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Sunset	By : thewriterwhocameinfromthecold Category: +G to L > Love Hina Views: 6179 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Love Hina or its characters. I am receiving no monetary compensation for this work.

Chapter List
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“Is this all right?” Shirai asked.
Kitsune followed his finger. Most men, when they took her out, tried to impress her by taking her someplace fancy. As if she could have cared. Oh, she’d act impressed – she was paid to – but for all her love of money and get rich quick schemes, Kitsune liked simple cooking as much as haute cuisine. Clients who made the cut learned, quickly, that the way into her good graces was not through her stomach. So, when a deeply embarrassed Shirai led her to a noodle house, she surprised him by nodding and taking the lead as they walked inside.
It was a small family place, four or five tables. The couple were seated in the centre of a crowd of students and labourers looking for some cheap, good comfort food. The mouth-watering aroma of frying onions and garlic wafted in from the kitchen behind the front counter.
After the hostess had seated them, Kitsune decided to get the preliminaries out of the way. “Envelope?” she asked.
“Huh?”
“You have the envelope we talked about?”
“Oh, right.” Shirai fumbled with his coat.
“Pass it under the table.
He did and Kitsune made her usual trip to the bathroom.
She considered the situation as she thumbed through the bills with practiced ease. She’d have to take the lead. That much was obvious. She suspected that she had been more right than she’d realized about this being Shirai’s first time. These seemed less like the nerves of a man still a virgin, and more like those of a guy on his first date all together. A hot little thrill trilled its way down Kitsune’s spine. If her hunch proved right…
She licked her lips as she left the stall and strolled towards the bathroom mirror. She tossed her blonde bob back, smoothed out her dress, pressed her breasts together, and strolled back to her table with a smile that could melt metal. The preliminaries were out of the way, and Kitsune was open for business.
As they studied their menus and ordered drinks, Kitsune kept the conversation light, discussing movies as she often did during a first meeting. No religion, no politics, and no personal questions. As their beers arrived, Kitsune coaxed Shirai gently along her garden path with small talk, jokes, and flirtatious comments. She worked to get him used to her physically by touching his wrist when she came to a certain point in a story, and brushing his hand as she removed hers and moved onto the next story. Shirai stiffened the first couple of times, as she’d suspected he would. She pretended not to notice, and eventually he grew accustomed to that touch, at which point she moved to the next level. The touches lasted longer and grew more daring. She thrilled every time he began to stutter when she tried something new. Keep him from running scared, but keep him guessing, that was the name of the game.
By the time their food had arrived, Kitsune had just begun running the back of her foot along Shirai’s lower leg. To her surprise, she found herself enjoying the situation more than expected. The games she played were fun, as they always were; but she was surprised to learn, as dinner progressed, how much she actually liked the man across from her. Months of enduring rich kids and arrogant business men had led her to develop a clinical attitude towards first-timers who came and went like the seasons. One of the reasons she usually took the lead with one of her many memorized conversation pieces was that it allowed her to recede, view things from a distance, and adjust her strategy as the evening went on. It allowed her to tolerate the boring talk of company finances and the mind-numbing bragging about racquetball scores with much better grace.
Shirai, as he stumbled through stories about his part time job working at a bookstore and the days he spent at his cram school, was refreshingly sincere. There was no bragging as he spoke frankly, almost self-deprecatingly, about his struggles to get into university. Nor was there any of the usual fishing for compliments as he talked about the books he read or his latest test score. He was, by all appearances, a normal twenty-something. A twenty-something terrified of women, but even that was endearing in its own way; and not just because of the opportunity it gave her for sport. The effort he put into looking her in the eye, the blushes as she patted him on the knee, and the flustered expression he got when he caught himself staring her chest (as she’d intended, of course), spoke a lot louder than the perfunctory compliments and bouquets that other clients had heaped upon her.
Kitsune waited to strike until their plates were cleared. “This is your first date, right?” she asked.
Shirai made a small choking sound as a glimmer of fear appeared in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
Kitsune patted his hand as she gave him a reassuring smile. “No judgment,” she soothed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just that you’ve been so nervous,” she slid her right foot out of its shoe, “that I thought I could give you a hand.” She gave him a frank look. “Would you like me to take the lead?” she asked, sliding her foot up a slow path from Shirai’s ankle to his knee.
Her smile widened as he started to pant. “Do you want me to teach you,” she slid her foot along his inner thigh, “all those little secrets that you’ve been dying to learn?” She brushed the sole of her foot against his crotch already made hard by her ministrations.
Shirai stifled a yelp.
Kitsune raised the boy’s hand to her lips as she asked, “Is that a yes?” She swirled her tongue around the tip of is index finger.
Shirai wheezed something that sounded liked ‘please’.
‘Victory complete,’ Kitsune thought as she stuck the finger in her mouth, giving it a long slow suck all the way down to the knuckle.
“You pay for the food,” she told him, rising from her seat. “I’ll meet you outside. Then she sashayed out of the restaurant, making sure that Shirai was watching every wiggle.
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