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Seduction In The Key Of 'A'

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Asami thrust into the smaller body beneath him, the woman’s loud moaning kindling a spark behind his eyes that was sure to become one spectacular headache in the hours to come. The simple act of rutting was no more than a necessary chore to relieve the burning ache in his body, and it’d been that way now for some months—perhaps even a year, at this point. Who the hell is this bitch anyway? He couldn’t recall her name in spite of his incredible memory for details; in less than a minute, it would become quite important to him, and certainly not for the same reasons it was important to her.

Right. Kiyomi. That’s her name. Will I have to force her to take the pill? Or did she have the—

Wet vaginal walls contracted around his cock, pulling him from his internal dialogue as he followed her into orgasm. In the past, he’d usually lie next to her on the couch and have a post-sex cigarette. Tonight, however, he was restless, and (if he were being honest with himself) a bit anxious to have her out of his condo. At least she didn’t come on the bed, he thought with a twisted half-smile. His bedroom was his private sanctuary, and no trick was ever allowed in there. If the person had a problem fucking on the couch, or the floor, or against the wall, he or she would be told to leave. Not that he’d had to do that since rising to power in Tokyo: many women and almost an equal number of men were more than willing to tolerate his idiosyncrasies just to have a one-night stand.

Asami stood, not bothering to cover himself, and lit the cigarette, his back to the girl as he looked out over the city. He expelled smoke as he remembered giving her the birth control shot himself two months prior. Good. No complications for the night. He was pulled out of his musings once again as he realized she’d been chattering away happily while he was assessing the pregnancy risk.

“…in the bed,” Kiyomi said with a sultry smile. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. “And don’t you think I should be getting a key soon?”

Asami stared at her long enough to know he caused her discomfort, then casually walked to her. He took a large drag off the cigarette, leaned over the girl, caging her in against the back of the couch with both arms, and blew the smoke in her face. She started to get nervous with his atypical display.

“I don’t know who you think I am,” he said softly, “nor do I care. But there is something I need to clear up.”

He caressed over her collarbone with a finger, and she grew wary at the gentle touch. This man was anything but gentle. She knew that much. His hand rested lightly around her neck, the unspoken threat quite apparent as he pressed her back into the couch.

“I am not your boyfriend,” he sneered. “I’m not your lover, not your friend, and as of tonight, I’m also not your employer.”

Kiyomi’s mouth fell open though no sound came out as he withdrew and turned his back on her again.

“You may collect your things from Sion tonight. My assistant will escort you right now.”

She was horrified, but still couldn’t speak. With as much dignity as she could scrape together, she snatched her clothes up and left. Asami dialed Kirishima and gave him directions on what to do with his former employee, knowing the man caught the wench before she left the floor.

That being dealt with, Asami finished smoking, lost in thought as he sat in the darkness alone. The damned women were becoming tedious. Just a scant four years ago, not a one of his female employees would have ever demanded a key to his condo. They were getting too comfortable with him, and he couldn’t have that if he were to remain at the top of the elite heap. He lit another cigarette and paced in front of the large windows, at ease in his skin, pondering his conundrum.

Most of the cigarette was gone when a wicked smile marred his face.



Oh fuck! Not again!

It was the third time in little over half a year this scene was playing out, much to Akihito’s disappointment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a warning bell was going off. And he would’ve heeded it if he weren’t frozen in utter shock. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? Was he really that naïve? Really? As if in a crappy romantic movie, he could see his boss’ face pressing closer, thin lips descending on his own. The other times this happened to him, he was able to slip away from his would-be molesters with a minimum of fuss. This time, though, he knew he wouldn’t get out without resorting to violence.

Akihito took the man’s lapels and started to pull him closer. His boss’ expression was hopeful, until he brought his knee up and nailed him in the balls. Before his boss hit the floor, Akihito was at the back door of the ground-level office, yanking desperately at the knob. Fuckfuckfuck! Locked! He leapt over the groaning man and went for the main door leading back into the club. It slammed open, the boss’ huge bodyguard filling the doorframe, and they exchanged a look of surprise. Akihito recovered first and shut and locked the door. It would only hold the brute for moments, so he needed to think fast.

“Y-You’ll n-never get out,” the man on the floor groaned.

“Shut the hell up!” he snapped back, giving a swift kick to the man’s stomach. His former employer curled further around himself as Akihito dismissed him from his mind.

There was a small washroom off to the side of the office, and Akihito bolted into it, locking it behind him. In a flash, he was on the western-style toilet, reaching up and flipping the small rectangular window open as the brute broke down the office door. His heart began beating in his throat, and the crashing noise spurred him through the window. He struggled when his hips got caught in the frame, but managed to wiggle them through just as a beefy hand wrapped around his ankle. He swallowed the budding scream and kicked backward, connecting with the guard’s face.

He grabbed the ledge, swung around and landed on his feet. As soon as his shoes hit the pavement, he was in motion, and he didn’t stop until he returned to his apartment.



“You’re home awfully early for a Saturday night,” Kou commented from the kitchen as Akihito shut the door and leaned his back against it.

The look on the other man’s face gave him pause. Kou approached and brushed the hair out of Akihito’s face. “Aki, are you okay?”

“Kou, what’s wrong with me?” he asked, tears he’d been holding in slid down his cheeks.

Kou wrapped his arms around his best friend. “There is nothing wrong with you. What happened tonight? Tell me.”

“He told me he was going to rape me,” he said miserably, leaning against Kou’s shoulder. “Am I dressing inappropriately? O-Or leading these guys on? What am I doing wrong?”

Kou tightened his arms around him, narrowing his eyes. “You are very attractive, Akihito, and your voice is incredible. They lust after you because you’re in a class so far above any of them.”

They stood for several minutes more until Akihito pulled away slightly, taking a deep, cleansing breath. He gave a watery smile to Kou.

“Thank you.”

Kou ruffled his hair and went back to the kitchen. “Get a shower. It’ll make you feel better.” He looked over his shoulder at Aki. “And don’t take forever. Takato’s coming over tonight and we’re getting drunk.”

After Akihito was in the shower, Kou opened the door to Takato who was carrying a case of cheap beer.

“So what’s going on?” he asked, setting the beer on the kitchen counter. Kou gestured for him to be quiet.

“Aki nearly got raped again by his boss.”

Takato scowled. “Again? When are those assholes going to leave him the hell alone?”

“Probably when he gets a boyfriend big enough to beat the fuck out of them,” Kou said, half-joking.

Takato poured himself a cup of sake and leaned forward, conspiratorially. “Actually, I might have a solution.”



Akihito pulled on a pair of cargo shorts, and went into the kitchen to grab a beer. The conversation stopped immediately when he stepped out of his room. He ignored it until he had the can in hand, and he turned, folding his free arm over his chest.

“What?” he asked the two sets of eyes staring at him and drank.

“You need to get laid,” Takato said.

Akihito’s eyes widened, and he drank the rest of his first beer, cheeks flaming red. He quickly opened a second can, taking another swift swig before muttering: “I’m going to need to be drunk to talk about that.”

Kou and Takato chuckled at the cute, embarrassed face Akihito made as he sat on the floor with his back propped against the couch.

“Are you going to apply to another bar?” Takato asked after pouring a round of sake for them.

“I’m starting to think I should just move on to something else,” he said, sighing. “I’m not sure it’s worth it if I’m constantly in danger of being molested on the job. I can’t sing very well under those circumstances.”

“Then you need to apply to somewhere higher class than these little dives,” Kou added. “Whatever you do, you’re not allowed to stop singing.”

“Says who?”

“Says both of us,” he replied. “You’re too good, and you love it too much to stop.”

Akihito took the shot of sake and poured himself another. “Alright. Do you have any bright ideas? Because I’m all out.”

“Club Sion,” Takato said immediately.

Akihito laughed. “Everyone knows Sion caters to straight people and only hires women to sing. Even you know that.”

Neither Kou nor Takato were laughing, and he began to get suspicious.

“What am I missing?” he asked looking back and forth between them. Takato grabbed Kou’s laptop and typed in Sion’s web address.

“Two days ago, three singers were ‘let go’,” he said and turned the screen to Akihito. “And those three openings are going to be filled by male singers.”

Akihito read the announcement on the site. And he had to re-read it to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. A slow smile settled on his lips.