I impress Teruhina with the special Bruce Lee watch I bought in Tokyo -- his nunchucks move in time with the second hand. She responds by laying out her own personal treasures. Teruhina is bedecked with an emperor's ransom of finery -- the collar of her kimono alone probably cost $5,000, and she wears a jeweled belt with a diamond and ruby buckle that is among the most valuable possessions of her okiya, worth perhaps $50,000. But these are not the things she shows me -- my Bruce Lee timepiece requires a different response. Proudly she produces her own Hello Kitty watch, and a Tintin key chain. Soon she's admiring my new Astro Boy wallet, purchased in Tokyo's Ginza district. We're thick as thieves.

Five or 10 G's to trade pleasantries about Bryan Adams and Niagara Falls? It has a surreal quality best appreciated when the cash is coming out of someone else's shoe. But at last, God help me, I am beginning to get a glimpse of what really pays the bills in Gion. And it's not sex -- that's not even on the table, though it may be lurking under it, down in that foot well somewhere or peeking out of that little pink gap in the makeup. No, it's the chance to be flirted with by a sort of costumed superhero whose powers are of fascination -- Captain Coquette, Sultaness of Spark, has eyes only for me tonight.

But it's a sign of Teruhina's bright career prospects that she keeps an eye on Kaori, too. Unaware of our relationship when she entered the room (Kaori and I have been seated at opposite ends of the table all evening), Teruhina clearly figures it out pretty quickly and takes pains to put Kaori at ease. When Kaori innocently asks what Teruhina wrote in my notebook, the maiko happily displays her artwork with a friendly laugh. So much for our little secret.

Across the table Kaori is listening to Mr. Nagata, her face devoid of expression. I wonder what this evening at the Ichiriki means for her. If my experience is shaped and confined by language, how different must Kaori's experience be, untouched by the flirtation that gives these encounters so much of their flavor for men? It seems to me that her presence in this place where geiko and their male clientele have drunk and laughed for centuries must be a modern innovation as shocking to the Ichiriki as would be a television in the corner, blaring out "Larry King Live."

The Ichiriki's mistress, Ms. Sugiura, does not find Kaori's presence unusual. Women, she explains, have been guests at the Ichiriki for over a century. And as Kaori assures me later, the evening held considerable interest for her. Women love to watch other women -- all the more so when arrayed as artfully as these. "I enjoyed watching you, too," she tells me, with a look that mixes equal parts amusement and threat. Apparently I was not the only one taking notes.

By now Yuiko has excused herself to attend another engagement. Ms. Sugiura offers to show us around the Ichiriki. Down the hall we enter a large central room, used for hosting the largest parties. Traditional Japanese paintings on the wall date back centuries. Ms. Sugiura leads me over to a shelf where sits a model, a tiny theater holding rows of miniature samurai. These are the 47 ronin. Their shrine has been here for 150 years.

I am curious about the story's ending -- why did the ronin not seek vengeance against the shogun, who forced their master's suicide? And was their mass suicide really a happy ending? But Mr. Nagata and Ms. Sugiura agree that the shogun found the proper solution. The loyalty of the ronin had to be rewarded, and yet their defiance could not go unanswered.

Teruhina takes me over to the glass patio doors to show me the garden. Above us, the moon is nearly full. Teruhina howls. I join in and we burst into giggles. With Komomo translating, I tell her of the coyotes that howl at the moon near the town where I grew up. What is the word for wolf, I ask? "Oukami," Komomo replies. Suddenly Teruhina begins to sing to me, dancing lyrics that end with a repeated word --"oukami, oukami, oukami." Then I recognize the melody. Teruhina is serenading me, in Japanese, with "Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?"

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