Geisha Surprise

Three embezzling accountants escape Russia, and hang out at a teahouse in Japan.

by Mongoose750

Oleg was looking forward to a long and prosperous early retirement. That’s providing he, along with Pitor and Rurik were satisfied they had ran far enough from Russia so they could sit down and enjoy it.

Oleg, Pitor, and Rurik, who stood 5’6”, 5’7”, and 5’5”, respectively, were until a few days ago accountants in one of Russia’s organizations that were a little free on what they did regarding the law, until they did a little creative embezzling, that over the last few years made them a little wealthy. They planned the scheme down to the letter, except on where to go. As they fled, several ideas were bounced around: the United States, Brazil, Cuba, even one of those islands they talk about in action and spy movies, like the Cayman Islands. They still were undecided, but in the meantime, they figured they’d stop in Japan while they thought it over. Their former employers won’t think of looking for them there.

During their brief stay, they thought they’d try out one of the teahouses in Kyoto. Though this was their first time in a teahouse, they noticed that the geisha had at least a passing knowledge of Russian, and all of them were either a little chubby, or large in frame; a little different from the small, petite women they were expecting. But then again, the night was young, and they could check out other teahouses, and make their comparison. In the meantime, the three geisha serving them did what geisha were supposed to do, serve their meals, sing and dance for the customers, engage them in conversation, and laugh at any dumb jokes the clients had. It looked like a good evening for all involved.

“We should have tried this earlier,” Pitor said. He gave the geisha serving him a smile, a wink, and a silent toast. The geisha returned the favor.

“The timing had to be just right,” Oleg, the mastermind of the plan replied. “Almost nothing gets by our bosses.”

“You mean ex-bosses,” Rurik corrected.

“I don’t care what we call them as long as they don’t find us,” Pitor interjected. “If they do, we’ll be called dead.”

Oleg motioned his friend to silence, though he was sure the nearby geisha were not that well versed in Russian. “It’s all right Pitor, the worst is behind us. We’ll keep a low profile, and we’ll be well. If it still bothers you, you can hire security to keep your fears at rest,” he said.

Rurik said something to one of the geisha in passable Japanese, then turned to his two friends. “Have you noticed the geisha here seem to be well fed?” He asked.

“In a number of countries, that’s a sign of success, not like those women back home who starve themselves and are skinny as a post,” Oleg commented, then smiled. “Of course, if this is a problem, we can go to another teahouse with skinnier geisha.”

“No, this is fine.”

“I guess it gets rather warm in these places too. None of these ladies except one are wearing those socks with the big toe separated,” Pitor observed.

“We could always ask them, but I don’t think my Japanese is that good,” Oleg replied, then raised up his cup of sake. “To our ex-bosses; may they . . . get over it.”

“Hear, hear!” The other two men replied. The geisha raised up their cups in agreement, despite not seeming to know what the toast was about.

Though the amount they embezzled was enough for the three men to live comfortably for the rest of their days, it was just a small drop in the bucket for their bosses. They figured on someone pursuing them, but they hoped they would lose steam eventually. But of course living someplace they couldn’t be found would be a huge plus in itself.

The three men continued to party for a little while longer, being the last guests ready to leave, until they noticed a side door opening. Nothing in that was unusual of itself, but the attention grabber was who stepped through it. It was a woman, standing only 5’2” or 5’3”, with a stout build. No fat on her frame, but muscle. She had short reddish brown hair, and a pleasant face that appeared to most people to have two expressions, neither of them pleasant. Gliding forward on tan stockinged feet, she wore a black dress with white circles overlapping each other. Seeing the three men, she broke into a big smile (similar to that of a shark), and greeted them.

“Comrades!” She said.

The blood of the men ran cold.

“Pipka?” Oleg replied.

Pipka was for a time one of Russia’s most infamous assassins, if you were in such circles that dared to speak of such a thing. The story on her was she was at one time the country’s woman champion of combat sambo, Russia’s martial art that was similar to judo and wrestling. Despite her size and build, she was very limber, which when added to her technique and power, made her a major threat to anyone who entered the ring with her. After winning the title several years in a row, Pipka decided to retire (leaving her competition relieved). Soon after she hung up her boots and gi jacket, a mysterious man approached her, and offered her a position of enforcer in his organization. Pipka, who was planning to start a school and teach her skills was hesitant at first, then accepted when told how much she would make. Over time, the role of enforcer slowly turned to assassin, and Pipka found she was as good at this as she was subduing her foes in the national tournaments.

One of the keys to her success was when people thought of an assassin, they usually pictured a big, bulky man with a gun or knife, not a short stocky woman using her bare hands. Another key was she was very efficient. One of her favorite methods was walking toward her victim on a city street, mall, or hallway. When the target was within range, Pipka would send a punch into the solar plexus, causing him or her, usually him to bend over. Once they bent over, Pipka would place them in a reverse headlock, and break their neck. As the freshly deceased fell to the ground, Pipka would continue walking. She had it perfected to the point that she could perform it on a crowded sidewalk, and no one would suspect anything was wrong until they saw or tripped over the victim. Pipka would be long gone. If one was able to be observant of the whole thing, they would notice that Pipka would always do this in her stocking feet. Besides not liking shoes, her other reason was she liked the feel of a throat crushing under her foot.

Eventually Pipka decided to become freelance, and hired two plus-sized female assistants to help. If you could afford their fee, you could be guaranteed that your rival would be in the obituary section of tomorrow's paper. Business was good.

In fact, it was too good. Some people thought Pipka might have intentions of becoming the next leader of the Russian mafia. Some thought she might become the next head of the GRU. And some thought they needed some revenge. There was also a spy organization that thought things might be better if she was out of the way. But thanks to some informants, and seeing which way the wind was blowing, Pipka took her business, assistants, and left. However she left a message that one day she will return to Russia, but the reunion may be a little messy. While many dreaded that day, in the meantime, they breathed a sigh of relief, never mind the fact that Pipka had none of those career goals in mind. In fact, she never liked politics. But at the moment, to Oleg, Pitor, and Rurik, she was the last person they expected to see.

“Surprise!” Pipka cried out loud.

“What, how, why are you here?” Rurik tried to ask without sounding confrontational. Back home, people were even afraid to voice the name of the “Tiny Terror” (her pet name people would use at a safe distance), lest she’d appear.

“Why am I here? I own the place!” Pipka replied. “I performed one last favor before I left Mother Russia, and this was my payment.”

“You received a teahouse and geisha for payment?” Pitor repeated.

“Let’s just say my little favor insured that there would be a Mother Russia to stay in one piece. But enough of that, it is the past. How are the three of you?”

“We are fine,” Oleg replied, sounding a little relieved. “Your teahouse is very nice, and so are your geisha.”

“Why thank you,” Pipka said, coming beside the three men. The three geisha looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for a signal. “They are very well trained.”

“You trained them to be geisha?” Pitor asked.

“No,” Pipka laughed, “an assistant that came with the teahouse taught them that. I taught them other skills.”

“Other skills? And what are those?” Oleg asked, as if expecting a bad punchline to a lousy joke.

“All in good time, dear Oleg. Tell me, what has changed back home since I left?”

“Not much,” Pitor answered cynically. “The same people are running everything.”

“That’s too bad,” Pipka commented. “I was hoping some competent people would take over by now. Sorry, I forgot my manners. How are the three of you?”

“We’re fine, we’re just taking a little vacation to get some rest,” Rurik said. The other two men nodded in agreement, liking his story.

“I see. This is a far away place to run to, especially if you’re carrying something that doesn't belong to you.”

Pitor and Rurik couldn’t contain their horror, while Oleg managed to control his composure. “What are you talking about?” He sputtered.

“You three have been very bad men. Did you not think as much money as your boss has, that he didn’t have a way to keep track of it? He has special accountants who keep track of the money, and the accountants who are responsible for taking care of it. He knew of what you were doing, he just waited to see what your next move was going to be. From there, it was easy to determine you were flying to Japan, courtesy of a small tracking device. I was going to have one of my geisha entice you to come to my teahouse, but you three had shown up on my doorstep. Most convenient. Your boss is one of the few people left in Russia who’s still loyal to me.

“The three of you were paid very well. If you needed a raise, all you had to do was ask. Instead, you repay him for your years of service by robbing from him like common thieves. That’s unprofessional and inconsiderate.”

Ignoring the charges, Oleg said, “Okay maybe we took a little. We’ll share it with you. There’s no need to take us back to our boss.”

“Well your boss said I could have what you stole as reward money. Everything else will need to be made an example so no one would do it again. Oh yes, I wanted to tell you about my geisha. As I said, I had someone teach them how to be geisha. I taught them my skills.” She turned to her geisha. “Oleg I want alive for a little while longer. You know what to do with the other two.”

Out of the three men, Rurik was the only one who brought a firearm, a revolver he put in the back of his pants in case they ran into trouble. While he wasn’t a marksman like his former boss’ foot soldiers, his immediate strategy was simple. At this range, he could hit Pipka, and keep the three geisha at bay while they made their escape. What he didn’t take into account was as a professional assassin who didn’t use weapons, Pipka could tell Rurik was packing, and sensed when he was going to draw his weapon. But as soon as Rurik drew his weapon, one of the geisha, a full-figured woman wearing a green silk kimono with designs of four white circles placed in a square settled along the material, and white tabi socks (the only geisha there who had worn socks), grabbed his wrist, and applied a painful wrist lock, making him drop the weapon.

Meanwhile, Pitor rushed to help his friend, but another geisha wearing a red kimono with red checkerboard patterns displayed on the ends of the sleeves and near the hem at the bottom blocked his way. She stood about 5’5 ½”, with a medium build that could border on athletic. Pitor threw a punch to knock her out of the way, but to the geisha, he was about as fast as an oil painting. She batted his arm aside and struck him four times in the chest and face with open hand blows faster than Pitor’s eyes could follow. grabbing his outstretched arm, she threw him down to the ground, where she delivered a final blow with stiff fingers extended. Pitor’s last reply was a wet gurgle.

It couldn’t be said Rurik was holding his own, but he managed to squirm on the floor well enough to avoid his geisha’s blows, or any more attempts to place a hold on him, other than the wristlock she still had on him.

“Allow me, Lin,” Pipka said, placing a hand on the geisha’s shoulder.

Lin dropped the wristlock and moved back. As soon as she did so, Pipka rushed in, and stomped Rurik’s throat with the sole of her stockinged foot.

“Ah, it’s been so long since I’ve done that, I forgot how it feels,” Pipka remarked as she looked at Rurik’s corpse with a satisfied smile on her face.

For Oleg, the night had suddenly turned into a nightmare. In almost what seemed like the blink of an eye, two of his friends were killed. And this was after they thought they performed the perfect crime. There was nothing he could do for his friends, so there was only one option left to him, run. He bolted out of the teahouse, his shoes pounding the pavement. All he had to do was to reach his rental car, lose himself among the other motorists, and he’d be free. Once he left the country, they’d never find him, he’d see to that.

Oleg glanced over his shoulder, and saw that one of the geisha hitched up her kimono, and chased after him. It was the one who served him; she stood 5’7” with a curvy figure, and wore a kimono that had what looked like an African design on it. Her bare feet were also pounding the pavement, and what was worse, was she was gaining on him. He desperately turned a corner to lose her, but it didn’t work. He put on a last burst of speed when suddenly he was tackled around the waist. After hitting the ground hard, he turned to deliver a frantic punch at the geisha. With surprising strength, she batted his arm aside, and delivered a backhand slap that almost knocked his head off. While Oleg was trying to shake off the effects of the blow, he saw the woman’s hand delivering a chop toward his neck at warp speed. The blow made contact, and all was black . . .

When Oleg awakened, he found himself back at the teahouse. Only this time, he appeared to be lying in the middle of a large room. Sitting on her knees about six feet from him was the geisha who caught him. Her kimono was hanging on her loosely, and she watched Oleg intensely. She seemed to be watching him with what looked like anticipation, and lust? Whatever it was, it bothered him, so he turned his head away to look elsewhere.

The two of them were surrounded by geisha, and from the complexion of some of them, a few of them weren’t native Japanese. The heights varied, but none of them were petite. They were either a little chubby, stout, or had a large frame. None of them could be called fat, but none were skinny either. And if Pipka was training them for what he suspected, what they did carry on their bodies was probably solid. Looking further, he saw a large woman who stood 5’8”, dressed in a black kimono. She had long brown hair with bangs, fair skin, and a stern expression on her face. She sat in a chair, legs crossed; the kimono had fallen away to reveal a bare muscular leg. She was Elana, one of Pipka’s assistants. According to rumor, which Oleg had no reason to doubt, she had a sizable body count herself. She was alleged to be a kickboxer and well versed in judo. She looked at Oleg, but then turned her gaze elsewhere, as if he wasn’t worth her notice.

Sitting next to her was another woman an inch shorter with roughly the same build, except her breasts were larger. She had a similar hairstyle as Elana, except her black hair was cut at the shoulders. Again according to hearsay, she was a Koryo-saram, an ethnic Korean who lived near the southern part of Russia. Her dark blue silk kimono was open, revealing a dark blue silk bustier and bloomers. She regarded the sight a little more impassively, while slowly licking a blue lollipop. It was then Oleg realized who she was. She was Lola, the lollipop girl. Besides her sweet tooth, she liked dressing up in fine lingerie, particularly Victoria’s Secret. Despite her nickname, Lola didn’t sanction by seduction. She was very strong, and was well versed in a few grappling martial arts. Again according to rumor, she dressed in expensive lingerie because they gave her freedom of movement when she operated, and because they felt good against her skin. Standing behind them was a middle-aged woman, obviously Japanese-born, wearing a silver kimono with black trim and black embroidered tigers. She did not wear whiteface like the other geisha, and had her dark brown hair pulled back into a bun. She was slender of build, and had an attractive face, but the eyes were intense; not as much as the geisha in front of him, but they were serious just the same.

He looked over another direction, and saw Pipka, now wearing a dull red kimono. She wiggled her toes as she adjusted her pantyhose, and looked at Oleg.

“Ah, I see you’re awake,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder if Eve had hit you too hard. The poor girl doesn’t know her own strength.”

By habit, Oleg glanced at the leering geisha, then quickly turned away. “Where am I?” He asked.

“You are in what we call the practice room of the teahouse. This is where we learn and practice our techniques, or demonstrate them.”

Sensing what she meant by that, Oleg pleaded, “Pipka, I’ll give you a big share of the money, just don’t kill me.”

“Fear not, Oleg, you will not die by my hand,” Pipka replied as she strolled across the floor of the room, which was covered by gray hard rubber. “I liked you, Oleg. You were one of the few people besides your boss who were smart, and had a level head. Or that’s what I thought. Why you teamed up with someone the likes of Rurik is beyond me.”

“He was my friend!” Oleg protested.

“I see. Oleg, let me tell you a story. One of my hidden pleasures is watching classic American television, especially the detective shows. My favorite is this show called Columbo. Maybe you have heard of it. No? Well, it is about this detective you investigates murders, usually done by criminals who think they’re brilliant. Columbo appears to them, seeming to act like a total buffoon, but he keeps asking questions, and through their own arrogance, and Columbo’s skills, the criminal reveals himself, and gets caught. It always keeps me on the edge of my seat.

“But I found out the truth is, not many cops are that bright. There’s not too many crooks that smart either. Otherwise, they might have widened their search to include a short woman like me in looking for their assassin. That’s what made me successful over the years, pulling off sanctions that most people attributed to some six-foot-four man. I have sanctioned men and women, but I prefer sanctioning men; I suppose it is because it is harder for people to believe. You already know how successful I was, that’s not my story. My story is why am I here in Japan instead of Russia. That is what you’re wondering, yes?”

Oleg nodded his head. He managed to sit up, but with the geisha watching his every move, that was all he was going to do, lest he would upset her, or provoke her.

“Now here’s my story. My business was going well in the motherland, until some people wanted to get me. A hazard of the occupation I suppose. I don’t know who came up with the idea I wanted to get into politics. A good part of my prey was politicians. I could care less about the Mafia too. But I am getting off track. I and my assistants were planning to leave that night, when I suddenly received a phone call. Now Oleg, like your boss, you’re well acquainted with what goes on in the rest of the world. You have heard of the Poison Geisha, have you not?”

“One of the biggest and most efficient female assassins in the world,” Oleg said.

“Very good. They called me, and told me they were great admirers of my work. You could imagine I was very flattered. Their reach does not extend very far in Russia, so they asked me to do them a favor. Now you are familiar with the spy organization DOOM, are you not?”

“Yes, they have feuded with COIL for years. Neither one have planted themselves in Russia.”

“Well that’s where you are wrong. I was surprised too. It turned out there were several DOOM agents masquerading as officials within the Russian government. I won’t go into the details here, but the Poison Geisha were at war with DOOM, and DOOM was losing. One of DOOM’s big plans was to blow the world up, and start from scratch. Crazy, no?”

“I heard about the war between DOOM and the geisha. But DOOM agents in Russia? That’s not possible,” Oleg stated.

“I thought so too, but they did. Rurik was one of them.”

“What? That’s impossible!”

“They were very deep cover. Think about it; did you notice Rurik was the only one among you who had a gun? The little weasel was probably waiting until the right moment to shoot you both and run away with all the money. I bet he encouraged you to carry out this idea,” Pipka said.

Oleg was silent for a moment. “How do you know?” He finally asked.

“I was sent a list. There wasn’t time to get all of them, just enough to keep them from pressing the button to send us into another dark age. I do not claim to be a patriot, but I love my country too much for it to become a smoking ruin.

“Anyway, the Poison Geisha said I would be richly rewarded for my service. I told them my plight, and they said they would be more than happy to take me here. I and my companions have more than enough money, so what I requested instead was a teahouse, and some women to serve as geisha in it. As you can see, I requested big women like myself, Elana and Lola. Women I could train. And they were even nice enough to give me Minami here,” Pipka gestured to the older woman, who bowed in return. “She teaches the ladies to be graceful, like geisha should. I was always fascinated by the geisha. Minami would also teach them a few deadly tricks too. She’s a Poison Geisha, so she’s very familiar with wet work. She’s the one who taught Eriko those strikes that took care of Pitor.”

“I would guess business has been good,” Oleg said.

“Ah yes, very good. Japan has been good to me. I even got married to a businessman here. We don’t tell each other about the finer details of our jobs. We like to get away from all that. One day, I will return to Russia, and finish what I had started. It will be messy. First, the DOOM agents who remain, and then those who tried to get me, though most of them tend to be one and the same.”

“Okay, I can see why you killed Rurik, but why Pitor?”

“To repeat, Oleg, you stole from someone I respected, who also needs an example of what happens to others who steal from him, and our reward is the money you stole. That is why I cannot let you go,” Pipka said.

“But you just said I would not die by your hand,” Oleg reminded her.

Pipka strolled near Oleg and Eve, and stood between them. “That is what I said, yes; you will not die by my hand. But out of respect for you, I decided to give you a fighting chance, literally. Now you have already met Eve, one of my geisha. Since she was the one who served you, and caught you, she’ll be your opponent in this little contest.”

“W-What contest is that?” Oleg replied, a little nervous now, his hands clammy with sweat.

“It’s simple. All you have to do is defeat Eve in a little sparring competition. You either make her submit, or knock her out, that’s all you have to do. And I will let you go, with your money, and I say you escaped. You actually have the advantage over what she’ll be trying to do,” Pipka explained.

“What is she going to do?”

“Why she is going to kill you, of course. Now it would be redundant to say, but I’ll say it anyway. You’ll need to fight like your life depends on it, because it does. I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself, get ready, make peace with your god, all that. Do you have anything for me?”

“Pipka, you can keep the money, just let me go,” Oleg pleaded.

Pipka by this time had walked back to her seat, and clucked her tongue. “Now Oleg, we’ve been over this. It’s a matter of honor. I bent the rules enough letting you live this long, and giving you a chance. The money will go towards maintaining the teahouse, and training my geisha. You can see I have plenty of mouths to feed, and women to train. It won’t be for me. What were the three of you going to do with it? Indulge yourselves probably. No, you want the money, you’ll need to fight for it. If you want to go free, you fight for it. If you want to live at all, fight for it. The contest will start in two minutes, I suggest you prepare.”

The first thing Oleg did was back away from Eve, until he reached the outer edge of the little arena. He soon stopped, lest he’d fall in the laps of the other geisha. Despite the fact he wore a nice suit, he wiped his brow with his left sleeve.

A short geisha in a blue-striped kimono, about the same height as Pipka, with long raven black hair, and a build that reminded Oleg of a bowling ball, handed him a white cloth napkin, and a large glass of ice water. He wasted no time draining the glass, and wiping his brow with the napkin.

“You may want to remove your suit jacket so you’ll have more freedom of movement,” the geisha said.

Oleg took off his jacket and handed it to her. “Thank you . . .”

“Ayumi.”

“Thank you, Ayumi.”

She bowed, and returned to the crowd.

Oleg tried to ready himself for the coming battle by taking a few deep breaths. He didn’t need to kill Eve, just somehow beat her to regain his freedom. A glance told him that Eve was still watching him intently, and he looked the other way. After managing to steel himself, he looked at Pipka.

She already had her stocking feet on a footrest, and a cup of tea in her hand. “I see Oleg has prepared himself. What about you, Eve?” Pipka asked.

In response, Eve undid her kimono, letting it fall away. Her breasts were wrapped in white cloth, and a white bikini-like brief was around her waist. Her build seemed to look more powerful with the kimono off. She reminded Oleg of one of those female heavyweight weightlifters who didn’t look like they could lift a heavy weight until you peered real close. And yet her proportions rendered a nice figure, just on a larger frame. He probably could look at that frame for hours if it wasn’t for the fact she was going to try to kill him. Eve kicked her kimono to the side, while still keeping her eyes on Oleg.

“She’s ready. Begin!” Pipka said.

The two combatants circled each other, and Oleg thought he heard a strange noise. Upon closer examination it was revealed to be a low growl from Eve, her lips in a tight smile. This sound was obviously intended to unnerve her opponent, and in Oleg’s opinion, it was working. After a minute, Oleg decided to surprise Eve by making the first move. It may throw her off guard, and allow him to gain a much needed advantage.

He delivered a right cross. The geisha batted it away with her left hand, and ducked a left cross. She then returned the favor by delivering a right slap across the face. The slap sounded like a gunshot, and Oleg’s left cheek felt like it would go numb. Eve’s follow up slap made Oleg see stars.

The accountant staggered away, trying to buy a second to recover, but Eve followed close behind, still growling. Oleg turned to look at Eve’s face, and was met by a fist that seemed to break his face. Blood dripped from his nose as he almost fell to his knees. This woman was powerful, too powerful for someone like him to deal with. Losing his balance, he started to fall, but Eve caught him, embracing him in a headlock and pulling him close.

“I will crush your head, then take a piece of you to display on the wall of my room,” she whispered in his ear as if he was an intimate lover.

A shot of sheer terror invaded Oleg’s system, and in a frenzied panic, struggled to break free of Eve’s iron-like grip. In response, Eve whipped his head around violently, like a dog with a chew toy. Finally, she threw Oleg over her hip with a modified judo throw. Oleg’s whole system seemed to sting from the throw to the floor, but mustering what energy he had left, tried to crawl away from this madwoman. For a few seconds, it looked like he was making progress, until a hand grabbed the back of his pants, and jerked him back. Struggling to rise, he saw Eve’s face display a tight grin as she slapped his face twice again. Blood could be seen flying with each blow. With blurred vision, Oleg could see a hand grabbing his tie, pulling him close. Suddenly two thick legs wrapped around his head.

Oleg felt like two big steel cables were wrapped around his head. Worse, those cables were starting to tighten, exerting tremendous pressure. He started fighting furiously to get loose.

Eve was sitting up at first, and then she leaned back so she could send more power to her legs. Oleg’s head was tucked in snug between her legs, and feeling him struggle to get free was starting to feel good, real good. And it made her want to squeeze even harder. The struggling led Eve up to a final screaming climax, where she squeezed so hard, something broke. She opened her legs, and managed to push Oleg’s corpse away with her foot. She took a moment to gather herself, then climbed to her feet and bowed to Pipka.

“Very good Eve,” Pipka said, returning the bow. “But let’s point out a few things. I know poor Oleg never had a clear chance of defeating you. But one of my cardinal rules of conducting a proper sanction is to never toy with your victim. The longer you toy with your victim, the more there’s a likelihood of your victim escaping. If you have a victim who can fight back, go for the quickest technique that will take them down, or vulnerable to be finished off. A good sanction must be quick and effective.

“And Eve, I understand the orgasmic thrill a fresh kill can give you, but once you’ve made the kill, you don’t take the time to er, savor it. The longer you stick around, the more likelihood you’ll get caught. We are to be like the wind of a hurricane; we blow in, strike, and blow out. No one sees us come, and no one sees us leave.”

“Yes mistress Pipka, I will remember this,” Eve said, bowing again.

“Eve, if you like, I can get you a man to take care of those urges before or after a sanction. Would you like that?”

A big smile creased Eve’s face. “Very much, mistress Pipka,” she replied.

“And it’s sensei Pipka when we’re not conducting teahouse business, please,” Pipka urged. “Meanwhile, we’ll dispose of the bodies the usual way. Dismissed.”

Aside from disposal (but not before Eve pulled Oleg’s Rolex watch off his wrist - her trophy), everyone else went about their business. Pipka, Elena, Lola, and Minami gathered together to talk about a few things. Lin walked over to them.

“Sensei Pipka,” she asked meekly, “I don’t mean to interrupt, but could I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Lin,” Pipka smiled. “What is it?”

“The man Eve eliminated, this Oleg, I understand the lesson you taught us, but why did you explain yourself to him?”

Pipka paused and sighed for a moment. “A good question. Oleg’s boss, the one who gave us this contract, he was one of the few clients I truly respected. His staff I respected as well. It surprised me to hear that Oleg stole from him. I’m sure Rurik put him up to it, him and Pitor both. You know, I don’t really have a good answer for you. I may have done it for closure. That’s all I can tell you.”

Lin gave a pleasant grin. “I believe I understand, sensei.” She bowed and left.

“I’m glad she does, because I’m still not sure I do,” Pipka remarked.

Lola placed a hand on her shoulder, consoling her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, my dear. After all, we were chased from our home,” she said.

“Old ties do hurt when they break,” Minami added. “It didn’t help that an old comrade was on the contract.”

“I think you did it the best way you could under the circumstances,” Elena replied.

“Well the time will come soon for us to return to Russia, and ‘break’ those ties, permanently. Soon.” Pipka stated.

If you enjoyed this story, perhaps you may want to read other stories from the Barefoot Heroines collection. There are a variety of stories to choose from. They can be found at http://www.thevalkyrie.com/stories/mongoose/index.htm.

For suggestions, comments, or story ideas, email the author at shrewsberry@juno.com.

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