The Japanese wore American clothes, watched American movies, ate at American fast food restaurants, and listened to American rock music. Walking down ...okyo's busy Ginza district, and you would have thought you were in Times Square with all the American logos burning in bright neon lights.For all intents and purposes, this night, Stacey was just another American icon to be bought and sold, only her commodity was her very supple and sensuous sixteen year old body.The Japanese operative she was. Just fine, Jenny smiled. Did you blow him? No, he fucked me again, Jenny answered, quietly. Angie looked her over. Well, Jenny, you look just fine. Except for some of his cum on your legs, Angie chortled. Jenny could feel her teachers cum as it slowly ran down her thighs onto her white knee socks. All through the second half, Jenny wondered how many people could notice that her panties were wet. But that didnt stop her from giving the guys more of a show. She kicked her legs high, twirled. She fixed hard on the naked embrace within the frame–lovers locked in ecstasy, his arms wrapping from behind, hers palming her own breasts. A photo-image coupling rendered into black-and-white abstraction, like an x-ray of two souls at the point of orgasmic union.‘Not that she’s possessed,’ she clarified, breath constricting in this stranger’s imposing shadow. ‘Well not by him. They both are. A force outside themselves. Universal. Cosmic.’‘Timeless,’ he added, before she could cringe at her own. .” he answered, trying to look casual about it. “What time?”“Oh about ten thirty, I should think,” said Madame Vesta.“We’ll meet on the sundeck, under the awning.”“Fine,” said Quentin. He knew the spot well, having spent a happy hour there watching the slave-girls move about the decks. Or scrubbing them.“Alright with you, Mr Svenson?”“Yes... thank you Madame Vesta. I look forward to it.”“We can’t go on calling you Mr Svenson,” smiled Madame Vesta.“My name if Gunnar,” said Svenson.“Gunnar,” they.