the heart of a geisha, I could hear Mariko saying, the echo of her persistent voice hammering in my head, reminding me we lived in a world that had no place for a woman’s feelings, that Kioto was a city of spiritual secrets.
Secrets of the geisha.
And I couldn’t betray them.
“I must go, Hisa-don,” I whispered, tossing my head and pushing my hips away from him.
“They say you’re the most beautiful maiko in Kioto, Kathlenesan,” he said, breathing into my ear, then licking it.
In spite of myself, I sighed, then breathed in deeply and a strong, woody fragrance filled my nostrils. “You’re no longer a boy, Hisa-don,” I whispered, regretting the words as soon as I said them. His entire body went rigid as he pressed up against me, my softness melting into him, tempting him with the promise of moonlit nights, his nude body showered with fragrant white blossoms.
“Then let me make you a woman, Kathlene-san, though I’ll lose my head if okâsan discovers us,” he said, asking me to sacrifice my closeness to the gods and go with him. “It would be worth it to hear you cry out in the night.”
I rolled my tongue over my lips, tasting my desire. He meant a woman’s greatest pleasure. Orgasm.
No, I couldn’t. I had to do something. Fast. What?
If he thinks I’m not a virgin, I can send him on his way without losing face.
Dropping my voice, I said in a seductive manner, “You’re not my first lover, Hisa-don. I’ve entertained many men in my futon. Politicians, court officials, even royal princes.”
Hisa smiled, then shook his head. “That’s not true, Kathlenesan. It’s tradition okâsan sell spring.”
I frowned. So he knew about the ritual where a maiko’s virginity was sold to the highest bidder. It came about during the time of the shôguns when the prostitutes of Yoshiwara staged cherry blossom parties beneath the red and white blossoms of spring and sold their virginity, some more than once.
I wasn’t for sale. I wanted to fall in love with the man who would make me a woman.
“What makes you so sure I haven’t made love to a man?” I asked.
“You wouldn’t be so hungry to taste the fallen fruit at your feet if you’d known other men.”
I shrugged. Double talk. Meaning he was considered beneath me. Yet it frightened me to know Hisa was willing to break those rules for me and risk death, his head ending up on the end of a post outside the city. I didn’t wish to see him lose his life because of me.
My conscience gnawed at my brain. I must make him go away before we were discovered. The gods wouldn’t be so cruel to expose us.
Would they?
“If you let him taste your golden peach, Kathlene-san,” I heard a girl’s voice say behind me, “it will be forever spoiled.”
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