I wondered briefly what an over-sexualized woman should wear under her kimono, but the answer soon struck me with certainty: Chanel No. 5, of course. ...hat settled, I sat and waited in the middle of the floor. It was a western-style room, no tatami mats, so that was the best I could do. One must learn to make do with the resources available to her. He arrived hours later. As he opened the door, he looked tired, worn down, but as soon as he saw me, he became once again a perfect specimen of charm. And wondered. And then the last thing in the world I had ever expected to happen happened. I looked up the hill and saw a young woman walking towards me. She looked familiar, and even at this distance I could envision her face, see her smile, and she even waved."Thank God!" I said aloud, half expecting to hear a booming "You're Welcome!" but that didn't happen either. I really hate it when you can't remember a name. I mean I knew I knew her, I just couldn't remember from where, or when. Then it. More

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