Izuna

We did my makeover hungover on Saturday. 

First, we went shopping. I liked my clothes, and  even had a small walk-in closet that I sorted through every summer and winter, decoding want to keep versus what to donate. I had quite an alternative yet preppy style, with a few kinky details for going out. But Imogen and Mae though I'd needed at least some new things for working and partying in Japan (I was too shy to meet new people to go partying with in a foreign country, but I didn't tell them that).

So together, we bought two pairs of suit pants (one black and flared and one black and baggy), two shirts (one crisp white with thin white vertical stripes and one forest green), a mint green oversized sweater with buttons down the shoulders, as well as a few pairs of good socks in different colours. We had just finished having tea and cake when the girls told me they would have to leave for "girly business".

"Can't I come with you to the sex shop?" I joked.

"Absolutely not", they said and hurried away.

I entertained myself by stalking my boss. I had tried him on Instagram several times, but failed. He just wasn't the type, as I had suspected, even if his company had an account (although I suspected that the account was run by someone dedicated and paid for that purpose only). Yet, I couldn't help but search, over and over, thinking that maybe, he'd changed his mind.

This time, however...

"What..."

Maybe you know t.sen?

Instagram had suggested this account based on the company following us both. How could I have missed checking who the company followed? The profile picture was black and white, taken from behind, and depicted a man's muscular back...

And the unmistakeable, unruly white hair of the CEO.

I felt all body-warmth drop to my feet, then my entire body became hot, then cold. I clicked on the account. It wasn't private, but it was almost empty. He followed nobody, but I was taken aback when I saw thousands followed him. And no wonder... 

Because the only two photos he had uploaded were beautiful. They were clearly professional, black-and-white and incredibly crisp. One displayed his side profile, his eyes looking to the side at the camera, each and every fibre in his iris visible. He looked dangerous, and he was covered in water droplets.

Or sweat... 

The other was a close-up of his right hip, showing off a clear and very naked V-line. It was just on the verge of being very indecent. I was almost crying at this point. I was excited, but I also felt despair. How could I ever have even imagined that I could have any chance with this man? How could I ever have anything to offer him? How could I ever have anything to offer anyone? I had nothing to offer, nothing at all, not even-

"Surprise!"

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed.

Mae and Imogen held out a light mint bag towards me.

"Sexy toys?"

"A present", Mae said.

"For you", Imogen added.

"Sex toys?" I repeated.

"Thirsty whore. We'll give it to you once I've cut your hair. Come."

They took me under one arm each and let me escort them out of the cafe, leaving only crumbs of strawberry cake and the hope of ever impressing Tobirama Senju behind. 

Imogen and Mae took me to their villa, and Mae worked her wonders. She cut quite a bit of my hair off, but it was longer in the front and shorter in the back, so it still hung over my collarbones. She also cut curtain bangs which enhanced my eyes, if I may say so myself, which I may. While Mae cut my hair, Imogen cooked mushroom soup with focaccia, which we gratefully ate.

"Can I have my present now?" I asked, mouth full, still getting used to the new, lighter weight of my hair.

Imogen and Mae looked at each other, and they looked serious. 

"We... Umm... We have been thinking."

I was suddenly worried.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Imogen took the bag and handed it to me.

"If you don't want it, that's fine", she said. "But I've always thought you'd look pretty in one."

I opened the bag, and took out a white crepe paper containing something light and soft. I opened it up, and when I saw what it was, my breath caught in my throat.

In my hands was the most beautiful piece of clothing I had ever seen. It was black and silver and bronze velvet and covered in flat, round sequins. It had a deep back and long sleeves, and it flowed beautifully to the floor.

It was a dress.

I was speechless. I couldn't say anything. Instead, I stood up and ran to my friends' luxurious bedroom, where I quickly changed into the dress. It was like putting on a piece made out of water. It hugged every curvature of my body like an old friend. And when I looked at myself in the he mirror, my reflection took my breath away. I had never felt so beautiful.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Izuna?"

Imogen and Mae peaked in.

"You like it?"

"Oh, God, he hates it!" Mae cried. "He's crying!"

"I love it", I whispered. "Thank you." Then, I turned to them. "I'm still a boy, though", I said, which was true; I had always been as certain in my identity as I had been in my sexuality.

My two best friends hugged me and laughed. 

Completely unaware that in that very moment, Mr Senju the CEO was not only ordering his secretary to book tickets from Newark airport to Tokyo for me, but he was ordering her to book tickets for himself as well. 

Tobirama

"Mmm, good morning", came a sleepy voice next to me.

I groaned, but inwardly. I never displayed any such proof of mental weakness out loud. I reached over the duvet to grab my phone and kill the annoying alarm.

The woman next to me turned around, put an arm around my chest. I had taken her home from the club yesterday, and was suffering the consequences of a joyful night, which was a morning without solitude. I hated that.

"No!" she groaned. "Can't you stay in bed?"

"No", I said simply. 

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I need to work."

She reached over for her own phone and was taken aback. 

"But it's four am. Who wakes up for work at four am?"

"I'm heading to the gym first."

I left the apartment leaving the woman crying after giving her clear instructions to leave before eleven am when the cleaner would come. She didn't even have to lock the door using a key; it locked itself. 

I never felt any guilt regarding the women I seduced. I had shut off the part of me that could feel guilt long ago. I had to, in order to keep doing what I needed to do to cope with my... My background.

I was a child of social services. My father had been abusive, yet society had done nothing. It had just accepted the fact that my mother was clumsy, which was the reason why she showed up at work and at school to pick me up all bruised. It wasn't until my mother died that social services did anything, and placed me in foster home after foster home, each one worse than the other.

Truth was, families who opened up their doors as foster homes didn't want strange white-haired boys who didn't speak. They wanted cute girls who pleased. So I had been moved around until I got a scholarship at sixteen and moved from my birth country of Iceland, and went to New York to study law. 

I deemed myself lucky; some children of social services did drugs. I studied. A lot. I was one of the best students in the country, which was impressive even in such a small country as Iceland. But even in America, I had excelled, which was how I had earned my own company within law, having earned both a law and a business degree, which turned over unfathomable amounts of money each year. 

But I had learned from an early age to never feel anything. Ever. I didn't feel excited at times when I won a great client over to us. I didn't dread receiving the summary of our annual turnover. I was a machine; I just did things without having any emotional connection to them at all. 

So I left the girl without thinking twice and went to the gym, as I did every morning, where I worked out for an hour and a half. It was a private, exclusive gym for those able to pay, which I could. And I thought about the changes that were happening to me. 

I was beginning to feel the toll of the stressful life I was living, always working late hours, never allowing myself a sleep-in but forcing myself to the gym. I cooked for myself but hardly ate, having lost my appetite slowly but steadily over the past year. I had lost weight yet seemed unable to do anything about it. I shivered when I thought about the fact that I had phoned Mr Swanson privately, something I was now greatly ashamed of.

It hadn't even been useful. He had suggested a vacation, can you imagine? I had said I would think about it, but there was nothing to think about. I would go on the same plane as that employee, Mr... Ulrich? Usher? And I would come back as soon as I could to New York to continue my job.