The Manga Girl
The Manga Girl
by Lorenzo Marks
ISBN: 978-1-937831-59-2
A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication
Copyright © 2012, All rights reserved
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers.
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Chapter One
“Hi, I saw your ad.”
She was all smooth bare legs, tight shorts, and a cute Asian fringe cut.
Nick couldn’t but help stare, but he guessed she had to be used to that.
He said, “Yeah, come on in,” and stood aside, her scent making him think of tropical fruit as she passed. He watched the undulating movement of her round ass and she glanced back and flashed him a pearly-white smile.
“I’m Lucy,” she said.
“Nick,” he said. “Drink, before I show you around?”
“Let’s take a look first. If I like what I see, we can talk. Okay?”
“Fine with me. Upstairs then. Ladies first.”
“If you were a gentleman,” she grinned, “
you
would go first.”
He was not a gentleman and he enjoyed the view as he followed her up the stairs.
“Bathroom here,” he said when they reached the top floor. “My bedroom over there, box room at the end of the landing, and,” he swung open the adjacent door, “here’s where you will be sleeping.”
“Maybe,” she corrected.
Nick had already convinced himself that she wouldn’t take it, but he felt giddy just watching her. She wasn’t tall, but her figure was beautifully proportioned, with jutting breasts, a wasp-waist which flared out into broad hips, an ample behind, and shapely thighs and calves. She stood in the center of the room and turned full circle on her four-inch heels.
“It’s nice,” she said. “Can I see your room?”
That took him by surprise, but he found himself opening the door and she peeked inside.
“You should make your bed,” she said.
“I’m a lousy housekeeper.”
“The bathroom’s a mess too.”
“If you move in, I promise to keep it clean.”
“I’m glad you’ve got a tub. I love to soak.”
Nick tried to visualize her soaking as they went down to the kitchen.
“Coke? Or something stronger?” he asked.
“Diet, if you’ve got it.”
He opened the back door to let in the warm, early summer breeze. They sat at the kitchen table and she brushed back her hair with slender fingers.
“So what do you do?” she asked, wrinkling her stubby little nose.
“I’m a carpenter. I work for a company that restores old buildings.”
“Sounds pretty cool. Do you own this house? The real estate’s outrageous around here.”
“I inherited it, but I’m not rich. That’s why I placed the ad.”
“I can’t afford a lot,” she said.
He had already decided that he would let her stay for free if she wanted, but he said, “Well, if you’re interested, I’m sure we can work something out.”
She thought about that, then said, “I’ve got a friend who might want to double up.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Would that be a problem?”
“It might.”
“I’m kidding. I have a classmate, but we’re in a dorm and it’s pretty crowded. I’ll talk to her if you like.”
“So you’re at college?”
“Yeah, MassArt,” she said dismissively. “So look, I’d like to move in here if the price is right. I can go to one-fifty.”
“Done.”
“Well,” she blinked, “that was easy. Do you have any house rules?”
“Let me think about that,” Nick said. “I don’t smoke, but I don’t have any problem with it.”
“Neither do I. Smoke, I mean. I play music when I work.”
“I like music. Do you have any dark habits?”
“Do you?”
“I sleepwalk.”
“Maybe I’m making a mistake.”
“Don’t worry, I’m tame, and your door locks from the inside.”
All this time Nick was covertly checking out her smooth legs, and the swell of her impressive bust, and noting the way she appraised him with her dark oval eyes and the way she tugged at her hair. He was also thinking all of this was kind of freaky because this sort of thing - a hot girl moving into his house - doesn’t normally happen to a guy like him.
“How about a beer?” he asked.
“Okay, just one.”
He got a couple of Heinekens from the refrigerator and they moved to the living room, sharing the couch. Nick learned that she was twenty years old and from New York, where she had been living with her father.
“He’s Japanese, my mom’s ethnic Korean.
Zainichi
. I don’t see her anymore.”
She didn’t elaborate, so Nick said, “Well, I must say it’s a lovely mixture.”
“Long story. They came from Kobe. I was born here, but I can speak Japanese thanks to my dad.”
She was studying illustration and animation, but her special passion was Japanese manga art. She worked mostly in acrylics and woodcuts but enjoyed the simplicity of pencil sketching.
“My main influence is Tezuka, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But I’ve recently been studying the works of the Year 24 Group.”
“Well, I guess you should.”
“Sorry. I’ll show you some of my stuff later if you want.”
“I’d like that.”
She practiced Tantric yoga and Vipassana meditation, during which she’d once had an out-of-body experience. She rode a mountain bike to college. She was reading Haruki Murakami, Yukio Mishima, Truman Capote, Don DeLillo and Raymond Carver and she was studying the photography of Nobuyoshi Araki. She was currently listening to Kumi Koda, The Gazette, Lady Ga Ga, Jessie J, Bad Meets Evil, and Rihanna, but also Mozart, Bach and Beethoven.
She kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the couch. Nick fetched two more beers and turned on the lights.
“Thanks.”
As she took her beer, Nick noticed a series of thin scars on the inside of her wrist. She saw him look but offered no explanation.
She said she believed it was possible to influence the world around you with your thoughts. “We all come from the same source energy and our thoughts have energy frequencies. So you have to be aware of what you’re thinking, because you’re actually shaping the universe through your own consciousness.”
“Really?”
“Haven’t you ever wondered at the miracle of how everything is inter-connected? Every time you take a simple breath, you are actually exchanging gasses with our planet.”
She said she was not interested in politics and had no real religious beliefs although she wore a gold Buddha amulet around her neck.
“It was a gift,” she yawned, and lay back on the couch, stretching her bare legs over his. Nick stayed motionless while she slept, marveling at the rise and fall of her breasts, her plump, parted lips, the delicate arches of her feet. She had a small butterfly tattooed on the inside of one ankle.
When she woke, she looked momentarily confused, and when she felt his legs under her calves, she swung upright and rubbed her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“How long was I out?” she asked.
“Half an hour.”
“I should go.”
“It’s dark out. You can stay if you like.”
She stepped into her shoes and fastened the straps. “I have morning classes.”
Nick opened the front door and she turned to face him. He could feel her warm breath, slightly sweet from the beer.
“I’ll call you,” she said. “I’m sorry I took up so much of your time.”
“I enjoyed the company.”
She looked up at him, eyes probing, and then without warning, kissed him on the cheek and went down the steps.
He stood in the doorway watching her go, and when she reached the corner she turned and waved and then she was out of sight. Nick stayed where he was for a while, still feeling the warmth of her lips upon his cheek. Eventually he went inside, got undressed and laid on the couch. Inhaling the sweet aroma of her hair on the cushion, he slowly masturbated himself to sleep.
