The Hell- Bound Mistress (STORY) 3: Lanterns: Ghost Walk

In the looming silence, the centerpiece of the whorehouse softened.
Had enough of bitchiness yet? The small voice in the Mistress's head prickled. A voice, which she had long thought had been chased away. The Mistress's brows knitted and an expression of deep annoyance scrawled over her expensive made-up face.

Vexed, the Mistress's nude form sat up then shrugged out of her expensive silks. Letting the long embroidered red sleeves sprawl back on the lacquered cherry wood throne. With a straightening of her full exhausted alabaster ass, her mirthless form perched up. She felt the night breeze on her naked arms and ruffled sex, the loneliness of the room, and the shivering strings of lover's seeds which danced from her dizzy face.

Through her drunken, bleary eyes, she allowed her thoughts, and that voice to come back.
Its not her fault that Life has made her hate all of her same sex.

Plus, she did not outdo anything that was once done to her by the other painted whores here~ whose throne she's sitting on now. It's not her fault that they killed her babe while they were smiling friendly smiles, and afterwards didn't think she was even deserving an explanation. Like shipwrecks in the night, these things just happen all at once, then the losers slink away like some crippled cricket dragging their torn stomachs on the tatami.

“Here's your answer,” A familiar voice spat in her ears. Laced with venomous hate,“I saw the way you were looking at my dress.”

A destroyed face, which she never forgot came back to her. Once so perfect, once wore the same fake smile, shining with the 4 red claw marks which she had made upon it with her own long bleeding nails. 

And just like that, after she had received those ugly marks, the District kicked her out. And just like that, she's a now a rotting corpse in a straw mat. But strangely, this time, the familiar ghostly face~ which she destroyed was not malicious with conspiracy, nor bleeding with rage- choked accusation, as she often does when she came to her to in vulnerable nights without opium and smoke. Instead, she came with patient concern and understanding. The same look of concern, like those of an aunt or adopted mother's on those days she tried her best to be one.

“It was because the way she was looking at your stuff wasn't it?”

Stunned, the Mistress's eyes widened at the voice only she could hear. The voice which she thought she had long chased away. But the voice, the part of her that gave the voice was right. It was because of the way Piss Pot had always been looking at her. Those cow eyes of hers, so big but so dumb.

Most of all? Those big cow eyes watching her all the time, as if she always wanted something from her. And though she was a whore had performed more than a lifetime of hell- destined perversions, the feeling of those eyes upon her felt perverse, as if she was being felt on. Touching her. Those long glances from behind, which she didn't understand, which she always felt on her naked neck and back. Like a stupid snotty kid's, which always made her insides soft without even trying.

Most of all, that she had saw the bloody bundles which she though she had safely hid under the garden's rocks.

“Shut the fuck up!” The Mistress shrieked in her skull.

Doubly vexed, the ivory colored woman took out the flask of the lavender glass flask and raised it like a goblet of ancient heroes. Sticking her long dirty tongue out, she welcomed the curling rank seeds wash over her sake- addled tongue. Tasting the handsome boy whose virginity she stole. Finally, gulping, she sat the flask down, happy that a measure of her bruised pride was restored by the mawkish blubbery potion. Delighted with electric feel as if she had in fact ate the little Piss Pot's heart raw.

Then, hoping to once again banish that stupid voice from her skull, she gripped her discarded kimono, her famous trademark in silk and brusquely waved it. The woman- made gust roared. The two well- adorned red sleeves ballooned in the room, and she watched the dried scabs of her customers broke off from its surging surface.

Then all was silent. Just her, now wreathed in her expensive silks, the night, and the room.
To spice up the bland ammonium taste of her seed mingled tongue, she picked up her long opium pipe and took another strong draft. A new inspiration came to her. The night was still young, and she still wanted to snatch some winks.

And with an unsure shove of her dazed, manicured fingers, her screen doors parted. The unsteady Mistress sailed into the balmy night in her silken nude.

It was like a dream, and step after an unsteady step, the Mistress's naked feet clambered over each warm rough slab of the District's cobbled path.

Tonight she found plenty of distraction in the swaying paper lanterns. As she stepped over each red or amber orb, she stopped and laughed at each drunkenly, amused by what she could only make out herself. Then as she watched, she took in fresh drafts from her long pipe and breathing out ribbons of swirling smoke from her burning nose. Letting the playful night wind blew away her long kimono and lay bare the sight of her well trimmed sex and legs.

She didn't know how much time she was really wasting at each interval, but soon at least some within the district took note of the swaying, well lit nude.

As she strolled, sauntered in half silk nude, house lamps blossoms secretly in the windows of her fleshy wake. But she didn't mind, and welcomed the hungry winks which roved over her silk white skin. Some fuel to keep them burning inside their dreams. Some incentive and free appetizer for future customers. She has a reputation to keep. She was the Number One tourist attraction of the entire Red Light District after all, ...so typically congested with so many male genitals. And girls? Girls who are watching her too? Oh well, there's no harm in letting them take a good look at what they will never be.

And as she strolled, she sang to herself, listening to the Shamisen only she could hear. As if she were a naked wolf to the delight of the perverse, watching moon.

恋すてふ

わが名はまだき

立ちにけり

人知れずこそ

思ひそめしか

I fall in love,

The rumor already

Goes around.

Though I began to

Give my heart to her secretly.

A song which she often sang when she was selling herself for taels of gold pieces.

Leisurely, she strode passed the patrolling guards whose lamps swung in their hands, and who had to adjust their iron kurari pants as she neared. Each of their legs trying their best to shield away the hardened manhood in their trousers. The Shogun's law had long demanded that those who break the stark Decency Laws be severely punished with arrests and even exiled to the prickly colony of Hachijō-jima. But they only shuffled out meekly as she sauntered passed them in her long naked strides, a happy smoke a flowing ribbon behind her.

A respect that was due solely to centerpiece of this whole district. Who were they to accost her? In Her streets? To the Tigress right in her own well- urinated domains?

After all, only love and coin triumphs here. Who here would challenge the Number One Tourist Attraction of the Gion. strolling and walking on her 2 snow white legs, so liberally giving a free sample of these unaffordable wares?