THE JAPANESE WOMAN

...Another Sunday at Damai Beach Resort, Santubong

Sitting by the poolside at Santubong beach resort today, I have just seen the most beautiful women in the world. A willowey Japanese woman. she stands at least six foot tall in her black one piece bathing costume, split to somewhere just above her navel. Her hair is equally black, and short. Her skin is beautiful - golden and flawless, holding beads of moisture from the pool - or perspiration - it is very hot. Her movements are slow and graceful. I watch her walk - long slow strides that carry her effortlessly. Fluid movement. She turns her head, and her gaze passes over me. Thrilling me. Her expression is one of gentle observation. As though when she is looking outwards, her inner is all tuned in to what she sees. She doesn't question, she gazes upon. Then she smiles. An easy smile, but one you couldn't wish for, because you couldn't know such a smile exists. She reaches her banana lounge, and bends over. I hold my breath. She shakes out the towel and positions herself, comfortably, in one movement. Her left hand glides accurately into the bag on the ground beside her, retrieving her cigarettes and lighter. To watch her raise a cigarette to her lips is exotic. I breath in with her as she lights it, I sigh as she exhales; and for a moment at least, my thoughts are singular, composed and unchallenged by other priorities - and when I say priorities, my only priority with this woman is to watch her. I am spellbound. She moves like a cat, and I would let her kill me if that's what she decided.


Her husband is an equally tall Englishman with a large nose, and there are two children.

MIKE JOY