Rising Sun.



Place: Sapporo Date: May 1999



I guess you could say it started off with the phone-call in the gaijin house. It was from a guy called (okay let me think of a fake name) Kamikawa, who was the owner of an English school just outside of Sapporo. He was asking the whereabouts of some American that had obviously not lived in the place for years, so I asked him what he was calling about, and if I could help. So he told me about his little English school and how he was having a staff shortage, and apparently the American guy used to work for him or something, and so Kamikawa was calling to see if the dude needed some more work. I seemed to be in the right time, at the right place, because I was as broke as a shoe-cleaner at the time, so naturally I told him that I was looking for a job, and even though he said it was teaching kids I didn't say no. I hated the thought of teaching kids, but when you’re penniless you do what you gotta do, even if it means sucking a little dick to get by.

So on the arranged day when I would begin teaching, I hopped on my Mama Cherry and parked it up next to the JR station, before realising I’d forgotten my bike key. This was Japan so I wasn’t too concerned about it getting nicked. And was it there when I came back? Of course not. Damn, I loved that bike too. But anyway, when I got to the school I knocked on the door and was greeted by this shabby looking 30’something with a shock of unkempt black hair. The dude looked so skeletal I thought he’d look good on the front of a Metallica album cover. When I first met Kamikawa I thought he was kind of weird, and his English was amusing to say the least, fully understandable, but inventive. I never met any Japanese before who would say things like “Ergo, I had to wash the car bonnet”, and “I must crank up this knobbly old computer.”. It always made me laugh, and he had an honest streak of innocence and purity to him that you couldn’t help but like. Pretty soon though I would begin to corrupt him with dirty jokes that would take 5 minutes each to explain; “ – because they’re gay, so that’s why 4 of them can fit on one stool. Because they turn it upside down, hantai de, wakaru? no?..jesus christ, okay let me explain..”.



Like I said, he was a straightforward guy. Helped me out with classes, and was always positive and rarely talked about anything except class at first. At least, I thought he was a decent bloke but I found out pretty soon that he was one dirty old sod and that’s no understatement. Not that I wasn’t you hear, but I didn’t keep it as any secret in the beginning like he did.
Now Kamikawa was actually pretty loaded since he owned the building that was an English school and didn’t pay any rent, thus all the income from teaching went straight into his pockets. We used to go for a rides in his nice sports Toyota after work. I thought that was a nice perk of the job until one day he asks me what I’m up to after work that night, and we decide to go out for a drink. He suggested some bars to go to that I’d never heard of before; only these weren’t your average drinking joints, they turned out to be hostess bars, and if you’ve never heard it before, let me tell you, hostesses are some of the sexiest chicks you can find in Japan. Of course, most of them can’t speak much English, but luckily my Japanese could go for passable in those days, and let's face it, chatting with a hostess is hardly challenging, and more so, it wasn’t exactly the conversation I cared about anyway. The first bar we went to was located north of Susukino, and we had to catch a lift to go up the 8 floors to the bar, and man, let me tell you, the minute that lift opened to a cobalt-blue neon lit room filled with gorgeous Japanese hostess, I knew I had truly landed in paradise. Kamikawa as it turned out was a regular, and he requested two girls that he had been served by before. He gave me a wink and assured me that they were beauties, and I felt like giving him a slap on the back when I saw the knockout peach I was landed with. She was nearly my height and had an erotic hair-style – what I call a Chinese sex-pot hair-do – you know, the one with hair that is parted in the middle, with one side going behind the back of the ear, and the other side enticingly covering over her right-eye, curving down to her mouth. Oh man, and she was wearing pink lip-gloss..Goddamn, pink gloss and the right perfume’ll do me every time. Thinking about her months later turned many an apathetic jerking session into a raging blue dick fist-blur.
And Kamikawa’s bird wasn’t half bad herself. Not exactly my type - being more cute than sexy - but in Japan that kind of non-hiku wa girl is in high demand. As we all got friendly I asked Kamikawa more about his night habits, and he told me that he went out practically every night. He was so loaded he didn’t even have a pan in his kitchen since he only ever went to restaurants. And apart from food, the one thing that gave him the greatest pleasure in his life was the company of women. Not just women, but beautiful women. The gravity of it hit me. My boss was a Japanese Hugh Heffner. Who would’ve guessed it from the shy exterior?



I had a fantastic night that night, with the only low point being towards the end when the sexy China girl look-a-like admitted that she had a boyfriend. Not that it shocked me much, as I’d suspected she had, but I was a little disappointed. It was probably just the haircut that had attracted me so much anyway.

Before going to Japan I’d often wondered what the appeal was of hostess clubs but now I could grasp exactly where the immense gratification lay.
You pay to be with beautiful women, not just one or two, but a whole room full of beautiful women. And not only will they pour your drinks and sing karaoke with you, but they’ll feed you confidence-building, soul-curing bullshit about how bloody great you are all night. And you know it’s a crock, but man it just feels so good!. So who cares if you have to hire someone for 50 bucks an hour that’s way out of your mating scale league, but will nod and hum and aahh and ooh to your every stress-provoked word. Shrinks do that for an even more expensive hourly rate, and they’re not even cute (unless they're Japanese ones probably).



So you can imagine my joy when Kamikawa started inviting me more regularly to the hostess bars. And it turned out that the first one wasn’t even that special, as with each occasion we’d go to bigger and better places. Places that were full of neon and laughter, sexuality and temptation. I met fat hostesses, thin hostesses, beautiful hostesses, ugly hostesses (who’d claim personality was more important to hosting than looks), stupid hostesses, surprise surprise intelligent hostesses (there's an oxymoron), and hostesses that would become one-night stands but never girlfriends, unfortunately. And every hangover was worth it. Babes of all shapes and sizes. Viva la difference!!


And every hangover was worth it.


Then, one night after work Kamikawa announces that he was going to take me somewhere a little more ‘risky frisky’ as he called it in his hentai English.


By the time we arrived at Susukino we were so boozed up that Kamikawa forgot the directions and needed to ask a guy who looked suspiciously like a yakuza hanging around for the boss if he knew the joint. Luckily he did and sent us off a couple of blocks up to a building with a large advertisement outside featuring the faces of the girls that worked within. I didn’t notice any stunners, but with my trust in Kamikawas better judgement, I stepped inside.

The place was fairly unimpressive compared to some of the others I’d seen, with the only differences being that was some thumpy techno music playing, and there was a large stage towards the back which I figured must’ve been for live music. So, that’s what Kamikawa meant by ‘risky frisky’. Live music? I honestly thought he meant ‘lewd’ but I guessed I was wrong. "Never mind", I told myself as I was led to a table by the mama-san.

Keiko was a nice hostess, not the prettiest I’d ever met, but she did have a cute little bob haircut and big attractive eyes. I thought she’d make someone a lovely wife one day; she was hardly the type you’d find in a hostess bar. I was shocked to learn that she spoke English quite fluently.

“Hi, so which country are you from?”

“Me, oh..England..wow, you speak English?”

“Yes, actually I have a degree in English literature.”

I did think about saying “Well, what the hell are you doing a bum job like this for then?” but I just assumed she must’ve had her reasons. Maybe she was a single mother or something.

“My name is Kris.”

”I am Keiko”

„How old are you Keiko?“

“24”

“I’m 21”

“Yes I thought you must be about that age, so what are you doing in Japan?”

“Oh right, let me see is this correct Japanese ‘boku no kanojo o oikaketta tame ni kimashita’”

“Well, I understood it. Your girlfriend is she in Sapporo now?”

“No, sorry, actually we broke up, mukashi no kanojo ni natta sou desu.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, by the way, you know some nice –“



Suddenly the music changed into something more akin to a parapara tune. Keiko began to get up.

“ – excuse me. I’ll be back.”


I watched her walk away, and was just thinking how refreshing it was to talk to an intelligent hostess – in English no less, when the weirdest thing happens. She goes up to the stage, pulls her tits out and starts jiggling them to the beat of the parapara tune in the background. My jaw dropped. I was like, “What the fu—?” after which Kamikawa pointed and me and put on a sardonic grin.

“I told you this place was ‘risky frisky’!!” he beamed.

I taught Kamikawa how to high five.

Personally though, I was actually kind of embarrassed by the scene in front of me. Should I smile and act look at Keiko in mock appreciation? or should I pretend not to even notice what was going on? I decided to follow my instincts and started clapping like a wild monkey. Hell, everybody else was doing it. When she came back I didn’t know what to say to Keiko, and tried to cover a grin that kept popping up. Luckily we didn’t stay at the particular hostess bar for much longer.




The next place we went to was the mutts nuts.




I can’t even recall the location of the place, I just remember watching Kamikawas back as we descended the brightly lit, star-print fitted stairs to the entrance. As we walked through the door, my mouth opened in amazement, as what was presented to me was a room full of stunning Japanese girls dressed in hardly anything but tight-fitting corsets with large bunny rabbit ears. I thought the glittery sparkles they used for decoration must’ve been some product of my shocked eyes. This was enough to turn any any man AAA.

As Kamikawa got us a table and a couple of girls, the little cutie assigned to me looked at me and said “Oh, Gaijin-san? Yokatta!” in a cheerful voice, and as I sat, she raised her legs over mine, before laying into the chair comfortably. I thought I was just the lucky one, but as I looked over to Kamikawa I noticed his girl was doing the same. In fact, every guy in there had a hostess sitting on their lap, or laying with their heads down on the guy’s stomach. Naturally the girls weren’t too bright, mine especially. If she had a braincell it would die of loneliness. But you couldn’t help but feel affection for them since they were so cute in their undies, and the one I was with was especially touchy. I felt my temperature rising (and something else, too) as she stroked my arm softly, and pulled my arm around her waist as she spoke gently into my ear.



“So are you happy?” Kamikawa shouted, over the amped-up loudspeakers blaring out J-pop.

Happy, I was fucking delirious and he knew it.
Kamikawa was one of my own.

“I love you Kamikawa!” I screamed back with a smile so wide he probably could’ve seen my second molars. The boy did good.



But that wasn’t all; the best was yet to come. About half an hour later, the lights dimmed and from behind a curtain on a stage I had hardly noticed, a guy dressed up to look like some kind of tacky quiz-show presenter starts saying something I can’t understand in Japanese, and the cheesiest music you’ve ever heard in your life starts playing through the speakers. And when I say cheesy I don’t just mean the instruments are like those you find on one of those Yamaha electronic pianos (76. Jazz Guitar), but it’s also being accompanied by the high-pitched child-like voice of the female singer. It was then that the girl next to me got off of the couch and began to mount me in my sitting position from the front. Then she starts humping away at me like there’s no tomorrow in attune to the beat. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry it was such a funny moment. A couple of minutes later, the girl from the next table comes over and does the same thing, and my girl goes over to Kamikawa. The whole room was going on a rotation-humpathon that lasts a good 20 minutes. I would’ve liked to have come out with a James Bond style quip for the situation when it ended, but I was simply too speechless. I nodded my head side to side at Kamikawa and told him he..was..the…daddy. The girl that I ended up with after that wasn’t too much fun to be with – she could speak English - but hardly won any popularity votes from me after saying:

“Oh I’m so glad I’m with you now, because you see that guy I was just with, he was Yakuza and he likes me. He always asks for me, but now I have you to protect me, and maybe he won’t bother you because you are a foreigner.”

I noticed the guy was staring directly at me. Fuck that, I wasn’t taking any risks. Kamikawa noticed it too and we both mutually decided without saying anything to get the hell out of there. Instead we hit Rad Brothers and spent the rest of the night drinking ourselves into oblivion, and laughing and joking about the days events. It was truly an unforgettable experience that I chuckle about even to this day.



Unfortunately time ran out for us when my visa limit started creeping out. Not only that but the poor sucker Kamikawa started to fall for one of the hostess’s we often called on, Yuki. Or at least, I thought he was suckered in by her, but before I returned to England it was apparent that she might’ve had a few feelings for him too, as he spent more and more unbilled time with her. When I came back to the UK, I did try to keep in touch with the old sod Kamikawa, but the only contact details I had was a hurriedly scribbled down e-mail address that I’d gotten off of him one night in a bar, and one that wasn’t even correct. So parents keep your children close to you, for if they hear a scream out there in the darkness of the Sapporo night..it's probably just the Dame Oyaji, pissing it up.



Kamikawa (you know who you are) if you’re out there, get in touch old boy, the good times have yet to end.




    
This message has been edited by EvilKris on Aug 15, 2001 10:48 PM


 

   
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