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Kazaharu Fukuyama. The name meant something. The essence of importance, wealth and pride drenched that name. Now, it stood for a pitiful coward who would slowly slink into the night, forever denied peace and happiness, forced to spend his days in debasing self-contempt, crawling on his belly trying to suck some of his happiness from his spent tears. What hell awaited him!

He tugged at his collar, brushed away imaginary creases and lint, then he scuffed his shoes on the carpet. Any minute. Less than an hour. The doors would open and Lisa would call to collect him. Be the one to lead him to the executioner. Of course, it had to be Lisa. Then he chided himself for being unkind to his own sister. The decision was his and therefore, no one else could take the blame. It was his punishment to endure and boy-was she ever a punishment.

Eyes clench shut. But the person who should be more punished is Kirie Kojima. Nevertheless, he couldn't bring himself to despise her and wish her ill. He was fully aware of her brutality whenever he viola-uhhmm-enjoyed the luscious body of hers. But to think she would go so far as to use his secret in a manner to completely humiliate and disgrace him.

Invisible hands grope him, besmirching the delicate surface of clean, unblemished skin. Kazaharu was visited by the urge to scratch his skin clean off, let the blood flow and shred his veins into tatters. He really shouldn't be thinking such morbid thoughts, it was out of character but after that incident he just wasn't himself. Along with his dignity, they took pieces of the charismatic Fukuyama too.

The memory smashed into him. Assaulted his senses.

Tied to the post, bound and gagged

Forced to wear ladies drag

Soon the boys came along

His victims know this song

He was fondled though he had a dong

Laughter and cheers, taunts and jeers

Oh, no more a man you see

But a wind-up sex toy for all to please.

God damn it, why the hell was he saying it in poetry. It just made it all the more worse. He sunk to his knees as the weight of his experience threatened to squash him. There was no other alternative. He couldn't be his old alluring self to the ladies. Hence, as the used-up sacrificial lamb, he was going to marry Gertrude Dimmybottom, of the Dimmybottom Corporation. Five years his senior. A whole freaking five years. She will still be alive when he could hope to finally regain his charm to seduce girls at the youthful age of 50!

A knock of the door dragged him from his mournful simpering, his breakdown of despair..

"Come in!" He called halfheartedly. So, this was the end . Good bye freedom. Goodbye fun. Goodbye bodies that didn't need work done. He took one final, lingering look at his reflection. "Farewell comrade."

"Fukuyama! What the hell!" The shrill shriek cut through him like a razor blade and briefly he was reminded why he wanted to have his hearing fixed but more unfortunately, it wasn't his future bridezilla but someone much worse. "Kirie! What on earth are you doing here?" Not bothering to hide his distaste and aversion. The last thing he wanted was to see her-the treacherous siren, the Barbie doll of the Lolita world. "I came to see your stupid ass!" She muttered darkly, "I heard you were getting married. What the hell is that about!" Yelled, anger firehosed at him. He merely raised an eyebrow and stared at her, quizzical. "Why are you getting married?" She demanded fiercely, fury like fire radiating from her tense frame, chest thrusting out. Any other time he would have enjoyed it..

"I decided to find a girl that appreciates me!' He shrugged as if it was the easiest judgment he could have made and not like he was forcing himself to swallow sulphuric acid.

"And that hag was the best you could get!" He cringed as the truth slapped him in the face. "No, but she is the richest." He huffed, raising his nose impetuously. "So that is it. You are going to marry her because she is rich." He thought he heard a thread of disappointment. "Not because she means anything to you." The silence stretched thin between them. He didn't have the strength to look at her, not by means of the mirror or in the eye. It was just too painful- and crushing. "Excuse me. I have to be at my wedding." He turned and began the walk to the door, keeping his gaze averted. Suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder.

A surprised cry left his lips before he was turned roughly around. Kazaharu braced himself for the onslaught of pain in his most sensitive areas; she must know them by heart now. Instead, shock sizzled through him like electricity, hair stood on head. Her lips encompassed his, hungry and bruising with the force only Kirie possessed in her lithe little body. He savored the sweet and tart taste of her, a delicious mixture that danced on his tongue like his favorite candy. He broke away abruptly. "Kirie!" The one word wavered badly. She gave him her typical, smug look of haughty satisfaction. "What?"

"I don't want you to marry her." It rang like a demand, layered with a hidden threat. He gave her a contemplative, narrow look. "I cannot concede to your request." Emotions rippled across her face at the formal tone in his response and her hard, determined stance relaxed as they perceived the depth of feeling in his eyes. "I am sorry for what I did." Gaze dropped to the floor, unable to stare into his eyes as tumult as a stormy ocean, "I didn't know it would happen like that-that they would do those things to you. Please forgive me." The desperate plea, as soft and beseeching as a mew from a helpless kitten, reached into his soul, wrapped around his heart renewing it with a burning fervor. Yet his arms and legs are a dead weight, lifeless, they have no cause to act. Words were not enough. He should apologize and he opened his mouth for that purpose but the apology dried on his tongue, arid and powdery as ash. He turned his back on her.

For the first time in his life, Kazaharu Fukuyama turned his back on a beautiful woman. He didn't hear the frustrated grunt she emitted, the stubborn, virile beast rising in her eyes and flooding her body so every muscle tightened measurably. His finger hardly touched the knob before he is shoved against the door. Her mouth latched onto his, invading and conquering. Body flush against his. She needed to draw him closer. She expected to feel disgust or at the very least regret, remnants from her cast off pride. Kirie explored whatever part of him she could find; the hard lines of his chest, his warm arms, the silkiness of the hair on the nape of his neck. He was far too stiff and unresponsive, it hurt her a little. Like maybe he was never really interested in her. She withdrew, eyes holding his in an expression of vulnerable need and mellow affection. It engendered his heart to ache badly because of it. "Don't leave me, Kazaharu." His name from her succulent lips like fresh honey in spring time, sanguine, rich and promising satisfaction. She invoked sensations that so far money was the sole benefactor. He felt wanted, important and lucky.

Kirie Kojima, the woman who gathered the admiration of everyone she met, chose him. Without hesitation, he seals their union with another deep kiss, one so saccharine and meaningful, pouring all his rampaging ardent feelings for this amazing creature into it. Kissing her made him feel thoroughly and inexplicably alive.

Kirie didn't often entertain fear. Only once when she thought she might lose Yukinari. Fukuyama was an entirely different story, nevertheless after the few instances when he showed himself to be capable of humane behaviour; his presence had begun to strike intense chords of longing. What had happened could not be undone. But she swore a silent vow, utilizing all her reserves of compassion and love; she would make it up to him.

They draw away to hold each other's gazes, amorous devotion, passing like electricity between them. "I love you. Kirie." Surprised at the genuine cadence in his words. A smile brightens her face, vivid with equal infatuation. "Can I take you to the bridal suite and show you the ways I can love you!" The teasing rumble to his voice causing a flicker of arousal in her already sensitised body. Laughter bubbled from her throat, jubilant excitement, "Not now. I am happy where we are." A special, evocative smile of adoration is exchanged between them. All was perfect with the world. Like the secrets of nature, the most beautiful sight can emerge after a stormy night; a rainbow, a beaming flower. Love is like that.