Page 5 of A Dom Vs. Domme Story
Chapter 2
IAN
I’d be more into this All-American breakfast if it weren’t for all the whipped cream I ingested last night.
Usually I need a mighty helping of wine or champagne to get me in that kind of frisky mood.Ora simple reminder that I’m in a foreign country with the woman I want to try every kinky thing ever with.
Apparently, dabbing whipped cream on her bare abdomen while I dragged strawberries across her skin using nothing but my mouth is one of those kinks on that list.
Mercy!
Kathryn looks at her waffle loaded with strawberries and whipped cream and is gonna hurl. She was the only one who ate more cream than me last night.
“Please enjoy,” our waiter says in English. Thank God, because I don’t know any Japanese. My French got us by when we went to Paris a few months ago, but between Katie and me, we probably know how to say three things in Japanese. She keeps going on about how she wishes she brought her friend Eva along because she knows Mandarin… the fuck good is Mandarin going to do us inJapan?I’d like to see Kathryn try saying that in front of our magnanimous Japanese hosts.
“Thought we were going to have fish and miso for breakfast,” Kathryn mumbles as she fumbles with her fork. She carefully pushes aside whipped cream and only eats the waffle. When I ask for the syrup, I’m met with confused looks. Right. The Japanese really don’t do the whole maple syrup thing. Unless it’s injected into random pastries you buy at the convenience store.
Our hostess doesn’t join us until halfway through breakfast, apologizing for her absence. The bags beneath her eyes and shaky way she walks suggests she was either up all night drinking or fucking someone half her age. Trust me, I know. If you had my mother, you’d know too. (Gross.) Come to think of it, I think my mother wouldloveFujiko. I imagine the two of them trotting around Tokyo looking for their next twenty-something fix to keep their post-menopausal blood alive.
“Good morning,” she says with only half of her usual fervor. “Eat up, please. We’ve got a long day of discussions ahead of us.”
I love how she makes it sound like we’re on the same side of these discussions. Naturally, the Isoyas want to strike a favorable deal with us, but Fujiko shouldn’t pretend she’s not spearheading our combined bullshitting campaigns. She’ll be the first one to point out shit the family doesn’t like about our offers. After her brother gives her a coded look, of course.
I see these things. You bet your ass I notice them.
Everyone in this family has a role to play. I especially see it later after brunch, when we’re back in a conference room discussing what we both want from our supposed deal. Akihiro Isoya is the chairman with a lot of family history resting on his shoulders. No decision gets made without his approval, but he’s the strong and silent type, even for a weathered Japanese businessman, so he relies on those directly beneath him on the family food chain to relay his wishes and to translate what others are saying. Namely, today’s is filled by his twin sister Fujiko and their niece Junri, who is the heir presumptive of the company. The other younger man looks like another body at this point. He’s the lowest on the food chain. From what Valerie reported, Kunihiro Isoya is from another branch of the family and only here because he has proven competent. Not that it means anything to the chairman.
Ah, Valerie. She barely makes it to the meeting on time. She said she had a fever last night, but she looks fine now. No, scratch that. She looks like she’s thrown up a time or two this morning. Damnit. I hope I don’t have to send her home early.
Anyway, if Akihiro is the head of the family, then it’s the two female family members who turn that head, but eventhosetwo play different roles. Fujiko is old enough to get away with some bad behavior here and there, and she fulfills the role of light-hearted-but-shrewd business mind who smacks sense into her brother. Their niece, however, kisses tons of ass with her soft-spoken voice, bows of the head, and most familiarity with English and American business culture. She’s our main liaison between our side and theirs. Fujiko is eager to talk, but Junri is the one who actually listens.
Which means I have to look all three of them in the eye at once. Akihiro, so he gets my due respect. Fujiko, so she doesn’t feel left out. Junri, because she is the one who has to understand me the best.
It’s exhausting, and aside from the moral support she offers, Kathryn isn’t much help. That isn’t to say I wish she weren’t here. Hell no. I’d trade Valerie in for another Kathryn, and not only for sex! Kathryn’s never been afraid to get her administrative hands dirty, which is a lot to say for a woman born into her kind of privilege, even those that go on to take over companies. Sometimes I think her and Valerie get into competitions over who can take the best notes or relay the fastest information, but don’t tell them I said that. They’d both turn their feminist noses up at me and accuse me of trying to pit women against each other. Nah. I find it hilarious and cute. (Also don’t tell them that, yikes.)
“I’m afraid that twenty-five million is the absolute lowest we can accept.” I’m told that you have to offer (and turn down) something three times before an Asian businessperson will finally accept what you have to say. This is my third time putting this number forward. Hopefully it gets through their skulls this time. “Any lower and we will not be able to renovate the property to the standards our guests have come to expect. I’m sure you understand.”
The Isoyas nod in unison, but none of them are happy about this number. I gesture for Valerie to provide them with the detailed budgets the corporate accountants have come up with. Honestly, twenty-five million is a small investment for the Isoyas. I’ve seen their public portfolios. They’re fucking billionaires and they’re trying to convince me that they can’t pony up that much to get their brand name imprinted on my family’s next hospitality venture? Bullshit and a half, if I do say so myself. That property was specifically picked because it’s next door to one of the Japanese people’s favorite places to play tourist in America. By the time they get around to choosing their hotel, they’ll already haveNippon Royal Hotelsimprinted in their brains thanks to the commercials here in Japan. It’s genius, really. We Mathers have to play up our own spin on American hospitality so we can still appeal to Americans, but the Isoyas will pump Japanese tourists into our wallets. Together, we make millions. Honestly, the Isoyas stand to gainmoresince it’s America they’re looking to branch into.
“Twenty-five million is a lot of money,” Akihiro says with careful consideration of his words. His accent isn’t as stilted as his sister’s, but he does not talk with the same fluidity as she does. “We must have reassurance that your plan can succeed.”
This time Kathryn slides a few papers forward. “The Mathers have used the same budget formula for previous enterprises. You can see the details here.”
I love how the Grand Hotel back home is listed as an example. Working on that project together was how Kathryn and I ended up as a couple. I refuse to sell that property for that very reason. Good thing it’s still making us money.
The Isoyas have seen all of this before, though. Thankfully, I’m used to these useless stalling tactics. Not that I don’t think this family has good reason to approach this deal cautiously. We’re talking millions of dollars here. Except it’s millions of dollars I’m confident my family can turn into a lucrative investment for everyone involved. The trick is to show my American bravado without looking like a foolish ass in the process.
“It will be considered,” Akihiro tells me. “Of course, I will wish to speak of this more with your father.”
You mean the guy looking to retire soon? The reason I’m here with my girlfriend instead of him? My father is currently in Cabo with his newest girlfriend. (At least this one is only ten years younger than him. My mother could take a hint. Her latest main squeeze is younger than me. This time next week I fully expect to walk in on my parents fooling around in my father’s office. Again. They’re hopeless.)
“Of course. Totally understandable. He’s expecting such a call.”
Kathryn glances at me and writes something down in her personal notes. This action does not go unnoticed by the two Japanese women sitting across from her.
The meeting drones on all afternoon. The Isoyas have concerns.Wehave concerns. Even in America or Europe a meeting like this would take one to two days before both parties reach even some semblance of an agreement, and even then that agreement will continue to change shape over the next few months. Yet, let me tell you, having this kind of meeting with a Japanese business is a lot more mind-numbing than a Western one. Those have room for some jokes and light-hearted tomfoolery if you’re with the right people. The Japanese? Nothing kills a deal faster than some idiot American making a tired joke, regardless if it’s funny or not. The Japanese save their humor and ability to havefunfor the after-party.
Oh, I knew there would be an after-party. They’re legendary in Japan. After you strike a deal or get done doing your big business in general, everyone goes out to get shitfaced and pay women to jiggle their tits. Or something. Obviously, I wouldn’t know first-hand.
