Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Ruin ❯ The Date ( Chapter 4 )

Haruka would have never thought that Hajime could ever have acted like such a gentleman, but he proved her wrong as he took Michiru gently by the arm and led her down the steps toward his slick red convertible. He let go of her arm three steps before they got to the car, opened the door, kissed her hand, and then let her inside. Hajime smirked at Haruka as he walked behind the car to the driver's side. Michiru was right; he actually did seem quite sweet outside racing against her.

Haruka Tenoh walked back into her three-story mini-mansion and let the March wind slam the door shut behind her. She hoped that Hajime would choke on escargot or whatever they served at the restaurant that they were off to. Then she would never have to see that stupid look on his face again. As for Michiru, Haruka still wasn't sure how she felt. She still loved her. There must have been something very wrong with her to do what she did. Perhaps she could talk with her or comfort her; anything to bring her back to her kind, normal self. However, at the time, it seemed like it would cause her less pain if she just kept silent.

 

***

 

Michiru remained silent for the entire drive to the restaurant, but her thoughts were blaring quite loudly. Her mind was set on her evening with Hajime. She was a beautiful, voluptuous woman in her prime at nineteen years, but she was still technically a virgin. Thanks to Haruka for ruining her reputation, she had lost all of the few men she considered worthy of her due to the “lesbian” title that she had been given. Sure, there were guys who thought that was even sexier, but she would never think about dating such a beast. To add onto the already huge and stinking pile of crap, what Haruka thought of pleasure was not in the least bit pleasurable. There was no way that some makeshift dick she attached to her body could do anything for someone of such high needs. Michiru needed a real man, and she had a feeling that she would be getting a big chunk of it tonight.

Hajime took his eyes off of the road several times to glance at Michiru. Her hands were neatly folded in her lap, her head lowered to hide her crimson cheeks. Hajime wondered what she could be thinking about that she was so embarrassed about. He wasn't paying much attention to her face anyway; his attention was directed mainly toward her perfectly visible thigh and her beautifully chiseled breasts. Hajime liked his lips. He would be having quite a night with her.

***

 

It was Hajime who decided to break the silence. The soft clicking of silver against plates was rising the tension. Hajime cleared his throat.
“So, Michiru-chan…” He started. “Have you ever been to a real French restaurant? I heard that the chefs are actually first class and actually from France. The food should be excellent. I had to get reservations to this place several months ago.” Hajime didn't know of what else to say. He did really want to talk to Michiru anyway, he just wanted to please her enough to tempt her into spending the night at his place.

“Oh no! I went to a party at a French restaurant four years ago, but is was just a small, simple place and the food was not very good,” Michiru giggled. “Speaking of food, you won't believe the torture that I have been going through while staying with Haruka!”
Hajime sighed. “I think I can.”
“Try living with her if you think that racing her is bad. She insists on cooking breakfast and dinner every day. She burns almost everything, and what she doesn't burn is undercooked! My stomach must be black by now with all the charcoal in my diet.” Michiru was lying; Haruka's cooking skills could compete with those of a first class chef. Still, she wanted Hajime to hate Haruka even more than he already did for what she had done to her reputation.

Hajime smiled. “I can imagine that. I used to think that all women belong in the kitchen, but I guess I am wrong. Then again, I'm not sure you could even call Tenoh a woman.”
Michiru smiled back and shook her head in agreement. “She's an insult to all of us. Haruka can't do any housework right. The only things that she can really do are sports, play the piano, and drive things. When she tries to clean, she just winds up making a bigger mess. And clothes she washes are even dirtier when she is finished with them!” Michiru laughed to herself. That sure sounded a whole lot like that good old klutz, Usagi.

“So what do you think that you are going to order?” Hajime asked.
“I'm not sure yet. I can't even read anything on the menu. Do you understand this?”
Hajime glanced at the menu. “Not a word,” he sighed, “but I hear that it is all good.”
“I suppose so.” Michiru combed back one of her ringlets and twirled the silk napkin that sat in her lap. She wished that all of this would end quickly so she and Hajime could spend some real quality time together alone.

“Excuse me Monsieur. Mademoiselle. May I take your orders?”
Hajime and Michiru looked up at the pretty, young brunet in the maid uniform customary of the waitresses. She appeared to be French, but her Japanese was flawless.
“Do you have any suggestions?” Michiru asked. “We're not sure of what is on the menu.”

The girl described several dishes that she said to be the most delicious and gave them a moment to decide.
“Well, I'll take the second one that you said.” Michiru found it impossible to repeat the intricate title that the waitress had given her order.
“I'll take the same,” Hajime said, “and some red wine for both of us.”
“Yes. Monsieur. Will that be all for you two?”
Hajime and Michiru nodded in unison and the girl left with their orders.

 

***

 

“Hajime, I don't feel so good.” Michiru said in a slow, drunken tone.
“You'll feel better later. We'll be home soon. You just can't stomach a little alcohol.”
Michiru held her stomach, but her urge to vomit only intensified.
“Hajime? Please stop the car. I fell so sick.”
Hajime sighed and pulled to the nearest curb. He got out, slamming the door. And walked over to the passenger's side.

Michiru purged the poison and four hounded dollars worth of semi-digested food from her body and right onto the sidewalk the moment Hajime opened the door. Hajime sighed again and pulled Michiru's hair from her face before she soiled it with another wave of puke. The woman retched twice, but no more came out. She was feeling much better despite the disgusting, sour taste in her mouth.

“I'm so sorry, Hajime!” Michiru knew that she had probably just ruined their date. “That must have cost so much! I'm so sor-”
Hajime shook his head and wiped a bit of what was probably a fifty dollar crepe from the side of her mouth with the back of his hand. “It's okay.”
It wasn't okay. There was no way that he would be able to get Michiru to drink something else, and it would be much harder for him to get what he wanted without her being drunk. He sighed one more time and let her gargle with a bottle of water he found in the back.

Hajime walked back to his side and drove the rest of the ten minutes to his home. Michiru was overjoyed. She hadn't noticed before that they were not going in the direction of Haruka's place. She would not have thought that he would still want to spend the night with her. Hajime opened the door for her with a smile. Michiru happily stepped out and he closed the door behind her. Hajime pulled her close to him and kissed her hard on the lips. She still smelled (and tasted) a bit like stomach acid, but she was still as beautiful. He let go of her and looked her in the eye.
“Would you like to come inside?”
Michiru grinned. “Yes.”

Michiru let Hajime lead her inside his house. It was not nearly as big as Haruka's home, but still very large. The house was so well maintained that Michiru began to doubt Hajime's fidelity, but then she noticed the maid who had opened the door: an old woman with a duster in her hand. She closed the door behind them and then wandered off into another room, trailing a vacuum behind her.

“Don't worry about her. She just comes here for the cleaning,” Hajime told her. “My room is upstairs.”
Michiru walked a step ahead of him and began to make her way up the stairs.
“Anxious are we?” Hajime smiled. Perhaps she wouldn't be so difficult.
Hajime followed her up the staircase. “It's the first on the left.”
Michiru went into room and looked around. It was painted blue. There were a few dressers, a closet, and some sort of fern in the corner, but there was nothing more besides the bed in the middle of it. The bed was a wooding king with posts that had a thick mattress that made the bed at least four feet tall. The sheets were blood red.

Hajime shut the door behind him and silently turned a key into the lock. He buried the key in his pocket before Michiru turned toward him.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.” There was a hint of lust in her voice.
Michiru turned he back toward him again and turned her head back to look at him. “Could you help me with this zipper?”

He gratefully undid her zipper and pulled off the dress. He got a full view of the black lace undergarments that he had previewed. Hajime was already hard, but by then, he was all the way up. He pulled Michiru into an even harder kiss, managing to unclasp her bra and pull the thong from her at the same time. Hajime quickly undressed himself and pushed/ heaved her onto the bed. Michiru gasped in surprise at the action, but then giggled nervously.

“Hajime…don't you think that we're taking it a bit quickly?”
Hajime ignored her, grasped both of her breasts, and smothered her with another hard kiss. Michiru tried to end it, but he would not allow her to push him off. He got sick of kissing her after a few seconds, and then went to her breasts. He had already given them a good squeezing, but then he lowered himself on Michiru and took one of her nipples in his mouth. He bit her hard, but didn't stop when she screamed. Hajime then decided that he liked her scream. He would be hearing more of it soon.

“Hajime!? What are you doing? That hurts!” Michiru shrieked as the man sank his teeth deeper in her nipple. His erect member was poking painfully into her thigh as he did so.
Hajime did let go of her breast, but the gave her another hard kiss on the lips. Then he got off of her completely, pulling her off of the bed with him.
“What in the world do you think that you're-” Michiru started to say, but her words were cut off as he pushed her over the edge of the bed with her back to him.

“Hajime!! Stop it! I don't want-”
“Shut up and be still,” he grunted in reply.
Michiru did not comply. Hajime held her still with a killer grip and forced himself painfully between her cheeks. She did scream again, and nothing could have pleased him more. He could hear old Mizuho's vacuum running downstairs. Not that she could hear them anyway; she was rather hard of hearing.

Well, Michiru did turn out to be right; she did get a big chunk of man that night.

Majestic Weirdo: What a sick man...and I have no idea of why such a great driver would be drinking under the influence.