Bought with a Tux

I thought, as I was at the door of the apartment, ready to leave, once more dressed in my Christmas present, that this would be it. That the chauffeur would drive me back to the hotel and my seasonal adventure would be over. And such an adventure it was, I have to admit. Much better than watching Japanese TV Christmas night in the plastic space-craft pod that was my hotel room.

But Saito both surprised me and gave me hope when he suggested that he walk me to my hotel, which he said was only a few blocks away. I wasn’t acclimated to the Tokyo downtown area enough to know where my hotel was in relationship to where we stood now. But to be alone with Saito and to have one last crack at him, I would have been happy to walk three miles.

The walk, arm in arm with Riyoshi hit the spot. The snow was tapering off, leaving a wonderland effect even in the inner city, the streets were nearly deserted, and the sweet strains of the Vienna Boys Choir were wafting through my brain. We stopped more than once in darkened doors to kiss and fumble around with each other’s clothing strategically—me with much melting delight at what I found. My spirits rose with the unspoken promise of the man.

My Christmas was, indeed, destined to be complete, and my presents beyond satisfying. When we reached the hotel and I asked him to come up to my room, Riyoshi Saito said “Yes.” And when I pressed my luck and asked him if he could come up for all night, into Boxing Day morning, he smiled and said “Yes” again. And he told me that he, at least, had no problems with stamina whatsoever.