Read The Miko - 02 for Free Online

interference.” There was no anger in his voice now; he had that under control.
    “Your job is not to insult me,” Tomkin said in a more normal tone of voice as he struggled to control his runaway pulse.
    “You’re in Japan now,” Nicholas said simply. “I’m here to help you stop thinking like a Westerner.”
    “You mean loss of face again.” Tomkin snorted and hooked a spatulate thumb at the closed door. “That was just a girl. What the fuck do I care what she thinks of me.”
    “She is, in fact, Seiichi Sato’s personal representative,” Nicholas said in a calming tone. “That makes her important.” This lie was essential now to keep Tomkin under control. If he should even suspect the slight that had been dealt them, there would be no stopping him. “As such, here, she is part of Sato himself and therefore no less important.”
    “You mean I should bow and scrape to her? After Sato didn’t even have the courtesy to meet us himself.”
    “You have been over here many times,” Nicholas said evenly. “It astonishes me that you have learned nothing at all about Japanese customs.” He gestured. “This treatment is accorded to only the highest dignitaries. Do you have any idea what this setup—the Japanese bath—must cost with space at such a high premium in Tokyo.” Nicholas sighed. “Stop thinking with your Western ego and try a little acceptance. That will go a long way here.” He reached into his locker, brought out a fluffy white towel embroidered with a dark blue triple wheel, the emblem of Sato Petrochemicals.
    Tomkin was silent for a moment. Then, abruptly, he grunted and began to undress. It was as close to an apology as he was going to come. When he, too, was naked, he drew out his towel and the key to the locker.
    “Don’t use it,” Nicholas said.
    “Why not?”
    They stared at each other for a moment, then Tomkin nodded. “Loss of face, right?”
    Nicholas smiled, opening the wooden door beside the bank of lockers. “Come on,” he said.
    They stepped into a chamber perhaps twenty feet square. The floor was the same cedar slats but here the walls were of gleaming blue tile. The ceiling, of smaller tile, was a mosaic whose center was the interlocking wheel pattern of the company’s logo. The room was taken up by two enormous bathtubs both now filled with steaming water. Two young women stood in attendance.
    Without hesitation Nicholas stepped in front of them, allowing them to pour scalding water over him, then begin rubbing him down with soapy sponges. After a moment spent taking this in, Tomkin followed him.
    “This I understand,” he said, allowing the woman to wash him. “First get clean, then let the heat relax you.”
    They were rinsed off carefully, shampoo provided for them, then, dripping, their flesh steaming, walked to one of the steaming tubs.
    Here the water was even hotter, making Tomkin cringe. They discovered niches within the walls of the tub so that they could sit with just their heads out of the water. Tomkin’s face was red, beads of sweat rolling freely down his cheeks. He found that if he moved it made the heat intolerable. Nicholas’ eyes were closed, his body relaxed. There was no sound save the soft, hypnotic lapping of the wavelets their own bodies created in languid movements within the bath. The tiled walls were stippled with moisture.
    Tomkin put his head back against the wood, stared up at the Sato triple wheel. “When I was a kid,” he said, “I remember I hated to take a bath. I don’t know why. Didn’t think it was manly or something. There was a fag kid in school always smelled like he’d come from the bath. Jesus, I hated him. Beat his brains out one day after class.” His chest moved up and down slowly with his breath.
    “I thought, you know, that it’d make me some kind of hero with the other kids, but it didn’t.” His voice lapsed for a moment before resuming. The drip of the water was like a metronome. “I remember my father