New song. “If I can make you dance I can make you dance baby, Hold on to my hips my hips my hips.” I grinded into him. His hardness was no secret,...pushing up against me. It must have made him nervous, but his attempt to pull away opened up an opportunity. Instinctively, my own hips pulled back, hands slid down his chest and found his waistband. Snug. I couldn’t slip them under. Like any good Martial Artist, I adapted and changed my technique.A belt, single latch style. In less than a chorus of. Getting a cab is easy, and the ugly cabbie smiles, not even attempting to contain his filthy leering stare as I tell him to take me to my hotel in Asakusa.At reception, I collect a letter from the model agency, I don’t notice it is addressed to ?Miss Jemma? saying that a Japanese agency, obviously the Yakuza mafia I had to break, would contact me soon after I arrive for a meeting. I check my watch and decide I have to take a shower, the long flight has left me a little jaded although I slept on. More

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