I can’t remember the last time I was naked with a woman.

Just a shade of a gorgeous girl, she has angled, sleepy slits for eyes, a sleek profile broken by the thin triangle of her nose, by the bubble of her lips, and her breasts are bobbing shadows under the bath’s steaming mineral water.

I try not to watch her, but I like looking: growing up between brothers, never playing team sports, seeing a woman’s living nudity is novel. I make myself look away, only so that the pleasure in soaking up her shape builds interest.

Her form melts into the caved, dim space, like the stone Buddha bathing under a waterfall that grows beyond the grotto ceiling, like the fireplace dancing next to the pool, like the deep red ceiling soaking up the heat. I move towards her, enjoying the solid steam slowing my motion, making my arms and legs drag instead of run, like in a fantastic nightmare.

And then she breaks the quiet to speak to a woman who’s just entered, and the dreamland I’d built is dashed and shattered, like the water as her friend’s thick thighs chop into it. In a splash the Buddha is cheap plaster, the girl’s full face is hardly as enticing as her pretty profile, and we’re all lukewarm-enjoying the hole-in-the-floor Korean spa that I’d discovered on Yelp.com.

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Coco de Mer Geisha Gag, $165

My back’s flat against a black sheet of stage that’s speared with a pole, and warm air over my bare legs is like a comforter. A couple of two-dollar bills melt into one between my teeth, pillowed by my wet tongue. Lured by that make-out Monopoly money, a topless Japanese girl slithers over me, her skin powdering my nose, her head nuzzling my thighs, pausing. Then her hands massage my breasts as she crawls back, kissing me, biting the fake money into her mouth. She pecks me on the cheek, chirping, “Arigatou!”

“No,” I giggle. “Thank you.�”As vulgar as the world might make watching naked, thin girls strip to buy clothes and food, Japan styles the experience as gracious, as graceful, as losing your virginity on your wedding night.

Only maybe more mildly mannered.

I sit back down at my table, with a hostess. Her eyes are wide, their slant exaggerated with false eyelashes and lips constantly curved up. “She good dancer, yes?” She echoes my declaration from a few minutes before.

I smile. “Hai!” I say, with a short nod. The only Japanese I�ve spoken my two days in Tokyo is “Star-uh-bucks-oh,” “Yes,” and “Thank you.” Excepting my Engrish chant while hunting for soy lattes, this seems to be the most Japanese spoken by the natives, too. With such soft language, what little I’ve seen of the megacity makes it feel feminine, despite city myths of men groping women in crowded elevators, in spite of the aisle of rape porn I stumbled onto in a six-story sex shop.

Tokyo is just too polite to feel fully dirty and urban.

Though the metropolis is dense with thin buildings nodding to the sky, heavy skyscrapers bending under the clouds, and a tower that flatters the Eiffel with its likeness, it’s urbane about its urbanity, completely clean, only littered with bowing trees offering to shade your stroll on the sidewalk.

It’s partly this prettiness that makes exploring Tokyo vibe like virtual reality: everything is blinking and bright and light and seemingly safe, so consequence-free. So I wondered through alleys, sky walks, and sidewalks, finally entering Kabukich, a district that was hardly lit in the red it’s famed for: instead it was flashing yellows and greens and blues, and the whites of Japanese men’s eyes, against the gray of their European business suits.

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Pill producers YAZ are running a contest to redesign the birth control case.

Launched by Project Runway judge Nina Garcia, backed by Step Up Women’s Network and Bayer HealthCare Pharmaceuticals, the contest gives aspiring designers the chance to test their talent.

“The design challenge we’re posing is a fashion transformation unlike any other,” said Garcia. “We’re taking an iconic accessory—the birth control case—and asking aspiring designers to take a shot at redesigning it into a chic, more sophisticated carrying case that they could slip into their purses.”

Design submissions will be accepted until June 30. One winner will receive $10,000 to invest in his or her career dreams, via enrollment in design classes or to buy special design materials and software.

So get to it. I’m over strange-named babies as arm candy. Population and figure control are the new black.

Heart-shaped pasties $ 138, She Said Boutique.com

Love isn’t an unconditional feeling inspired by a chubby midget with wings shooting at you.

Love is an emotion sharper than admiration, love is a fair trade of respect with someone who mirrors your values, love is the most holy honor you decide to give someone.

That is, someone you want to enjoy another four-letter word with.

Happy V Day, lovelies.

XXXO,
K

Shiri Zinn dildo $1,750, Kiki DM.com

If dude’s just grinding and groaning, unminding and moaning, a quick in and out without a shout or some sugar –

Dude’s no better than a dild.

Espesh since the dild works without talking, without any risk of drama.

Or asking me about my shoes.

Patrick and Skinner cami and knickers $630, Patrick and Skinner.com

What’s a woman but a body?

What’s a body but a bundle of nerves?

What are nerves but naked sensation, sending sensual commands between your brain and bod, demanding decisions that pay mind to matter, and that matter to your mind?

Like that choice that landed you in such a choice position, with such a choice toyfriend, in a sea of bedclothes that are more than just wrinkled sheets.

Is materialism just for mindless materialists?

Let your body pick with Patrick and Skinner lingerie — win this boss cami and knickers set* by sending me your tale about tail, about what you’d do in this lingerie.
Carb-free brownie points if it involves these.

* Contest ends February 29, 2007 at 11:59 am PST. Winner will be announced March 3, 2008.