Phrasal Verb

The short story that turned erotic

By Ryuu Kawatani

Takashi Tachibana was the picture of success sitting across from me. The senior director of Japan’s top advertising firm was his impeccable self sitting comfortably if somewhat tensely on a leather lounge chair in a tiny lesson room at an English conversation school in Ginza, the chic shopping district in downtown Tokyo where I worked.

Takashi took off his expensive business suit jacket and folded it neatly with a nonchalant touch on the matching chair beside him.

As usual he was wearing the best quality fine cotton shirt accented tastefully with a subtly colored silk tie.

Takashi was perhaps the best dressed man in the world’s best dressed city.

Since I began teaching here last spring a little over a year ago, Takashi became one of my regular students.

His English was quite remarkable. Takashi spoke confidently and had a surprisingly good vocabulary.

Sometimes, however, Takashi would get stuck in these long pauses or rambling responses.

But otherwise his English was impressive.

I was glad that he always booked me for his ‘man-to-man’ lessons over the more popular pair of American instructors at the school whose schedules were nearly always full.

After our first lesson the gregarious Korean Japanese receptionist shrieked ‘He likes you!’ and then ‘He’s a big V.I.P.!!’ lowering her voice.

Takashi was probably the school’s biggest customer coming two or three times a week for over ten years.

The receptionist was plainly in awe of him. Whenever he walked into the school I knew by the way her voice would suddenly go up a few octaves.

‘Tachibana san!’, she would coo joyfully.

Takashi would come for his lesson with me once or twice a week, almost always at 1 or 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

When I was first hired he was often my only regular afternoon student. My schedule was distressingly empty until the evening when the work day ended and the students poured in from neighboring Marunouchi, Tokyo’s premier business district.

Since the more popular instructors were already fully booked in the evening during peak hours students had no choice but to be assigned to other less popular instructors.

That meant me. Or Mike.

Despite its high-end location in Ginza, the school offered surprisingly economical rates for a private lesson.

‘How can we provide such reasonably priced lessons?’, asked the school’s cheap looking brochure.

‘By cutting costs with unadorned lesson rooms and foyers without the fancy furniture other schools have’,

What the brochure didn’t mention was the biggest reason lessons were so cheap: instructors weren’t paid for empty slots in their schedules.

Since my schedule was about a third full during the first couple months I worked there, my income was distressingly low.

Being a new teacher, there was some initial interest when I arrived and some of the regular students gave me a try.

But these trial lessons were a disaster. Tense from the beginning, they got truly horrible when I offered feedback.

I’ll never forget the sweet look on one old woman’s face turning to stone when I suggested she could improve her use of tense. Neither she nor anyone else returned for a follow-up.

I scratched my head and wondered why students came if not to improve their English?

Many students came just to brag to their friends or because their boss forced them. Some plainly despised English and just wanted to get their lesson over as painlessly as possible.

But not Takashi. At the end of our first lesson when I gave him some feedback his eyes lit up.

‘First off, it’s rare that I meet a student who speaks English so well’, I told him.

‘Really?!! Thank you!’, Takashi replied extremely modestly.

‘But you take too long to answer’, I added.

‘Yes, you are right! I do take too long to answer!’, Takashi replied nodding his head.

This was obviously the first time he had been told this. I imagine the other instructors had been too busy trying to tell him what they thought he wanted to hear.

‘If I had to be nit picky you could improve a couple things like your pronouns or your articles. But that isn’t a big deal. We can work on it during your lesson if you want’, I quickly added.

‘Yes, please I’d like to work on my weak points’, Takashi replied.

Takashi became my first ‘regular’. After that, things started to fall into place for me at the school.

My students increased and I made good friends were some of the other instructors, especially Nigel and Peter who became my regular drinking partners.

After I turned down two of their invitations to go to a nearby bar after work for some drinks, Nigel made sure to drag me along on his third invitation.

‘Some of us are going for a drink after class mate and you are coming along no ifs, buts or maybes’, he told me with a grin and a hand on my shoulder.

‘Peter has got it into his head that you are the world’s greatest wing man and with your Japanese we will reel in the girls’, Nigel told me.

Not totally convinced, I smiled and said nothing. It was true, however, that if I saw a beautiful girl I could work magic.

If only because my infactuation was so plain.

I wasn’t feeling confident, however, and had only a few thousand yen in my wallet.

Without a decent excuse, I decided to accept the invitation.

As soon as I entered the bar I felt an immense sense of relief. It was lively. And done with wood beams. Open and warm. I felt comfortable.

‘Peter! Nigel! How are you mates? The usual?’, the young Japanese waiter asked coming up to our table with a big smile.

‘Yes! Asahi all around and let’s go for some Italian sausage and some curly fries. The appetizers here are killer! The first round is on me mates!’, Peter said extremely hospitably.

Peter kept us entertained with a slew of hilarious stories and jokes.

Before long we had ordered three or four rounds of Asahi Dry.

‘This guy just doesn’t stop, does he?’, I asked Nigel.

‘I’ve heard every single one, mate. More than once’, Nigel replied with a pained look.

‘Boys, I have to get going. Thank you for dragging me along. I had a great time!’, I said.

‘Well give us your number mate and let’s do it again!’, Nigel said as I was leaving.

Back at the school my schedule was still far from busy. But in the afternoons I did everything I could to turn things around.

I scrubbed my lesson room clean and took down the tacky, old pictures on the wall leaving nothing but the teaching desk and the black leather chairs.

I put up a picture of the Imperial Palace where the Emperor lives just a stone’s throw away from the school.

It was severe but simple and clean.

At Don Quixote discount store I bought an orb light which cast the room in a warm glow.

Mike from the lesson room beside mine poked his head in one afternoon.

‘Interesting’, he said dryly looking around my room.

‘Mind if I have a seat?’, he asked with raised eyebrows.

‘Sure, go ahead’, I said surprised since we had yet to chat.

‘Listen, David and Chris our eating our lunch. You and I are in 4th and 5th position. Let’s work together to move up the ladder if you know what I mean’, Mike said in a hushed voice.

‘You know the reason David gets all the students, right?! Sayaka feeds them all to him’, Mike said knowingly.

I surveyed his thinning fluffy hair, an odd shade of purple from a less than successful dye job. He was funny. I liked him.

Listening to his lessons next door was addictive, like watching a car crash in slow motion.

‘Yes! we need to move up the ladder’, I said in agreement.

‘That’s what I am telling you’, Mike said with an unimpressed look.

‘I listen to your lessons. You definitely have a system going. Anyway, let’s chat again’, he said with his signature knowing smile and returned to his room next door.

Like Mike, the other instructors had also poked their heads in my room and made catty comments but I didn’t care.

Without doubt fixing up my lesson room calmed my nerves.

I needed to feel relaxed.

My theory was the feeling would spread.

I did my best to hide it but I was nervous.

Before moving to Ginza I had taught at the school’s Ikebukuro branch.

My schedule was jam packed six days a week.

Not now.

But getting my lesson room set up just the way I wanted it seemed to do the trick.

My students continued to increase in tandem with my confidence.

Besides tinkering with my lesson room I used my still ample spare time to find the best lesson materials. I also worked on my teaching technique.

In the instructors book in the lobby I re-wrote my profile and took a new photo to make myself as marketable as possible.

My job didn’t pay well and it made me feel like a loser but I approached it as professionally as possible.

In Ginza, everyone dresses for success.

So did I.

During Ginza Mitsukoshi’s Spring Suit Sale I bought two classic business suits, one business style blue suit with subtle red pin stripes, and a formal black suit.

They were very high quality and just subtle enough for Ginza.

They were shockingly reasonable. The only reason they were still on the rack was because they were both extra tall, not a common size in Japan.

They were tailored exactly to my size and two weeks later when I went to pick them up I looked like a successful corporate manager.

While all Nigel’s regulars were young pretty girls, mine were exclusively corporate directors. One from a coal company, another from an oil company, as well as one from a real estate company and one from an export company.

And of course Takashi, Tokyo’s most legendary advertising executive director.

Takashi never failed to book my lesson.

This made me happy but nervous too. I wanted him to feel he was getting a good lesson.

But I knew what to expect of him and our lessons followed the same pattern.

‘How is your day going’, I asked him at the start of his lesson.

‘Oh yes. Fine, thank you. Just some office…chores…is that the right word?’, Takashi asked.

Takashi was always all business during our lessons. He would get a pained look on his face when he felt we were wasting time on small talk.

‘Anyway, let’s move onto today’s lesson…’, Takashi said.

‘Do you know the difference between a proverb and an idiom?’, I asked switching gears.

A pained look came across Takashi’s face. With all his might he searched his memory before giving up.

‘No, I’m sorry I don’t know’, Takashi answered.

‘A proverb is a piece of really good advice. An idiom is a phrase where the meaning is not readily apparent from the words themselves but it always has a strong visual image. ‘It’s raining cats and dogs is a popular idiom for describing a hard rain’, I said.

‘Do you know any good proverbs?’, I asked.

‘Yes I do’, Takashi replied a boyish grin coming to his face. ‘No use crying over spilt milk. Meaning is don’t waste time worrying about mistakes that have already happened. I really like this proverb’, the executive told me.

‘Yeah that is a good one. Do you know any others?’, I inquired.

‘Ahhh. No, I can’t say I do’, Takashi said a little apologetically.

‘When in Rome, do like the Romans do is probably the most well known proverb’, I told Takashi.

‘Yes! I know it! Meaning is you must follow the rules when you go to a foreign country’, Takashi replied.

‘Easier said than done’, I confessed thinking of my own experience in Japan.

After introducing a couple more notable proverbs I moved on to the heart of the lesson.

‘Well, let’s listen to some dialogues. I’ve got some good ones here I think you’ll enjoy’, I said.

‘Yes, please’, Takashi replied with anticipation.

‘Do you know what a phrasal verb is?’, I inquired.

‘Yes. I have heard of it’, the executive answered.

‘A phrasal verb is a verb plus a preposition: up/down, on/off, over, through, etc. For some reason English speakers love combining verbs with prepositions and think they sound cool. Rather than stiff sounding ‘review’ English speakers are more likely to say ‘go over’. Instead of let’s try something new you might hear let’s switch it up! Anyway, let’s listen to today’s dialogue and please listen for the phrasal verbs, alright?’, I explained.

‘Okay. Please’, the executive replied with a broad smile.

‘The first dialogue is between a British husband and wife. I’ll read it twice and then ask you to summarize. Then let’s see if you can catch any phrasal verbs, okay?’ I asked.

I read a dialogue in which a wife complains to her husband about having to spend so much time and effort handwashing the dishes when a dishwasher would be so much more convenient.

‘Did you catch the phrasal verbs?’, I asked.

‘No, I’m sorry I couldn’t catch’, Takashi replied with a grimace.

‘Phrasal verbs can be difficult even though the actual words themselves are easy. For example you know put and you know off but do you know put off? In this dialogue the husband says that he will have to put off buying the dishwasher until next year. Here put off means postpone. Compounding the difficulty of phrasal verbs is that sometimes the same phrase can have several different meanings depending on the context. To be put off for example means to dislike something or to become annoyed. Another thing to watch out for is that pronouns like it or them will often be sandwiched between the two words making it difficult to catch which phrasal verb is being used. For example, in this dialogue the husband says that he will have to put it off (Buying the dishwasher).

‘How can I ever learn them all?’, Takashi asked his face clouding over.

‘You just have to chip away at them one by one. In your case you could begin with some commonly used phrases in business like push back the launch instead of delay the launch’, I suggested.

A frown came over the executive’s face. I had to admit learning all these phrasal verbs one by one would appear daunting.

‘Any plans for the weekend?’, I inquired changing the subject.

The executive’s face took on a stoic look.

‘I’m going to the wedding ceremony of one of my subordinates’, Takashi replied.

‘That should be fun!’, I said imagining a nice gathering of people dressed in traditional Japanese wedding black and white.

‘To tell you the truth I dread these weddings. Each one is the same as the last down to the most minute detail including the music and the readings from the minister’, Takashi exclaimed with exasperation.

‘Usually I have a wedding or a funeral every weekend. And I am always picked to do the speeches. The funerals are even worse than the weddings. Some subordinate I hardly know will ask me to attend the funeral of one of their relatives I sometimes haven’t even met. It can be really painful. And to make matters worse, I have to contribute 50,000 yen out of my own pocket since I am a high ranking executive. Each month these contributions really add up’, Takashi confided.

‘Why don’t you just decline?’, I asked genuinely curious.

‘It’s part of the obligations of someone in my position, part of being an adult’, Takashi explained.

I thought of the things I didn’t like doing but did anyway because it was the right thing to do.

‘Yeah, it’s not easy being an adult, is it?’, I asked.

‘No, it isn’t’, Takashi said solemnly.

‘But one of the nice things about being in my position is I am able to make my own schedule and can just tell my secretary in the middle of the afternoon that I am taking a couple of hours off for my English lesson and I can come here to your class’, the executive told me a huge smile washing over his face.

The executive ran a hand through his thick, lustrous black hair. With his legendary job, his perfect locks and his fine clothes I wondered how good it must feel to be in his skin?

I thought of my measly salary and then looked at the fine sleeve of my suit and felt like a fraud. An unsuccessful person surrounded by successful people.

And Takashi was the most successful of all. He must have been in his late fifties but his skin was without a wrinkle and his body lithe. He was supremely confident, each movement straight out of some magical etiquette playbook for gentlemen.

‘How is your week going?’, the executive asked me.

‘Yesterday I finished reading the new Murakami novel’, I answered.

I omitted the fact that I finished reading it in the hospital where I spent the previous 12 days locked up selling my blood for a clinical trial so I could give my daughters some money. One day they took 13 vials of my blood and I passed out. When I regained consciousness the very pale looking doctor in charge of the trial seemed very relieved and stopped shaking me by the shoulders.

‘It was in Japanese of course, there’s no English translation yet’, the executive said looking confused. ‘And you understood it?’,

‘Yes’, I replied feeling self-conscious. ‘Of course there were quite a few kanji I couldn’t read so the finer points were a little hazy but I could follow it just fine’, I explained.

‘Yes that is the same with me when I read English novels. You don’t take out the dictionary every time you see a word you don’t know, do you?’, Takashi asked rhetorically.

‘No’, I said shaking my head.

‘Why do foreigners love Murakami so much?’, the executive asked baffled.

‘In my case I really like his protagonists, I told him. Even though they are always these intensely solitary figures they end up meeting beautiful girls and having these amazing adventures. I think there are a lot of lonely people out there who feel good reading about someone who is alone but cool. As someone who spends a lot of time alone I know it makes me feel good to know I am not the only one’, I said.

‘You spend a lot of time by yourself?!’, Takashi asked me shocked.

‘Yeah I do’, I replied feeling a little ashamed. ‘Another reason his books are so popular is because his protagonists are so respectable. I think people like them because they are so hard to emulate. Their serious routines and their decent characters make them truly likeable. Despite being these somewhat odd loners they manage to come off as quintessentially conventional somehow’, I said getting a little emotional in my praise.

‘What do you think of his new novel’, asked the executive stirring in his chair.

‘I don’t want to give anything away but it certainly is different from his other novels’, I answered.

‘I can’t believe you have already read it but I have not’, Takashi said shaking his head. ‘I really must make the time to read it’, Takashi said grabbing his jacket and making his way for the elevator of our school located on the 7th floor of one of those ridiculously narrow Japanese buildings which are squeezed between two already existing buildings.

I waved to him as the elevator doors closed.

***************

My gazed fixed directly on Sayaka who was sitting at the reception desk in front of the elevator.

She was the school’s new receptionist. She replaced the Korean Japanese girl who moved to Malaysia with her boyfriend.

Sayaka was dressed in her usual scandalously tight mini skirt, revealing blouse and high stilettos. With her oversized glasses, she looked like a slutty librarian.

I was seriously attracted to her.

At the school’s annual party I had swept her up on my shoulder and spanked her. She was furious.

After that I was strictly professional.

I avoided staring down her cleavage or looking whenever she bent over.

Despite this Sayaka was cold to me. I really rubbed her the wrong way.

Whenever I greeted Sayaka at the school, she would look away with contempt.

‘When Tachibana-san called earlier and requested you I said you were available and he said ‘great!’ and sounded so excited!’, Sayaka told me in disbelief after Takashi left.

‘Nigel came by and said he wanted to know if you and Peter wanted to go for a drink after work’, Sayaka said.

Sayaka was in her late 20s and had recently come back from living for several years in Australia.

She lived with her boyfriend but that didn’t stop my co-workers James, a slim UK teacher in his forties and Peter who was past fifty from relentlessly pursuing her.

It was Nigel, however, who Sayaka was interested in. In fact every girl seemed to be hot for Nigel. His schedule was usually full of young, female students eager to sit opposite him for 50 minutes. It wasn’t Nigel’s knowledge of grammar or syntax that they were after. Nigel was the first to admit his teaching skills were far from developed.

It was strange. When people saw Nigel in a picture they had trouble believing that girls threw themselves at him during his lessons.

But up close in person he was undeniably handsome. He slept with many of his students. The only time I saw Nigel truly remorseful was when he told me of the sky high love hotel charges on his Visa.

I had yet to sleep with a single student.

‘How do you do it?!’, I asked Nigel the previous week.

‘There’s nothing to it, mate’, Nigel replied modestly.

‘Come on! Give me something!’, I begged.

‘Just get them talking’, Nigel told me holding back.

‘Like what? Come on, give me a tip!’,

‘Oh, I don’t know. Just tease them. Get them talking about their routine. Like ‘‘What do you do when you get home at night? Do you take a bath?’’ You’d be surprised how into it they get. I always check the seat afterwards a there’s usually a moist spot. Sometimes they see it themselves and try to wipe it away’, Nigel said with a wink.

‘Anyway, listen mate like I said Peter has got it into his head that you are the world’s greatest wing man. The fact that you speak Japanese and everything.' Anyway he won’t stop talking about it. Whaddaya say that we give it a try tonight, mate?’

My gaze returned to Sayaka’s serious face.

‘You sure go out a lot, don’t you?!’, Sayaka asked with raised eyebrows.

‘How old are you anyway Alpha?!’,

‘45’, I answered knowing that she knew my age already.

‘You look like an old man. You know you spend all your time and money chasing girls but when was the last time you got lucky?’,

‘A while’, I replied. Fact was I was totally desperate. When was the last time I got lucky with a girl?

‘I can’t stand this job at this crummy school. I am going to quit soon and move back to Australia. How long are you going to work here?’, Sayaka asked curious.

‘Forever’, I lied. Despite my best efforts to improve my work situation I dreaded teaching here. It was stressful having to be popular and if my schedule was full it was exhausting and my low wages added to my stress.

‘Really?! But you don’t make any money. Why don’t you get another job like James? He goes straight to ANA right after here and makes good money’,

‘I don’t want to work around the clock’, I said curtly.

‘Hey! Do you have any ideas about how I can make some money?’, Sayaka asked suddenly.

‘I am in big debt. I have to pay Mr. Tanaka back the 200,000 yen I borrowed from him last month.’,

‘What did you borrow the money for?’,

‘Clothes’, Sayaka said with a frown as if it were a foregone conclusion.

‘Aaahhh!’, I exclaimed.

Sayaka did have endless outfits that looked extremely expensive.

‘Of course I told him that my mother needed the money’, Sayaka added guiltily.

It was fun talking with Sayaka like this. Usually she ignored me.

‘She really hates you buddy! She wouldn’t stop telling me about it’, Mike told me when we stopped by Lawson’s for a beer recently.

Nigel theorized that since she hated me so much she must like me.

‘What did you do to her?!’, Nigel asked me the previous week.

‘Nothing. I am 100% professional with her at work’, I told him.

‘That must be it!!’, Nigel said with a knowing look.

‘I would buy Tesla stock if I were you…it’s already gone up 10,000 times since coming on the market last year and I think it still has legs’, I advised Sayaka. Her eyes just glazed over.

‘Are you gay? I have a good eye for these things’, Sayaka asked peering at me with her sharpest gaze.

‘No, definitely not. But I like ladyboys’, I said.

‘‘Gross!! I don’t want to hear it’,

‘So you’re bisexual?’, Sayaka asked becoming interested.

"Listen, some of those ladyboys are hotter than girls you know. Men’s features are stronger’, I tried to explain looking at Sayaka’s full lips and heaving cleavage.

I was getting horny.

‘You have an add-on’, Sayaka told me handing me a sheet of paper with her tidy hand writing on it.

My heart skipped a beat. Miyuki Mizono.

‘The Gucci Girl’. The hottest student at the school.

Thirty minutes later Miyuki Mizuno was sitting across from me in my lesson room.

I was terrified. What did she want from me?! I wondered flabbergasted.

I didn’t feel worthy of this beauty's attention.

'Can I offer you a nice cup of Earl Grey?’, I asked confidently.

'Really?! Yes, please', replied The Gucci Girl.

When I went to the kitchen, Sayaka have me a sour look saying 'Would you like a Earl Grey? What is with the British accent?!’ parroting me.

Back in the room I gave Miyuki her tea which she received with reverence.

She took a sip and put the cup on the table with a subtle turn.

Everything about this girl was perfectly calibrated down to the most minute detail.

The best thing about the Gucci Girl was her voice.

I instantly liked it. Smooth, cute, professional, naughty. It was a deadly combinatio.

‘I wanted to talk to you about my English. David says my grammar is horrible’, the Gucci Girl told me with a frown.

‘What?! Your English is one of the best I have ever heard!’, I replied truthfully.

‘Sure there are a couple things you could improve but it is not obvious at all’, I explained.

‘You are a great communicator’, I said thinking of her incredibly pleasing tones.

‘Really?! Thank you!!’, the Gucci Girl replied gratefully.

‘Guess What?!!' I am going to Thailand with my boyfriend!!’, the Gucci Girl exclaimed.

My heart sank. I was just thinking I would love to make the Gucci Girl my girlfriend. It was exhilirating sitting across from her. I could definitely get used to it.

‘Congratulations!’, I said trying to sound upbeat.

I surveyed her perfect outfit. Cream colored biege shorts, white blouse and leather loafers. The Gucci Girl’s legs were tanned and shapely. Her pert breasts were clearly visible under her blouse.

Hers were the most inviting limbs I could remember seeing.

‘Yes! I am so excited!!’, she gushed.

‘Thank you for the tea! It was delicious’,

After the Gucci Girl left I packed up.

On the way out, I said goodbye to Sayaka. She looked at me unimpressed as I made my way past her reception to the fire escape and down the stairs.

At Ginza station I transferred to the line that took me to Shinjuku-2 Chome, the gay district.

On the semi-crowded carriage I spotted a slim woman in business dress replete with short, tight skirt.

I made eye contact and walked directly into her touching her leg with mine.

She didn’t move. I proceeded to push my face into her long, wavy black hair.

She gently pushed back moaning gently.

I pushed my now rock hard cock into her fit ass.

My pulse raced and my breathing became difficult.

The feeling was so intense it hurt.

The woman pushed her ass even closer to my cock.

This is heaven! But how long can it go on for?

One stop went by. And the another. And another. The woman showed no intention of moving her ass off my cock. We had ‘sex’ like that for six divine stops.

Suddenly the woman pulled her ass away and exited the car disappearing into the crowd.

‘