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He had asked for one thing for their anniversary: A reminder of their first meeting.
He asked for a moment of the one In the elevator, the start of everything, with the both of them, Kikurin and O-chan. Four paper cups, and a song sung to preserve dignity. None of them had actually gone that night, the trust between them had yet to be built, and the elevator had started working .
Kikurin and O-chan were away now, but he and Airu could commemorate.
When he brought up the idea, she seemed reluctant at first. Then a mischievious gleam came to her eye. She agreed, with conditions. He agreed, with negotiation.
"There's no interest in men peeing." Airu said, "You could drink mine."
Kei had considered. "What's the alternative."
"We could not do this." Airu looked around her apartment an idea came to mind. "How do you feel about pain?"
His hand raised to his cheek, at this point almost immune to the the slaps she had the habit of giving him. "We can deal in pain."
She smirked. When she spoke, it was in a deep purr that made Kei's mind turned towards more present matters. "I'd rather you drink, but we can work with this."
Kei agreed. They certainly could.
*
The evening of their anniversary finds them in Airu's apartment, Airu dressed as a slightly more-so version of a successful multilingual interpreter and Kei in a simple pair of white boxer-briefs. Nothing less, and as Airu insisted once he arrived, nothing more except, while he cooked, an apron.
She insists they play the part. So while she eats the salt-encrusted salmon with the side of new potatoes and drinks white wine from the glass (as well as a generous helping of water on the side), Airu orders him to set the mood. He lights candles about the apartment and sets the pink and yellow roses he bought her in a vase.
And then, when she's done with her food, he's allowed to eat his portion from a bowl on the floor while Airu sits in the chair with another small glass of white wine and more water.
Finally then, she signals to him that it's time and beckons him to the kitchen. She gently removes the roses from their vase and wraps their stems in damp towels.
"Remove my panties."
Kei does so, reaching under her skirt and finding the silky fabric against her hips, pulling them down over the curve of her ass, and then to her ankles. He wonders, briefly, how much she needs to pee and if the vase will be able to catch the liquid in time, or if she'll let go early and he'll be the one soaked by her.
And she knows what he thinks; he can tell by the way her smile curves up and around her jaw.
"I really, really have to go. Prepare the vase."
Kei does pull away at the end, and the vase slides between her feet. Seconds pass, and then the pee comes out in a strong, pale stream. He watches, fascinated as Airu lets the flow continue and die away.
"Remove the vase."
He does and admires the way that the liquid sloshes up the side.
"Clean me."
Kei takes the heated washcloth he had prepared for this and gently goes over every fold of Airu's vulva, smiling at the last drops of liquid that come out from her. She smiles at him, and he sees the quiver of her legs that she's trying to hide. Though if he gloats, she'll have him. Not that she doesn't already.
Airu picks the vase up and assesses its contents. "Now it's your turn," Airu whispers as she pulls another wine glass from the cabinet. No matter the protests he might make, even Kei knows how this night will end. She pours the urine into the wine glass, and once there it looks no different frome the wine she drank earlier.
Airu pours herself another glass of white wine, her third of the night. The two are identical, to the point where Kei is only sure of the difference after she lets him sniff the contents of both. She hands him one of the glasses.
"It can be both, right?" Kei asks.
Airu leans in, takes his lips in hers and brings him in for a kiss. Then, she slaps him. Her red handprint will mark his cheek. He takes that as a yes.
"Kanpai!" Airu says lifting her glass of white wine.
"Kanpai!"
To tell the truth, Kei thinks, as he downs the content of his glass, the taste is not nearly as bad as what he expected.