Spain's Savage Samurai by John Davies

Author:John Davies [DAVIES, JOHN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466905962
Publisher: Trafford Publishing
Published: 2011-12-13T05:00:00+00:00

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While Andy Akio busied himself dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s of the mega million dollar deal for the sale of the staggering haul of 21,000 Cluster Bombs through former Guantamo Bay inmate the iniquitous Jusuf Edu, his Japanese compatriots were being disgorged with more than 200 passengers from the Palma de Mallorca-Denia ferry at the Costa Blanca Ferry.

As Freddy Katsuo pointed his scarlet Lamborghini Gallardo towards Alicante the extroverted Sam Isamu said “sayonara” to his pal and headed his 2008 circa Ferrari Scuderia 430 northwards towards the Spanish capital, Madrid.

Freddy Katsuo had absent-mindedly failed to notify his effeminate Fillipino rent-boy Bruno Macedo that he was returning to their love nest, a luxurious apartment in the rural village of Doya Nueve, a 30 minute drive from Alicante, he had been expecting to stay for at least two weeks rather than the three days he had spent in Palma.

He was happily relishing the prospect of sharing their futon his diminutive onnagata-girl shaped-transvestite, AC/DC orientated lover as he inserted the key to enter the front door. Tiptoeing across the tiled patio he climbed silently up the curved stone staircase. But as he neared the door of the bedroom which he shared with his 19-year-old gay lover he heard noises.

The sounds were obvious and brought a gasp of surprise and a lump in Freddy’s throat that marked an immediate reaction of hurt. Within seconds the hurt pain changed to anger. The rage of a Kendo warrior who already knew he had been betrayed. He burst into the bedroom and there on the futon, traditional style Japanese bedding consisting of a mattress (shikbuton) and quilt (kakebuton), was his promiscuous Fillipino rent boy providing oral sex to an obese balding middle-aged Western man. The sweat was rolling down this gross individual, the perspiration sliding down his chin and over rolls of stomach emphasizing that he tipped the scales at a grotesque 140 kilograms.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ stammered the fat man who appeared all the more bizarre because of a peroxide pony tail that trailed at the back of his neck from his bald and shiny pate.

‘I’ll answer that question in English,’ grunted the irate Katsuo. ‘I am the guy who owns this house and the guy who is going to boot you out on your big fat backside!’

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