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.jpg) Elizabeth
Hamata was the second member of my ad
hoc sorority, which the two of us decided would be
called Kappa Gamma. I called her Lizzi; she called me
KiKo. Of course, our sorority was recognized only by us,
being the only two members at the time. We decided our
mission statement would be summed up as “feminine
feminism.” We elected each other provisional
chairwoman A, and provisional chairwoman B, sharing
equal duties and responsibilities.
Lizzi
was just strikingly beautiful. I was attracted to her
instantly. She had the calm,
self-confident air that
such rare beauty can provide. Her
hair was a lustrous
jet-black, and I could tell it required little or no
maintenance. There was a slight breeze that first time I
saw her, outside the student union building; her hair
was stirring gently around
oriental facial features.
She
turned her head before going in and I caught her gaze.
She stopped, and waited for me to approach. Her eyes had
a questioning look; she introduced herself politely, and
needed to know if the cafeteria was inside. I replied
with a simple hello, and told her to follow me.
We
found an empty table, put down our books and other
things, and she asked if I was hungry. I said yes, and
we joined the end of the queue. I went in the line
first. Lizzi duplicated my selections from the self
serve bar. When we returned to our table she remarked
that I appeared to know exactly what to do. She asked me
how long had I lived in the
United States? My reply:
“My entire life,” took her by surprise.
"Aren’t you
Japanese", she asked? And so I
told her about growing up
adopted in America, with
Caucasian parents. She responded by telling me
how
Japanese I looked. “Mmmm…,” I said; "it was
my birth-mother’s gift to me".
As
she began to tell me about herself, I examined her
carefully. Wonderfully wide-set eyes. Her nose, mouth,
and ears all appeared in perfect harmony and balance,
like a fine example of architecture: structure and
function complimenting each other. Expression flowed
from her eye movements. Darting around in their sockets,
highlighted with carefully applied
mascara; her eyes
filled in the texture and emotions of a cheerful
young
woman. She wore a
sheer white blouse with a
camisole top
under. Her
skirt was just-above-the-knee length,
adequately
pleated yet still simple. She wore
hosiery
with a medium gray tint, a kind I couldn’t recognize.
I judged her figure to be 34C-22-35. Halfway through
lunch I decided that this was going to be the time to
make my fantasies come true. I was going to have Lizzi
as my first
female lover. She had come to me without any
design; and I thought: she must be the one.
I
returned to the
conversation, suggesting my plan for the
“sorority.” Lizzi was happy to join the plan. We
would meet again in her dorm room after classes. I
watched “my” Lizzi walk away; I smiled as she turned
back and waved.
I
was distracted and inattentive during my next few
classes. Paying little attention was not my style. Then
again, I had made an important decision. I had been
considering
bi-sexuality for a long time. Now I had
decided my “who”. Lizzi: a
young woman I had just
become acquainted with. I wanted to learn to love her
and to
make love to her. I recalled her soft voice. The
impeccable
English spoken to me with a Japanese accent.
The clear headed mind that explained itself concisely.
All wrapped up in a tasteful, delicious looking package.
Could I succeed in making her “mine?” Would it turn
out to be
my bliss?
Late
that afternoon we met in her
dorm room as planned. I
arrived at the exact time we had agreed upon. I brought
with me only my
purse and a new notebook. Lizzi had
changed into comfortable clothes, wearing gray
sweat
pants with a
tee. I noticed the
tee must have been a
favorite of hers; it showed signs of numerous washings. I
had to avert my eyes and look at posters on the wall. I
didn’t want Lizzi to know just yet how much I wanted
her to be
more than a friend. I wasn’t ready to reveal
all my intentions. So we compared notes on
feminism in
Japan and America. She interrupted occasionally to ask
me even more about
being adopted and how did I ever fit
in growing up with Caucasian parents? I was used to
these kinds of questions so I provided Lizzi with more
of my standard replies. Finally, we declared an end to
Kappa Gamma’s first official meeting. We proceeded to
discuss sex. Happily for me, it was Lizzi’s idea.
Lizzi
had dozens of questions. How were
men likely to approach
her? What were
dates like in America? Would men expect
sex on the first date? All of her questions assumed that
I had dated men often and was
no longer a virgin. Lizzi
had assumed correctly. I failed to either impress or
embarrass her with unembellished facts and figures. I
answered her using examples, details, and precise
language. She surprised me by asking so many direct
questions. I had expected her inquiries to be of a
general nature and circumspect. But she wasn’t asking
just anyone; she was asking me as an individual. She was
asking specifically about my
experience. In a convenient way this fit perfectly into
my plans. Later I would discover that she had her own
plans as well. I was proceeding under the assumption
that she was an entirely innocent creature, and she was
not. In the beginning I was too caught up in my schemes
to even consider she might have her own.
The
next day we met again for lunch. We chose to eat outside
at a location where we could observe and be observed by
passers-by. We commented about the different individuals
moving past us. Some were tidy, others seemed slovenly.
Occasionally a certain
man would catch our attention.
Might he be
good in bed? Perhaps he’s quite
intelligent, but awfully clumsy. We made each other
laugh. We were both wearing
tight fitting leather minis.
We could have easily passed for sisters used to sharing
each other’s company. Her top was a
bustier style
number which did wonders for
cleavage. I was wearing a
black bra to compliment my mini. My
sheer top made a
statement. I consumed my lunch with a
deliberate slow
sensuality. I felt and
looked sexy. The two of us pushed
the envelope right up to being flamboyant. We made
direct eye contact only with each other, however,
thereby avoiding any unwanted intrusions. All in all it
was a successful luncheon for our sorority. Lizzi said
she’d be tied up in the afternoon, but it would be
great to meet again for lunch the next day. Before
leaving she asked me what we should wear? “Whatcha got
in mind?” I replied with a question. “OK KiKo,”
she said. She got up and left for her next class. As was
her habit, she stopped about five steps away, turned
around to see me and waved.
Driving
home after class I reflected on lunch. The tight mini
was an unusual choice for me. It was something I would
have
worn on a date. Not really
campus attire; I was
curious to see Lizzi’s reaction. When I saw her
wearing the same kind of outfit, well, I was totally
unprepared. I knew what my motives were and so I
couldn’t help but wonder about hers. In hindsight I
see now the obvious answer had eluded me because I was
proceeding with the assumption that
seducing Lizzi was
going to be an obstacle-clearing exercise. An idea
occurred to me at a red light and I dismissed it without
serious consideration. When I dreamed of “my” Lizzi
that night, I was still clearing obstacles.
When
I was getting ready the next morning I realized how
obsessed with Lizzi I had become. Deciding upon what to
wear, I was thinking about her. I was using the same
strategy I had employed with men:
dress for success. I
was trying on different mix and match combinations,
considering my
makeup and
hair.
Nail polish?
Long skirt
or short? When I couldn’t decide I thought about
calling to cancel. Showering, I
shaved my legs with
extra care and
trimmed my pubic hair. I stood in
front of a full length mirror. All the details had to be
just so. I ended up
skipping the bra, found a white
cotton dress,
cinched the waist with a
belt and made a
few final adjustments.
Bare legs.
Flat shoes. Voila!
Meeting
for our luncheon indoors we greeted with hugs and
sisterly
kisses. She had on a long blue skirt: plain,
and a matching print top. All her
accessories matched.
She wore a
girlish blue ribbon in her hair. We sat down
to eat. She began talking. "Why haven’t you asked
about my name?" And she looked into my eyes. "Ummm!
Don’t know". "Should I?" No clue on my
part. Elizabeth isn’t a Japanese name, she said.
"Oh!" was my reply. I added that I figured it
was a translation of some sort. "Nope", she
said; "it’s my actual name". My parents
planned from the start that I would
go to America
eventually so they gave me an English name. They saw
long ago how much better life could be in America for a
woman. That I would have many more opportunities here.
"Of course, things have changed in Japan, but here
I am anyway. See?" She tilted her head and looked
at me. We were silent for a minute. She had told me
using a tone I never heard before. She was dead serious. Lizzi began again, "So you never wondered?"
"Nope", I said, "never gave it a
thought". I began to feel uneasy because she seemed
to be approaching something like hostility. Finally she
smiled pleasantly to reassure me. I had stopped eating.
She continued to attack her
salad plate. "How about
we do something different this afternoon?" Her tone
changed to an optimistic please-say-yes. I answered yes
before hearing anything specific. I wanted Lizzi to
enjoy being with me.
She
suggested a simple walk around the campus. We chatted
about adding more members to our sorority. What kinds of
ground rules would we include? What about initiations?
Finally she said it was all too much for us to hope to
accomplish quickly. We should plan to meet again and then
Lizzi trailed off and checked her watch. “Ooooops…
got to go…”, she ended abruptly, turned and started
off. A few seconds later she turned back to see me and
then started off again.
I
called Lizzi that night around seven. I told her I had
been doing some thinking and asked would it be possible
for her to come over? “Sure,” she said, “just need
your address and I’ll come by.” She took the
information. I had decided upon a now-or-never policy.
At first I was going to take out
wine and let it
breathe. I changed my mind to
tea with
snacks. I wore my
most comfortable
thong style panties with sweat top and
bottom. I brushed my hair to perfection.
About
eight-thirty Lizzi arrived with only a
purse. I
suggested tea and brought her inside to sit. She was
wearing a
black mini with a matching top. Only a hint of
makeup. As she sat she crossed her legs. The mini snuck
up around her thighs. Lizzi wasn’t wearing
panties.
She didn’t try to pull the mini down in order to
conceal this fact. A perfect smile formed on her face.
“How about you?” she asked. The meaning was
unmistakable. I shook my head, "Yes, just a
thong". Lizzi stood up and advanced the two
steps towards me. Open-mouthed she
kissed me and murmured something in Japanese. Lizzi
mouthed the words “I want you”. I wanted her, too.
After
sex we talked and talked. Lizzi asked whether I was
truly serious about Gamma Kappa. “It’s Kappa
Gamma,” I replied, “and yes I am.” She said it
would be great for us to continue with the idea. She
liked it. I asked her when she had come to realize my
intentions? “Your intentions?” she asked, “What
are they?” Lizzi smiled and slept till the following
morning.
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