Short Story

A dance of silk and smiles, Geiko, in her azure kimono adorned with kanzashi ornaments, left the struggling artist breathless.

He invited this enigmatic muse to his humble workshop, where negotiations unfolded as smoothly as a cherry blossom petal falling in spring.

His daughter, Virginia, retreated to the kitchen.

Desperate to engage her, he gave her a canvas, hoping she would paint her own world while he painted Geiko.

But when words turned icy, Virginia sought solace in her kitchen sanctuary, leaving the artist to return to his muse.

As the sun climbed, the workshop was doused in a new light, revealing Geiko in all her splendor.

“Look who’s here,” the artist called to Virginia.

A mix of dread and joy washed over her at the sight of the unfamiliar toy. But the artist knew how to soothe her — he placed the doll in Geiko’s arms, sparking a connection.

Geiko’s graceful disrobing fascinated them both. Her elegance remained untouched, even as she revealed herself under the artist’s gaze.

He then invited Virginia to join them, drawing her into their intimate circle.

With soft strokes, the artist painted Geiko, highlighting her seven types of ‘meat’.

“Goodie, goodie,” he exclaimed, patting her bottom.

The phrase echoed in Virginia’s voice as she scampered away, only to return with a cascade of rainbow blossoms, showered on Geiko’s bare skin. The camera captured these moments, painting a tale of two worlds colliding in a symphony of color and emotion.

“Flowers for a flower model,” Virginia chimed.

Truth, he mused, often bloomed from the untainted.

Geiko’s laughter echoed, a joyful symphony disrupted by Virginia’s outburst at his touch.

“She’s your doll, just like Dirty is mine,” she placated.

Shocked, he whispered to Geiko, and Virginia, unable to bear it, fled. He coaxed her back, and life resumed, the wind whispering tales of beauty dancing with darkness.

He twirled on his artist’s chair, a playful ritual before departure.

“Remember, clean up after me,” he reminded Virginia.

Storm clouds gathered as he left, Geiko and Virginia huddling in their corners, the storm’s fury threatening to tear their sanctuary apart.

“The dams have burst,” warned a stranger.

They ventured towards the highway, Geiko’s make-up washed away by rain, revealing a stranger beneath. Shelter awaited them in a parking haven, a refuge from the storm’s wrath.

“Who are you? Are you a… boy or a girl? Are you a… Bot?”

“I’m a woman,” she replied, her painted facade washed away by the tempest.

The storm, it seemed, had not only battered their surroundings but also stripped away pretenses.

“A woman has seven types of meat,” Virginia’s innocent voice echoed amidst the chaos.

Her statement was met with a plea for silence. The storm outside mirrored the turbulence within them until a familiar figure emerged from the abyss — her father.

Buoyed by his arrival, they embarked on an adrenaline-filled journey, surrounded by a medley of art and tools in an eccentric vehicle. The tempest was no match for their daring spirit as they sped off into its heart.

With the storm subsiding, the word ‘home’ whispered hope. But the path was treacherous — a roaring river, an ominous bridge, and rats with glaring eyes stood in their way. They found solace beneath the bridge, where Virginia’s doll, Dirty, was trapped.

“Mother,” Virginia said, looking at Geiko.

A moment of connection, disrupted by the urgency to save Dirty.

Back home, was… mother, her first… mother.

Now she had two mothers, one father… and one doll. Amidst laughter and tea, they recounted their adventure. Virginia’s tales of heroism filled the air, with Geiko caught in the crossfire of embarrassment and affection. As night fell, Geiko’s exhaustion took over, but Virginia’s admiration held her captive. A tender embrace, a touch on the forbidden spot, and emotions erupted — a perfect storm within the sanctuary of their home.

“Seven meats,” Virginia declared, pointing to various parts of Geiko. “Feet, legs, tummy, chest, and bum. The secret one’s here: the p.y!”

A collective gasp filled the room.

Daybreak came late.

The morning quietude was only broken by the chatter of birds. Virginia, with Dirty in tow, spun tales that danced between reality and fantasy, her laughter a melody that breathed life into her stories.

Suddenly, hunger pangs, dry mouths, chills, and an ache for comfort set in. Virginia and Dirty waited for Dad’s usual chiding, for Mom’s comforting calls, or for Mom’s tender touch. For a hug, a sign of life, even if it was from a stranger.

As evening draped its veil, they gathered their courage and tiptoed into the kitchen.

There, amidst the silence, a blood-stained kanzashi.

If you enjoyed this short story, I invite you to delve deeper into the world of romance and intrigue with my book, ‘Book of Love and Gossip’, available on Amazon. Your likes, comments, and support are greatly appreciated. Thank you!