Watch/Don't Watch

I don't know if I should be doing this, but I have to know.

I put the disc that Ayanakoji gave me into the computer's CD-ROM drive. There is a brief whirring noise, and then a window appears on the screen showing the contents of the CD.

There is only one file. The name is "Blow Job."

I feel a sudden chill in the room, even though it's a warm summer evening.

"Want to find out about your new girlfriend's past?"

What the hell did Ayanakoji mean by that, then?

I close my eyes as my hand hovers over the mouse.

> Don't Watch the movie
>> Watch the movie.

-----

I double-click on the icon, and a media player starts up. The video begins to play.

It's not particularly long: not more than thirty minutes. It begins with a girl sitting in a room. She's dressed in a cute-looking schoolgirl's uniform that I recognize as coming from a junior high school of some sort. The girl has hair the color of dark honey that falls past her shoulders, and a soft, pleasant smile, but her eyes are shadowed and dark.

"Do you really need to record this?" the girl says, and my hand goes to my mouth as I recognize Saki's familiar lilting alto tones.

"Don't worry about it," a male voice says. "It's just for us. No one else will see it."

"If you promise," Saki says, smiling up at the camera winsomely. "Should we start?"

"Yeah, sure," the male voice replies. "Want to take off my pants?"

I watch as Saki undoes the anonymous boy's belt and pulls down his pants. His flaccid cock hangs out from his underwear, and she begins to stroke it gently, giving it a kiss on the underside.

Her eyes, looking up into the camera, are filled with lust. . . but also haunted with shame and a deep regret.

She expertly begins to lick the underside of the boy's cock, stroking up and down his length, until he's reached his full erection, then slips the tip of the fleshy thing between her soft pink lips. I see her mouth, the same mouth I've kissed so many times, slip down the length of the boy's shaft and take it fully within her.

She makes a soft gagging sound and closes her eyes as the boy holds her head down, keeping himself pushed deep inside her. She lets out a wordless moan of protest, looking up into the camera, her teary eyes making her mascara start to run.

The boy lets her go, and she comes up for air, gasping a bit. Her lipstick is smeared, and there's a small amount of it rubbed off on his cock.

The next few minutes are painful to watch. The boy is fucking her mouth brutally. There's no other way to describe it. It's a loveless, harsh act, as if she's being used as a sex toy. The one saving grace is that it's over fairly quickly: it's not more than a few minutes until the boy pulls out of her mouth and begins to rapidly stroke his cock to orgasm, spewing his white, slimy seed all over Saki's face.

Saki falls back and gasps, her eyes wet with tears, rubbing at the white stuff smeared all over her. "Hey," the boy says harshly. "Are you going to let it just sit there?"

She shakes her head and scoops it up with her fingertips, causing more of it to smear against her pale skin, before dipping her hand and licking up the noisome stuff with her tongue, like a dog. She licks off her fingertips and looks up at the camera with a heartbreaking expression, a sick, sad smile on her face.

"Was it good for you, darling?" she whispers.

The video cuts off before I hear the boy answer.

"Hisao," a soft voice says.

I stand and turn around.

Saki's standing in my doorway. The same sick, sad look that I've seen in that video just a few minutes ago is on her face again.

"Saki."

"Your. . . your door was unlocked, so I thought that. . ." Her lower lip starts to quiver. "I thought I'd. . . sneak in and surprise you. . ."

Silence.

-----

". . . so you won't have sex with me, but you would with this. . . asshole?" I hiss.

I don't want to. I don't want to say this, but four months of built up frustration are building up inside my heart.

"That was a different time!" Saki protests. "I was a different person then!"

"Really? Were you really?" I get up off the chair and walk up to Saki, black rage burning inside me. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer, and I'm feeling black spots dance before my eyes. "Because, you know what? I think you're full of SHIT. You've spent all this time trying to come off as some sinless virgin maiden, when you're nothing more than. . . a mean-spirited bitchy slut!"

"Don't you fucking dare, Hisao Nakai," Saki hisses. "Don't you fucking DARE try to put this on me! Do you know what it's LIKE, trying to be your girlfriend? Trying to deal with your stupid melancholy bullshit, day in and day out? Trying to be your perfect dream girl? It's fucking exhausting. And I'm through. We're done."

"Yeah," I growl. "Of course we are. That's the way you've always looked at me, isn't it? As some poor fucking crippled boy you were trying to save. Fuck you, whore."

The feel of her hand slapping across my face is sharp and painful.

It awakens something within me, and I grab her by the wrists.

"Hisao!" Saki shouts."What are you. . ."

I'm sick and tired of hearing the words coming from her lying mouth. My hand connects with her face hard.

Four months of pent-up rage explode out of me like a bomb.

-----
It's surprisingly easy to throw her onto the bed and slam the door shut. I keep forgetting how uncoordinated she is due to her condition.

Even still, I know that Saki can be pretty strong. I know that she can fight me back if she wants to. What surprises me is that she doesn't even try. She just turns her face aside and stares at the wall blankly when she realizes my intentions.

She doesn't scream or make any other noises, even when I pull her panties aside and unzip my pants. She doesn't make a noise the entire time I'm fucking her. When I finish up and come inside her, she just lies there for a moment with tears in her eyes before she pulls up her underwear and silently walks out.

The door closes behind her and she leaves the building.

I never see her again.

-----
Detective Mutou asked me a few questions about the last time I saw her. I tell him the truth: that she came to my room, that we had a fight, and that she left.

He asks if I know where she might be going. Again, I tell him the truth: I just don't know.

The last anyone can reliably say that they saw Saki Enomoto, she was taking a bus into town, where she withdrew the remainder of her life savings from her bank account and left town.

I sometimes wonder where she is right now.

I'll never know.