Wednesday, January 6, 2010

LBS Stories: Yukiko Date/OC

...and to think this all started with someone passing this task onto me.

Oh, well, might as well tell the story, as few will actually listen, let alone believe me.

My name is Hiiragi Fubuki - and I'm a data processing specialist who did a stint working out the bugs in Burning PT.

Turns out THAT was an EFA-sponsored project, and after my contract expired, the DC approached me and recruited me into their information and infiltration division - I didn't do too badly, but then again, I didn't stand out.

Which, if you think about it, kind of saved my ass, as I was too average (to them) that they couldn't just chuck me in a Lion and send me off to be slaughtered.

Anyway, with all that giant robot carnage behind me, I thought I was done dealing with PT's, AM's, and all that jazz.

Turns out I ended up working for the EFA again, at a comfy eight-to-five office job debugging help files.

That's when a co-worker passed something off to me.


It's been two months since I was first introduced to that woman - scratch that - since I was oh-so-conveniently given the responsibility of teaching someone with outdated knowledge in computers the ropes.

Still, Date-san was a quick study, and when she said that her son was also working for the EFA as a test pilot, I put two and two together.

She's Date Ryusei's mother?!

After the shock of it wore off, we began to branch off into more and more personal topics - she was now getting out more often.

Still, it was kind of awkward when she asked me if I had a girlfriend.

Truth is, I've been a computer geek for so long that I've never even had the privilege of having a girlfriend.

Unfortunately, that was all the opportunity she needed to ask me out... on a date.


I just passed Ryusei on the way to deliver several terabytes' worth of important data to the analysis guys (who are arguably bigger geeks than me - don't tell them that). Seeing him more animated these days brings a smile to my face - it isn't every day you see the guy who went from playing video games one day to saving the world the next.

And according to the rumor mill, he got himself a harem full of girls and a robot-girl maid, which when asked he neither confirmed nor denied.

I overheard him saying something about how his mother was "getting out of the house" more often as he went out of earshot, and I'm both chagrined at not disclosing this fact to him (I would if I was asked directly, though) and happy that he's happy for his mother.

Though, that bit with the robot girl maid is rather intriguing.


I meet Date-san (the mother) at a quaint cafe - I did take some time to make myself look a little better, but all I end up doing is make myself look much younger than my eighteen (nineteen in a few weeks) years of age.

We share a very awkward silence over coffee, a little small talk over dessert, and then I blurt out, "Please take care of me!"

She flashes that dazzlingly affectionate smile of hers, nods in acknowledgment, and I feel my cheeks begin to heat up.

I first thought she'd respond in a typical manner when asked about her age, but she candidly says that she was thirty-five - I added that she looked ten years younger than that, which made her blush too. Was that a legitimate compliment I gave?

At any rate, I just let her lead me out of the cafe and into a part of the city I'm unfamiliar with.

"Where are we going?" I asked her, unsure.

"Why, a love hotel, of course <3," she answered. "And don't worry, I'll take good care of you."


She had asked me if I wanted to take a shower with her before we started, but it was still extremely awkward, so I let her take the first shower. She emerged with the towel hugging her lithe figure, and a second was all I needed before I looked away. Didn't want to give away the fact that I had immediately reacted at the sight, and I snuck in the shower with my face turning red.

When I had emerged, she was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. I sat next to her, wondering what to do next. "You haven't done this before, right?" she asked, a sultry note entering her voice. I shook my head 'yes', but before I could say anything her lips were on mine...


It's only now that I realize that Yukiko-san was wearing an understated gray blouse and peach skirt.'s also now that I see that under that very innocuous ensemble, she was wearing a very lacy and very alluring set of underwear. Maybe it was meant to bolster her confidence. At any rate, what had just transpired didn't automatically remove my blushing and stuttering as I thank her for the few hours she spent with me teaching me about the physical interaction between opposite genders. The nice thing was that she had found it cute, and would enjoy another meeting for another time.

*** reality though, I sucked.

...The disappointment in her face was plain when I had way prematurely shot off just when she had clamped her mouth over me. I wanted to apologize, but her face told me that "I'm a bit disappointed, but this was to be expected... it's not a problem." She worked on my mouth-to-mouth technique while she got me back in fighting form (which wasn't that hard), and she was pleasantly surprised to know that I had a natural talent at using my tongue. .

..Actually, there was this article by a certain actress that said two things: 1 - if you can't dance then you're no good in bed and 2 - you gotta learn how to go down on a girl; and I took that advice to heart. The actual deed was likewise disappointing at first, I had (again) finished way ahead of her - thankfully I had managed to keep myself functioning so I could finish again and take more time in doing so - making sure she would finish along with me. I'd spare you guys the details... but doing so would be ungentlemanly, right?


The very next day I ran into Ryusei, and he had this interesting story to tell about how his mother finally had a date after a very long while. He found my grin rather strange, but thought nothing of it, and said he'd like it if his mother went out more often, but this was a good start.

Oh... if he only knew.


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