Birthday by Kôji Suzuki Page A

considering what I saw you do—"
    She wouldn't let him finish. She shook her head and said, "No, no. You misunderstand. I can't stand him. He comes on way too strong. In fact, he scares me. It's like he's obsessed with me—he's just creepy. I hate it. Why can't he be a little more laid back—especially at his age?"
    So even Shigemori had struck out with Sadako.
    Toyama actually began to feel a little sorry for him—was it possible that he was seriously in love with Sadako, at age forty-seven?
    "To be honest, it's really hard for me—I don't know how to tell you what I really feel. I want to believe you, Sadako, but..."
    Sadako leaned forward in the folding chair and put a hand on Toyama's knee.

    "Toyama," she said.
    She was only nineteen, but it seemed she knew just how to relieve the frustration of a man suffering from jealousy.
    She stood up and turned off the lights. Once she'd turned out the desk light, the booth was dark except for what light found its way through the window from the stage below. It was enough to dimly illuminate Sadako's body. But then the last actors left the stage, and that light too was extinguished. All was black except for the tiny red glow of the record light on the cassette deck in the corner.
    Something clicked in the darkness. Sadako must have locked the door from the inside. After a while, Toyama felt her weight on his knees. So slender to look at, she was surprisingly heavy.
    He could see nothing: only by her weight did he know she was there. She guided his hands as he undressed her. They unzipped her dress in the back, and then she slipped it off over her head. Now Sadako was straddling him in her underwear as he sat there.
    At the soft touch of her skin, the outlines of Sadako's body took shape in Toyama's mind. She'd taken off her dress, but ironically she was now becoming the Girl in Black herself. The fact that he couldn't see her in the darkness only stimulated his imagination as her naked form took on solidity in his mind's eye. The red glow from the tape deck only made her blacker.
    As he savored the satisfaction of having her all to himself at last, Toyama's frustration and jealousy melted away.
    He lost track of time. He forgot himself completely as they touched each other's bodies, as he stroked her hair, as he lifted her head and ran his lips over her neck; naturally, his desire progressed to the next level. But every time he started to reach a hand between her legs, she would stop his hand—sometimes gently, and sometimes brusquely. Finally, as if to distract him, she reached into his shorts.
    It took him no time at all to climax: her hands moved, and in response Toyama finished, stifling a moan.
    Not a drop of his ejaculate hit his clothes or the floor: Sadako caught it all in her hands. In his abandon, Toyama was unable to figure out what she was doing now. From the sounds, he thought she might be rubbing her hands together in it. Once she'd covered her hands in his fluid like lather from a bar of soap, she put her arms around his face, his neck, and embraced him. He smelled his own.
    Then Sadako whispered in his ear, barely loud enough to hear, "Don't ever love me more than you do now. I don't want to lose you, Toyama."
    It didn't feel as if she'd said the words at all, but rather as if they'd been delivered straight into his brain.
    Toyama, I love you.
    Was he hallucinating from the strength of his desire? No—her voice pressed itself directly into his mind.

    These were the words he wanted everyone to hear—
    if indeed he was hearing them himself. He especially wanted Shigemori to hear them.
    "Sadako," he whispered, in a dry, scratchy voice,
    "you'd make me so happy if you'd just say you love me in front of everyone..."
    But she shook her head.
    At that moment his foot hit the cabinet. He heard something fall. He'd forgotten himself in his love for Sadako, but just for an instant his attention was claimed by the altar hidden at his feet, and the offering lain in