Kimiko, a Bargirl's Tale. [long 16,000] Adult.

The story of a bar girl in Japan in the sixties. Erotic.

“Kimchan, Ma wants you,” a ten-year-old girl heard as she played in mud outside her family’s simple thatch-roofed home. Her father farmed a plot of land for a rich landowner south of Koza, Okinawa on a percentage basis. Crops had been very poor for years, not that the young girl had noticed.

At a second call, Kimiko put down a mud figure of a unicorn, soft horn dropping off as it toppled to one side. Dripping mud from a dirty behind, she stood and started for the house. On her way, Kimmie brushed off as much of the soil as she could. Splashing through a puddle of rainwater served to clean dirty bare feet as she approached the building.

While at play, Kimmie had barely noticed an auto containing a strange man coming up a dirt trail toward her home. Thinking it wasn’t any of her business and engrossed in building a mud menagerie, she had ignored it as adult stuff. 

When she entered the relative coolness of the building, the girl saw her parents and the stranger watching her closely. Nodding at her father, she bowed slightly toward the stranger before standing demurely aside near an icebox.

“Kimmie. This is Mr. Agamoto. You’ll be staying with him for awhile,” her mother told her, a sad note to be heard in a usually confident voice. 

“Hi. Stay with him? Why, Ma?” She noticed the stranger’s eyes scanning her from dirty tangled hair to filthy feet. Her tummy felt rather like when her father had asked her to choose among their chickens for one to slaughter as a holiday meal. She dimly realized both as serious choices, her losing a loved pet, but Mr. Agamoto's eyes appeared to be coldly appraising the girl whilst her mother's had been sad and defeated.

“He’s going to teach you, like in school.”

“Why? I can take care of myself now? When Kimo hit me, I beat him up by myself. I don’t want another school. I like the one I have now.”

“It’s decided. This man, Mr. Agamoto, will be your teacher," her mother insisted.

"And you will go with him,” her father declared with finality. “Now pack a bag. Use the green one in the closet. And get ready. Wash yourself with the hose and change out of those muddy clothes, into your best dress.”

Her new mentor being a businessman and in a hurry, anxious to leave the squalor of a village much like one he'd grown up in, goodbyes were brief. Her mother inserted several slips of instructions along with the village telephone number to be used only for emergencies, into Kimmie's suitcase. Tears falling on the paper, she hastily wrote another copy to pin inside a pocket of her daughter's best clothing so that they wouldn't all be lost. The only telephone within miles happened to be at the village police box in the town square. 

A few hugs later, Kimiko found herself in an automobile for the first time in her young life. It happened to be a "Jeep" left from the recent war. After that conflagration, the Americans found it cheaper and more expedient to sell or give them to natives than to pay for their return to the States.

Breeze flowing cooly through long still-wet freshly-washed hair, Kimmie turned to watch her home recede into the distance. At the first dip in the road, it disappeared, bringing fresh tears to young eyes to join a feeling of fright in her heart. 

Sneaking an anxious look ahead, she saw Mr. Agamoto tightly clutching the wheel as the old war vehicle bounced over potholes and avoided roadside trees, heading for civilization.

It wasn’t until much later that Kimiko found out what was really going on. Her parents were deeply in debt from years of poor crops. When Mr. Agamoto approached them, they were at first angry at the suggestion of contracting the labor of one of their family. Especially one so young.

Mr. Agamoto had explained. "It will be a loan, with the girl as security. She'll be getting an education and trained for a decent job. That is also to my advantage, as she can help pay the loan back more quickly."

"I know what it is," her father had objected. "I've read of slave labor on the mainland."

The businessman smiled, shaking his head. "I follow the law, Mr. Yamagoto. Many of my charges work for the American occupiers. Even in their offices. The process includes safeguards and has been approved by the highest authority. Your daughter will probably be trained as a factory worker, house servant, clerk, or the like.

"It isn't slavery, and only until she and the rest of you pay back the loan. Training her well is in my own best interests. You should think of it as an investment in the future, allowing you to get out of debt and giving Kimiko a better future than this poor village can offer."

Although finances were the furthest thing from the little girl's mind, they were foremost on those of her parents. Her father could buy his land from Mr. Sato's family, thus keeping all the profit from his crops. He could also purchase another water buffalo to till his fields -- his present animal being old and weak. The extra money could make a difference between profit and a future of endless debt to Mr. Sato, their landlord.

If they were lucky and enjoyed a few years of good crops, it could be paid back soon. Meanwhile, they would have one less child to cloth and feed. The way Mr. Agamoto explained, it seemed like a good deal. Upon reflection, one hard to pass up.

***

Kimmie carefully combed Suziko’s hair. The two were being trained by Mrs. Yukiko Sati. The older woman, a former bargirl, had also been contracted when young and had, by serving both Japanese and American soldiers, paid her loan off many years before.

Working as a bar hostess was the only occupation Yukiko knew, and she had continued until it became obvious that she was too old for it. She had then taken up tending bar while managing others. Having saved during that period, Yukiko had raised several sons, two now working for the Americans.
 
Now in her seventies, the woman shunned retirement, instead taking a job mothering and instructing new girls. Yukiko retained a vast amount of experience and knowledge from long before the current American occupation of the island. 

In her youth, she'd served drinks to the Japanese army and navy when they owned the island. She had seen it go from a peaceful sleepy place to a conglomeration of huge military bases. When the Americans attacked, Yukiko had passed ammunition to an anti-aircraft gun, helping to shoot the gaiteki -- foreign enemy -- down in flames. 

After the Americans won that war, she went back to her occupation as a bargirl, serving the invaders the same as she had her own people and the Japanese. Yukiko had learned that men were men, no matter the nationality, as well as that military men were all the same.

Suziko, Suzie, was Kimmi’s best friend. Along with three other girls, they stayed together in a smaller building behind Mr. Agamoto’s large home in the town of Naha. Now fourteen, Kimmie was receiving an education as promised. It was no doubt a better one than if she had stayed in her small village. She attended a public school in Naha City and was given further, more specialized, training in the evenings. 

Since she was one of the prettiest girls, Kimmie was being trained for work in an American-oriented bar, as were the other girls living with her. Others were being trained as maids and factory workers while the most intelligent learned clerking and bookkeeping subjects. Many of them required less training and would, while still going to high school, be put to work at manual labor to help pay off their family's debts. Such work for the Americans was highly competitive and better paid than working for Okinawan industry.

The Naha City school taught English and Kimiko was carefully checked on her progress in the language. Every night, Yukiko went over it with the girls. Kimmie and Suzie were also taught many aspects of how to dress, use makeup and other girlish arts. It was, in reality, a sort of low-level geisha training. Except that, for bargirls, subtlety wasn't required, nor musical talents.

School kids were, at their school, required to wear uniforms. However, as part of her duties, Yukiko picked her girls up right after classes to chaperon them home, thus avoiding unwanted liaisons with boys and eliminating possible pregnancies. After all, those things could only lead to Mr. Agamoto losing money on his investment. At home, they were locked in by gates and barred windows. They did often go out to events while chaperoned. It was not a prison.

Immediately after school, the young ladies would change out of their school uniforms and into suggestive clothing, the kind genteel ladies of that era required to entice men and to look beautiful. Then would come supper and classes designed for their future occupation.

After puberty, they were also taught how to please men, including how to make love. Yukiko knew all the secrets and attempted to pass them onto the girls. So as to be in compliance with the law, they remained virgins but were champing on the bit -- anxious to see what it was really like.

“Do men actually like to do that, Kimmie? In the butt?” Suzie laughed at the concept. “It sounds icky to me.” They were looking at a picture-porno magazine Yukiko had given them.

“Guess so. That’s what Mrs. Sati says. Guess we gotta wipe real good before going to work." She giggled. "Unless we don’t like the guy, anyway.” They both laughed, causing the comb to slip.

“When we gonna really do it?” Kimmie asked. “All we do is talk and see pictures.”

“Dunno, but I want’a see what it feels like. Probably like when I do it to myself.”

“You do it to yourself?” Kimmie pretended shock at the thought. She was trying to picture her friend masturbating.

“Sure. Gotta get in practice. I hear it hurts the first time, though. With a man, that is.”

“Yeah, I heard the same thing. Just the first time, though.”

They talked endlessly on the subject of sex. When they were seventeen and a half the girls finished their class work and were assigned to a real bar. Although the age of consent was sixteen, American military law didn't allow them to work around alcohol until eighteen so they worked at odd jobs such as cleaning and running errands. The idea was to get them used to the atmosphere. Native bars, many off limits to GIs, weren't as strict, but Mr. Agamoto insisted on following the rules. 

Conversations with real working girls and watching them at work gave Kimmie and Suzie a new depth of knowledge. Although not allowed to sit with Americans, they did talk and joke with them. By the time they had graduated from the city school and reached the required age, the girls were ready and anxious to get to work for real. School was over. It was time to help pay off their family debts as well as practice new skills.

*** 

“As new girls, you three help work the bar. Later, you’ll be given tables or booths of your own,” Mr. Aida, their new boss said. 

It was the first night of real work for Kimmie. Suzie and a girl they didn’t know named Junko were there with her. They were to work at the "Blue Moon" bar in the smaller town of Tairagawa. Mr. Agamoto had sold their contracts to Mr. Aida. They and their families now owed the new owner for the remainder of the loan. 

Now they could start helping to pay the debt back. There were strict rules and regulations, the girls being protected by law and the amount of debt not insurmountable. Both Mr. Agamoto and Mr. Aida were respected businessmen, not taking advantage of the girls or their families.

Tairagawa was an American marine town at night, only one small army company being in the area. When a large ship, or fleet of smaller ones, stopped at the navy base at nearby "White Beach Naval Station" -- which was the home base of the US Seventh Fleet at the time -- Tairagawa became a navy town for a few days. Those occasions brought on a good deal of animosity between navy and marines.

To take advantage of the sailors, prices downtown would double, though most of the bars found ways to exempt regular customers. A capital ship like a carrier was a windfall for bars and other local businesses. Hundreds of American sailors would flood that and other nearby towns, indeed the entire area, on shore leave. After months at sea, the sailors were anxious to spend money, mainly on booze and girls, with souvenirs coming in a dim third.

The Blue Moon bar was typical for the time and place. It consisted of a room of about thirty-by-twenty feet in dimension with a large fancy bar along one side. A mirror stood behind the bar, with row after row of liquor bottles on shelves and in cabinets in front of and under it. A few leather or plastic covered barstools stood in front of the bar for the use of single customers.

There was a row of padded booths along another wall, with small circular tables dotted around any open space. Two restrooms were located along the wall off one end of the bar with a small hallway leading to three back rooms. Those included a storage room and a small employee lounge with a refrigerator, television, and couches for the girls to relax on. There was also a very small office for the boss, Mr. Aida, where he could see into the bar itself as well as watch the back door. 

The backyard was enclosed by a high concrete-block fence on one side and long sections of wooden interconnected shacks along the other two. The girls rented rooms in the shacks and used them for sleeping and entertaining. Like with most Okinawan housing, each room had sliding doors for privacy along with small windows opening onto a sugarcane field behind the enclosure.

The barroom itself was dimly lit with a few flashing beer signs and a large jukebox. This establishment happened to be oriented as country-and-western, meaning the jukebox was dominated by that type of music.

There was a great deal of animosity between different military services. Also in those days just before the American war in Vietnam, black and white racial rivalry was rampant. 

One of the easiest ways to tell which type bar was which, without going inside, was to listen to music coming from the doorway. It would be either Country and Western, Big Band, or Soul Music. Rock and Roll hadn’t hit the island yet. 

If a girl working in a black bar would deign to have sex with a white GI, she would be ostracized by black customers. It was the same in a white-oriented bar. Once typed racially, it was hard for the girls to change their images. If a girl known to favor blacks moved to a white bar, a customer would no doubt identify her sooner or later. The same in the other direction. The New Moon favored white GIs.

The three new girls were joined by three regular girls in the working area. Although Kimmie spent most of her time mixing drinks, when busy all six took turns working the bar, booths, and tables. 

When it was Kimmie’s turn and a customer walked in, she received a nod from the owner. On the first nights new girls worked, Mr. Aida stood behind the bar to supervise more closely, moving his employees around in ways that generated the most profit. 

The nod meant that it was a new customer -- one not yet attached to another girl from that establishment. The girls were very jealous of what they perceived of as "their" customers. No other girl was allowed to have sexual relations with them, whether the implied girlfriend was working at the time or not. Others could sit, talk, and cadge drinks, but no serious touching of another woman's man was allowed. 

It was, however, a mark of status to land a man attached to a girl from another such establishment. There was a lot of competition in that trade, involving a multitude of dirty tricks, though not in the same establishment.

*** 

Nervously, Kimmie approached her first customer. Legs shaking, she struggled to remember her English lessons. She reached up to grab the stranger’s hand. My, but he was big, she thought.

“Hi, GI. My name Kimmie. You bu -- buy me d -- drink?” she asked as sexily as she could, batting false eyelashes. “Please?” she almost whispered. Kimmie could sense sweat running down her armpits, even while feeling a chill in the chest.

“Are you hot, Kimmie? Your hand’s slippery?”

“Hot for you, GI. You buy me drink ... whiskey?” she asked again, eyes seeming to plead for acceptance.

Sex wasn’t mandatory but if she wanted to pay off her loan quickly, it would be a good idea. And she had made a bet with Suzie as to who did "IT" first.

The man looked at her closely, an eagerly grinning face showing he liked what he saw. Kimmie was dressed in a low-cut short dress made of thin material, showing off her minimal cleavage. To the rough-looking American, Kimmie resembled a fragile oriental doll.

“Tommy. My name’s Tommy. Sure, I’ll buy you one.” 

“You want go to table, Tommy? That’s a good name, very nice.”

“Sure, baby, let’s go.” 

He steered her to a free table, then called the bartender over. Anticipating his order, the girl tending bar had a drink ready for Kimmie. Normally it would be tea colored to resemble whiskey, but was up to the bartender whether it would be tea or liquor. Mr. Aida couldn’t afford to let the girls become drunk on the job. On the other hand, it was more profitable to keep them feeling happy and vivacious. An occasional real drink helped. Especially on that vital first night or two.

“You got money for jukebox, Tommy?” 

He gave her a handful of quarters. Since he was sober, she gave back all but two. If he had been drunk, she would have kept them all. Kimmie went to the jukebox and put the coins in, playing six songs at random. Her knowledge of written English was minimal. She then returned to the table. Smiling sexily, she lifted her drink.

“Phhy! Gaa!” Kimmie had taken a big gulp to moisten a dry throat, expecting cold tea but getting whiskey and cola instead. She gasped, tears running her mascara. Kimmie held her mouth with a dainty hand and tried to smile at Tommy. He thought it hilarious and they both laughed. 

The two talked for a long time, Kimmie mostly listening and nodding, not understanding the rapid English, while Tommy continued buying drinks for them both. He was one of the few army troops in the area, from a place called Hantabaru -- a small transmitter site up in the hills. After that first drink, she was served tea but was still cautious on the first sip. As time progressed and she saw her power over the large man, Kimmie gained her confidence back.

Tommy was soon inebriated, each successive drink making him easier to control. All she had to do was sit and listen, occasionally smiling, nodding her head, or asking for more drinks for them both. 

Kimmie thought it was a good time to try for the extra money. While they talked, she vacillated with herself as to how to mention sex to him. She couldn't help sneaking glances at Suzie, on the other side of the room, sitting with another man -- or forget her bet with the other girl. Tommy broke that concentration by grabbing her hand.

“Look, Kimmie, why don’t we go someplace private? You know what I mean? You're very pretty and I'm real horny.” The problem was taken out of her hands.

“Uh, I think so maybe. Okay. You give me money, yes?”

“You don’t really like me?" He turned away, groaned, and sighed loudly. "All you want is my money." He jerked erect, looking serious, "That makes me so sad, Kimmie. And here I thought I'd found my own true love.” 

The girl became alarmed, not knowing he was joking. 

“Oh, no. I like you too much. Uh, my rent. I have to pay my rent.” It was one of a number of replies she'd been coached in. Another was a sick mother.

Tommy split a gut at her naivety. She was obviously new. He’d suspected from that first sweaty grip. Maybe he could con her? he thought.

They left the bar through the back door, the event being recorded in a notebook by Mr. Aida. He expected half of whatever cash she earned. Typically, his share would be $1 for a quickie,or “short time”, or $2.50 if the customer spent the night. It would go toward repaying her family loan.

Suddenly losing her confidence again, lips quivering slightly and knees shaking, Kimmie led Tommy across a dirt backyard, chickens scattering at their approach, and to a room that had been assigned to her. She also slept there during the day and was charged slightly for its use. Sounds of talking in English could be heard behind a slat wall, harsh electric light filtering through cracks.

“This m -- my room, Tommy," Kimmie whispered while sliding the door open. "Please be quiet.” Butterflies in her tummy batted wings all the way to her throat.

The room was large enough to hold a small bed with a dresser. There was enough room between the door, bed, and dresser to stand in, maybe a foot and a half across for the length of the bed. A kitchen chair sat at one end of the passage, taking up more room. 

Pulling a string hanging from the ceiling, Kimmie turned on a small red bulb. An electric fan, an ashtray, and a radio sat on top of the dresser.

Being more experienced than the girl, Tommy stepped in first and sat on the bed. Kimmie slid across his back to lie down and clasp her arms around his waist. Tommy reached and, grabbing the much smaller and softer girl, bent and kissed her ardently. The two young people were soon wrestling and laughing on top of the sheets.

Tommy stood and undressed while Kimmie began doing the same while lying down. 

“You be n … nice, okay? I'm cherry girl,” she whispered, hard for him to hear because of the dress over her face by then.

He pulled her hands away from the flimsy garment, which was already up over and exposing tiny breasts enclosed in a black bra. She raised her arms and upper body while he finished taking the dress off. Kimmie was determined to act professional, even though it was her first time.

“I’m always nice, honey. Nice and horny for you.”

She rolled over for him to unclasp her bra, raising slightly as he pulled it out from under her. Tommy reached under to clasp her breasts, squeezing slightly as he rubbed still-soft n*****s. He bent down and kissed her behind the ear, running a wet tongue along her neck. Kimmie felt her heart race as warm breath flowed from one ear to the other. 

Fear fought with self-confidence, both overcoming curiosity as his hands and lips expertly massaged bare womanly flesh. Halfway through his tour on the island, Tommy considered himself experienced on how to turn on a woman while poor Kimmie had to rely on movies and dry classes. She tensed as she felt his penis rubbing against a bare leg. 

“Wha’s that?” she murmured into a pillow. “Y -- You din’t bring your gun?”

Tommy didn’t pause to answer. His tongue, alternated by kisses, continued down her back until stopped by the elastic of electric-blue panties, darkened in the dim red glow. 

The girl reached down to remove them, but again had her hands gently shoved away as Tommy, sliding both hands inside, along her leg, slowly slid both palms down along smooth flesh, then over bare feet and off -- smothering nether cheeks with wet kisses in the process. As she lifted her body to help, the sensations of his lips and tongue pressed onto her tender bottom only intensified.

“Oh! My God!” she yelped as his tongue explored around her anus, darting from side to side as though reluctant to enter the orifice. The sensations he stirred filled her being, almost as though her entire universe was concentrated on that small puckered secret but sensitive area. 

Under her, a hand tenderly and expertly manipulated a waiting clitoris as lips and tongue smothered that area behind her. Kimmie briefly remembered her conversation with Suzie. It was anything but "icky." 

Kimmie exploded, feeling a delicious heat as if her very soul were being incinerated in one long, hot, flash. She shoved herself into his face, trying to force his tongue faster around that forbidden chasm, making senseless and incoherent pleas for more, more, ever more. 

She felt so weak, heart still beating wildly as Tommy gently turned her over and started again, this time in front. It being her first time, he knew more than she, and brought her to another climax, maybe even better than the first. Kimmie forgot her classes and let nature take its course. She soared among the angels, to drop down to earth only to fly again. 

Her efforts to please him seemed to pale in light of his actions. Kimmie went through the motions as well as she could. He didn’t seem disappointed, though. The GI seemed to think of Kimmie as a piece of candy. He nibbled every inch of her body, bringing on yet another orgasm.

Sated, Kimmie fell asleep enclosed in strong arms, his breath on her face. When she woke in the morning, he was gone. 

It wasn’t until she dressed and looked around that she noticed he hadn’t left any money. Here it was, her first night at work and she had already been cheated.

Anger building, Kimmie didn’t know what to do or tell Mr. Aida. She knew her boss would have noted her going out the back door with Tommy. He would expect his half of the $2 charge for the "short-time." Or worse, $2.50 out of $5 for an "all night" romp -- according to when and if her boss saw him leaving. And she should have returned to work for another hour or so afterward.

Confused, angry and frightened at not knowing how to explain to her boss, Kimiko lay in the rumpled bed and cried into her pillow. She hated to admit defeat, that she, the trained con-er was really the con-ee. 

Eventually, an idea struck her. She had a few American dollars saved up. Why not give Mr. Aida one of hers? That solution brightened the girl up considerably.

“Never again,” she muttered to herself, “will I forget to ask for money first. And if I see that f*****g Tommy I’ll kill him.” She lay there for a minute, feeling both happy and shaking with anger -- but with a smile on a pretty tear-stained face.

Now that she had gotten that out of her system and was feeling better, Kimmie stretched her limbs out on the bed, working the kinks out and remembering the night before.

“Damn, that felt good, though. Not at all like Mrs. Sati said it was.” She smiled at the memory of the bar. “And those big Americans are so easy to play with. I can twist them around all I like. Nothing to be afraid of.” Another thought intruded, unbidden. “Except for that b*****d, Tommy.”

Feeling hunger, it was time to get up. The bar not having any girls in training, she had to help clean up in the mornings. Normally, except for a couple taking turns for the much easier day-shift, most of the girls were off until about six or seven in the evening. The vast majority of GIs worked during the day. 

Kimiko counted a dollar’s worth of small change from a stash hidden under the dresser. Being under American Military Law since the war, the island used either American money or Japanese Yen.

She crossed the enclosed courtyard between housing cubicles and the back of the bar, chickens scattering at her steps. Entering the back door, she found Mr. Aida busy in his office.

“Here you are, sir. For last night. I had one man with me.” She nervously handed him a handful of change, hoping he hadn't noticed the missing hours from the night before.

“Stiffed you, didn’t he?” Mr. Aida laughed. He knew a GI wouldn’t pay with pennies and nickels.

Kimmie blushed and, not wanting to lie to the boss, nodded her head shyly. 

“Don’t feel bad, Kimmie. Suzie and Junko didn’t get paid either. And Junko’s GI stayed all night. She owes me $2.50. At least you gave me the money.” He grinned. “I’ll have to take it out of their pay. It’s expected that new girls will be out-foxed. I hope you learned your lesson. Always collect first.”

In dismissal, he turned back to his paperwork. 

She found all but one of the other girls in the lounge, drinking tea and eating a box of donuts. They seemed cheerful enough.

“Morning, sleepyhead. He wear you out?” Suzie grinned and motioned her to squat down at the low table. Junko wasn’t smiling, though, probably still thinking of all that money she owed.

“Oh, no. I wore him down. He had to crawl out of bed. Couldn’t even stand up,” Kimmie said, laughing at the mental picture, certain he would really crawl the next time she got her hands on the son'a b***h. She made up her mind to pilfer a good sharp knife from the bar to castrate that b*****d with. 

“You should have seen mine. He was done in two minutes,” Suzie told her. “I shouldn’t have bothered closing the door. At least I got a good night’s sleep.” She turned to Junko. “You tell her, Junie?”

Junko shook her head and looked away, arms clasped across her chest.

“Junie had a bad one,” Suzie told Kimiko in a low voice. “He threw her around and slapped her. He wouldn’t let her alone all night. Even called her a w***e and other things. A real bad man,” she whispered. “He didn’t even pay her.”

Kimmie reached over to clasp Junko’s sweaty hand. The other girl tried to pull away at first, then looked over and smiled at the sentiment, moisture evident in her eyes.

“I’ll get me a big gun. Nobody does that to me,” Suzie bragged. Nobody took her seriously, but it broke the tension and the thought cheered Junko up.

After breakfast, the three new girls got to work cleaning. Now that they were full-fledged bargirls, the older ones would have to share that duty. All six made short work of the chore. That day it was Kimmi’s job to arrange bottles behind the bar. 

She marked the level of liquid in each bottle with an indelible marker. Every day, Mr. Aida would check and enter the level in a book. One of her duties was to take bottles of new, cheaper, whiskey and pour them into more expensive containers, mixing them with a little of the original booze. 

The bar kept two bottles of, for instance, "Crown Royal" open at one time. One, with a tax stamp, was on an upper shelf and one in the cupboard. If a GI ordered the drink and was relatively sober, his was poured from the upper shelf. If drunk or ordering a mixed drink with an otherwise strong taste, he got his drink from the lower bottle. It was filled with a cheaper brand, picked to have a somewhat similar taste. 

The customer rarely knew the difference. If they did, the pretty bargirl would simply say she made a mistake. Mr. Aida also gave a few select GIs a price break if they brought him bottles from the liquor store on base, saving money on both cost and tax. Those had to be poured into stamped bottles and the military ones broken into small pieces, the unstamped tops melted.

“We’re done. Lets go downtown?” Suzie suggested, taking off her apron. 

“I've got a little money in my room,” Kimmie offered.

“I’m broke,” from Junko, briefly remembering she was also in debt.

Kimmie retrieved her remaining coins and the three went out on the town to celebrate. It was still before noon and the Oriental sun bright as they strolled along the sidewalk, careful to avoid stepping on a sewage-ditch running alongside and in front of the buildings. The shallow trenches were mostly covered by square stone slabs, the key-word being "mostly." If you stepped on a loose tile, you could end up with a shoe full of human s**t.

***  

The three returned in time to catch a few hours sleep before reporting to work at seven pm. Kimiko was the first to rise and go in to work. She was met by Mr. Aida, who told her a new schedule. He had wanted to break the girls in by having them work the late shift the night before. Now he would stagger shifts, giving the older and more experienced girls preference on the more lucrative late-night work.

“I want you and Junko to work the early shift for awhile, eleven to seven,” he told her. “It isn’t very busy, since most of the Americans are at work. Two of you will have to both tend the bar and take care of the customers. Also make sure the place is clean for later. Get enough sleep tonight. Okay?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Aida. We work tonight though, right?”

“Of course. But be certain to get enough sleep. You can leave early if you want.” He went back to his office and she went to work. 

Kimmie felt she was an old hand by then, not nervous like the night before. She’d keep an eye out for that b*****d Tommy, though.

Kimiko’s first customer happened to be a short dark-haired American.

“Hi, my name Kimmie. You buy me drink, huh?”

“Damn right, baby. You look yummy today.”

All she had to do was sit and accept drinks while he told her his life story. She kept patting his hand and saying how sorry she was at his troubles. Most of them were his own fault, she thought. The marines made him work and be on time.

“Oh, I’m sorry. It bad they do that to you.”

“It’s not my fault. The sergeant picks on me.”

“You right, he shoun’ do it like that. Buy me 'nother drink? You want one too?”

She waited and waited, but that damned Tommy never came in. She would show him when he did. While the customer was rambling on, Kimmie thought of all the things she would do to that son-of-a-b***h that had stiffed her and made her look bad.

Her customer left for another bar. 

Kimiko worked the room and sat with a dozen new customers during the day and late into the night. Her back hurt and she felt her insides floating from all the tea she was drinking. Most GIs came in, sat a while, talked, and then left. None of them wanted anything else. 

Kimmie was too new to know, but it was a weekday night a few days before monthly payday, and many Americans were staying on post. The ones that did come to town had little money, many of them being regulars drinking on a “tab” payable on payday. Even then, they had no cash for Kimmie. What made her angry was that Suzie had not one but two short-times, while she was only spinning her wheels and earning ten-cents a drink.

Kimmie was glad when the bar finally closed and she could go back to her room and lie down. Her feet were sore, stomach swollen from all that tea, and she had a headache. Knowing she had to work the next morning, Kimmie soon drifted off to sleep.

***

She felt much better in the morning. After breakfast and cleanup, she sat watching television on a small black-and-white set in the lounge until ten-thirty. 

She and Junko went up front to work while the other girls drifted off on their own business. Two of the older ones lived with boyfriends and wouldn't even come in until time for their shift. 

Mr. Aida worked on paperwork in his office. 

“Well, our first time working alone, Kimmie. You want the bar first or should I?” Junko observed.

“Go ahead if you want, Junie. You’re better at mixing drinks.” She looked around. “I’ll stand outside for a while, see if I can get someone to come in.” Kimmie went out to stand in the doorway, waiting for one of the few Americans in the small town to walk by.

Although filled with troops in the late afternoon, mornings found the streets almost empty of them, only locals going about their business. She knew a few of the townspeople, but not many. Some of them looked down on her, but most were friendly. Bars were a mainstay of the island’s commerce and most of them had relatives in the business.

She stood and watched two Americans walk past the bar, working up courage to accost them. When the third -- a large black man -- approached, she smiled warmly.

“Hey GI! Hot day. You need drink.” 

He grinned back at her.

“You buyin’, sister?” 

“You kiddin', huh? I buy later. You first.” With a flourish, she motioned to the open door. “Come on. Okay?”

“Sure, why not?” They went inside and sat in a booth. Kimmie motioned to Junko.

“Hey, bartender. We need drink.”

Junko came over and took the order, returned to the bar and brought them their drinks.

“What your name, GI?”

“Tommy. What’s yours, honey?”

“My name Kimmie. What you doin' downtown today? You should be at work.”

He stretched long legs out from the booth. To Kimmie, they seemed to go on forever.

“Oh, I have the day off and decided to see what the island looked like. Maybe you can show it to me sometime?”

“I’m not like you, Tommy, I hav'ta work. I know another Tommy. He’s a stupid cocksucker.”

“He is? Then I better change my name. I wouldn’t want to make you angry.” He looked shocked.

“You better not. I kill him and then you. I’ll kill all the Tommys.”

“You better call me Junior then. My friends call me Junior. Especially if you kill Tommys.”

“Okay, Junior. Okay. Buy me another drink, Junior?”

They sat and talked. Mostly Junior wanted to know more about the island. He seemed friendly and interesting, speaking about life in a big city. The time went by quickly. One or two other servicemen came in but Junko could handle them at the bar. Kimmie admitted to being new at the job.

"You must be a cherry-girl then," he said, giving her a funny look.

"Yes. Me cherry-girl for sure."

She tried to get Junior to go back to her room but, although he was plainly interested, he didn’t take the bait. She could see a bulge in his trousers build up while she worked on him -- and she did become pretty explicit as they talked -- but he didn’t seem to get the idea. Kimiko was confused. She had been taught that all GIs would want sex with her.

“You want to see my room? I show you?” She was tired of subterfuge.

“Not today, Kimmie. I don’t know you that well. Later, okay?” He looked embarrassed. “Maybe you could show me the island later, like you said? Tonight maybe? I would appreciate it.” 

Kimmie had to think that over. She would be off work then, and it might be fun -- and make her some quick money. But it would be better if Mr. Aida didn't know. She could keep all the money for herself.

“Okay? I meet you in restaurant, okay. 'Good Times' restaurant at eight o’clock?”

“It’s a date. I gotta get back to base, Kimmie. See you tonight.” He clasped her hand in his. “I’m glad I met you. You’re a nice girl.” Junior left.

When he had gone, Kimiko saw Mr. Aida standing in the doorway to the lounge. He looked angry as he motioned her and Junko over.

“I know nobody told you, but we don’t serve kokojen here. If we serve the black GIs the white ones stay away. If one comes in, you treat him badly and slow down on him. Don’t refuse or I'll get into trouble. Just don’t be very friendly. It chases the white GIs away and makes for MP trouble when they fight,” he explained to the girls.

The rest of the day, she sat around, stocked shelves, cleaned up and thought about later -- comparing the two Tommys. One was nice and the other a cheating b*****d.

During the last two hours of her shift, Kimiko became nervous. Actually dating a man, an American, yet, was another milestone in her short life. Sure, she had sex with them, and would probably even get to know a few rather well at the bar -- but to actually know one socially?

“I gotta date, Junie,” she confided in her workmate. “I wonder how to act. I bet people stare, with him so big and me so small.”

“Tell me tomorrow. Maybe you can get money that way? Don't tell Mr. Aida.”

“Maybe. Strange though.”

After work, she changed clothes and hurried to the Good Times restaurant. It was dark outside, with a full moon. 
 
Tiaragawa had only one main street, running East and West, six or seven blocks long with clusters of GI bars at each end. There were two cross-streets near the middle. Both ran South for about a block and contained almost nothing but GI bars. Native housing surrounded the business section. The middle part of the main street consisted of shops and restaurants.

She found Junior waiting for her, sitting at a table with a Coke in front of him. Not knowing the etiquette on how to greet a man outside a bar, she simply went over and sat down across from the large black marine. He half-rose in his chair.

“Good evening, Kimiko. Would you like something to eat?” He sat back down and grinned across the table. “You look luscious tonight, Kimiko. Like a porcelain doll.”

“What’s a possulin' thing?” She didn’t know how to take the statement. 

“You look real good. That’s what I meant. You want to eat? Then you can show me the island. Too bad it’s not daytime.”

“Okay.” A waitress was waiting behind her. “Give me yakisoba. What you want, Junior?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the same thing? I want to see what your food is like. If you eat it, it must be good.”

“Give him double yakisoba and fried rice. He’s a big man,” she told the waitress in Japanese.

“Oh, that’s what it is, noodles and stuff. What’s in it?” he asked when the food came.

“Fried noodles, most. Some chicken sauce and other stuff.” 

“Kinda reminds me of spaghetti, only that’s not fried.”

Junior seemed more interested in her than the food. She made a game of looking up suddenly to watch his eyes jerk away from her gaze. It made her laugh.

They ate, Junior paying a dollar for the two meals. After eating, the two went outside and stopped a taxi. For the next couple of hours, she guided them around the southern end of the island, by far the most populated section -- the northern half being mostly jungle. They finished the tour all the way up at the Camp Hansen Marine base, where he was stationed.

On the way to the base, Junior, holding her hand, pulled Kimmie over and kissed her passionately. They made a date for the following Friday night, when he had his next day off. He paid for the taxi to take her back to Tairagawa.

"I need money for me too? I miss work," she lied, somehow feeling a little guilty about it.

He gave her a $10 bill. The taxi back costing 14 cents a mile, most of the money was profit.

On the way back, Kimiko looked out the window and pondered how it felt to be treated like a real lady. Most of the GIs thought of the girls as an object for their own satisfaction, blustering, bragging and ordering them around. 

Junior seemed interested in hearing her talk about herself, her own likes and dislikes, dreams and nightmares. She felt comfortable with him. Not like that other Tommy b*****d, she thought.

*** 

By the next Wednesday, Kimiko had settled into her job. Not only that, but become bored. That afternoon, after work, she and Junko were walking down the main street of Tairagawa.

“Look, Kimmie. One of your boyfriends,“ Junko said, stopping her. “The one from the first night.”

Sure as hell, she saw White Tommy, in civilian clothes and coming toward the two girls.

“I’ll get the money he owes me. Maybe he forgot is all?”

When Tommy saw them, he angled across the street as though avoiding the two. That made Kimmie angry, very angry. As the man walked faster, ignoring them, Kimiko ran across to accost him -- heedless of traffic.

“Hey you! GI! I talk to you. Okay?” With his longer strides, she was forced to run to stay alongside him. 

He finally looked down at her.

“I didn’t see you. How you doing, honey?”

“Fine, when you give me two dollar.”

“What for? Why should I give you two dollars?”

“For a short-time is what for. You give it now, okay? No more bullshit.”

“Later, honey. I’m busy right now. Don’t have time for one.” 

He still hadn’t slowed down and she was tired of walking so fast.

“Look, you son-of-a-b***h, you give me two-dollar you owe or I kick your a*s.” 

He looked down at the diminutive young woman and kept on walking. His mistake. 

A very angry Kimiko hurried ahead and, sticking her foot out, tripped him. His speed made Tommy fall on his face, scraping across the rough sidewalk.

When he raised himself to hands and knees, she made good on her threat. She kicked him in his butt as hard as she could with only shower-shoes on. In fact, not being very adept at the act, and being tired from running to keep up with him, she hit lower than she'd aimed. 

Tommy rolled around the sidewalk, moaning loudly while clutching his privates.

Meanwhile Kimiko, hurting her foot in open-toed footwear, tripped over his wildly thrashing body. She fell on top of the man, her foot still held in both hands. They ended up lying against each other, both moaning and cursing. A few onlookers gathered quickly to laugh at the sight. 

Junko still stood across the street, watching and not knowing what to do. She knew she should do something, so she reluctantly went over to help her friend. As she approached, Junko saw the two staring at each other, reddened faces inches apart. Grimacing, Tommy reached into his pocket with one hand and handed Kimmie some money.

In trying to help each other up, they looked comical, so Junko aided them. The three struggled, two of them limping, to an outside table at a nearby restaurant.

“Damn, girl,” Tommy whimpered, giving her a fond look, “but you’re something else. The first to ever kick me in the balls.”

“I got my money.” She grinned smugly.

“You sure as hell did. Can I come and see you again?”

“Sure, you’re a customer. For you, money first, though.”

“Right. Right. I gotta go now, see you tonight.”

“We don--” Junko started.

Kimmie kicked her friend on the ankle to make her shut up.

“Sure, see you tonight.” Kimiko smiled sweetly as he stood and left.

“We don’t work tonight. Why'd you kick me?”

“I want to f**k with him, the b*****d. Let him come and wait.” Her toe feeling better, they went on with their shopping.

They left a clothing store, heavy bundles clutched in their arms and wondering whether to stop a cab or walk a half-dozen blocks with their loads. Taxis cost money.

It seemed as though the street had been suddenly filled with big men in white uniforms. The US Navy had hit town, two large trucks still unloading them onto the street. One of them, staring around at the strange sights, bumped into Junko. 

Junko's packages went tumbling to the sidewalk. She would have followed them if the sailor hadn’t grabbed her shoulder.

“I -- I’m very s -- sorry, ma'am,“ he stuttered. “P -- Please let m -- me help y -- you.” He bent down to pick up a package, choosing the one farthest away, and fell on his face across the others. As he clumsily tried to stand back up, his knee scraped her new blouses across the dirty pavement.

“What the hell you doin', stupid a*s?” Junko berated him. “You ruined my clothes.” She bent down to get them herself. 

Apparently trying to avoid the angry woman and stand at the same time was beyond his skill level. The sailor fell again, crushing another package that held plastic flowers to decorate her room.

Since it seemed he was incapable of standing by himself, the girls had to help him up. Other sailors laughed and grinned as they flowed past, intent on their own business.

“I -- I'm very sorry, miss.” He was obviously embarrassed. “I -- I’ll buy you more. H -- How much do I owe you?”

“Twenty-dollar and sixteen-cents. Give me.” Junko took advantage of the situation. 

Without a murmur, he brought out a $20 bill, searched in his pocket for change, and then gave her $21 dollars altogether. As he left, they saw him narrowly avoid walking into a telephone pole as he looked back to wave. 

“And he’s still sober,” Kimmie observed. “Let's go back in and get you some more blouses.”

“More, hell.” Junko grinned while putting the money into her purse. “I can clean these. See? You got two-dollar today, I got twenty-one.” She stuck her tongue out at her friend. Junko paid for a taxi back to the Blue Moon bar.

As they walked past his office, Mr. Aida stopped the girls.

“I need you two to work tonight. The sailors spend a lot of money. You can quit early if you want, but there's money to be made.”

The boss even brought in a couple of married housewives that were on call. They didn’t go for short-times -- but the sailors didn’t know that. The housewives could still cadge drinks and give empty promises. All eight women were busy that night. When the navy was in they took over the town, far outnumbering and trying to shove aside the regular marine customers.

 MPs were also thick that night, stopping fights and keeping order. When marines were drunk and navy was around, they wanted to fight. 

One time that night the bar emptied of navy, with a fight starting out front. A bar rarely held both groups at the same time, only one or the other. Mr. Aida ran around the empty room, afraid the business would be ordered closed for the night. When there were too many fights, military authorities closed local bars. Marines were known for fighting with sharpened belt-buckles and navy for sewing lead weights into the removable neckerchiefs of their dress whites.

When the fight ended, dirty and bloody sailors came back to their drinks. They did spend a lot of money, with the girls cooing over them and their injuries. 

The bar was busy most of the night. There weren't enough rooms out back for short-times, so Kimmie had to let hers be used a half-dozen times by others. Since she also went back and forth often, she was glad she had fresh sheets under the bed for herself afterward. 

“What you name, sailor?” She sat with her ninth customer of the night, already four short-times under her belt. Legs tired, back burning, headache, and all that f*****g tea cloaked as whiskey were getting to her. She had been in the lady’s room five times already. Three to pee and twice to throw up tea and nod sleepily over the bowl. She felt her stomach. Hard as a rock.

On and on it went, seemingly forever, but Kimmie was making money. To help survive through the night, she drank more and more real whiskey. The overworked teen was exhausted with the booze making her even more tired. 

Finally closing time came -- and went. All that happened was that Mr. Aida unplugged the jukebox and turned out the outside lights, forcing customers to use a side-emergency door. It went on and on. 

She was more than half drunk and so beat that she didn’t even notice White Tommy sitting with her until he spoke. “Damn, Kimmie. You better go lie down.” 

She was too high and tired to stay angry. Anger was for the sober and rested. She looked up at a clock on a wall. It was very late and she still had the morning shift.

“You give me five-dollar for all night and we both sleep good,” she murmured.

“That’s a deal.” He handed her the money and they left for the back.

Tommy had to help the girl back to her room, her leaning heavily on him as they crossed the uneven chicken yard. At least he hoped it was her room. He didn't remember from the time before.

“I’m too tired make love, Tommy. You go an I give you money back, okay? Serious. How I wake up for work in the morning?”

“What time do you have to get up? It’s already three.”

“Ohhh, I to get up at six. Work morning, too.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you're up in time.” 

Too tired and drunk to argue, she rolled over, facing the wall while fully-dressed except for slippers, and slept.

***

Kimmie woke to a rough hand shaking her foot. Since she'd been dreaming of sugarplums, cavorting angels and other nice things, she tried to ignore the interruption. Jerking her feet up to a fetal position, she went back to sleep, losing the dream.

For that reason, she woke up angry when the hand slapped on her still-clothed butt.

“Cut it out, a*****e,” she ordered in Japanese, followed by a few invectives in two languages.

“Come on, honey. Wake up. You have to go to work.” 

She finally opened her eyes to see White Tommy sitting on the chair at the end of the bed. An open Japanese womans' magazine lay on the dresser.

“Okay, I’m awake. You stay up all night to watch me?” She felt sore all over from the night’s activities. At least she didn’t seem to have a headache.

Kimiko stood, holding onto an edge of the dresser to steady herself. Glancing at the mirror, she could see what a mess she was in.

“Oh, God! Is that me?” The clock hands said 6:02 am. “You go. I have to fix up.” The girl wasn’t in a very good mood.

“I like to watch you, and you look beautiful. Even this morning.” He grabbed her close and held her, sweeping loose hair back from her face.

“Go. Go. I’m in hurry.” Kimmie pulled away. “We f**k last night? Must not, unless you sneaky with my pants on.” She was starting to get her sense of humor back.

“I have to get back too. I’ll see you later, beautiful girl.” 

Before she could answer, he was out the door, sliding it shut. She could hear chickens complaining as he made his way across the yard.

Ha, stupid forgot to get his money back, she thought as she readied herself for work. This time I conned him.

Junko was in much better shape. She had been wise and quit early. After all, she had made an easy $21 dollars off that stupid Navy. She could afford to go to bed early.

“I saw you sitting with that b*****d. What’s wrong with you, Kimmie?” 

It was Kimiko’s turn behind the bar, which suited her that morning. She could sit on a stool and let Junko do the more manual work.

“Don’t you call my boyfriend a b*****d,” she exploded at Junko.

“So now you like him again, uh?” Junko shook her head. “What do you know about love? You’re only a stupid bargirl?”

 “I suppose you know more, right?" Kimmie joked, stacking glasses.

“Sure I do. I study men. Learn what makes them tick. Marines are stupid. They run around in the jungle all day with guns, then come here, get drunk, give us money for short-time, go home and sleep. Next day, same thing. That’s stupid.” She walked up to the front of the bar. 

“Army, they’re smarter. They work at easy jobs and not so tired, come to town, sweet talk us girls and try to cheat us. We have more fun because we hold all the cards, see?” Junie had to take a deep breathe before continuing, brow wrinkled in thought. 

“We keep our legs crossed, they’re fucked. They have to try this and try that to get in our pants, while we sit and wait. More fun than the marines. 

"Besides, army has time to make love, not just f**k. They don’t have bedcheck like marines. They can stay all night for more fun and more money for us.” 

(Note: Lower-ranking marines had a one am bedcheck at that time, and had to be back at the base to be counted. The one small army base where Tommy was stationed had no bedcheck, though many others did.)

“What about the navy? You forgot the navy?” Kimmie found a hole in her friend's logic.

“Oh, navy okay. Clumsy as hell is all.” 

Both of them laughed, remembering the day before.

With the navy in town, they were kept busy, even on the early shift. Too busy for any but an occasional short-time. Instead of cadging sex, she was forced to hop from table to booth, then back again. The girls quickly learned to handle two or three GIs at a time. The activity soon worked the alcohol out of Kimmie’s system.

Early in the afternoon, Kimiko heard a loud noise and turned around to see the navy man from the day before. He stood next to two chairs he had already knocked over in the darkened room. 

Since he was dressed in civilian clothing, Junko didn’t recognize him at first. 

It surprised Kimmie, since she had assumed he was from one of the visiting ships. Only permanent party in the navy -- those assigned to the island -- could wear civvies when off duty.

“That’s okay, GI. I fix.” Junko bent down to grasp a chair. He did the same, with the same chair. She bumped heads with the tall sailor -- for the second time in two days. They both tried to stand at the same time, causing the edge of a chair-back to hit him in the crotch. He bent abruptly, clasping himself and the chair, which she still had hold of, and pulling her back down. As before, they ended up at the same level, on their knees and staring at each other.

“You!" they exclaimed in mutural recognition. He straightened up, in shock and pain, to see the woman glaring across at him.

“I -- I -- I’m sorry. A -- Aren’t you the girl I met ye -- yesterday, do -- downtown?”

“And you’re the clumsy a*****e that bumped me then, too. What you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he admitted, gazing downward to avoid her eyes, which was hard considering she was so much shorter. He looked comical, something like a crane, with his neck scrunched down while looking into his shirt front. 

Junko, though angry, had to giggle at the sight.

“Guess you found me. Now what? You want to knock me down and step all over me? That’ll cost you another $20.”

“No. No. I -- I wa -- wanted to see you again. You looked s -- so pretty when you were angry, uh ... like now, too.”

“Your chance to find out more about the clumsy navy, Junie. Just make sure you’re not on the bottom,” Kimmie called from behind the bar, in Japanese. Junie gave her a dirty look before they both burst out giggling, the sailor joining in. Mr. Aida even stuck his head out from his office to see what was going on.

Once seated, Kimiko kept a rag handy, expecting him to spill his drink. 

Navy didn’t seem as clumsy while sitting. He and Junko talked, her eventually losing her anger. After all, he did have money she could pry off him. The sailor spent all afternoon at the bar, sitting quietly while Junko took care of other customers. He waited at the bar, talking to Kimmie, while Junko sat cadging drinks. Navy didn’t even seem to notice when she went out the back door with one for a sexual romp.

“So, what’s your name, Navy?” Kimiko asked, wiping off the bar with a rag, her eye on his glass as he raised it -- still not quite believing he wouldn’t spill the contents.

“Gerald, Gerry to my friends.” He looked back at Junko, sitting with yet another sailor. Once in a while she’d join him for a few minutes. “She’s something, isn’t she? Almost as clumsy as me, but far prettier.” 

“Better you not tell her that. The clumsy part. What you do?”

“What? Oh, sorry, I -- I uh, I work at the Post Exchange, the PX at White Beach. I’m in charge of the liquor. A ... A boring job. I’ve been here six months and ye -- yesterday was the first time I went do -- downtown.”

“Why you don’t go downtown, all GIs do? You like girls, don’t you? You like Junie?”

“I -- I don’t know. I read a lot, and g -- go to the movies at the Kadena Army Base. Ju -- Just never did is all.” He looked behind himself. “I wish I had, though. Junko is special.”

The budding love affair, though maybe one-sided, reminded Kimmie that she had a date with Junior the next night.

*** 

Kimiko had been talking to some of the other girls, the ones who lived with GIs. They seemed to have a good deal. Their man paid for an apartment and furniture, which the girl usually kept when the boyfriend left for the States. The men also gave their girls money every month. In return, they both gained companionship that approximated marriage.

It seemed to be much easier to pay off their loans that way, monthly lump sums helping greatly. Some of them even married the man and went to the States to live. She didn’t think she would want to go that far, though. But having such a living arrangement was tempting. Much better than a room out back. If she could do it with a nice gentle man, like maybe Junior?

With all the activity, the day went quickly. The aircraft carrier that held the extra sailors only spent a couple of days in port and left that afternoon. That night, the marines came back in full-force, taking over again. Prices went back to normal. 

After work, Kimiko, still not recovered from the previous night, watched television for a while and went to bed early. 

***

Finally, Friday came. It was Kimmi’s turn with the GIs while Junko handled the bar. Business was light that morning. One was a marine gunnery-sergeant.

“Isn’t that dangerous, Jimmy,” Kimmie asked him while looking aghast, hamming it up for him, “playing with stuff that blows up?” 

The burly gunny subconsciously puffed out his chest and straightened in his chair.

“We never, but never, 'play' with explosives, babe. It’s serious business.” He threw up his hands. “One tiny mistake and ‘Boom,’ no more Sergeant Jimmy. Speaking of blowing up, let’s go back to your room before I explode right here?”

“No problem, GI. You explode right here, only half-price.” She laughed. Kimmie looked around. Three other marines were in the bar, two of them with Junko and one sitting alone, looking sorry for himself.

Junko nodded. She could handle it. Kimiko took Jimmy back to her room. 

The gunny didn’t look so svelte with his class "A" uniform lying on the chair. His gut hung five inches farther out than his chest, although his breasts were larger than Kimmi’s. A four-inch shaft extended from a pair of baseball-sized spheres under his love handle.

Kimmie idly wondered if he could even see anything below his tummy, as she slowly and sensually removed a pair of frilly yellow panties. They seemed more pinkish under the small red light-bulb as she slid them down smooth legs.

Jimmy’s extension wobbled in anticipation while he raised each foot, in turn, to remove his shoes, butt planted firmly against the dresser front. The hell with the brown socks. They stayed on.

Kimmie dropped onto the bed, which bounced slightly from her weight. With arms stretched to the sky and spread legs, she wiggled her hips, breasts lying nearly flat, and smiled up at him.

Jimmy, a heavy man but used to the small island women, dropped onto her carefully, shifting his weight onto elbows and knees. Her arms going around his neck, Kimmie kissed him on the forehead as he nibbled on her shoulder.

Neither wanted much foreplay. He wasn’t accustomed to it and she was inclined to finish and get back to work.

Something had to give, and it did. A shudder went through Jimmy, starting at the point of deepest contact and spreading like a warm tsunami through his body -- in every direction. That action eventually culminated in a relaxation of muscles, resulting in his falling down, down onto the object of his, alas temporary, affliction.

“Get you a*s off me. You’re too heavy.” So much for after play. Kimmie was back to business.

While they dressed, Jimmy mentioned, “I saw you with Junior Johnson the other day, down at the Good Times restaurant. Better be careful with him, Kimmie,” Jimmy said while stuffing gut back into trousers.

“Why? What he do?” She was still wiping herself clean.

“Oh, nothing. You should be alright, but be careful. He hates whites, even the women. Doesn’t like anyone much, for that matter. He’d be a Bible Thumper if he were religious, but he isn’t.” The marine zipped his pants and reached for a shoe.

“So? He like me okay.” 

Studying her yellow panties, looking for stains, she pulled out a drawer to choose another pair.

“I just say, be careful. He don’t much like girls who screw, either. He even told me his mother was still a virgin. Would you believe that?” the gunny laughed loudly. “I advised him to keep that kind of thing to himself, not to tell the other men.” Jimmy finished tying his shoes and straightened his tie. “He told some others that he found a virgin bargirl, maybe you? Just be careful around him, you hear?”

“Okay, Sergeant Jimmy. Thank you.” She accepted his $2 and he left. Shrugging, she chose a pair of bright-green panties and dressed.

***

Kimiko met Junior Johnson at the Good Times restaurant. She was a little late, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you for coming. I was beginning to think you forgot all about me.” He was again the perfect gentleman. “What would you like to do? Anything in particular?”

“Anything, Junior. I don’ care. Maybe we go see your room?”

“Let’s go to a movie. There’s an army theater at the Kadena Base. That okay with you?” 

That night they ate American-style hamburgers and french fries, except Kimmie had rice with her hamburger. Afterward, they took a taxi to the army base at Kadena, in the middle of the heavily-populated southern half of the island.

Kimmie had never been on an American base before. Most of the buildings were three to five stories tall, an otherwise rarity on the island. Some were even higher, and they were built of sturdy concrete. Everything seemed laid out in order, in contrast to the wooden and concrete-block one and two story buildings off post. Outside military bases and major streets, most buildings were situated on narrow winding lanes, easy to get lost in.

A surplus of grass and greenery was also a contrast. Okinawa was the most heavily populated island in the world at that time with virtually the entire population in the southern half. It held a total of about half-a-million souls. Although the upper island was jungle, city parks and greenery were a rarity in the lower section.

The theater happened to be a large airy quonset hut. She had never seen so many Americans in one place before, even women and children. Kimiko was briefly afraid she would be trampled by the mob of huge bodies. Most of the people were so much taller and bulkier than her.

She stayed close to Junior, holding his hand tightly, fearing for her safety. To her surprise, he led them to seats near the middle of the amphitheater. She'd heard couples that fooled around normally stayed at the rear.

“This is a good spot. We can see and hear well and the kids stay up front,” Junior told her.

“Maybe better in back, to play around?” Kimiko suggested. Junior didn’t take the hint.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t let anybody get my seat.” 

Sure, mine neither, she thought. Junior was an enigma. Different from any other GI she had known.

He came back with popcorn and a couple of sodas. She had never tasted popcorn and found it delicious, eating almost the entire tub by herself. They watched the movie. It was something about people using guns to shoot other people in a big ship. Both the story and language were too fast for Kimmie.

After the show, Junior brought her back to the bar and left her off with another goodnight kiss and a $20 bill. Kimiko wondered what was wrong with him. She thought about what the gunny had told her. It was beginning to make sense. He did, she thought, seem to think she was a virgin. They were to meet again the next Friday night. Of course, for a good time and extra money, she would humor him.

*** 

Nothing really changed in the next few months. There were rumors about a war in Vietnam starting. The army's First Special Forces disappeared overnight from the island, military vehicles gone to be replaced by rows of abandoned civilian autos. Rumors were that they had gone to Vietnam. Nobody seemed to know for sure, and it didn’t affect the bar’s business.

Kimmie and Junko were changed to the more lucrative night shift while Suzie and Akuro, a slightly older girl at nineteen, were transferred to work days.
 
Junior not only didn’t want to sleep with her but was becoming unsettled when she even hinted. She went along with it and told him she was chaste, assuring him that she never did any short-times at work. Since, by law, having sex wasn't a requirement, he believed her.

Once he even told her that his mother said a woman could become a virgin again if she really wanted to. All she had to do was ask God. His mother did it that way. She went into her room one night, prayed, and left as a happy virgin the next morning.

Junior said that women were born innocent. That was why they could go back. That when they fell from grace it wasn’t really their fault, since they were innocent of sin. The problem was men -- especially white men. 

He told her that since Adam was black blacks were preordained to populate the world. Married couples were alright, both black and white, but men shouldn’t sleep with women if they weren’t married first. His reasoning only confused Kimiko, leaving her more mixed up, so she only nodded and put on a serious look while he talked.

***

White Tommy, now simply Tommy in her mind, made overtures about them renting an apartment. She seriously considered it.

“Come on, Kimmie. I’ll pay the rent and even buy the furniture. I need you with me all the time,” he would beg. “Please. I can’t stand to be without you, even for one minute.”

“Fine. I do it," she told him. "You pay off my loan first?”

“Uh, I don’t have that much money. I’m a corporal. Wait until I make sergeant, and then save up my money for awhile.”

“Okay. I move in then -- when you Sergeant Tommy.”

“I can’t wait that long, baby. Come on? Payday’s next week.”

Finally, she gave in, realizing it wasn’t realistic to expect him to pay her loan off -- but she had to try. It might be nice to play at being married.

“You be faithful, or I don’t do it.” She held him at arm’s length. “And you pay everything, okay?”

“Oh yes. Yes, of course. I’ll pay everything. Oh, I’m so happy.” He tried to hug her, but she held him off. 

“First, promise you won’t f**k any other girls.”

“No, never. I don’t want any other girls.” He was finally allowed to hold her. “You find a place and then we’ll fix it up nice.”

About that time, the marines stopped coming to town. Mr. Aida almost went crazy. 

By the third night without them, he could be found nervously running in and out of the bar, trying to find out what was going on. Only a few marines drove through town on business, and they were all in uniform, none stopping in for a drink. They refused to tell anybody what was going on.

Mr. Aida talked Tommy into trying to find out, but Tommy was refused entry to the marine bases. Nobody but marines could get in or out and even then they had to have a paper signed by an officer. None of them had liberty or could go to town except on business and in groups. MPs would come by often, sticking their heads into the bar and even checking identification, looking for stray marines in civilian clothing.

The girls took turns in the bar although, even at night, only two or three of them worked at any one time. On some nights Tommy or Gerry were the only GIs in the bar. 

Occasionally, one or two army guys would come up from other towns like Koza or Kadena, or even down from Tommy's small thirty-man base, but not often. A few permanent navy personnel, now that the marines weren’t around to start fights, came in regularly. Kimiko enjoyed a lot of free time, though resenting the lack of income.

“Me and Kimmie are getting an apartment, Gerry. She’s trying to find one right now,” Tommy told Gerry.

“Damn. I -- I envy you. I should a -- ask Junie.” He looked into space. “I -- I’m afraid I would scare her off if -- if I suggested it.”

“Junko is helping her. They heard about rooms north of town. I might find one today. Suzie, bring us more beer.” 

They waited for the drinks, both idly watching Suziko as she poured and brought the drinks over.

About a half-hour later, the two girls came back. They were both grinning.

“I got one, Tommy. Come on, I show you and you pay. Twenty-dollars a month. Four rooms so we can have a lot of children.”

“Come on Gerry, lets look at it.” The two men finished their beers and rose.

All four of them walked for four blocks through winding narrow dirt streets. They came to a large sprawling and unpainted single-story wooden building. 

They were met by an old woman dressed in traditional clothing. She stood silently, nodding and smiling at the men. Since she didn’t speak, Tommy figured she knew no English. The younger natives learned English all through school.

The women spoke for a while in Japanese. Finally, the landlady bowed and stood aside. With a loud clatter, Kimiko slid a large door on the side of the building aside. It was like with an old-style barn-door, revealing an empty room with woven tatami mats covering the floor.

“Take your shoes off,” she ordered the men. 

They had to step up eight-inches to get inside. The apartment had three other, smaller, rooms off to the side. All were empty except for straw tatami mats. Tommy saw electric outlets and ceiling lights, but no sink.

“Where’s the bathroom, Kimmie?”

“Don’t have one. You go out back. Cheap that way. Young people don’t like go out back.”

“How much for one with a bathroom?”

“Much more money. You want pay $30 a month? Besides, none in town right now.”

“Maybe less rooms would be cheaper?”

“No, we need four rooms.” 

The statement confused Tommy.

“Why do we need four rooms? You expect to have triplets?”

“No, no triplets. We need bedroom for us.” She looked around toward the embarrassed Junko, “One for Junko and Gerald, and one for Suzie,” she finished quickly. 

He could see that it was the first Gerald knew of the arrangement.

“You don’t want to, Gerry?” Junko looked sternly at her boyfriend, waiting for an answer.

“I -- I -- o -- of course I want to.” He was dumbfounded. Enough to bang his head and shoulder into the side of a doorway while checking out the smaller spaces.

“See, Tommy. Only $8 a month for me and you. And we all pay for the furniture.”

It cost roughly $150 for the first month for rent and four rooms of furniture, and to set everything up. Soon they were moved into the new apartment. There were no other GIs in the area and not very many of their neighbors even spoke much English. This was an old part of town.

Both Tommy and Gerald brought their belongings over, including two television sets. They sat the largest TV close to the door so that neighbors could come over and watch at night, sitting outside the open door. Most of the natives couldn’t afford their own at the time. There were two local stations, both in Japanese only, though they sometimes showed American movies with Japanese subtitles or vice versa.

When they were moved in, Kimiko couldn’t wait any longer. 

“How much you pay me, Tommy? Gerald gives Junie $30 a month.” It was afternoon and the two were lying in bed after finishing a sexual bout.

“Pays her? What for?”

“Pays her to stay here with him. What you think he pays her for? How much you pay me?”

“Why? You going to move back to the bar if I don’t?” 

She was caught flatfooted.

“I -- I don.... No! But I want you to give me money like he does.”

“Lets see, our share of the rent is $8. I paid $47 on the furniture, pay $10 for electric. Laundry, your laundry too, costs $5 a month. That makes $70. If I pay you $30 a month, and you owe me $35 for your share of the apartment, that means you owe me $5 a month. Right?”

“NOW YOU STOP THAT. You give me money. I don’t give you $5 a month so you can f**k me.”

They finally agreed on $25, starting the next payday. He figured he could think of more excuses by then.

This was to be a very happy time for all five of the companions. They got along well together. 

Then Mr. Aida found out what was happening with the marines. 

There had been a series of unannounced racial murders on marine bases. First, a black man had been killed in a hate crime, followed by a white. The last straw was the killing of another black marine at Camp Hanson. At that point, all liberty was canceled, as well as travel between bases curtailed as much as possible.

Eventually, a black man was caught, standing with a bloody knife over a white marine’s body. The marines regained their liberty, albeit only in class "A" dress uniforms with name-tags. For the next four or five days Tairagawa became flooded with relieved marines.

After the confinement to post, marines who had never taken liberty before wanted it. The bar was very busy, day and night.

***

Kimiko knew she had a problem. After making Tommy promise to be true, she could hardly have him and Junior meet and compare notes. The girl didn’t know how to contact Junior, knowing only his first name. She had forgotten the last name the gunny told her. 

On top of that, Tommy hung out at the Blue Moon bar when she was working and the only places Junior knew to meet her was at the bar and restaurant. She knew that sooner or later there would be trouble, unless she did something. To make it worse, Mr. Aida didn’t want black men in the bar. Kimmie would be in trouble if Junior even came in to see her. 

About nine o’clock on the second night after the release of the marines, Hatsuko, one of the girls, mentioned to her.

“You still like the black man, Kimmie? I saw him sitting in the Good Times restaurant on my way to work.” They were standing at the bar waiting for orders. Kimmie hurried back to her marine of the moment, a sergeant.

“I gets sick, Joey. I gotta go now. You come back tomorrow, I buy you free drink, okay? I got to.”

“Aw, I wanted to show you my scar from Korea.”

“Show me tomorrow. I’m sick today, okay?”

“Sure, honey. You go lie down. Alone, I hope.”

"What kind'a girl you think I am, Joey? I don't butterfly on you."

To avoid Mr. Aida, she ran out the front door and hurried to the Good Times restaurant. Luckily, Junior was still there. Kimiko hoped Tommy wouldn’t come by on his way to the bar.

“You’re here, Kimmie? I thought I lost you. I don’t like to go to that place you work.” 

“Look, Junior. I have to stop seeing you, I have a boyfriend now,” she told him right off, causing him to sit up straight in his chair.

“Do you sleep with him, Kimmie? Please tell me you’re waiting for marriage.”

“Yes, I still wait, Junior. I don’t do it now,” she lied.

“Good luck, then. Will you invite me to the wedding? Please?” He didn’t seem too upset.

“Course I’ll invite you, Junior. You’re my friend.” She hugged him while tears flowed down his cheek. Then she hurried back to the bar.

Tommy still hadn’t shone up. Kimmie was glad of that. Maybe he had to work late, she thought.

Her sergeant, Joey, was still there. He was becoming angrier by the moment, though. Since he was Kimmie’s customer, none of the other girls would sit with him, even though Arisa sat at the bar alone. Since he belonged to Kimmie and she was working that night, it simply wasn’t done.

Joey was also hornier than before. They went back to her room for him to show her his scar. When they returned, Joey felt much better.

*** 

After work, the three girls walked home alone. They didn’t see a man following them. Junior felt he had to make certain Kimiko was still a virgin, as she had professed so often. And he feared her boyfriend would be a ghost -- white man. Since he loved her, he felt it his duty to protect her chastity.

When the girls arrived at their new home, the large sliding door was already open, lamplight shining across a narrow alley in front of the living room, lighting up a concrete wall on the other side. Gerald was watching television, a Japanese movie about WWII playing and filling the alley with loud reports of cannon and machine-gun fire.

“Hi, honey,” Junko screamed over the sound track. Gerald looked up, smiled, and back to the set. She and Suzie went into their rooms to change clothes while Kimmie crossed the room to the kitchen side to make a sandwich. The movie boomed and cracked as she spread mayonnaise on bread. 

She didn’t notice one more "crack," or see Gerald jerking, blood spurting out over the television screen and wall. She did hear the sound of his body falling over onto instantly bloodied tatami mats, knocking over a small table as it fell.

Jerking her head around, she saw Junior standing with a small pistol in his hand. It was pointing at her. As both Suzie and Junko raced out of their rooms, Junior swung the gun around. 

Suzie froze, staring at the pistol, while Junko ignored it and went to Gerald. She shook his body, getting blood over her bare chest -- she had been changing clothing at the time. It was obvious that he was dead. Junko seemed to flow like a hurricane as she screamed and threw herself at Junior.

He swatted the tiny woman away, knocking her into a door-frame with an audible "thrack." The girl dropped to the floor, blood from an injured head mixing with that of her lover.

The other two women were frozen in shock.

“Junior? Junior. JUNIOR, WHY YOU DO THAT?” Kimmie finally came to life. Suzie ran to help Junko, who was starting to rise.

Junior stood still, arms and legs shaking from fear and exertion. His nerves were quaking from the surprise of his own violence. His goddess was proved to be a w***e, and who were those other people?

“We will ... pray,” Junior answered in a nervous voice, eyes wide and staring. “We will pray. You MUST be virgins. We can pray for virginity, but you MUST trust in the Lord.”

*** 

Tommy had occasion to work late. He was tired, too much so to make love. He hoped Kimmie wouldn’t insist. She'd told him, long before, that making love to him was a way to clean her mind from the other men. She liked to sleep with a clean mind. It was silly, but so were a lot of other things in life.

When he turned the corner, Tommy saw their door was open about five feet. Light from inside illuminated an oblong section of alley, reflecting off a wall on the other side. As he approached, he was surprised to hear a strange man praying in English from inside the room.

Tommy silently approached the square of light. It might be the television, he thought, but strange to have a Christian prayer in English on at that time of night. He stopped at the entrance, not really expecting trouble but alerted in any case. 

There was a strange marine standing inside. Then Tommy saw his friend, lying quietly, obviously hurt or dead. Tommy didn’t see a pistol lying on a table by the television. 

He did see the three girls kneeling in front of the man, in prayer positions with hands clasped in front of their faces.  Junior wanted them to pray and to become virgins again -- as his mother had done.

The young women were kneeling at an angle to Tommy and didn’t see him. Incongruously, Tommy could hear a war movie on the television, the coppery odor of blood accentuating sounds of warfare. 

He looked to his feet, where he remembered seeing a splintered tent-pole that morning. It was used to prop one of the windows open in hot weather. Picking it up, he lunged into the room, aiming a sharp point at the large man’s back.

As he heard or sensed Tommy’s approach, Junior began to turn. The splintered end of the pole, aided by Tommy's weight, missed Junior's back but entered his shoulder. As Tommy lost his balance and fell, the light wooden pole broke off halfway along its length.

Junior roared in pain, contorting in an effort to reach the portion of pole sticking out of his shoulder. As the marine tried in vain to reach the intruding object, Tommy kicked his collarbone. 

Forgetting the pole for a moment, Junior kneed Tommy in the face as the white man reeled back, off balance from the kick, not knocking him over but slamming the white man back against a wall. Tommy did manage, despite being dazed, to grab Junior’s leg below the knee, tossing the black man back to the floor and forcing the splintered pole deeper.

The two wrestled. Junior could still use his wounded arm, but only weakly. He couldn’t swing with it but could clasp Tommy’s clothing and hang on. They rolled around on the tatami mats -- ruining them with Gerald, Junko, and now Junior’s blood.

Being larger and more muscular, Junior eventually ended up on top. Holding Tommy down with his bad arm, the black man applied pressure on Tommy’s throat with the other hand. 

Tommy was certain he would die. He could only make a weak effort to force the heavy hand off his throat where Junior’s weight held him pinned to the floor.

Tommy was feeling so light-headed he wasn’t even sure what was going on when he heard a loud "crack," as Kimiko shot Junior in the back of the head. 

With his throat released, Tommy then heard the second and third shots. It took all three girls to roll Junior’s body off him.

Later, they found that the MPs had captured the wrong man on the marine base. It was a murderer for sure, even caught in the act, but also a personal matter. Not the serial killer who, of course, had been Junior.

The End. 
Charlie  hvysmker

Author's Note

There are two things I should bring up quickly. One is that the island was under American Military law at that time. For instance, as an MP on traffic patrol I carried two ticket books. One was for military personnel and one for all civilians on the island, natives included. The Okinawan police couldn't arrest a GI, only hold them for us, while I could "apprehend" anyone on the island.

Secondly, is that prostitution was NOT illegal. A woman couldn't be held for prostituting herself. There were no Military or Civil laws regarding that act.

This story is partially based on fact. While in the US Army, I did serve two tours (actually 40 months) on Okinawa. The character of White Tommy is loosely based on my exploits.

On my first tour, I was stationed near the town of Tairagawa, at that Hantabaru site mentioned. It was a Voice of the United Nations propaganda radio station, transmitting to communist countries in the area. The second tour found me there as an MP sergeant four years later.

Most of the time, on both tours, I lived off post in apartments I rented. Sometimes bargirls like Kimiko shared it with me, other times I lived alone. That gave me time to listen to their stories and learn about their private lives.

As an MP, I never, ever, found a case where a bargirl stole money from a GI or helped mug him. Never happen, GI. They wouldn't steal, though they'd take any and every opportunity to cause you to voluntarily part with it. In every case I checked out, the bargirl was in the right. If a drunken American gave them money for a sick mother, too frickin' bad for him.

Conversely, we GIs joined in the game. We tried every way NOT to pay the girls for their services. I was quite good at it. I never flatly refused, but if they wanted to be paid, they'd better get the cash up front. You might think me as an unfeeling bastard for it, but I consider the process as young people on both sides vying for attention and status among their peers

In that first case with Kimiko, Tommy didn't volunteer money and she didn't insist, so he didn't give her any. Sorta, "I thought you did it cause you like me. Paying would be an insult."

I found that the best way to get free sex from those girls was to treat them as ladies. The vast majority of soldiers and marines treated them as public repositories for semen. Sort of that old, “Slam, Bam, Thank you, Ma'am” attitude, but without the thank you.

Typically, I'd go in a bar in early evening and make a date for after they finished work. They'd like that because, like Kimiko with Junior, they could keep all the money. Then I'd go home and take a nap, returning to the bar an hour before they finished to let them know I was still there, buy a drink and leave. When we joined, I'd buy them a meal, followed by taking them to MY home, which never failed to surprise them. Few GIs actually paid for an apartment when the army furnished free quarters.

We'd watch tv for awhile while I massaged their tired feet and shoulders. We'd talk while they wound down from work, then go to bed together. In the morning, I'd often make a point to get up first to fix them breakfast and talk some more. There’s an old saying that you can catch more women with soft soap than with hard shit.

I used to catch a lot of fish that way. It wasn't unusual at all for them to come back, the next time for free, then stay for days or months. I'd let the much more numerous marines buy them drinks, pay them money for short times, tire them out, get them drunk and then -- as in the story -- go back at midnight like Cinderella for bedcheck while I stayed and bedded their girl.

Charlie

Reviews

[Wathanya.5KY3]

Thank you for sharing this story with me, Charlie. It was tantalizing and very enjoyable. Also quite chilling to know the reality of what became cabaret clubs.

The final plot twist was amazing too. The murderer's way of thinking is... twisted, to say the least.

There was only one thing I feel worth pointing out: "kokojen" => "kokujin"
Believe me, I speak the language. ;P

Also, "Tairagawa" was mistyped as "Tiaragawa" once.

[hvysmker]

Thanks, Wathany. Forty years ago I could speak it enough to get by. I even employed a tutor once in Chicago. Written is something else. I knew enough Kanji to find a bar and get ice in my drink. I've always been bad with languages.

[Wathanya.5KY3]

Japanese is hard, friend. If I left Japan and never speak the language again, forty years later I would struggle to even greet someone in the morning.